"Not quite!" Laura glanced at her watch. "You haven't time for a coffee, have you?"
"Afraid not. I'm just going on duty. You here to see someone off?"
"I've come to meet my husband. He's due to arrive from New York at ten."
"Some of the planes have been delayed," Sheila said. "Strong head winds I think. Wait here and I'll go and see what the latest news is." The stewardess hurried away and returned after a moment, slightly out of breath.
"Just as I thought. All the planes from New York are coming in late. I've left word up at the office that you're here and they'll send someone down to let you know the minute they have any news."
"Thanks awfully." Laura sighed. "It was stupid of me not to have telephoned before coming."
"Never mind. Why not go over to the crew room? I'm sure the girls will be delighted to see you."
"Perhaps I will later," Laura said and was glad when Sheila said goodbye and hurried away, for she felt strangely uneasy and wanted to be alone.
Outside the airport building she paced up and down, watching the planes landing and taking off. On the top of the masts the stocking struggled against the wind and she cast an anxious glance at the sky. It was silly to be worried because the plane was delayed. She shivered and drawing her coat more closely round her, walked back to the departure hall. As she crossed the threshold a Bantock official came forward, his hand held out in greeting.
"Oh Mrs. Dimar, I was just coming to look for you."
Laura stopped still. "Is anything wrong?"
He hesitated. "Come into my office. It's quieter in there."
Her heart began to pound, and resisting the impulse to insist that he tell her immediately what was wrong, she followed him up a flight of concrete steps to a small office with a large desk and a couple of chairs.
"It's about my husband, isn't it?" she said the moment they were alone. "Has anything happened to the plane?"
"Well…" he paused. "The last message we got from them was about an hour ago. They developed engine trouble halfway across and decided to make for Shannon. Since then we haven't heard anything."
Beads of perspiration trickled down Laura's forehead and she was trembling so violently that she had to lean against the wall for support. At this very moment Nikolaos might be struggling for life in a turbulent sea, or lying dead in a twisted mass of wreckage. A moan escaped her lips and she clenched her hands against her eyes. If only he had not gone on this trip. If only she had had the chance to tell him that if she were never to hear his voice, see his face, touch his hands again, life would be meaningless for her.
'I love him,' she thought, 'I love him!' As she realised the tragedy of her admission, tears poured down her cheeks. It was too late. The opportunity had gone and the years once more stretched ahead of her, bleak and empty.
Dimly she was aware of a telephone ringing behind her and the next moment felt her arm taken in a fierce grip. "It's all right, Mrs. Dimar!" the man was saying. "Word's just come in from Shannon that your husband's plane landed ten minutes ago. Apparently their radio wasn't…" The rest of his words faded and Laura swayed and would have fallen had he not led her to a chair. "It's been a bad shock for you, Mrs. Dimar. I'll get you a nice cup of tea and I suggest you sit here and have a rest. Mr. Dimar won't be arriving for another couple of hours."
"I don't think I'll wait, thank you." She stood up. "I'd like to go home."
"Shall I order a car for you?"
"No thanks. It will do me good to concentrate on driving." Smiling goodbye, she walked steadily from the room.
How different she was from the girl who had arrived here half an hour ago. Then she had been depressed and unhappy, angry with herself too, for not knowing the cause of her heartache. Now she knew that the reason for her unhappiness would also be the reason for her greatest joy. She closed her eyes, momentarily imagining the look on Nikolaos' face when she told him she loved him. Trembling at the thought she took her place at the wheel and turned the car towards London and home. Nikolaos' home and, now that she had recognised the truth of her feelings for him, her home too.
Arriving at the flat, she went straight to her room and flinging herself on the bed, savoured the joy of her new found love. How stupid she had been not to recognise it before. What months she had wasted fighting Nikolaos. But she would make it up to him — oh, how much she would make it up to him!
There was a knock on the door and Maria came in. "Mrs. Ridgeway is here to see you, Madam."
