by Sara Craven
‘You can’t do that. You’re not playing the sleepwalking scene from the Scottish play, Mother.’ Lydie grasped Debra’s arms through the thin robe and shook her gently. ‘This is reality, and you have to face it.’
Just as I’ve done, she thought, her whole being wincing away from the hurt of it.
For a moment there was silence, then Debra said haltingly, ‘Does he—know? Have you told Marius the truth?’
‘No,’ Lydie said quietly, torn between pity and contempt. ‘No, I wouldn’t do that. I let him go on thinking it was me.’
‘Thank God.’ Debra gave a shuddering sigh. She pulled herself free and sat down on one of the thickly padded brocade armchairs. Her face beneath the blue turban looked haggard. ‘Because he’d tell his uncle—he’d be bound to—and Austin must never find out what I’ve done. I couldn’t bear it, Lydie.’ Her eyes were suddenly enormous with tears. ‘It would be the end of everything—and I love Austin—I really do.’
Lydie gave her a level look. ‘I hope you mean that. Judging by your remarks a couple of evenings ago, I’d begun to wonder.’
‘Oh—that.’ Debra’s shrug was almost airy. ‘I was upset by Marius’s return.’
‘And with good reason,’ Lydie said drily. She paused. ‘But you’re not out of the wood yet. Sooner or later the truth’s bound to come out. So why don’t you go to Austin yourself—tell him everything?’
‘Oh, but I couldn’t.’ Some colour crept into her mother’s pale face. ‘I couldn’t risk it. He would never be able to understand. He has such high standards himself...’
With a pang, Lydie remembered Darrell Corbin’s set, defiant face, her justifiable bitterness at her treatment by the Benedict men. ‘He might be more sympathetic than you think,’ she said quietly. ‘Maybe he hasn’t always behaved as well as he might in order to—protect someone.’
Debra shrugged pettishly. ‘If you believe that, darling, then you don’t know Austin.’ She sighed. ‘But perhaps I don’t know him very well either—if he’s allowed Jon to be summarily dismissed like that. He must have known how it would upset me.’
He’d also known how she’d feel about Marius returning, but that hadn’t stopped him either, Lydie reminded herself uneasily.
She said, ‘I really think you should go back to Greystones, Mother, and get a few things sorted out.’
‘I shall do nothing of the kind.’ Debra’s chin tilted mutinously. ‘And you can tell Austin from me that I have no intention of going home until Jon is fully reinstated.’
Lydie shook her head. ‘I shall be telling Austin nothing, because I’m going away myself.’
‘Going away?’ Debra echoed. ‘But where—and why?’
‘I haven’t decided where yet—or when. I shall have to make arrangements with Nell over the future of the gallery.’ How calm she sounded, and practical, whereas in reality her stomach was churning and she wanted very badly to put her head in her mother’s lap and cry her eyes out. Only, they’d never had that kind of relationship, and common sense told her that they never would. ‘As to why, I should have thought that was self-evident.’
‘But you can’t do this,’ Debra wailed. ‘You can’t simply clear out, leaving all this mess. After all, it’s probably entirely your fault that Jon’s lost his job.’
When she’d recovered her breath, Lydie asked evenly, ‘How on earth do you figure that?’
Debra shrugged again. ‘You’ve broken your engagement. Marius is obviously getting his own back and poor Jon is the sufferer.’
Lydie set her jaw. ‘Then, if I’m really the cause of so much aggravation, the best I can do is remove myself.’
‘No.’ Debra beat the arm of her chair with a clenched fist. ‘You’ve got to go to Marius and persuade him to see reason. Make up this quarrel you’ve had with him for all our sakes. We have to stick together now. You must see that.’
Lydie shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mother, but I can’t do that. I can’t go on paying the price for other people’s lies—other people’s silences.’
She bent and dropped a light kiss on Debra’s averted cheek. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve made some plans.’
‘Do as you please.’ Debra tossed her turbaned head. ‘But I’m shocked, Lydie. I never believed you could be so selfish.’
