Come Running

by Anne Mather

  Matthew glanced half mockingly at Darrell, interpreting her thoughts, and sharing them. Then he looked at the housekeeper.

  “I’ve had a very good day, thank you, Mrs. Verity. But as you can see, I’m slightly dishevelled. I’ve come home to change before taking Miss Anderson out to dinner.”

  “I see, sir.” Mrs. Verity essayed another look in Darrell’s direction. “Does Mrs. Lawford know you’re dining out, sir?”

  “Mrs. Lawford?” Matthew’s brows drew together impatiently. “Is Mrs. Lawford here?”

  Darrell’s stomach muscles tightened, and a sick feeling of apprehension assailed her, as Mrs. Verity nodded her head.

  “Yes, sir. She’s been waiting for you to come home –”

  “Matthew!” The voice came from above their heads, and both Darrell and Matthew looked upwards simultaneously as Celine appeared on the balcony at the head of the stairs. She looked ghastly, there was no other word for it, and Darrell, who had only seen Celine looking svelte and elegant, was shocked by the change in her. She was wearing an exotic kimono-type dressing gown, and her hair was rumpled and unkempt. Without make-up, she looked older, and Darrell stared at her in horror. What had happened? Who was responsible for this? Surely not—Matthew…

  “Matthew, where in God’s name have you been?” Celine demanded, groping her way down the stairs, holding on to the banister like a lifeline. “Do you realise what time it is? It’s nearly nine o’clock! I’ve been waiting for you since—since –” She broke off, her gaze shifting to Darrell and narrowing. “Well, well! If it isn’t Miss Do-gooder herself! What are you doing here? Offering Matthew consolation?”

  “That will do, Celine.” Matthew glanced helplessly at Darrell and her heart went out to him. “Are you ill? What’s wrong with you? And why should you be waiting for me? Why aren’t you out with Farrell, or Pickering—or any one of your regular escorts?”

  Celine stared at him in dislike, her lip curling maliciously. “That’s what you expected, wasn’t it? You and your—girlfriend here? You expected me to be out! How dare you fetch your—your—mistress here?”

  She used an epithet which until then Darrell had only heard of, never heard used, and her skin crept in horror at the ugliness of this scene.

  “Darrell is not my mistress,” Matthew stated coldly, but Celine went on as if she hadn’t heard him, and Mrs. Verity slipped silently away.

  “What were you going to do, Matthew?” Celine almost screamed the words. “Bring her here, sleep with her here? In my bed?”

  Matthew went towards her and tried to guide her back up the stairs, but Celine shook him off violently.

  “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” she cried vehemently. “Haven’t you done enough, you filthy pig! Haven’t you done enough?”

  “For God’s sake, Celine!” Matthew’s jaw was taut. He looked at Darrell appealingly, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her whole attention was concentrated on Celine, she felt mesmerised, like a rabbit before a particularly poisonous snake. “I came back here to change. I was going to take Darrell out for dinner.”

  “You were going to take Darrell out for dinner!” she mimicked him cruelly. “Oh, dear! And have I spoilt that? Oh, dear, Darrell, do forgive me! I wouldn’t have spoiled your evening for the world!”

  “Celine, I warn you –”

  “You warn me? Oh, that’s rich! That’s really rich! What are you threatening me with? What can you do to me that you haven’t done already?” She looked at Darrell. “I hope you realise what a charming man it is you’re associating with—what a parfait gentil knight!”

  “Celine, for God’s sake! Look—I realise this is neither the time nor the place, but it you want the truth, Darrell and I—I want a divorce!”

  “A divorce?“ Celine stared at him as if she had never seen him before. “You’re asking me for a divorce?”

  “Yes.”

  Celine began to laugh then, loud hysterical laughter that echoed horribly round the panelled hall. “You want a divorce,” she cried, “you want a divorce! Oh, my God, That’s funny, that’s really funny!”

  Matthew clenched his fists, and then raising his hand he slapped her hard across the face. The impact of his hand had the required effect. Celine sobered at once, holding a protective hand to the reddening marks on her cheek and looking at Matthew with hurt, bewildered eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered harshly. “But it was the only way.”

