Melting Fire

by Anne Mather

  When she first left Copley, that terrible morning after the confrontation with Jules, she had believed she never wanted to see Richard or Bella ever again. She bracketed them together in her mind, even though she knew she was doing her old nursemaid an injustice by doing so. Bella, she knew, would never have condoned Richard’s behaviour, but she was his employee, and Olivia was astute enough to realise that security would mean more to Bella now than a stand for human rights.

  However, as the days passed, she had relented, and once she had settled at Number 11, Fulmer Street, she wrote to the housekeeper, assuring her that she was well and happy, and asking her not to give Richard her address. She had half thought he might come after her, that he might conceivably get the police, or a private detective agency, to search for her, but none of these fears had been realised. It was as if by leaving she had severed all ties between them, and he had rescinded his right to direct her ambitions.

  Strangely, this knowledge had recoiled on her in a curious way. For so long, it seemed, she had been fighting his influence, that when that influence was withdrawn she felt bereft of roots and uncertain of her future, adrift on an open sea, without land or harbour in sight. It was not a pleasant feeling, and when Bella replied that she was relieved to hear from her, but that Richard was out of the country, she felt as if all she had achieved was without motive or purpose.

  She didn’t write to Bella again. As the weeks passed, her feelings had changed to resentment and bitterness, and only in her work was she able to dispel her depression. Foolishly, she even blamed Richard for forcing her to leave Copley, ignoring completely the fact that he had begged her to stay.

  But even those feelings had dissipated now. It was almost six weeks since she had walked out of Richard’s house, and an emotional numbness seemed to have gripped her. She didn’t think of Richard, she didn’t think of Copley; and she had convinced herself that in time she would forget all about them.

  She hadn’t. She doubted she ever would; she realised this now, as she hung her anorak over the back of a chair to dry. The doctor’s bald statement had pierced the shell of indifference she had thought was so impenetrable, and shown her exactly how vulnerable she really was.

  A flicker of anger kindled inside her. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror over the fireplace, she deliberately tipped it so that she could see the whole length of her body. Her waist was as slim as ever, and turning sideways, she could see no indication of the secret she was carrying in the narrow-legged cords she was wearing. Her hair had grown in the weeks since leaving the Academy, and its weight if anything seemed too much for the slender column of her neck, but her pale cheeks and the hollows in her throat were fashionable, and no one would suspect that anything was wrong.

  Biting her lip, she set the mirror straight again, and went to stare out of the window on to the shabby street below. She had hoped to get a flat soon. Her salary was quite generous, and had it not been for saving so hard to redeem the emerald bracelet, she would have felt herself to be quite well off, but now all that was threatened …

  Threatened!

  Her hand went exploringly to her stomach. Was it possible? she wondered incredulously. Was there really another life growing inside her, completely indifferent to whether or not it was wanted? How could that be? And why should she have to suffer the humiliation of being an unmarried mother while Richard got away scot-free?

  Turning back from the window, she surveyed her small room without pleasure. There was a ready answer, of course. She need not have the baby. There were ways. Her independence was on her side. No one would expect a girl in her position to lose a perfectly good job, just because she had got herself into difficulties. Besides, she couldn’t support a child, and certainly she couldn’t afford to give up work to look after it. As the doctor had said, it was a common situation, and one she could resolve without too much embarrassment.

  She sat down on the divan with a sudden bump. It was quite a thought, she realised, a trifle sickly. Going into hospital, losing the baby. Did she really want to do that? A shiver ran down her spine.

  Then she squared her shoulders. She was being silly. There was nothing else she could do. Lots of girls had done it before, and she was no different from any of them. Why should she feel guilty, when the man responsible was just as much to blame? More so, really, because he could have prevented it …

  Nervous fingers buttoned and unbuttoned the neckline of her sweater. It was seldom she allowed herself to think of that night with Richard, but it was impossible at, the moment, shaken as she was, to deny the memories that came flooding back. She tried to sustain her anger against him, but it was difficult when she remembered her own instinctive response to his lovemaking. While she might despise him for what he had done, she could not prevent the sudden heat that spread over her body, or erase the shame of knowing that at the last, she had wanted him as much as he desired her.

