by Sara Craven
‘Briony.’ His voice was gentler than she had ever heard it, and his hands clasped her face, forcing her to look up at him. ‘It’s all right. Everything’s all right. Nothing happened to you. Don’t hate me, and for God’s sake don’t start hating yourself.’
‘I don’t hate you.’ Her voice broke, and he kissed her trembling lips.
‘That’s good.’ He was smiling, but his eyes were troubled. ‘Don’t worry about getting out of here. I’ll call you a cab, and Tony will be lying low in his room while you get clear.’
‘You’re turning me out?’ She could hardly believe her own words. Where was her pride? she asked herself wildly as humiliated colour stained her cheeks.
‘As a temporary measure.’ He went over to the desk and handed her a memo pad and a pencil. ‘Write your flat number down and I’ll call you there tomorrow.’
‘But Logan . .’
‘There are no “buts”. At least, not tonight. It’s not just Tony’s return, you know.’ He pushed a rueful hand through his hair. ‘I’ve probably got too much whisky in my bloodstream to do justice to either of us.’
‘It was so dreadful,’ she whispered. ‘Him bursting in like that.’
‘He feels dreadful too. He’s probably contemplating suicide at this very moment.’
‘That’s not true,’ she said passionately. ‘In spite of your early warning system, I’m not the first he’s caught you with. You more or less said so yourself?’
‘I think a discussion of what may or may not have happened in the past is pretty fruitless right now. I’ll take you home.’ Logan went back to the desk, lifted the telephone and dialled a number.
Briony said stiffly, ‘It’s all right. You don’t have to come with me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ He ordered their taxi and replaced the receiver, He said, ‘I’m not going to touch you, Briony. I’m not even coming near you while I say this. But you’re not just any girl, and I wasn’t making a drunken pass because you were there and available. We could have something quite different going for us, and that’s why I’m glad that I’m taking you home now, and that I’ll be phoning you tomorrow when I’m sober and thinking straight again. Perhaps you’d better do some hard thinking too, or you might suddenly find you were right in, out of your depth.’
She said with difficulty, her eyes filling with tears, ‘I think I love you, Logan.’
He did not move. He stayed where he was, leaning against the desk, and his mouth twisted a little.
He said lightly, ‘You catch on fast, Miss Trevor. Just be sure that you’re waiting by that phone tomorrow evening.’
Looking back on the period that followed, Briony supposed she had never been happier in her life. Logan telephoned her as he promised and took her out to dinner.
But he made no further attempt to seduce her either then or on any of the other evenings which followed.
She saw him at work too, and whenever possible he took her to lunch with him. She knew that everyone in the office was speculating about them, and she knew too that with her father due home from the States any day their romance was living on borrowed time. She had half expected a scene with Karen Wellesley. but apart from giving her venomous looks on any occasion when they happened to encounter each other, the older woman ignored Briony completely.
And Aunt Hes returned from Yorkshire, her head humming, as she herself said. with a new plot. She told Briony warmly that she was looking well. and was welcome to stay on at the flat for as long as she wanted, but Briony knew that as soon as her aunt began writing in earnest she would be in the way. She would have to find somewhere else to live.
She supposed she could go home. Word had reached U.P.G. that Sir Charles was delayed in the States and no one seemed exactly sure when he would be returning.
‘Or I could move in with you.’ she said to Logan mischievously one night as they sat together in Aunt Hes’s drawing room, listening to records. ‘I hear Tony’s going back to Africa next week.’
‘You hear altogether too much.’ His tone was short ,and he sat up abruptly, dislodging her from where she had been dreaming with her head on his shoulder.
Briony was taken aback. ‘It was only a joke,’ she began.
‘Not an amusing one. I’ve never lived with a woman in my life, and I don’t intend to start now. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘On whom?’ she asked rather indignantly.
‘On anyone involved,’ he snapped. ‘But particularly unfair to the girl. You’ve said yourself that Tony’s going abroad again next week. God knows where I’ll be sent next. now I’ve finished that series of articles on Cambodia, or when, even. I could be away next week myself. And what would you do then? Stay on at the flat and see which of us comes back first―Tony or myself?’
She gasped. ‘That’s a foul thing to say I’
‘Well, it’s a foul idea. I share the flat with Tony because it suits us both. because of the sort of life we lead. But it’s not an arrangement which could be stretched to include a woman. It would lead to all sorts of problems.’
‘But surely,’ she stared at him. ‘you and Tony―you’ll get married one day―one of you, or both.’
Logan shrugged. ‘Doubtful. Journalism isn’t the life for a married man. I’ve seen too many marriages crack up because the girl never knew from one day to the next where her husband was or what he was doing.’
‘I see.’ Briony got up from the sofa. ‘I’d better see about some coffee. Aunt Hes will be home from the theatre soon.’
