Along the other side of his right thigh there was a neat scar where they had had to make an incision to reset the shattered bone, and Liz prayed with all her heart that the healing process would be repeated in his sluggish hand.
She turned away from the distraction of his muscled torso and brushed her hair vigorously until it shone. She could feel him observing her as she had observed him, and she nervously said the first thing that came to mind.
“I’m obviously going to have plenty of time to write.”
“You may please yourself,” he replied in a bored-sounding voice. “You could write your little stories, or simply be a lady of leisure.”
“The latter doesn’t appeal to me very much,” she laughed, putting down her brush and walking round to her side of the bed. “When do you have to see this colleague of yours?” she changed the subject.
“Monday morning, first thing.”
“Will I be allowed to come with you?” she asked, slipping out of her robe and getting into bed beside him.
“Does it look as though I’m going to need someone to hold my hand?” he mocked her.
“A little moral support has never hurt anyone,” she retorted stiffly. “I’d like to go with you, if I may.”
He shrugged and put out his cigarette. “Please yourself.”
There it was again for the third time that day. Please yourself. The first time she had been too thrilled to bother about it, the second time she could still accept it, but the third she could still accept it, but the third time was just too much.
“Stop saying that!” she snapped angrily. “It’s not myself I want to please, but you!”
A heavy silence settled between them, then Grant turned to her and said something totally unexpected. “I don’t deserve a wife like you.”
“You deserve much better, but I’m doing my best to live up to your expectations,” she managed when the tension eased within her.
“I think I’d like you to go with me.” He rolled towards her and his hand slid in a sensual caress up along her smooth thigh. “It’s one way of introducing you to someone who’s not just a colleague but a friend.”
“Now you’re making me nervous,” she muttered, finding it difficult to think straight, and wondering if he was aware of what his caressing hand was doing to her.
“What if your friends don’t like me?”
Grant was leaning over her, forcing her down on to the pillows, and the heat of his body against her own was awakening that familiar longing which she found so impossible to control.
“My friends are city people,” he said, tracing the outline of her lips with a sensual finger. “Your fresh country looks will appeal to them.”
“Why do I have that horrible feeling that you’re making fun of me?”
“What I’ve said is the truth. They’ll love your hair,” he assured her, and tugged at it playfully. “It’s like ripe corn, and they’ll adore your freckles - all sixteen of them.”
“I no longer have any freckles.”
“When your face is scrubbed clean as it is now, then they’re clearly visible. There’s one there… and there…and there…” His kisses on her small, straight nose punctuated his words.
“Stop it!” she protested, warding off his lips.
“You smell nice,” he murmured, his hand in her hair tipping her head back to expose her throat for the fiery exploration of his lips. “Hm...girlish and sweet.”
“Grant…” she sighed, melting helplessly against him.
“Sweet enough to eat,” he growled, then his mouth shifted over hers to satisfy her rowing need…and his.
Alan Bishop’s consulting-rooms were situated in the new medical centre, and when Grant and Liz arrived there early on the Monday morning they were ushered in to see him at once.
Grant’s colleague was a stockily-built man with nondescript brown hair, smiling features, and shrewd brown eyes, and he stepped out from behind his desk the moment they entered the room to take Grant’s hand in a welcoming gesture.
“It’s good to see you again, Grant.”
“Alan, I’d like you to meet my wife.” Brown eyes swivelled in Liz’s direction as grant made the necessary introduction, and if Alan Bishop was surprised, then he hid the fact extremely well. “Liz, this is Alan Bishop.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Liz.” His hand engulfed hers. And she decided that he had a nice smile as well as a pleasing voice, then he released her hand and turned once more to Grant. “You’re looking great.”
“I feel good,” Grant confessed.
Alan’s smile deepened with mischief when he glanced at Liz. “You must have been just the right tonic he needed.”
“In small dosages I’m potent, but in large quantities I’m like dynamite,” she replied with a sweet humour that made Alan and Grant burst out laughing.
“I can see why you married her,” Alan remarked at length to Grant, then he gestured him into a chair. “Let’s take a look at your hand.”
Alan Bishop’s examination was thorough, his questions brief and to the point, and it was clear to Liz that he was not the type to leave anything to chance.
She felt Grant’s tension as if it were her own, and after a few minutes which had seemed like an eternity, Grant’s voice sliced through the silence in the room.
“Well?” he demanded.
“It’s difficult to say,” Alan frowned, his lower lip jutting out as if he were deep in thought. “There’s a definite improvement, but I would like to have your hand X-rayed before I give you my final opinion.”
“Then let’s get on with it,” Grant replied with that familiar thread of impatience in his deep voice.
Alan stretched out a hand towards the telephone and lifted the receiver. “I’ll let the radiology department know you’re on your way, and I’ll bring the results to your home this evening.”