  Celine sniffed, the hurt in her eyes turning to hatred. “You—swine, Matthew,” she choked. “You swine!”

  Matthew ran a hand over his forehead, and went towards the stairs. “Let me pass. I’m going to change my trousers and then I’m leaving.”

  “Leaving?” She stared at him disbelievingly. “You can’t leave me!”

  “Can’t I?” Matthew was icily calm. “I’m afraid I can.”

  “But not—not now!” Celine’s belligerence turned to dismay. “Matthew, you can’t, you can’t leave me! I’m going to have a baby! Your baby!”

  Darrell’s lips parted in horror, and Matthew stared at Celine as if she had gone completely mad. Then he grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her towards him. “What did you say?” he demanded savagely.

  “I—I said—I’m going to have a baby,” repeated Celine tremulously. “Your baby, Matthew.”

  “Don’t you dare you tell such lies!” Matthew spoke through his teeth, and Darrell, watching them, was aware of the fine line that held him back from real physical violence.

  “It’s not a lie!” Celine’s voice gained in confidence when she saw what effect this was having on Darrell. “I’m sorry, Darrell. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I did jump to conclusions. I don’t believe you are Matthew’s mistress—yet. Else why did he come back here from Sedgeley on the morning after Susan’s funeral and relieve his frustration on me?”

  “Celine!“

  Matthew’s anguished appeal was lost on Darrell. She was remembering only too bitterly what had happened on the night of Susan’s funeral. The way she had led Matthew on and then found herself incapable of going through with it. If only she had! He was a man, and only human. How much could any man take without wreaking some revenge? Her heart felt as though it was being torn to pieces and she couldn’t control the sob that escaped from her lips.

  At once Matthew left Celine to go to her, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her violently. “Darrell,” he muttered, his voice thickening with emotion. “Oh, God, Darrell, don’t believe her! I swear to God I never laid a hand on her! I haven’t touched her since before the accident!”

  “The accident.” Darrell said the words almost involuntarily. “But—but you said Celine couldn’t have any more children…”

  “Did he tell you that?” Celine’s shrill voice broke in on them. “He told me that, too. It was what he wanted me to believe. It gave him an excuse for keeping away from me. How do you like that, Darrell? He crashed the car, he broke me up, and then he couldn’t bear to touch me!”

  “Darrell, for God’s sake!” Matthew caught her chin between his fingers. “Can you honestly believe what she’s saying?”

  Darrell shook her head. “I—I don’t know what to believe…”

  “Celine’s not pregnant. She can’t be!” exclaimed Matthew, desperately. “Can’t you see—she’s lying!”

  “Why would I lie about a thing like that?” Celine came down the last two stairs into the hall, dragging a scrap of paper out of her pocket. She thrust the paper between Darrell and Matthew, under Darrell’s nose. “Here! Look at this. Read it! It’s the result of a test I had a few days ago. It’s positive, can you see that? Positive!”

  Darrell couldn’t take any more. With another sob, she tore herself out of Matthew’s grasp and snatching at the door dragged it open. She ran down the steps, hearing Matthew’s tortured: “Darrell!” but ignoring it.

  She stumbled and half fell as she sped across the square, but Matthew was not following her. A quick glance over her shoulder as
sured her that he was still standing at the top of the steps, in the doorway to his house, staring after her, his shoulders hunched in complete dejection. She went on, even while every nerve in her being cried for her to go back. What did it matter whose child Celine was expecting? She was pregnant, and there was no way she was going to let Matthew go…

  CHAPTER NINE

  Darrell lay on her back in the bed staring at the ceiling. The curtains were drawn, and the room was darkened, and she wished her mother would go away and leave her with her misery.

  “But, Darrell—a married man! And after the agony I suffered when your father was having his affair with Delia! How could you, Darrell? How could you?”

  It was three days since Darrell had run out of Matthew’s house in Lanark Square, three days since she had come home to her mother’s house and gone to bed and never wanted to get up again.

  “Oh, please, Mummy,” she begged. “Leave me alone!”

