A Moment in Time

by Yvonne Whittal

'That's none of your business.' She withdrew her hand from his, but the look on his face made the ice melt around her heart. 'Don't make me hurt you, Dennis, because that's the last thing I would want to do,' she pleaded.

  'Just answer one question, Christie, then I shan't pester you again.' There was no laughter in his eyes when they met hers. 'What went wrong between the professor and yourself?'

  Everything, she wanted to say, but that would lead to further questions, and she could not bear to discuss the mistakes she had made.

  'It was a clash of careers,' she answered carefully, but in a fairly conclusive way. 'His profession took him one way, and mine took me another.'

  That summed up the situation perfectly and truthfully, Christie thought as they left the pizza parlour. Lyle's career had taken him to Italy, while hers had taken her on a tour of the country, and the physical and mental distance between them had made a reconciliation impossible.

  Five years was a long time of waiting and hoping, and finally resigning herself to the inevitable, but meeting Lyle again had made her realise that there was more than simply a gap of time between them. He had wanted her that night after the incident with the snake, but even during those moments of physical closeness she had been aware of the mental distance between them. God knows, it had been easy to bridge that physical gap, but the mental gap was something quite different, and the closer she had tried to get to him, the more she had discovered that she was simply battering herself senseless against an immovable rock.

  'Will I see you again?' Dennis asked hopefully when they arrived at her flat, and the smile that curved her mouth was sympathetic as she shook her head.

  'I don't think that would be wise, do you?' she asked gently.

  'Does that mean you don't want to see me again?' He scowled down at his shoes.

  'I want you to concentrate on your studies, Dennis,' she advised softly, touching his cheek lightly with her fingers and feeling almost maternal. 'If you honestly have nothing more important to do, then you're welcome to drop in for a cup of coffee and a friendly chat.'

  Christie wondered afterwards if her offer had not been a little unwise, but she had not been able to bear his downcast expression, and his smile, though sad, had been ample reward.

  'Leave him alone,' Lyle had warned, 'or you will have me to deal with.' Lyle was so far removed from her at that moment that his warning carried no impact, but she had, after all, made it quite clear to Dennis that there could never be anything but friendship between them, and he had accepted that. Had he not?

  Christie felt unhappy about Dennis, and she felt guilty, too. She had done nothing to attract him, she told herself, but that did not make her feel any better about the situation. During the next few days she almost expected to find Lyle breathing fire at her door, but nothing of the sort happened, and she slowly began to relax.

  Her telephone rang one evening, and she thought, 'This is it!' She lifted the receiver, fully expecting Lyle's deep voice to explode in her ear, but she was mistaken.

  'This is Sonia Deacon speaking,' a feminine voice purred. 'I imagine Lyle must have told you about me?'

  'As a matter of fact, he didn't,' Christie had to prick Sonia's balloon of self-confidence. 'I saw you, though, on the morning we left the university campus to go on the expedition to the northern Transvaal, and one of the students mentioned your name.'

  'How thoughtful.'

  'Yes, wasn't it?' Christie replied smoothly, wondering what this call was in aid of.

  'Perhaps I should explain my reasons for contacting you,' Sonia announced as if she had read Christie's thoughts.

  'Perhaps you should.'

  'It's about Lyle.'

  Christie's mind skidded across a list of various mishaps of which one was more terrifying than the other. Was he ill? Was that what Sonia Deacon wanted to tell her?

  'What about him?' she asked with an uninterested calmness which belied the turmoil of anxiety that stormed through her.

  'I'm afraid I can't discuss it on the telephone.' That feminine purr intensified Christie's concern to the point of frustration. 'Are you free tomorrow morning?'

  'I am.' She would have been free even if she had had to cancel a string of engagements.

  'Do you know the Feodora Tea Room in Bree Street?'

  Who doesn't, Christie though wryly. When the Feodora Tea Room opened its doors to business a year ago it became an avid topic of conversation. It was the place where wealthy women could rid themselves of their boredom by spending a fortune on tea and scones while they picked up and passed on the latest scandal.

