by Anne Mather
Rachel bent her head, and Sara chose that moment to turn and say: "Why haven't you been to see us? You said you would," she reproached him.
Joel transferred his attention to Sara, and moving rather unsteadily away from the door, came down the steps into the main body of the room. "I intended to," he told her gently, going down on his haunches beside her. "But I've felt pretty lousy these past couple of days. Have you missed me?"
Sara put her hands on his shoulders. "Yes, I missed you," she answered gravely. "I waited and waited for you to come and when you didn't I felt poorly, too."
"Did you?" Joel's eyes darkened, and he gathered her close to him for a moment. It was the first time he had held the child like that, and Rachel couldn't bear to watch them. She turned away and walked to the window, and after a minute Joel got to his feet. "I'll go and get dressed."
Rachel turned then. "There's no need. We can go now Sara has seen that you're all right. You'd be better off in bed."
Joel regarded her without emotion. "I am capable of putting some clothes on," he assured her flatly. "I can stand it if you can."
Rachel pressed her palms to her cheeks. "Oh, Joel," she murmured half-heartedly, "I'm sorry I misjudged you. And I am sorry about disturbing you. You don't have to entertain us. I can imagine how you must be feeling."
"I doubt it," he returned enigmatically, and then turned away. "I shan't be long."
While he was gone, Rachel wandered round the room in much the same way as Sara had done, renewing her acquaintance with its lines and angles. She had always liked this room, its height and spaciousness, its elegance and good taste; and yet its atmosphere had a warmth and quality of comfortableness that made one instinctively relax. Someone had arranged a huge bowl of irises and tulips on top of the cowl of the pseudo-log fire, and their colouring was reflected in the warm panelling of the walls. Their perfume was a delicate thing that drifted elusively on the air.
When Joel returned, he was clean-shaven, his hair had been brushed, and he looked lean and sinuously attractive in dark brown leather pants and a cream shirt made of heavy silk. Only the pallor of his cheeks and the dark rings around his eyes revealed that he was by no means recovered.
"Now," he said, swaying in the doorway, "can I get you a drink?"
Rachel took one look at his drawn features and then went
towards him, taking his arm and drawing him towards the couch. "Come and sit down," she said firmly. "I'll get the j i drinks. What do you want?"
Joel sank down obediently on to the couch, and rested his dark head back against the burgundy velvet upholstery. "Just K something long and cool for me, please," he answered, his eyes half closed. "Nothing alcoholic."
There was no ice in the container and leaving Joel and Sara, Rachel went through to the kitchen to get some from the freezer. Her fingers trailed across the light Swedish panelling of the wall units, stroked the steel drainer beside the sink. She remembered preparing occasional suppers for herself and Joel in here when Heron was out, making Joel dry the dishes for her afterwards and always ending up in his arms ...
She poured a glass of lemonade for Sara, iced lime and lemon for Joel, and a dry Martini and soda for herself. Joel drank | half of his thirstily, and then said: "I was ready for that."
"Have you had anything to eat today?" Rachel asked anxiously.
"No." Joel shook his head, shuddering in distaste. "I couldn't face food. Not right now."
Sara finished her lemonade and clambered on to his knee, ignoring Rachel's protest. "Are you coming to see us tomorrow?"
Joel tickled her small middle. "We'll see," he promised.
"But you should eat something," Rachel insisted, sitting down on the couch, too, albeit some distance away from him.
"Can't I get you anything?"
Joel looked at her out of the corners of his eyes. "You could tell me you're not going to marry my father," he said quietly. "That would be powerful medicine." "I can't do that." Rachel's hands tightened round her glass. "Let me do what I can for you," he muttered. "Give me the chance!"
"No!"
Rachel got to her feet again, and as she did so the doorbell chimed. She turned questioning eyes on Joel, and an expression of resignation crossed his face. "Don't answer it," he said as she would have mounted the steps. "I don't want to see anyone else."
But Sara, with her usual enthusiasm for opening doors, wasn't listening to him. As he was speaking she had slid off his knee, and before either of them could stop her, she was reaching up to open the door.