Laura sat up. What did Irene want? Surely she knew Nikolaos was away. "Did you tell her I was in?"
"Yes. I thought…" Maria looked upset. "I'm sorry, Madam. If I'd known—"
"Never mind." Laura shrugged and walked down the corridor to the drawing-room.
Irene Ridgeway was reclining on the sofa, her legs curled under her, a cigarette between her fingers, and Laura, watching her, was irresistibly reminded of a sleek and self-satisfied panther.
"Hello there." Irene narrowed her violet eyes. "I wasn't sure you'd be up so early in the morning."
"I went to meet Nikolaos but his plane was delayed. He was in New York, you know."
"Yes I do know. That's why I've come to see you. I thought it better to talk to you while he was away."
Laura raised here eyebrows. "What do you want to speak to me about?"
Irene flicked some ash into the ashtray beside her. "Sit down, Laura. We can't talk properly like this."
Laura's mouth tightened at the woman's calm assumption of hostess but she made no comment and sat on a chair opposite the sofa, pointedly glancing at her watch as she did so. "I'm in rather a hurry, Irene."
"What I have to say won't take long but I'm sure you'd rather know the truth than go on living in a fool's paradise."
"I don't know what you're taking about."
"No? The sooner I explain the better. Niko and I love each other." Irene drew deeply on her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. "I can see by your face that it isn't a surprise to you."
"I saw him kissing you last week."
"Ah! I had a feeling someone was watching us. Well then, you know for yourself I'm not lying. Niko was in love with me a long time ago but I was young and stupid and didn't know his worth."
"I'm sure you didn't," Laura said dryly.
Irene shrugged. "I won't bother denying what you've implied. I love Nikolaos but it is also true that I couldn't love him if he were poor. Still, I'm digressing. What I've come for is to ask you to set him free."
Laura's hands gripped each other tightly but when she spoke, her voice held no tremor. "My husband knows perfectly well he carf be free any time he wants. In fact, not long ago I asked him for my own freedom but he refused."
For a moment Irene looked nonplussed, then she sighed. "I can see I'll have to tell you the whole truth." She uncrossed her legs and shifted forward on the settee. "Niko was afraid that if you knew he wanted to be free you might decide to hang on to him."
"Why?"
"So that you could make him pay for the way he's behaved to you."
"What do you know about that?" Laura asked sharply.
Irene half closed her eyes and appeared to be deep in thought. "I know everything," she said at last. "Everything."
Laura's cheeks burned with shame. How dared Nikolaos tell Irene the details of their marriage? And did he really think that she would keep him chained to her out of spite? If that were so, then he obviously believed their disastrous wedding night had hurt her so much that she would do everything in her power to hurt him in return. Yet her actions throughout their marriage had been geared to his wishes and orders. Surely if she had wanted to hurt him she would have found a hundred other ways to do so? She frowned, trying to remember when she had last asked him for a divorce. It had been the night they had given a dinner party, the night Irene had come to their home for the first time. "I won't divorce you till I'm ready," he had said, and had not known as he uttered the words that on that very night he would fall in love ag
ain.
"I still don't see why he couldn't have come to me and asked to be free. He's so self-confident it would never enter his head he couldn't get what he wanted."
"You take a lot of convincing, don't you?" The Greek woman's voice was light, amused. "When a man is in love he doesn't see things clearly. You know that for yourself. After all, you fooled Nikolaos you were in love with him when you married him. How was he to know you weren't fooling when you kept demanding a divorce? I must say, it was very clever of you to demand something that you knew he had no intention of giving until it suited him."
"Are you inferring that when it suited him / would have been the one to refuse?"
"Yes!"
Laura walked over to the french windows and smoothed the curtains. "Why are you telling me this? Aren't you still afraid I won't set him free?"
"No I'm not. Last week at the Limarks' I realised Niko was wrong about you. You don't hate him — you love him — and I knew that if you did refuse to give him a divorce it would be because you hoped to make him love you in return."