  “Thank heaven for Barry anyway,” her mother spoke as though Darrell had said nothing. “Without him I shouldn’t have known about Matthew Lawford, should I?”

  “He had no right to gossip about my affairs to you,” retorted Darrell wearily.

  “Gossip? To your mother? Darrell, I’m the one person who has the right to know!”

  Darrell turned her face into the pillow. “All right. So now you know,” she said, in a muffled voice. “Can I be alone now?’

  Mrs. Anderson clicked her tongue impatiently, but there was an element of desperation in her voice as she exclaimed: “You can’t lie here any longer! Darrell, it’s not healthy!”

  “I just want to be left alone…”

  “But you’ve been alone for days!” her mother interrupted her. “Good heavens, I hate going out to work in the mornings. I—I dread to think what I might find when I come home…”

  Darrell felt a reluctant sense of shame. Rolling on to her back again, she said: “I shan’t kill myself, Mummy, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

  “Oh, Darrell.” Mrs. Anderson sat down on the side of the bed, plucking anxiously at the coverlet. “No man is worth this, believe me!”

  Darrell closed her eyes. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “But you must!” Her mother sighed. “Darrell, today is Saturday. You’re supposed to be starting work again on Monday…”

  “I know that.”

  “But you can’t begin hospital duty in this state!”

  “I know that, too. I shall go and see Matron. She knew something was wrong before I left. She advised me to think seriously before going back there.”

  “You didn’t tell me that!”

  “No—well, I thought—oh, Mummy, don’t go on at me. Just let me work this out in my own way.” She paused. “Have there—been any telephone calls for me?”

  Mrs. Anderson sighed. “Just Barry. Enquiring how you were.”

  “I see.”

  “Why? Are you expecting a call? From Matthew Lawford? Darrell, how could you bring him here? Mrs. Templeton couldn’t wait to tell me how he had arrived, and then—and then your bedroom curtains were drawn—”

  “Mummy, I got changed—”

  “Try and convince Mrs. Templeton of that!”

  “Mrs. Templeton’s an old –” Darrell bit off an epithet, and then ran a weary hand over her forehead. “Oh, lord, what am I going to do?”

  It was the first appeal she had made in her mother’s presence, and Mrs. Anderson stared at her compassionately. “If you’re not going back to work in Sedgeley—we could—have a holiday together.”

  “A holiday?” Darrell narrowed her eyes.

  “Yes. Why not? I know Mr. Leonard at the travel agents. I’m sure he could fix us up with something—a cancellation, that sort of thing.”

  “A holiday.” Darrell contemplated that possibility. And obviously out of the country. Could she bear that? Could she bear knowing that there were hundreds and hundreds of miles between her and Matthew? Could she run the risk of his trying to contact her and failing?

  She made a sound of defeat. Somehow she knew Matthew would not contact her ever again. She had destroyed the tenuous link between them as drastically as if she had put a physical distance between them. And his work being what it was, there was every likelihood that he was already out of the country and many miles away from her.

  She had gone over that scene in the house in Lanark Square a dozen times since she had been lying here, and it always had the power to chill her to the core of her being. It had been a terrible scene, a ghastly experience, made all the more horrifying by the knowledge of her part in it. Perhaps she should go away. Perhaps new scenes and new places would help put the affair into perspective, alleviate the mental agony she was suffering.

  “Well?” Her mother jerked her back to reality. “What do you think?”

  Darrell propped herself up on her elbows, frowning. “I don’t know…” she murmured doubtfully. “I’m not very good company.”

  Mrs. Anderson shook her head in exasperation. “Darrell, it’s for your sake we’re considering the idea. I don’t expect you to be brimming over with the joys of spring. I know when your father first left me, disastrous though our lives had been together, I was shattered. It took time to get over it. This—this involvement you’ve had with Matthew Lawford will take time too. Please God, not as long.”

  Darrell drew an unsteady breath. “All your sympathies are with Celine, aren’t they?”

  “Celine? Oh, you mean Matthew Lawford’s wife? Well, she is married to him, Darrell.”

  “But not happily!” burst out Darrell desperately. “He—he doesn’t love her.”