Logan said wearily, There’s time enough for that. Come back here, Briony. Look at me.’ His gaze narrowed as it rested on her face. ‘My views on marriage don’t please you. Do you disagree with them? Would you be content to live like that―in different parts of the world for most of our lives? Would it matter if I wasn’t there for anniversaries―for birthdays? What if we had children, and I was away when they were born? If they were ill could you cope alone? God in heaven, Briony!’ His tone was derisive. ‘You’re eighteen years old, and very beautiful. You deserve better prospects for your future happiness than that.’
‘Do I?’ He was holding her arm, but she dragged herself free. ‘How kind of you to make the decision for me, Logan. How very considerate. What I might want for myself is immaterial of course.’
‘No. it’s very material.’ He was very pale suddenly, and there was a kind of anguish in his eyes. ‘It has been since the moment I saw you. God help us both. though I did try to fight it. But you’re so young Briony. How can you be sure what you want?’
‘I know I want you,’ she said. ‘I’m not just out of my depth, Logan. I’m drowning. Are you just going to stand there and let it happen?’
He groaned softly. ‘Love―you make things so hard for me. Everything I said that night at the flat still stands. I am too old for you, and not just in age. Do you know what one of my first jobs on a newspaper was―a traffic accident. They were cutting someone out of a car with oxy-acetylene when I got there. He was already dead, and they were in a hurry. Do you know what burning flesh smells like, Briony? I don’t think I’ve ever been so ill in my life. And not only that. There’s so much about me that you don’t know. All you’re really aware of is that you want me to make love to you.’
‘Is that so wrong?’ she whispered.
‘No―on the contrary. But supposing there was something about me―something in my past that you found out about after we were married. Something you couldn’t stomach.’
‘About you―or about your job?’ She was uncertain.
They’re practically indistinguishable.’ He took her gently in his arms. ‘I’m trying to tell you. Briony, that I hope I’m not the scum of the earth as your father thinks, but God knows I’m no Sir Lancelot either. I’ve done things I can look back on with a certain amount of pride, and others that I’ve loathed doing and loathed myself for doing them. That’s what the job is. That’s what I am. I don’t know whether you can take that.’
‘I don’t know either
.’ She buried her face in his chest, delighting in the warm smell of him. ‘But I can’t be happy without you, Logan.’
‘You have to be as young as you are to be as certain as that,’ he said rather grimly.
‘Don’t you want to marry me. Logan?’ She looked up at him, deliberately veiling her eyes with her long lashes and allowing the tip of her tongue to penetrate her parted lips.
‘I know what I’d like to do to you right now, with or without benefit of clergy.’ Logan shook her slightly. ‘But not with your aunt’s arrival imminent. I suppose she’ll give us her blessing. And we’ll be married when your father gets home from America.’
Briony quivered slightly. ‘Couldn’t we be married now. Logan? Right away?’
‘No.’ His tone was very positive. ‘We see your father and we tell him first. He isn’t going to be pleased anyway, but he’d be even angrier if he came home and found you married already.’
In the event Briony could not imagine her father being capable of any more anger no matter what she had done. He was beside himself with rage. calling her every kind of a fool.
‘He’s not fit to associate with you, let alone marry you,’ he stormed. ‘I suppose he sees marriage to the Chairman’s daughter as the easy way to an editor’s job in the company. Well, he’ll soon realise his mistake!’
‘Logan isn’t interested in the editorial side of the newspaper production,’ Briony said wearily. It was a point they had discussed together quite extensively. ‘Daddy. I know he wouldn’t be your choice for me in a million years, but can’t you be happy for me because I’m happy?’
‘Happiness?’ Sir Charles gave a bark of disbelieving laughter. ‘A man like that is incapable of making any woman happy. He probably has women all over the world―and you’ll be the legal wife in England. Well don’t imagine for one instant that I’ll lend my countenance to the marriage.’
There were inevitably newspaper stories when the news that Logan and Briony planned to wed leaked out, and before long the U.P.G.‘s rivals were talking openly of the rift between Charles Trevor and his daughter. Sir Charles refused to give any interviews ‘or make any comment, and Briony followed his example rigidly. The days before the wedding were like some terrible ordeal ,especially as Logan was in Paris covering a trade conference and was not expected back until the day before the ceremony.
Aunt Hes, who had offered the cottage in Yorkshire as a honeymoon retreat, was sympathetic to Briony’s plight, but already becoming preoccupied with her new book.
Briony began to wonder if anyone really wished them well for the future. Under the congratulations and good wishes at the office, she thought she detected a polite scepticism about their chances of happiness, which bewildered her.
She was alone in the cuttings library at U.P.G. on her final day at work when Karen Wellesley came in.
Briony glanced up, astonished, because it was unlike the women’s editor to perform a menial task like fetching any cuttings she might need herself.
Karen walked over and stood looking down at her and with a sinking heart Briony realised that this was the confrontation that she had dreaded.
‘So Logan has decided to opt for the boss’s daughter,’ Karen began, her tone strident. ‘How did you manage to trap him into it, dear? Let him get you pregnant?’
Her contemptuous glance skimmed Briony’s slim figure, resting pointedly on her abdomen.’ I hope your father decides to let bygones be bygones eventually, or it will all have been for nothing.’