  'It's near Garlicks, isn't it?' Christie sought unnecessary confirmation while her mind darted about wildly.

  'That's correct,' came the reply. 'Meet me there for tea at eleven.'

  The conversation ended on that abrupt note, and Christie was left to wonder what there was about Lyle which was of such importance that Sonia Deacon would actually telephone her with an invitation to tea. There was, however, one small consoling thought. If Lyle had been at death's door, then Sonia would surely have said something to that effect.

  There was something else niggling at Christie when she went to bed that night. How had Sonia Deacon found out about her? She could only have heard Lyle mentioning her name, but Christie could not even begin to imagine why Lyle had felt it necessary to discuss her with his current girlfriend.

  Christie was more than simply curious, and her curiosity and concern resulted in a restless night during which she tossed her thoughts backwards and forwards through her mind, but without success. Exhaustion finally claimed her in the early hours of the morning, and when she awoke at seven-thirty she had one of those throbbing headaches which persisted despite the amount of pain-killing tablets she had taken.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Feodora Tea Room had a blatant elegance about it that matched some of the ladies who frequented it, and the thick pile of the wine-red carpet silenced Christie's footsteps when she stepped inside. She paused a moment, her glance searching amongst the sea of faces for the woman she had seen only briefly some weeks ago, and she was beginning to feel conspicuous when a blue-coated black man stepped from behind the padded counter.

  'May I get you a table, madam?'

  'I'm here to meet Miss Sonia Deacon,' she explained, and his expression told her he had been warned to expect her.

  'This way, madam,' he gestured gallantly with a sweep of his hand, and she was led along an aisle beside a row of tables which had been partitioned off for privacy. He stopped beside the very last table where Sonia awaited Christie, then he bowed politely and returned to the counter at the entrance.

  'You're very punctual.' Sonia smiled, but the smile did not reach those cool grey eyes. 'Please sit down.'

  'Thank you.'

  They sat facing each other across the small round table, and Christie knew that Sonia Deacon was summing her up just as she was taking stock of this blonde, beautiful, and elegantly clad woman who had invited her to the Feodora for tea and a discussion which concerned Lyle.

  'I took the liberty of placing an order, and… Ah, here it comes now,' Sonia broke the silence between them, and a white-aproned waitress served their tea and cream scones in delicate china cups and plates. 'You will have a scone, won't you?' Sonia asked when the waitress had departed. 'Or do you have to watch your weight?'

  Christie detected a note of sarcasm in her voice, but she chose to ignore it for the moment. 'My weight has always remained stable no matter what I eat.'

  Sonia smiled as she poured their tea, but once again the smile did not reach her eyes. 'Do you take milk?'

  'Yes, thank you.'

  A cup was passed to Christie and she helped herself to sugar before sampling the cream scone. It was light and fluffy, and the cream was fresh, but at that moment she could not give it the appreciation it deserved. After a sleepless night she was not in a very appreciative mood, and her patience was wearing thin.

  'I simply adore coming here,' Sonia pur
red like a satisfied kitten when they had eaten their scones and were drinking their tea. 'It has such a cosy atmosphere, don't you think?'

  'I'm afraid I'm not a connoisseur of tea rooms,' Christie stated rather bluntly, pushing her empty cup aside. 'Look, Miss Deacon, could we forget the platitudes and get down to the reason why you requested this meeting?'

  'Very well,' Sonia smiled, her beautiful mouth curving cynically, and her cold eyes meeting Christie's. 'I know you were married to Lyle some years ago.'

  Christie's back stiffened. 'That I have already gathered.'

  'I also suspected that it was you who went along as Lyle's secretary on this last expedition with his students, and you confirmed this when I spoke to you on the telephone last night.'

  'That's true,' said Christie, recalling her admittance that she had seen Sonia on the university campus. 'You, in turn, said that you wanted to talk about Lyle, and I'm still waiting to discover the reason for this meeting.'

  'I am here on Lyle's behalf, and he wants you to stay out of his life in future.'