The consultation with Alan Bishop had taken no more than a half hour, but at the radiology department, three floors up, it was quite a different matter. They had no option but to wait an hour before they could fit Grant into their busy schedule, then a power failure delayed them another forty-five minutes before they could proceed with the X-rays. It was almost midday before they finally emerged from the building, and by that time Grant was in a fury which was hot enough to set fire to the medical centre.
“How many of your patients have been kept waiting because of circumstances beyond your control? She demanded bluntly when everything else failed to calm him down, and she thought for a moment he was going to strike her, but instead the tension and anger drained slowly from his face to be replaced by a wry smile.
“You have a point there,” he admitted, placing his arm about her shoulders as they crossed the car park to where he had left the Jaguar, and Liz sighed inwardly with relief when he finally turned to her in the car and said: “What about lunch somewhere before we go home?”
“That would be nice,” she agreed and, leaning towards him, she kissed him impulsively on the lips.
“What was that for?” he grinned.
“Just to let you know that I think you’re one of the nicest men I know,” she smiled at him with mischief dancing in her eyes, then she kissed him once again, and settled back comfortably in her seat.
“Crazy woman,” he growled, but there was a gleam of laughter in his eyes when he started the car and set it in motion.
They went to a small restaurant in Hillbrow with a faintly continental atmosphere about it. Basket lanterns dangled above tables covered checkered cloths, and soft, recorded music was relayed over hidden speaker. The place was not overcrowded, and Liz liked it at once.
“You specialise in neuro-surgery, don’t you?” she questioned Grant conversationally when he had placed their order.
“I did yes,” he replied stressing the past tense, but she ignored it.
“That’s intricate work, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Relax, Grant,” she urged softly when she recogn
ised the signs of strain and tension on his face. “You have nothing to worry about.”
He smiled twistedly. “I wish I had your confidence, Liz, but this is so very important to me.”
“I know.”
“What if-“
“Don’t say it!” Don’t even think it!”
“The positive approach, is that it?” he questioned her with a hint of humour in his glance, and she nodded.
“Exactly.”
“In that case let’s be premature and order a bottle of champagne.”
“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” she laughed softly, and he raised his hand to summon the wine steward.
They took almost two hours over lunch, but Liz was reluctant to leave the restaurant with its cosy, relaxed atmosphere. The afternoon lay ahead of them, the long hours of waiting, wondering and worrying before they could expect Alan Bishop to arrive with the result of the X-rays. For Liz it would e difficult, but for Grant it was going to be intolerable. She had to think of something; of some way to keep him occupied, but her mind remained an awful blank in that direction.
Grant paid the bill and Liz sensed that he was thinking similar thoughts when they walked back to the car in silence. How was he going to pass the time until Alan called that evening?
He held open the door for her on the passenger side and closed it the moment she was in, then he walked round to the driver’s side. A child skipped by with a toy elephant under the arm, and it was as if someone had flicked a switch in Liz’s mind.
“Let’s go to the zoo,” she suggested, turning excitedly towards Grant.
“The zoo?” He queried with a blank, almost startled look on his face.
“I’m told that’s where they keep all the animals,” she mocked him lightly.
“So I’ve heard.”
She leaned towards him anxiously. “Will you take me?”
“If you really want to go,” he sighed resignedly.
“You’re so kind,” she teased.
That mocking, faintly humorous note in her voice did not escape him, and he eyed her with mock severity when he had inserted the key in the car’s ignition.
“Remind me to buy you an ice-cream when we’re there, but I draw the line at a stick of candy-floss.”
“Spoilsport!” she accused laughingly, wrinkling her nose at him, but deep down she felt relieved and somewhat triumphant.
It was a surprisingly warm afternoon, considering that winter was on the doorstep, and as it was a Monday there were not as many people wandering about in the cleverly constructed zoological gardens where the animals appeared to be roaming as freely as the visitor.
Liz dragged Grant from one end of the zoo to the other, lingering for a while beside each different species to discuss it before they went on to the next. She was determined not to give him a moment in which to brood about whatever news Alan would have for them that evening, but when they approached the giraffes Grant was beginning to show definite signs of becoming bored and restless.
“Did you know that to the early Romans, the giraffe was considered to be mythical creature with a leopard for its father and a camel for its mother?” Liz remarked, determined not to give up.
“No, I didn’t know, and I’m duly impressed,” he announced, but his expression told her something quite the opposite.
“The name ‘giraffe’ comes from the Arab zarafa which has a twofold meaning; ‘a creature of grace’, and ‘one who walks swiftly’.”
“Talking about walking,” Grant interrupted caustically, “I don’t think I can walk another step.”
“I think I read somewhere that the first giraffe to reach Europe had been imported by Julius Caesar, and he exhibited it in Rome in 46 BC, or somewhere around there.”
“Liz-“
“I believe a giraffe weighs-“
“Liz!”
His hand gripped her arm, and her smile was sweetly innocent when he swung her round to face him. “Yes, darling?” she asked softly.