Briony kept her voice steady. ‘I suppose you know what you’re talking about, Miss Wellesley.’
‘Don’t play the innocent with me, darling, because It doesn’t wash. You wanted Logan from the moment you set eyes on him, and you went after him.’ Karen’s voice was ugly. ‘Well, now you’ve got him―but let’s see if you can keep him. I hope you didn’t promise him too many crumbs from Daddy’s table, because something tells me that you aren’t going to be able to deliver. Hard lines, Miss Trevor. You’ll find Logan doesn’t appreciate being made a fool of any more than your father does. In fact you’ve stumbled from the hands of one ruthless man to another; And if I had to vote for which of them was the biggest bastard, I think I’d walk into Logan’s lobby. Good luck, sweetie―I think you’re going to need it.’
Briony sat sick and shaking after Karen had gone, leaving a strong hint of the strong musky perfume she wore in the air. Karen and Logan had been lovers, although she had tried very hard not to think about that, long before she, Briony, had come on the scene. It could be argued that Karen knew him better than most people. It could also be argued that she still cared about him.
Certainly her attitude just now had been that of a jealous rather than an indifferent woman.
Ruthless, Briony thought, she said ruthless. And a bigger bastard than my father. And a long shiver ran down her spine.
Lying in bed, trying to snatch what warmth she could from the rapidly cooling hot water bottle, Briony wondered soberly if Karen’s words hadn’t provided the first serious crack in her precarious edifice of happiness. Yet it had been here in this very cottage that the whole fragile structure had come tumbling about her ears.’ Almost convulsively she turned on to her stomach, burying her face in the pillow, willing herself to forget, to get some rest, so that in the morning she could go down, get her car started somehow and drive away from here ―anywhere.
She might have to spend this night under the same roof with Logan, but she would stay no longer. It was all too painfully reminiscent of the honeymoon which had gone so horribly, painfully wrong.
Yet where could she go where these memories would not pursue her? Lying in the chilly darkness, Briony let herself go on remembering.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE had been able to bear everything about the wedding ―the fact that it had been conducted in a register office and not a church, the battery of press cameras she had to face when she came out with Logan after the ceremony, the fact that her father had kept his vow not to attend, and had not acknowledged her wedding day by so much as a telegram-because she knew that very soon she and Logan would be alone together, heading north for the cottage, and the beginning of their life together.
It was late afternoon when they arrived at the house, a still, hazy day, with clouds drifting low on the fells, and mist rising. She’d been slightly disappointed because she’d wanted to show Logan how beautiful the cottage could be in sunlight, but he’d laughed when she’d confessed as much, pulling her to him and kissing her mouth before he picked her up and lifted her over the threshold in the time-honoured tradition.
‘It’s beautiful now,’ he’d said, and there was a tenderness and a promise mixed with the hunger in his voice.
Or had she only imagined it? she wondered drearily.
He’d brought the cases in, checked that the necessary food was in the kitchen, and that the cottage was ready for their occupation while she had stood in the centre of the living room, rigid with sudden shyness, because of the unfamiliarity of it all. She was happy, and she wanted him with all her heart and more, but there was a great step to be taken to bridge that gap between the impossible dream and total reality, and the thought of that step and all that was involved in it made her shake inside. She heard his footsteps coming down the stairs and she tensed all over again-she couldn’t help herself, and he came into the room and just stood there, watching her, but making no attempt to come close, to take her into his arms as she had half hoped, half feared that he would.
He said quietly, ‘There are steaks and the makings of a salad in the kitchen. I’m going off to find champagne somewhere.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Unless you can think of a more appropriate drink?’
‘Hardly.’ Her voice sounded young and rather breathless. ‘Champagne would be wonderful.’
‘It’s all going to be wonderful.’ His gaze held hers for a moment, and she was tempted to say, ‘To hell with champagne. Stay with me, Logan.’ But the moment passed and she smiled and nodded
brightly.
He said, ‘I won’t be long.’
Briony heard the cottage door close and saw his tall figure going down the path to the gate. The mist was thickening and he was out of sight before he was even a , third of the way down the track. She stood at the window, watching, straining her eyes for a last. glimpse of him, as if it was somehow important, then she turned away and went slowly upstairs to start unpacking.
It was good to have something to do, something to think about as she took their clothes out of the cases and laid them side by side in the drawers of the old-fashioned chest in the bedroom. She found her nightgown, white and filmy, and laid it on the bed, but a protracted search refused to reveal any pyjamas for Logan, and she supposed with a feeling of embarrassment that he never bothered with them. It was just another case of the dream clashing with the reality, and the image of Logan as a romantic bridegroom clad in silk waiting chivalrously downstairs while she undressed had never been a valid one, she knew. He had given her this time to herself, to get used to it all, and she should be grateful to him, but when he returned he would expect more than gratitude, much, much more, and she felt both uncertain and inadequate. The air was cool in the bedroom, and she told herself that was why she was shivering a little.