  Christie had asked for it, but the suddenness of it seemed to stun her into disbelief. 'I beg your pardon?'

  'You heard me quite clearly, but I'll repeat it if you like.' Sonia's purring voice oozed confidence with a touch of venom. 'Stay away from Lyle. You may have been married to him once, but that does not signify that you have the right to force your unwanted presence on him now.'

  Christie could not deny to herself that there was a particle of truth in Sonia's statement. Lyle had given her every indication that he had disliked having her accompany him on that expedition, but she had never dreamed that he would discuss his dislike of her with this woman, and neither had she imagined that he would agree to someone else speaking on his behalf.

  'You're making it sound as if I've been flinging myself at him,' Christie protested defensively.

  'Isn't that why you applied for that job as his secretary?' Sonia questioned her cynically.

  'The job was advertised, and I applied for it without knowing that Lyle would be the officiating professor,' Christie answered truthfully. 'I had no idea at all that he was back in the country.'

  'Do you really expect me to believe that?' Sonia laughed softly, her cynical expression deepening. 'Do you think Lyle believes that it all happened by chance?'

  A wave of anger swept through Christie. 'You may both believe what you wish.'

  'Are you still in love with him?'

  The question was rapped out with a startling swiftness which might have shocked a younger woman into revealing her feelings unwittingly, but Christie met Sonia's cold, calculating glance with a steady, deceptive calmness. 'I respect and admire him very much as an archaeologist, but whatever else I may feel for him is no one's business but my own.'

  Sonia leaned back in her chair, her eyes darting chips of ice at Christie, and an ugly, malicious smile twisting her lovely mouth into an uncomplimentary shape. 'In other words you do still love him.'

  She was taking a chance on Christie breaking under the strain of her deliberate attack, but Christie was too angry at that moment to feel anything other than an intense dislike for this woman whose outer shell of beauty seemed to peel away to reveal the ugly core beneath.

  'I think you have accomplished what you set out to do,' Christie said coldly, her hands gripping her handbag so tightly under the table that her fingers ached. 'Lyle is yours, if you want him that badly, and you have my word that I shan't interfere, or lay the slightest claim on his attention.'

  'Lyle will be relieved to hear that,' Sonia purred, a glittering smile of victory lighting up her eyes for the first time.

  'I'm sure he will,' Christie snapped, rising to her feet. 'Thanks for the tea, and goodbye, Miss Deacon.'

  Christie was aware of several curious glances directed at her when she walked out of the Feodora, but her head was held high on her squared shoulders, and not for anything in the world would she let anyone guess that she had just been hurt so deeply that she felt more like bursting into tears.

  She got into her blue Mazda and drove back to her flat, but she could not recall afterwards how she had got there without committing a traffic offence. She felt numb and cold inside, as if her pain had become a solid block of frozen ice inside her. The water boiled in the kettle, and she made herself a strong cup of tea which she swallowed down hastily. It scalded her mouth, but it also seemed to revive her. She had shed so many tears in the past that she had imagined there were no more tears left, but they poured down her cheeks as if a tap had been opened, and somehow she was incapable of stopping them.

  Christie stumbled into her room and made no further attempt to curb her tears. She fell across her bed and said a mental farewell to a crazy dream while she wept until she felt totally drained.

  Two days later Christie was still nursing the mental bruises she had obtained during her meeting with Sonia Deacon, and she was in no mood for visitors when her doorbell chimed early that evening. She opened the door as far as the safety chain would allow, and dismay and anger surged through her at the sight of Lyle's tall, lean frame leaning nonchalantly against the door jamb.

  What was he doing there? Had he come to warn her once again to leave Dennis alone or was this a social call? Christie could not believe that it was the latter after the assurance Sonia had given her that he would be relieved if she would fade out of his life for good, but neither could she believe that he had come because of Dennis. Lyle's face was partially in shadow, but there was no anger on his hawk-like features.

  'What do you want?' she demanded, her voice cold and brittle with annoyance, and the deep timbre of his soft, mocking laughter scraped along nerves that were incredibly raw.