  “I suppose he’s told you he loves you.”

  Darrell bent her head. “As a matter of fact, he hasn’t.”

  Her mother looked astounded. “Then what is all this about?”

  Darrell shook her head. “I can’t explain.”

  “I suppose you think you love him?”

  “I don’t think it, I know it.”

  “Even when he’s obviously let you down?” Mrs. Anderson made a frustrated gesture. “That a daughter of mine should make a fool of herself over a married man!”

  “He hasn’t let me down!” exclaimed Darrell tremulously. “I—I let him down.”

  Mrs. Anderson raised her eyes heavenward. “Oh, Darrell, this is ridiculous. You let him down, and yet you’re lying here indulging yourself in a fit of self-pity!”

  “It’s not—self-pity…”

  But it was, and Darrell was only just realising it.

  With a stiffening of her shoulders, she went on: “All right, all right. I’ll go on holiday with you. Anywhere you say. But first, I—I have to go and see the people at Sedgeley.”

  “Matron, you mean? And the nurses?”

  “And the Lawfords,” said Darrell steadily. “Mrs. Lawford has been so kind to me. She deserves an explanation.”

  “You mean—you’ll tell her the truth?” Mrs. Anderson was horrified.

  “I don’t know. I—I’ll think of something.”

  Darrell took the train to Leeds on Sunday morning, lunched at the station hotel, and then caught the bus out to Sedgeley. It was a dull day, with overcast skies that threatened rain. She went to the hospital first, but Matron was off ill, and she was obliged to make her excuses to Doctor Morrison.

  “You say Matron advised you to think carefully about coming back?” he said consideringly.

  “Yes.” Darrell felt uncomfortable. “There were—personal reasons.”

  “I see.” Doctor Morrison studied her pale face intently. “I must say, you don’t look fit. What do you plan to do?”

  “My mother wants me to take a holiday with her. After that, I’m not sure.”

  He doodled on the pad in front of him. “Would you like us to keep your job open for you? I can’t promise anything, of course, and in matters of seniority…” He paused. “But I think Matron would like me to say that there’s always a place for you here if you’d like to
come back.”

  “Thank you.” Darrell looked down at her hands. “But it wouldn’t be fair. I—I don’t know what I shall do. Right now…” She compressed her lips to prevent them from trembling, and the man opposite shook his head.

  “Right now you’re in a distinct state of nerves!” he stated harshly. “Darrell, have you seen a doctor?”

  She shook her head, and he got up from his seat and came round the desk to her. He took her wrist between his fingers and consulted his watch. Then he looked into her eyes, and made her put out her tongue.

  “Definitely nervous strain,” he said impatiently. “You’re shaking like a leaf, Darrell. I’ll give you something for that.”

  “Yes, Doctor Morrison.”

  He sighed, and went back round the desk. “Susan’s death must have come as a great shock to you. But life goes on, Darrell. Get out and enjoy yourself while you’re young. No one knows what is round the corner.”

  Darrell had a taxi to take her from the hospital to Windsor Street. That was Doctor Morrison’s idea. He had given her some capsules and insisted on her taking one immediately, and then suggested that she ought not to chance travelling on public transport until it had had time to work.

  It was almost five o’clock when Darrell knocked at the Lawfords’ door, and her palms were moist as she linked her hands together and waited for someone to answer. It was Penny who eventually opened the door, and she smiled warmly when she saw Darrell.

  “Hey! Come in!” she exclaimed. “We didn’t expect to see you until later in the week. Have you just got back?”

  Darrell forced a smile. “Yes—and no.”

  “Who is it, Penny?” Mrs. Lawford came bustling into the hall as Darrell was shedding the jacket of her trouser suit. “Oh, it’s you, Darrell. Hello, my dear. How nice to see you. You’re just in time for tea.”

  “Oh, no, really…” began Darrell awkwardly, but Mrs. Lawford wouldn’t listen to any protest, and Darrell was drawn into the lounge where several members of the family were sitting watching the television.

  Jeff was there, and his face brightened considerably. He got up to speak to her, and Mr. Lawford waved a greeting from his chair by the hearth.