by Anne Mather
She put down the tray on the low table on the hearth and knelt to pour herself some tea. Then she carried her cup to an armchair and sat down to wait for him to wake up. Whether a consciousness of being observed disturbed him, or whether he had simply just been dozing, she wasn’t sure, but after about ten minutes he opened his eyes and seeing her dragged himself upright.
“God, I’m sorry,” he muttered, scraping a hand over his roughening chin. He pushed back his cuff and looked at his watch. “Did I sleep long?”
“Only about a quarter of an hour,” she assured him, and indicated the tray. “I’ll go and make some fresh tea.”
“No. No, don’t bother.” He shook his head and bent forward to pick up the teapot and pour some of the still steaming liquid into his cup. “This is fine, really.”
She noticed that he added cream and two teaspoons of sugar before stirring the tea. Then he drank the whole cupful thirstily and bent to pour another.
Darrell waited a moment, and then, unable to restrain the impulse, asked: “Have you been up all night?”
Matthew looked up from gulping his second cup of tea. “Yes. I left London around two and hung around outside the flat until I began to think you must be away again.”
Darrell’s senses tingled. “Do—does your mother know you’re in Sedgeley?”
“Is that likely?” His tone was dry.
“Then what are you doing here?”
Matthew finished the tea and put the cup back onto its saucer. “I’d like to say—because I wanted to see the family or because I’ve got business here. But I can’t,” he replied steadily.
Darrell got up out of her chair and crossed the room. “Then I don’t understand,” she said shortly.
“Don’t you?” Matthew lay back against the upholstery. “You should. I’d have thought my reasons for being here were painfully obvious.”
“You—wanted to see me?” She turned to look at him.
Matthew turned his head sideways so that he could look at her over the back of the couch. “Yes. I wanted to see you.”
Darrell moved her shoulders helplessly. “But why? Why? After—after –”
“I know.” Matthew got to his feet in a single lithe movement. “After the way I behaved—after the things I said.” He shook his head. “I know I’m a fool, but I had to come back.”
Darrell took a step backward. “It’s no use, Matt…”
“Why? You’re not indifferent to me, I’d swear it.”
“You know I’m not indifferent to you,” she exclaimed, “but that doesn’t give you the right to—to expect too much –”
Matthew heaved a sigh. “I expect nothing. I’ve had some time to think this over, remember, and I’ve decided that, if nothing else, we should be—friends.”
“Friends!” Darrell spread her hands. “How can that be? You—you still believe I’ve—I’ve slept around, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s implicit in what you’re saying, though, isn’t it?”
Matthew smoothed his palms down the seat of his trousers. “Maybe.”
Remembering Celine, Darrell felt choked. “I think you ought to go.”
Matthew hesitated, and then he said: “I came back here last weekend.”
“I know. Jeff told me.”
“You’ve seen Jeff?”
She coloured. “Yes.”
“When?”
“As a matter of fact, he met me after—after taking you to Yedon.”
Matthew swore softly. “How convenient!”
“It wasn’t arranged.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
Darrell held up her head. “I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”
“No.” Matthew nodded heavily. “Point conceded.”
Darrell shifted impatiently, despising herself for feeling obliged to explain. “Look—Jeff is—interested in me. He has been for some time. Susan’s death has—deepened that feeling, I think.”
“For you?”
“No, not for me. You know what I mean.”
“So?”
“So—we’re friends.” She sighed. “I can’t stop going to see your mother just because—just because –”
“—just because her eldest son—her eldest married son is making a nuisance of himself!”
“Oh, Matt!” Darrell’s lips parted.
“Well, wouldn’t you put it like that?” His tone was scathing. “After all, that’s why I came back here last weekend.”
“To—see—me?”
Matthew nodded. “Sure. I came straight here from the airport. When you weren’t here, I thought you must be at my mother’s. You weren’t.”
“No. I was in Upminster.”
“I know that now. Jeff told me. And in any case, Celine saw you, didn’t she? With some other bloke?”
“Celine?” Darrell was incredulous. “You mean—she told you that?”
“That’s right.”
Darrell bent her head, trying to think. What game was Celine playing?
“I know about her and Farrell,” Matthew said quietly. “I can see from your face that you thought I didn’t.”
“You—know?” Darrell was startled.
“Yes.” Matthew shrugged. “He’s not the first.”
“But—but –” Darrell couldn’t take it in.
“Does it upset your preconceived ideas of what a marriage should be?” His lips twisted. “Oh, yes, I can see it does. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you—care?”
Matthew made a weary gesture. “Darrell, Celine and I stopped being concerned about what one another did years ago.” He looked at her with that disturbingly direct stare. “The difference this time is that I’m the one who is most seriously affected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Celine’s affairs come and go. This is my first—and my last!”
“You expect me to believe you when you refuse to believe me!” Darrell cried tremulously. “How do I know you haven’t said this to half a dozen other women?”
Matthew closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “You don’t, I suppose,” he agreed defeatedly.
“And in any case, if you and Celine are so—so indifferent, why don’t you get a divorce?”