"And why shouldn't I still keep on hoping that? I didn't mean my vows when I made them — I'll admit that — but if I said them today, I would mean them."
"Maybe you would. But Niko wouldn't. You must realise that you can't fight the love Niko has for me. It goes back to our childhood, to all the years we shared together. I'm his sort of person, Laura. I understand his tradition, I speak his language and I'm part of his heritage. He knew the moment we met that marrying you had been the biggest mistake of his life. When I ran away with Harry he tried to forget me, he even made himself believe that marriage to you would help. But of course it didn't."
"That's not true," Laura said. "Nikolaos loved me in the beginning." She closed here eyes and tears forced their way beneath her eyelids. He had said so many wonderful things during their engagement, had behaved so ardently, so tenderly, that she could not believe he had not meant any of it. "Nikolaos did love me," she reiterated.
"He tried his best," Irene said viciously. "But he didn't succeed."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Many things. The most important one being that he is now my lover."
Momentarily Laura was speechless, then with an effort she forced herself to reply. "I don't believe it!"
"Then ask him yourself. Use your intelligence, Laura. Think back over the last few weeks. How many evenings has he stayed out till one or two in the morning? No doubt he told you it was business but you can take my word that he was in my flat all the time. And one night—" Irene opened her bag and withdrew a ruby studded tie-pin—"one night he left this behind." She held it out. "I found it on my bedside table in the morning."
Mechanically Laura took the tie-pin and turned it over in her hand, seeing the initials N.D. engraved in the corner. If she had needed any further proof that Irene was speaking the truth she had it now. "What do you want me to do?" she asked, her voice blurred and indistinct.
"I told you — set him free. Leave him at once. If you don't you'll ruin his life."
"No. I—I must talk to him first."
"And tell him what?" Irene said coldly. "That you want to go on being his wife, that you love him so much you can't bear to let him go? For heaven's sake, Laura! I always knew Englishwomen never had any pride but not until now did I realise they could grovel before a man who didn't want them. If I—"
"Stop it!" Laura cried. "Stop it! I can't bear any more!"
"I'm sorry." Irene stood up and although her voice was gentle, her words were still remorseless. "I'm speaking as one woman to another, Laura. If I were you I would go right now. I would keep my pride and never let him realise how much he had hurt me."
Laura lowered her head and did not look up as she heard the quiet footsteps on the carpet and the closing of the door.
She was still sitting with head bent when Bingham came in with her morning coffee and glancing at her watch, she realised that Nikolaos would be home in another hour. Numbly she walked over to the desk and pulling out a sheet of paper, began to write.
"I can't go on any longer, Nikolaos. I'd rather not live at all than have to live in hate. That's why I'm leaving you. You can tell your friends and the newspapers what you like. I promise to do everything I can to help you. I am going back to my job but please don't try to contact me. We've already said everything that can be said and to meet again would only mean more recriminations. I should never have married you but unfortunately I didn't realise the way I felt until it was too late. Goodbye, Nikolaos. I won't ask you to forgive me now. I only hope you will be able to do so when you yourself are happy again." She read the letter before putting it in its envelope, glad that none of her love for him had seeped through. When he saw it he would assume what she wanted him to assume: that she had come to the end of her tether and had taken the final step towards freedom. She wrote his name on the envelope and placed it prominently on the hall table, knowing he would see it the moment he came in. Then she went to her bedroom and pressed the bell for Maria, keeping her finger on it until the maid came running in.
"I want a case," she said shortly. "A large case."
"If Madam's going away I shall pack—"
"No, Maria. Just bring me the case and leave me alone."
It was only the work of a few moments to collect her things. The glamorous evening gowns, the jewellery, the furs were left behind and all she took were the bare necessities. On the very top she placed the Transmondial uniform that she had kept, for sentimental reasons, at the very back of her wardrobe. She fingered the jacket. Soon she would be wearing it again. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away.