Erica Grey stared at the child in amazement as she came into the apartment, and then her small features hardened when she saw Rachel. "Am I interrupting anything?" she enquired, with obvious indifference to the answer. Then she saw Joel who was getting unsteadily to his feet. "Oh, Joel darling, you're not well! Why didn't you let me know? I've been trying to get hold of you, and all I get out of Heron is that you're not to be disturbed!"
Sara had closed the door behind the visitor and was standing staring with unconcealed dislike at the woman who was clinging to Joel's arm. Then she looked at her mother, and Rachel saw the way her lower lip was trembling.
"I think we ought to be going, Sara," she asserted quietly. "It's getting late. Past your bedtime."
"No - wait!" Joel disentangled himself from Erica and took a step forward. "Rachel, don't go yet."
"If I'm intruding ..." Heavy sarcasm tinged Erica's voice, and Rachel felt terrible.
"No, you're not. Sara - "
"We haven't finished talking yet, Rachel." Joel cast an impatient glance in Erica's direction. "Please stay."
Sara pursed her lips. "I want to go to the bathroom," she announced tremulously, and Erica made a sound of disgust.
"You know where it is, don't you?" Joel looked across at the little girl. "I showed you the other day, do you remember?"
Sara nodded, and ignoring all of them marched out of the room. After she had gone, Rachel twisted the strap of her handbag round her wrist and moved towards the door, ready for departure.
"Rachel!" Joel grimaced as the effort of speaking pounded through his head. He grasped the back of the couch to support himself and took another couple of steps. "Rachel, for God's sake!"
Erica stared at him in astonishment. "Joel, what is going on here?"
Joel turned tormented eyes in her direction. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said heavily, as though coming to a decision.
"Yes, it’s time you were told."
"Joel -"
Rachel tried to silence him, but he ignored her. "There's
something you should know, Erica. I knew Rachel many years ago. When she was a student in college here. She met my father in those days too. But Sara is not, as you imagine, my father's child. She's mine, do you understand? Sara is my daughter!"
CHAPTER NINE
THE silence which greeted Joel's statement had stretched into half a minute when Sara came back into the room. In the normal way, she might have noticed the tension in the atmosphere, but right then all she was concerned about was the stain occupying a prominent place on the front of her new scarlet anorak.
"I've been sick, Mummy," she whispered miserably, tears trickling down her cheeks. "And look what I've done to my an'rak!"
Rachel was unutterably glad of the diversion, although she knew how any child hated being sick. "Oh, darling," she exclaimed, going towards her, "don't worry about it. It'll wash."
"I - I think I've made a mess," Sara continued jerkily. "In - in there." She indicated the hall behind her.
"Oh, my God!" Erica made a gesture of impatience, but Joel silenced her with a look.
"Don't worry about it, poppet," he said, forcing a smile. "Heron will deal with it - "
"I'll deal with it!" essayed Rachel firmly. "If you'll tell me where I can find cleaning materials - "
"I said Heron will deal with it!" Joel's tone was harsh. "Rachel, we have other things to discuss."
"Not now," retorted Rachel, straightening after w
iping the tears from Sara's face. "Don't you think you've said enough?"
"I'd second that," remarked Erica dryly, recovering her composure as it became apparent that whatever her previous relationship with Joel might have been, Rachel had obviously little affection for him now. "Joel - "
"Shut up!" Joel staggered across to where Rachel was leading Sara up the steps to the door. "Rachel, where are you going?"
"I should have thought that was obvious. I'm taking Sara home. Good night, Joel. Good night, Miss Grey."
"Rachel!"
But Rachel was urging Sara out of the door, and he did not have the strength to prevent them from leaving. Instead, he stood watching them, swaying slightly, and Rachel bolstered her failing determination with the knowledge that Erica would be only too ready to console him after they had gone ...
To her mother's relief, Sara seemed quite recovered from her sickness the following day. The vomiting had probably been due to too much excitement after her earlier inertia, and meeting Erica had not helped. Rachel refused to consider Sara's reactions when she learned that Erica was going to marry her hero. She was bound to be upset, and she hoped and prayed that after these days with Joel the child would react more favourably to James Kingdom. If only he had not had to go away, this situation might never have occurred.