  'First of all I'd like to come in, if I may.'

  'What for?'

  'To talk to you.'

  Her insides were shaking and her heart was pounding so loudly that she was certain he could hear it. 'We have nothing to talk about.'

  'I can think of quite a few things I'd like to say to you,' he said, and she lowered her gaze before the glitter of mockery in his eyes.

  'I'm not interested.' She stepped back, intending to slam the door in his face, but the door would not move and, when she lowered her gaze, she realized why. 'Take your foot out of the door,' she snapped angrily.

  'Not until I have your word that you will release the safety chain and let me in.' His compelling glance drew hers like a magnet and he must have read the negative reply in her eyes before she could voice her refusal. 'Christie,' he warned, his manner threatening. 'If you don't let me in I shall create a scene which your neighbours will never let you live down.'

  'Damn you, Lyle!' She glared at him, her eyes burning with resentment and anger, but something warned her that he would do exactly as he had threatened, and she sighed helplessly. 'All right, you win.'

  'This is much better,' Lyle smiled mockingly when she had released the safety chain and had let him in. 'I like your flat, and I notice you still have most of the furniture we bought together,' he remarked, his dark gaze sweeping the room.

  Christie felt her anger boiling up inside her again. 'I'm sure you didn't come here to take an inventory, so say what you have to say, and get out.'

  'Are you always this rude to your visitors?' he wanted to know, his eyebrows raised in sardonic amusement.

  'I'm not in the mood for visitors, and especially not you,' she answered bitingly, her glance taking in the width of his shoulders beneath the expensive cut of his beige jacket, and the leanness of his hips in the brown slacks. That aura of masculinity which surrounded him was as potent as ever, and she knew that she had to be on her guard against it. 'What do you want, Lyle?'

  'To talk, that's all,' he said and, not waiting for an invitation, he sat down in a comfortably padded chair, and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  'If you've come here to stress the fact that you want me out of your life, then you needn't bother,' she said stiffly, her eyes dark with pain and suppres
sed fury. 'I got the message loud and clear.'

  A slight frown appeared between his dark brows. 'I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'You know damn well what I'm talking about!' she almost shouted at him, her body rigid as she stood looking down at him with her hands clenched at her sides. 'You were so concerned that I might want to wriggle my way back into your favour that you sent Sonia to warn me off. What did you tell her, Lyle? Did you tell her that you were glad the expedition was over, and that you hoped I would have the good sense in future to stay away from you? Is that why she arranged to meet me at the Feodora so that she could enlighten me on your behalf as to how you wouldn't tolerate my presence in your life? Were you too much of a coward to face me and tell me that yourself?'

  The whiteness of fury settled about his mouth. 'If there was anyone I had to face in that respect, then it was Sonia. I made it quite clear to her a few nights ago that I considered it was time she started focusing her attention on someone else.'

  It felt as if the floor had suddenly caved in beneath Christie, and she was left to grope for a new foothold. 'You ended your relationship with her?'

  'That's correct.'

  She stared at him, trying to probe what lay beneath that harsh exterior. 'I don't believe you.'

  'I also told her that she was becoming a positive nuisance, and that I had more important things on my mind… such as you,' he said blandly, linking his hands behind his dark head, and looking up at her with a gleam of mockery in his eyes. 'Whom you want to believe is your choice entirely.'

  Christie still laboured under that feeling that the breath had been knocked out of her body. She was confused and bewildered, and quite incapable of reasoning sensibly.

  'I think I'll go and made some coffee,' she said weakly, and fled into the kitchen.

  She switched on the kettle and set out the cups, but her mind was not on what she was doing. Nothing seemed to make sense at that moment. Sonia wanted Lyle so badly that she had gone as far as warning Christie to stay out of his way, but Lyle had contradicted that by saying he had broken off his relationship with Sonia. If Lyle was telling the truth, then Sonia's actions could have been prompted by jealousy. But what if Sonia had spoken the truth?