Matthew hunched his shoulders. “I wondered when you’d ask that.”
“It’s a reasonable question.”
“I know.” He ran a hand round the back of his neck, parting the buttons of his shirt, making her remember vividly the hardness of his body against hers. “All right, I’ll try and explain…” He paused. “I married Celine because—well, because she was the sort of girl I thought I needed as a wife. A good background—on paper, at least—the right connections. And beautiful, I won’t deny that.” He shook his head. “It was all right for a few months, I suppose. We had an extended honeymoon, which Celine thoroughly enjoyed; she always enjoys spending money. Then we came back to London, and the usual social round. But my work is demanding, sometimes I work late, very late. Celine was soon bored and looking round for other distractions. Then she discovered she was pregnant.”
Darrell slid her fingers inside the sleeves of her gown. This was something she had not known about. She was disturbed to find how much it meant to her.
Matthew sighed. “One night we went to a party. I was pretty exhausted before we went out, and I guess I drank too much. Anyway, coming back we had this crash.” His lips tightened. “I don’t remember much about it. Celine was seriously injured, and she lost the child. I escaped with minor cuts and bruises. Later it was discovered that Celine could have no more children. She was very—upset, naturally. So was I—but for different reasons.”
“And now?” Darrell was reluctant to probe, but she had to know.
“Now we live separate lives, as I’ve told you. Except occasionally when it’s necessary to present an allied front.”
“As you did at the wedding?”
�
��Yes. Celine didn’t want to come, but I was adamant. My mother has very old-fashioned ideas about that sort of thing. The funeral? Well, by then I didn’t much care what she did.”
“Because of Susan?”
“Because of Susan, yes. But I had also met you. And it was—difficult—to be alone with you when Celine was around.”
Darrell’s breathing felt constricted. “I see.”
“Do you?” He shook his head. “Have I shocked you very much?”
Darrell wrapped the folds of the housecoat closer about her. He had shocked her, but she was dismayed to discover that she had wanted to be shocked, and in exactly this way. She had wanted to hear the things he had said, and her senses ached for him to touch her. But she had to be sensible…
“So you—won’t divorce her?” she got out unevenly.
“How can I? Oh, I know she has these affairs, but she still depends on me. Without me, I think she would—give in to—other distractions.”
“What other distractions?” Now Darrell was sceptical.
Matthew moved his shoulders. “She does have other—problems,” he told her quietly. “God, don’t make me go into them.”
Darrell remembered the day of the wedding, and a vague half-formed realisation of what he was trying to say came to her. But then a wave of anger swept over her.
“So you intend to sacrifice your life for someone who on your own admission cares nothing for you! Oh, Matt, you expect a lot if you expect me to believe that!”
She was stricken by the sudden pain in his eyes. “If that’s your opinion, then I’d better go,” he said.
He turned away from her, moving towards the door, and Darrell, watching him, knew that no matter whether he was telling her the truth or otherwise, she could not let him go, not like that. She went after him, putting a tentative hand on his arm and saying: “Oh, Matt!” in a helpless, breaking voice.
Matthew turned back to her and with a muffled groan he gathered her into his arms, pressing her close against him so that she could feel his urgent response. Then he began to kiss her, long passionate kisses that opened her lips and left her weak and clinging to him. Her senses swam beneath his hands and she made no protest when he parted her gown and cupped her breasts with his hard fingers.
“I want you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, against the soft skin below her ear, and her arms slid round his neck. She could feel the hardness of his bones through his skin, more pronounced, she was sure, than they had been. Was he losing weight because of her? She ran her hands into the thickness of his hair, twining strands round her fingers and tugging softly, pulling his mouth back to hers. He was devouring her and in his arms it was possible to convince herself that what they were doing could not be wrong. If he had carried her into the bedroom then and there, she doubted whether she would have resisted him. She was on fire for him, his skin was moist beneath her probing touch, and the mingled scents of their bodies was a potent stimulant.
But in fact it was Matthew who eventually tore her arms from around his neck and breathing unsteadily put some space between them. He went to the window, standing with his back to her, and she could tell he was trying desperately to regain control of himself. Darrell shivered and wrapped her gown tightly around her, waiting apprehensively for what he was about to say.
At last he drew a deep breath and said: “I could surely use some coffee!”
“Matt?” Darrell licked her lips.
He turned then and she saw how pale he had become. “It’s all right, Darrell,” he said huskily. “I’ll be all right. Just give me a few minutes.”
“But, Matt, I—”
“It’s no use, Darrell, I can’t go through with it. If you are—if you haven’t—oh, God! you know what I mean. I can’t be the first. Not when there’s no chance…” He bent his head.
Darrell felt an overwhelming surge of love for him. “Matt, I love you. I don’t think I much care any more about anything else.”
He stared at her for a few devastating seconds, and then turned away again. “Don’t say things like that, Darrell!” he muttered. “Don’t trust me! Just because I’ve let you go this time it doesn’t mean that I’ll always have the strength to do so.”