No matter what Irene said she was convinced Nikolaos had loved her when they had married and if she had been a proper wife to him he would never have fallen in love with Irene again. Yet there was no point in self- recrimination: she had not been a proper wife and what was more natural than that, disillusioned and heartsick, he should turn to his own countrywoman?
Well she was not going to stand between him and his happiness any more. In this respect Irene had judged her more kindly than Nikolaos. She sighed, glad that he would never know how deeply he had hurt her. 'Pride,' she thought ironically. It was the only thing she had left and she would hang on to it with all her strength.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SLOWLY the Stratocruiser came in to land and raced across the runway, brakes shrieking. Within seconds it slowed down and bumped along the tarmac to a standstill. Swiftly the steps were put in position, the door opened and a tall, slim stewardess with dark red hair took her place on the top step to bid goodbye to her passengers.
As the last one left Laura returned to the main cabin to see that everything was in order before making her way to the airport building. Her checking out finished, she wandered into the crew canteen for a cup of coffee. There were a couple of stewardesses at a table and she joined them and chatted for a few moments, before leaving to catch her bus home. As she jogged back to her lodgings she realised how lucky she was to have been able to pick up all the threads of her life where she had left them. Yet not quite all, for Celia was now married to Tim and the small flat they had once shared together had been taken over by two other stewardesses.
Reluctant to share a flat with a stranger, Laura had found herself a couple of rooms in an old-fashioned Victorian house. It had the advantage of being near the airport and as she climbed the stairs to the top floor and let herself into the sitting room, she wondered wearily whether she would ever think of it as home. As always when she gave her thoughts free rein they flew to Nikolaos. What was he doing now? She glanced at her watch. Seven-thirty. He was probably having a pre-dinner cocktail on the terrace. It was a warm day for April and the white marble tubs would no doubt be full of spring flowers. Visualising him, she deliberately closed her mind to Irene, but the pale face with the heavy-lidded violet eyes penetrated her deepest thoughts so that it was impossible to think of her husband without immediately placing the
Greek woman by his side. Dejectedly she rested her head in her hands. Four months since she had seen him, four months which, instead of dimming his memory, had entrenched him more firmly than ever in her mind. Even her job had not helped her to forget the past; no matter how many thousands of miles she had put between herself and England, the bitter-sweet months of her marriage were always with her.
Angry that she was guilty of indulging in self pity, Laura went into the kitchen to make herself some supper and twenty minutes later, bathed and in a cotton house-coat, she returned to the sitting room bearing a tray with a boiled egg, a pot of tea and some toast. There were three days off duty to be faced and she wondered what to do with them. Should she go and see Miss Briggs or take advantage of Celia's invitation to stay with her in her new bungalow a few miles from London Airport?
She was still undecided when the telephone rang. It was Celia and Laura could not help laughing. "I'm beginning to believe in telepathy! I was just thinking of you and wondering whether or not to come over."
"That would be marvellous! I rang the airport but you'd already left."
"Where's Tim?"
"Halfway across the Atlantic by now. They've put him on the New York run so I'm a grass widow for the next three days."
"Then I'll take pity on you and come over."
"Good. Bring some things and stay the night."
A few hours later Laura walked up the narrow path and knocked on the shiny front door of Celia's house.
"How lovely to see you!" her friend exclaimed, flinging the door wide. "You really are naughty, Laura. You don't come over nearly often enough."
"Newlyweds don't want to be bothered with other people."
"Don't be silly. Tim and I aren't in the least romantic."
Laura grinned and shook her head. "You behave like a couple of lovebirds when you're together!"
She left her case in the hall and walked into the sitting- room. It was small, no larger than her own bathroom had been in Nikolaos' flat, yet it was bright and cheerful and so obviously a home that she felt her throat contract. With a deliberate effort, she made herself laugh and joke, recounting the experience she had had with a Siamese cat that had escaped from the wicker basket in which it had been travelling.
Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura Page 16