And with those words ringing in her head Lydie went down to the car.
In spite of her avowed intention to dissociate herself from the family problems, she drove straight to Thornshaugh and parked in her usual spot behind the gallery.
She was surprised not to find Jon’s car there too. But, after all, it was a company car. Maybe it had been taken away from him along with the job, she thought with a faint grimace.
For the first time since they’d started the gallery, Lydie found herself climbing the stairs with reluctance. How could she break the news to Nell that she was leaving? she wondered sadly. And what reason could she give that wouldn’t involve embarrassing or damaging explanations?
To her astonishment, she found the gallery locked and the ‘Closed’ notice in place. Another and equally disturbing first, she thought as she rooted in her bag for her own set of keys.
For a moment, she thought the place was totally deserted, then she heard sounds of movement from Nell’s studio and her friend appeared in the doorway.
Lydie suppressed a gasp. Nell’s usually tranquil air had been shattered. She was white-faced, her eyes redrimmed and heavy as if she hadn’t slept.
Lydie said urgently, ‘Nell—what is it, love? Have you been ill?’
Nell shook her head. She said huskily, ‘I’ve been trying to phone you—only Mrs Arnthwaite didn’t know where you were.’
‘No, I spent the night away from home.’ Lydie took a step towards her. ‘Is it—Jon?’ she queried gently.
Nell nodded convulsively. ‘It’s been such a shock, Lydie. I don’t know what to do. I—I didn’t open this morning because I’ve been packing. I’ve got to get away for a few days—to think. To try to put things in some kind of perspective. Would you be able to cope on your own until I get back?’
‘Why, yes, of course.’ Lydie felt utterly bewildered. Nell had always wanted Jon to be free of Benco. Did the means of his release really matter that much to her?
She said carefully, ‘Will Jon be going with you?’
‘No.’ The word cut the air like a knife. ‘I won’t have him anywhere near me—not after what he’s done. You may be able to make allowances for him, Lydie, but I can’t.’
Lydie swallowed. These were deep waters suddenly. What on earth had Jon done to cause such a violent reaction from the girl who loved him? Surely nothing criminal, she thought with horror. She tried to think back to the brief conversation they’d had. He’d spoken of mistakes but, surely, nothing worse than that?
‘It’s not just the financial side of it,’ Nell went on, her voice trembling. ‘I could cope with that—somehow. It’s the deceit—the total heartlessness—’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘You must understand how I feel.’
Lydie drew a breath. ‘Yes—yes, of course.’ If only she did. She hesitated for a moment, her mind in turmoil. ‘Would you like me to go with you, Nell? I don’t think you should be on your own right now.’
‘Being alone,’ Nell said, with a small, painful smile, ‘is something I’m going to have to get used to. Don’t worry about me. I’ll make it.’ She looked at Lydie, her brow wrinkling. ‘But all this must be affecting you badly too, love. I was so full of my own problems, I didn’t think about that.’
Lydie smiled resolutely. ‘As a matter of fact, I was going to ask a big favour. Could I stay here—use the studio while you’re away? I have some sorting out of my own to do.’ She paused. ‘And when you come back we’ll have to talk seriously about the future.’
‘Yes,’ Nell said flatly, ‘I’m afraid we will.’ She put her arms round Lydie and gave her a quick, fierce hug. ‘You can stay as long as you want—you know that.’ There were tears in her eyes as she
turned away. ‘Oh, Lydie, I’m so sorry. It’s all such a ghastly mess.’
The gallery seemed very silent and very empty after she’d gone. Lydie put the kettle on and made herself a mug of strong black coffee. The sun was pouring in through the gallery windows. It was going to be a hot day, but she felt deathly cold. Nell’s words haunted her. ‘Not just the financial side... the deceit—the total heartlessness—’ Could Jon possibly have been embezzling money from the mill? The very idea made her feel quite sick.
I should have made her tell me, she thought broodingly. Only she seemed to think that I knew. That I could even be ready to condone his behaviour. And, besides, she was too distressed for a cross-examination.