“Maybe I don’t want you to—to have that strength.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying!” Matthew paced restlessly across the floor. Then he swung round on her. “Look—I know how you feel at this moment. I feel the same. My God, I’ve gone through some pretty awful hours during these past days. And standing talking about it isn’t going to make it better, but at least it’s the sanest thing to do. You talk about loving me—well, maybe you do. I don’t know. I don’t know that I’d recognise love if I saw it—or felt it. The way I feel about you—well, I know I’ve never felt this way about any woman before, but that doesn’t mean it’s love. I’m not as idealistic as you are, Darrell. I’ve lived a lot longer, and as you say, I’m cynical. I want you—I need you. But I’ve got to accept that one day there’ll be another man in your life, someone who will love you and want to marry you—and who you’ll marry!”
“No!“ The word was torn from her.
“Yes.” He was adamant.
“You’re—you’re saying—you’re never going to see me again?” Darrell could scarcely articulate the words.
“Oh, God! No! No, I’m not saying that!” He swore angrily. “Right now, I couldn’t face the idea of never seeing you again.” His face twisted. “I’ve got to see you sometimes, Darrell, or I think I’ll go out of my mind.”
“Then—”
She would have gone to him, but he held her off. “Go and make the coffee, Darrell,” he said emotively. “Please!”
With a feeling almost of helplessness, Darrell collected the tea tray and carried it through to the kitchen. While she washed the dishes and waited for the percolator to heat, she heard Matthew using the bathroom. There was something poignantly intimate about such a circumstance, particularly as after washing he came to lean against the kitchen door, watching her.
“Can I make you some breakfast?” she asked nervously, but he shook his head.
“No, thanks. I bought a sandwich at one of the service areas coming up, and it’s not that long since I had dinner.”
“Dinner?” Her eyes widened.
“Sure. On the plane.”
“The plane?” She couldn’t help her confusion.
Matthew smiled, and her heart turned over. He had a very attractive smile. “I thought you realised. I just arrived back from the States at one a.m.”
“You mean—you came right here…” Her voice trailed away.
“After collecting the car, yes.”
She shook her head, looking at him anxiously. “You must be exhausted!”
Matthew flexed his shoulder muscles. “A little,” he conceded, half mockingly.
“Then why don’t you—rest here? I mean—I have to be at the hospital for half past eleven, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed away. “I—I finish at half past five.”
Matthew shook his head. “I don’t think so. I suppose I’ll have to go round and see the parents. If anyone happens to see the car in Sedgeley, and they haven’t seen me…” He paused significantly. “Besides, I have to be back in London before the morning to prepare my report.”
“But you can’t!” Darrell was horrified.
“Why not?” He nodded beyond her to where the red light was showing on the percolator. “I think your coffee’s ready.”
Darrell turned back to the percolator impatiently, but when she had placed the jug on the tray, she said: “You’ll kill yourself, dashing up and down from London like this!”
Matthew brushed past her to take the tray and for a moment the look in his eyes weakened her knees. “Perhaps that would be the best thing for everybody,” he commented dryly, and then carried the tray through to the living room before she could reply.
When the coffee was poured, Darrell subsided on t
o the couch beside him, trying to draw his gaze to hers again. “Matt, you don’t mean that!” she exclaimed.
He shrugged. He had shed his jacket to wash, and the denim shirt was turned back at the wrists to reveal the hair-roughened skin of his forearms. Then he saw the anxiety in her face, and his expression softened.
“All right, I don’t mean it,” he agreed softly. “I’m too selfish for that. I want a lot more time with you before I’m prepared to call it a day.”
“Oh, Matt!” Tears filled her eyes and she turned away to set her cup down on the tray.
“Anyway,” he said, deliberately changing the subject, “who was the man Celine saw you with last Sunday?”
Darrell schooled her features. “Just—a friend.”
“You have a lot of male friends,” remarked Matthew shortly, and she sensed his impatience at this knowledge.
“Are you jealous?”
She turned to look sideways at him, and his eyes narrowed.
“You’re playing with fire, Darrell,” he said harshly. “Stop it!”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Matthew uttered an angry ejaculation, and leaning forward pulled her across his knees. “Look,” he breathed into her hair, “I’ve just got over one disappointment, don’t force me into another.”
Darrell buried her face in the hollow between the opened neck of his shirt and his chin. “Oh, Matt,” she whispered, “what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to behave like rational human beings,” he told her, his voice slightly unsteady. “We can’t go on seeing one another at all if this is continually going to happen.”
Darrell had no answer for this. Her fingers probed the fastening of his shirt, separating the buttons and sliding her hand inside. She could feel the quickening beating of his heart, the pounding of his blood through his veins, the tightening of his arm around her waist. His hand came up to her throat and his thumb moved into the hollows of her ear.
“Oh, Darrell,” he groaned, “do you want me to despise myself more than I do already?”
Darrell’s mouth silenced his protest, and there was a wild excitement in knowing she could arouse him so easily. The shrilling of the telephone was both shocking and unfamiliar, and it was with reluctance that she slid off his knees and went to answer it. To her complete astonishment it was Barry Penrose.