Still, Sara was disposed to accept that for today at least there was no chance of them seeing Joel, and when it was time for her to go to the hospital, she made no fuss. Mrs. Talbot hadn't put in an appearance before they left the flat, but she was waiting for Rachel on her return.
"Sorry I'm late, Mrs. Gilmour," she said apologetically. "But I didn't think you'd mind."
"Not at all." Rachel forced a smile. "It's all a bit silly anyway, isn't it? A grown woman needing a baby-sitter."
Mrs. Talbot coloured. "Oh, I don't think Mr. Kingdom sees it like that, Mrs. Gilmour. But London can be a frightening place to someone who's not used to it."
Rachel was tempted to tell the housekeeper that she had lived in London for several years at a time when she was a lot more impressionable than she was now, but then decided against it. After all, her track record wasn't that good. She had behaved like a million other foolish girls' and got herself pregnant. It was useless telling herself that she had thought her affair was different. No doubt half the other girls would say the same. Women were always fools when it came to their emotions.
The telephone shrilled, and Rachel went to answer it. She had expected it to be James and was surprised to hear Joel's voice. "Rachel? Rachel, is that you?"
"Yes." Rachel glanced awkwardly towards Mrs.Talbot, who was taking her knitting out of her bag and appeared engrossed. "What do you want?"
"I want to see you. Can you come round?"
Rachel gasped. "Sara - "
"Sara's in hospital. I checked. Oh, I know Mrs. Talbot's there, but you're not a prisoner. You can get out."
"I can't - "
"Do you want me to come round there?"
"Don't be silly."
"So?"
Rachel thought desperately. "Are you in bed?"
"No. Would it make a difference if I were?"
"Yes. I shouldn't come."
Joel sounded exasperated. "Well, I'm not. Besides, Heron's here."
"How do I know that?"
"You want to speak to him?"
"No." Rachel sighed and glanced once more at the housekeeper. "What about Erica?"
"Leave Erica to me." He muttered an impatient oath. "Rachel-"
"All right." She drew a deep breath. She would be glad to get out of the apartment. And Joel was ill. She had nothing to fear. "I'll do it."
"Good."
Joel put down his receiver before she could change her mind and Rachel replaced her receiver carefully. Then she almost jumped out of her skin when it suddenly rang again. Exchanging startled glances with Mrs. Talbot she picked it up. "Yes?"
"Rachel?" It was James's voice, and her knees went weak. "Rachel, where the devil have you been?"
"What do you mean?"
"I've been trying to get you for two nights. Last evening I could get no reply and this evening I've had one no answer and one engaged signal. What's going on?"
"Nothing's going on, James." Rachel was glad he could not see her face."I - er - last night Sara and I went out for a while. But we were back soon after eight."
"Well, I had a meeting last evening. I couldn't phone after seven-thirty, and by the time it was over, I guessed you'd be in bed."
"I see." Rachel swallowed convulsively. "I'm sorry."
"So where were you this evening?"
"Taking Sara to the hospital, I suppose?"
"Isn't Mrs. Talbot there? Why didn't she answer?"
Rachel sighed. "She was late. I'm sorry if you've had a frustrating time."
"So am I. Just now the phone was engaged. Who were you talking to?"
Rachel couldn't reply. The words stuck in her throat, and he exclaimed: "What is it? Don't you want to tell me?"
Rachel knew she would have to tell him. "Oh, yes, yes," she cried. "It was Joel, if you must know."
"What did he want?" James was curt.
"Oh - this and that."
"That's no answer, Rachel."
"Very well. He wants to see me." "Why?"
"To - to talk about Sara, I suppose."
"He knows what's really wrong with her, doesn't he?"
"I - well, yes."
"I'm glad you've been honest about that, Rachel because I've spoken to Joel myself, and I know he knows." "I see." Rachel's hand holding the receiver shook a little. "Why did you tell him?" "I - I didn't. He - found out." "From Sara? When he took her to his apartment?" Rachel gasped. "In a - manner of speaking." "I know all about it, you see, Rachel. There's no point in lying to me." "I'm not lying to you." "You'd better not."