She sighed. When Nell returned, there would have to be some straight talking. She laced her fingers round the mug and waited for the inner trembling to go away.
It helped when the first customers of the day began arriving. She had to close off all the desperate questions whirling in her brain and concentrate on attending to them. Normally, she’d have been jubilant, recording several excellent sales on a Monday when business was usually slow. But nothing seemed to matter any more except the bleakness and emptiness inside her.
Hanging over her was the knowledge that she would have to go back to Greystones to collect at least some of her belongings.
The lunch-hour would probably be the best time, she decided reluctantly, although it would mean closing the gallery. But at least she’d be unlikely to find anyone else at the house. Even Mrs Arnthwaite would be absent, on her weekly visit to her sister in Huddersfield.
All the same, she felt like a thief in the night as she quietly let herself into the house a few hours later.
She went straight to her room. She would take just the minimum necessary for the next few days and send for the rest of her things when she’d established some kind of plan for the future.
She shivered. At the moment that seemed totally impossible to contemplate. But maybe that was because Greystones had represented safety and security for so many years. Even when Marius had been away, the fact that she was there, in his home, surrounded by memories, had given her a kind of comfort.
But I shouldn’t have settled for that, she told herself raggedly. I shouldn’t have kept silent. I should have kicked up a fuss—demanded answers to all those questions. There’d have been trouble, yes, when the truth came out, but at least it wouldn’t have festered all these years—become this secret monster we’re all so scared of.
Now here she was, caught between the rock of her love for Marius and the hard place of her loyalty to her mother.
The price of silence was a bitter one indeed.
She swung her case off the bed and walked to the door. She was halfway down the stairs when the front door opened and Marius walked in.
Lydie checked, dismay sweeping through her. For a moment she hesitated, her hand tightening round the handle of her case, then she continued her descent, her face a mask of cool composure.
His face gave nothing away, but there was something in his stance, an unmistakable tension in his lean body, which communicated itself to her across the space dividing them. She saw his hands clenched into fists at his sides, and knew instinctively, warily that the immaculately cut business suit, the snowy shirt and silk tie were only a civilised veneer covering something far more primitive, and dangerously near to running out of control.
He said, ‘Making your getaway, Lydie?’
‘I’m leaving, yes.’ She kept her voice even. ‘I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone. The house is usually empty at this time.’
‘But this,’ he said softly, ‘is turning into a very unusual day all round. I imagine you’ve heard the news about Jon?’
‘Yes.’ She looked down at the rich colours of the carpet.
‘And you’ve nothing to say about it?’ There was a note of faint derision in his voice. ‘No last-minute pleas for his reinstatement?’
‘I think they’d be pointless.’ She lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. ‘I suppose Jon’s departure was inevitable, but did it have to be quite so sudden—and so public? There’s bound to be talk.’
He shrugged. ‘Just as there was about me five years ago,’ he reminded her ironically. ‘Does he somehow deserve more consideration?’
‘Actually, I was thinking of Nell,’ she retorted. ‘She’s been totally devastated by the news—and she certainly doesn’t deserve it.’
‘No.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Believe it or not, she has my sympathy. But in any war, as I said, there are bound to be casualties.’
‘War?’ Lydie echoed with disbelief. ‘Is that how you regard the last few days?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘The last ten years. Ever since Austin brought you all to live here. I wanted peaceful coexistence, but of course that wouldn’t do. And by the time I’d realised what a powerful and persistent enemy I’d acquired it was too late.’ His mouth moved in a smile that was more a grimace. ‘You were the joker in the pack, Lydie. I thought you were on my side. You had me totally fooled.’
She was shaking again inwardly, but she took a step forward, her eyes going past him to the open door. ‘Well, now we all know where we stand. I hope you’re content with that.’
‘Oh, no.’ Marius shook his head. ‘Nothing but total victory will do. I’ve been promising myself that for the last five years.’
Her heart sank. ‘I suppose there’s no way I can dissuade you...?’