“You’ve been an energetic and informative guide all afternoon, and you’ve succeeded in your objective, but I think we should leave before we’re caught in the five o’clock traffic.”
The realisation that he had guessed her reasons for bringing him there filled her with dismay, and faint embarrassment. “I couldn’t let you sit down and worry yourself silly all afternoon,” she explained lamely. “I’m sorry.”
With his fingers beneath her chin he tipped up her face, forcing her to meet his eyes, and what she saw there made her pulse rate quicken. Everything else faded into insignificance except for that tender light in the eyes of the man she loved, and she wished she could capture this moment to preserve it for the rest of her life.
His glance shifted beyond her and back again. “If that warden over there wasn’t watching us, I’d kiss you.”
“Funny,” she whispered impishly without taking her eyes off him, “but I don’t see a warden anywhere.”
Grant’s laughter was a rumbling sound deep down in his throat, and lowering his dark head he kissed her on her quivering mouth until her lips tingled. Too soon he eased himself away from her, and there was a coolness in his voice when he gripped her arm and said abruptly, “Come on, let’s go.”
Chapter 7
ALAN BISHOP arrived at the house shortly after seven that evening, and he was shown directly into the living-room. Liz felt incredibly tense while Grant poured out a drink for Alan and the usual platitudes were exchanged, but she was not the only one who was feeling the strain. Grant smiled with his lips, but his eyes had that haunted look which she had seen so often during those days before their marriage.
“Let’s get to the point,” Grant said eventually in a cool, clipped voice. “What are my chances?”
Alan swirled the ice cubes around in his drink and swallowed down a mouthful of whisky before he spoke. “After a small operation and plenty of therapy, I think there’s a strong possibility that you’ll be operating again before the end of this year.”
“Only a possibility?” Grant demanded harshly, his mouth drawn into a tight line.
“I said a strong possibility,” Alan emphasised, lifting the flap of the large brown envelope he had brought with him, and taking out the X-rays. “Take a look at these and judge for yourself.”
Grant took the X-rays from him and walked towards the light which hung like a large soap bubble against the opposite wall, and Alan put down his drink to follow him there. Liz sat very still and erect in her chair while they studied the X-rays and discussed them in medical terms which made no sense to her at all. The news had been disappointing in one way and another. She had expected something more definite, but miracles and instant more definite, but miracles and instant cures, she supposed, were something which occurred only in books.
“When can you do the operation?” Grant was questioning Alan when they returned to their chairs.
“I’ll make arrangements for you to be admitted to hospital tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll do it first thing Wednesday morning.”
“Good,” Grant muttered, topping up their whisky glasses.
“Here’s to you,” said Alan, raising his glass in a salute to Grant, and he smiled again that warm friendly smile Liz had seen that morning.
She found herself relaxing, and her confidence returned swiftly. Perhaps it had something to do with Alan’s easy approach to Grant’s problem, she could not be sure, but she felt considerably calmer when he left the house half an hour later.
“What do you think?” Grant demanded of her when they faced each other alone in the living-room.
“I think you have a difficult time ahead of you, but you’ll make it.”
“Your confidence has always been as unshakeable as a rock.”
Liz suppressed a smile. “Oh, it shifts and shudders at times, but I’m convinced you’re still going to achieve wonderful things as a surgeon.”
“Would it make any difference to you if the operation and the therapy fail to have the desired e
ffect?”
“It will make no difference at all,” she replied at once, a little startled by his question until she recalled how Myra had walked out on him after the accident, and Liz despised her at that precise moment.
“It isn’t going to fail, Grant,” she insisted, gripping his arms tightly. “And even if it does it will make no difference to us- to what we have together.”
She drew his head down to hers and kissed him, but when he did not respond to the touch of her lips she had a peculiar feeling that he had somehow gone beyond her reach, and she turned away from him with a heavy feeling in her breast.
“I think I’ll go up to bed,” she said when she reached the door, but Grant seemed not to hear her, and she turned away miserably, crossing the hall, and taking the stairs slowly up to their room.
Liz pretended to be asleep when Grant came to bed an hour later, but her longing for him was too great when his had touched her shoulder, and she turned into his arms, to the hard warmth of his body, and the magic of his kisses. She hated herself for being so weak, but when his warm, sensual mouth shifted down to the curve of her breast she no longer cared about anything except the fact that he still wanted her and needed her in some strange way.
Grant went into hospital the following afternoon, and Liz spent an awful night alone in that house. After her father’s alone in that house. After her father’s death she had lived alone for six months in Riverside’s rambling old house, but it had been her home, and she had been surrounded by familiar objects which had aroused happy memories. Here, in Grant’s house, she found nothing to comfort her, and so very much to unnerve her.
She was at the hospital very early in the morning; nothing on earth would have kept her away, and she remained there until Grant was finally wheeled from the theatre back to his ward.
House of Mirrors Page 10