"James, what is this? Why are you speaking like this?" "I want to know what Joel's been saying to you. How you mean to behave when this is all over?" "What do you mean?"
"You must know Joel wants to adopt the child." "Adopt - Sara?" Rachel caught her breath. "No, I don't know that."
"Perhaps that's what he wants to talk to you about." Rachel rubbed a confused hand across her cheek. "But - but-"
"You should never have told Joel that Sara was his daughter."
"Perhaps - perhaps I shouldn't..." "Do you want him to have the child?" Rachel almost choked. "You know I don't!" She tried to think coherently. "James, I love Sara - "
"I know you do. I'm quite fond of her myself. But it's only fair that you should know what Joel is thinking."
"Yes. Yes, well, you needn't worry, James. No one is going to take Sara away from me. The operation will go ahead, as planned, and we'll be married just as soon as you're recovered."
There was a moment's silence, and then James said slowly: "I've been thinking about that, Rachel. About our marriage, I mean. Bearing in mind Joel's intentions, don't you think it might be a good idea to get married before Sara has the transplant - "
"Before?"
"Yes, before." James hesitated. "Rachel, if we were married, if I had legally adopted Sara as my child, no one could take her away from you - from us."
Rachel pressed a hand to her churning stomach. "I don't know, James ..."
"Why not? What difference does it make? Once we were married I could go into hospital, Sara and I could have the necessary treatment, and afterwards there would be nothing to delay us in this country."
Rachel didn't know how to reply. Her head was spinning. She was totally confused and disturbed. "James, I have to think-"
"Do you?" He sounded impatient. "Why? Were you thinking of changing your mind after the deed was done?"
"No!" Rachel was indignant. "I - I wouldn't do that."
"Very well, then."
"Oh, James, please - give me a couple of days to think it over. It's so unexpected - so sudden!"
He was silent again, and then he said: "I'm coming home in three days, Rachel. Will you giv
e me your answer then?"
Rachel breathed an unknowing sigh of relief. "Oh, yes - yes." She licked dry lips. "You're not - angry, are you, James?"
James snorted. "I'm not angry, no. Disappointed, perhaps.
Just remember, you have as much to gain from this as I have. Once you were my wife, no one could take Sara away from you!"
After he had rung off, Rachel turned to the housekeeper. "I'm - er - I'm going out for a little while, Mrs. Talbot. You don't mind, do you?"
Mrs. Talbot looked doubtful. "Going out, Mrs. Gilmour?"
"Yes!" Rachel nodded. "Er - Mr. Kingdom knows about it."
Now why had she said that? she asked herself impatiently. She was not a child, to have to explain her movements. Was this to be her role in future, though? Always having to find excuses for doing what she wanted to do?
"Well, if you're sure, Mrs. Gilmour. But it is late, you know. After nine."
"I know, I know." Rachel walked through to her bedroom and pulled her suede jacket on over the red velvet waistcoat and trousers she was wearing. The navy blue shirt she was wearing with the suit was not very warm to go out in, but she intended hiring a taxi at the end of the close. And besides, she didn't expect she would be taking off her coat at Joel's apartment.
The taxi deposited her outside Breton Towers, and the lift transported her smoothly to the penthouse floor. She rang Joel's bell and waited. But it was not Heron who opened the door to her, as she had expected, but Joel himself, dark and disturbing, in cream suede pants and a fine black woollen sweater. He stood back politely when he saw her, and said: "Won't you come in?"
Rachel glanced up at him dubiously as she did so. Much of the strain of the night before had been wiped from his face, and only his eyes reflected a rawness of the pain he had suffered. But he was obviously recovered, and she kicked herself for not asking him this on the telephone.
"You're better," she remarked flatly, halting above the steps leading down into the body of the room. Tonight it was lamplit, the blinds drawn back to reveal a panorama of the lights of London below. "Why didn't you tell me? We could have arranged to meet elsewhere."
"Why?" Joel went lithely past her and down the steps. "This is as good a place as any." He looked back over his shoulder. "Take off your coat and come and sit down. What will you drink?"