The mockery in his laugh laid a whip across her senses. ‘What did you have in mind, Madonna Lily? The occasional use of that charming body of yours as compensation for what you and your family did to me? Thanks, but no. I sated myself with you last night. From now on I’ll be looking for a change of diet.’
The whip lashed her again. Before she could stop herself, she said, ‘Nadine Winton, I presume.’
‘Among others,’ he drawled. ‘Why? I hope you’re not going to preach morality to me, darling. You’re hardly in any position to do so.’
‘And, as I’ve said before, you’re no candidate for the moral high ground either,’ she flung at him. ‘I suppose the name Darrell Corbin still occupies some vague corner of your memory?’
His head went back and his eyes narrowed. He said silkily, ‘Better than that, she had a meeting with me at the mill this morning.’
‘How noble of you,’ Lydie said scornfully. ‘Have you decided to take some responsibility for her at last?’
‘No. I don’t think she’d welcome it. She seems to have developed remarkable self-sufficiency since I saw her last.’
Lydie gasped. ‘Is that all you can say?’ she demanded wildly. ‘Don’t you care about the way she’s been treated?’
‘I regret that I didn’t look for her and get the whole mess sorted out five years ago,’ Marius said tersely. ‘But I doubt that’s what you want to hear.’
‘No—no, it isn’t.’ Lydie’s throat constricted almost unbearably. ‘Marius—she has a child. A child without a father.’
‘Yes.’ He paused, then said reluctantly, ‘I’ll make sure proper maintenance is paid from now on. Will that satisfy you, perhaps?’
‘It’s a start.’ She couldn’t believe that he was talking like this—dismissing his own son. ‘But I doubt it will satisfy Darrell Corbin. She—she still cares, Marius. Surely that should be of some concern?’
‘It’s unfortunate,’ he allowed curtly.
‘And that’s all?’ He was a stranger, facing her against a rapidly widening gulf. She couldn’t reach him any more. And maybe she shouldn’t even want to try.
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ His voice was suddenly raw. ‘What the hell did she expect—love and marriage? It was never going to happen, and you know that as well as I do.’
‘I don’t think I know anything any more.’ She was suddenly very tired, and sick—sick to her stomach with disillusionment. Was this the real Marius? Had the tender lover of her girlhood been just a sham after all?
She said
bitterly, ‘There’s no end to all this hurting. It just goes on and on.’
‘Life’s a bitch and then you die.’ He moved aside, gesturing towards the open door. ‘On your way, Lydie. Maybe, once we’re apart for good, we can both start to heal.’
For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, then she walked slowly past him, the case a ton weight in her hand. She was close enough to feel the warmth of his body, but he made no attempt to reach for her, and the knowledge of how much she craved his touch for one last time made her writhe inwardly.
From the doorway she swung to face him as rage and grief, mingled with shame, welled up inside her in a deadly mixture.
‘I hope you never heal—you bastard.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Oh, God, I hope you bleed to death for ever and ever.’
His face was weary, the lines beside his mouth more deeply etched. In spite of her storm of emotion, Lydie thought with a pang, This is how he’ll look when he’s old—and I won’t be there...
He said, ‘I’m sure your prayer will be answered, Madonna Lily. In fact, I think the process has already started.’
The door closed behind her, softly but quite inexorably, and Lydie found herself standing in the glare of the afternoon sun, more alone and more frightened than she had ever been in her life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LYDIE was thankful for the gallery that day. Almost as soon as she got back there, another determined trickle of tourists began arriving, giving her no time to think—to brood.
At the end of the afternoon the takings were more than satisfactory. Ironic, Lydie thought, if the business started a real boom now, when circumstances were forcing her to abandon it.
She was just about to lock up when Jon walked in.
Her heart sank at the sight of him, but she managed a calm smile and a word of greeting which he didn’t seem to hear. Instead, he stood staring round him like a lost soul.
‘Do you know where she’s gone?’ He was very pale, his eyes desperate.
Lydie sighed. ‘No—she wouldn’t tell me.’ She led the way to the studio. ‘You’d better sit down and I’ll make some coffee.’