  Getting to her feet, she paced restlessly about the room. So—there remained only one solution. She would have to pay another visit to the doctor. Getting time off work would not be easy, but if they could arrange it over a weekend …

  A sudden tapping at her door halted her in her tracks. Who could that be? She had never had a visitor before, except the landlady, and she would not expect her to be home in the middle of the afternoon.

  A stupid sense of panic gripped her. She had read stories of men invading girls’ flats and raping their occupants. Girls like herself who lived alone. They came on all manner of pretexts—to deliver a package, or read the electric meter, or simply burst in without warning. She clenched her fingers. It could be someone from the office—that was always possible. And they, at least, knew her address. She had told Mr Dailey she had a dental appointment, and he had not objected. But maybe something urgent had come up.

  The tapping came again, and stealthily she crossed the room and put her ear against the panels. Ridiculously, she was reminded of that other occasion she had listened at a door, that afternoon when Richard had come to her bedroom …

  And as on that other occasion, it was Bella’s voice that spoke beyond the panels: ‘Olivia! Olivia, dear, are you there?’

  ‘Bella!’

  Fumbling as she was, Olivia could not unfasten the chain quickly enough, throwing the door open and staring wide-eyed at the elderly housekeeper. For several seconds they just looked at one another, and then, with a little cry, Bella enfolded her in her arms.

  ‘Olivia, Olivia,’ she exclaimed emotionally, stroking her hair. ‘Oh, Olivia, I’ve missed you so!’

  It was a struggle to draw back and assume a little of her dignity, but Olivia at last managed to do so. It was unnerving, Bella turning up here today, just when she needed someone to talk to, and it was incredibly difficult not to break down entirely and confess the truth.

  But instead she invited the housekeeper inside, settled her on the divan, and then put the kettle on to boil. As she did so, she was aware of Bella looking about the room, observing the little touches Olivia herself had added, like the cushions on the divan, and the bean-bag in the shape of a floppy dachshund that rested on the mantelshelf. He had shared Olivia’s pillow on frequent occasions, and dried her tears on others, and she saw Bella’s anxious frown as she identified his purpose.

  When Olivia had set out the cups, however, and came back to her while the kettle boiled, Bella’s face revealed none of her misgivings. ‘I didn’t think I’d find you here,’ she said, patting the divan beside her. ‘I thought you’d be at work.’

  The colour that ran up Olivia’s face was not too noticeable. ‘I—I would have been,’ she said. ‘But I—I had a dental appointment.’

  ‘So the receptionist said.’

  ‘The receptionist?’ Olivia frowned. ‘You’ve been to the office?’

  At once all manner of anxieties clamoured in her head. What had Bella said? How had she identified herself? Had she mentioned Richard?

  ‘Yes,’ the old lady went on now, ‘Mrs Tip
tree gave me the address.’

  Mrs Tiptree was the landlady, and Olivia licked her dry lips. ‘You came here first?’

  ‘That’s right. I thought I might catch you at lunchtime, but Mrs Tiptree said as far as she knew, you didn’t come home for lunch.’

  ‘I don’t.’ Olivia attempted a casual query. ‘Why didn’t you write? We could have arranged to meet one weekend.’

  The kettle started to whistle, and she excused herself for a moment to make the tea. With the teabags steaming in the pot, she tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her pants, and with her back to Bella, she asked, ‘How did you get here? Did—Richard fetch you?’

  ‘No.’

  Bella’s denial was firm, and Olivia breathed a little more freely as she carried the cups across to the divan on a tray.

  ‘I’m afraid I’ve got no biscuits——’ she was beginning, when she saw Bella’s face, and the worry she saw there banished all hope of keeping this impersonal. ‘What is it?’ she demanded, setting the tray on the floor, and sitting down beside her. ‘What’s wrong?’ She paused. ‘Why did you come to see me?’

  Bella heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Could I have that cup of tea first?’

  ‘Of course.’ Olivia handed her the cup, and then left her own tea sitting on the tray, nauseated by its aroma. Lately, she hadn’t been able to stomach either tea or coffee, and she was drinking milk by the gallon.

  Bella sipped thankfully at her tea, and then surveyed Olivia with anxious eyes. ‘You’ve lost weight,’ she declared, her usual cry. ‘Are you sure you’re eating properly?’

  ‘You didn’t come here to discuss my health,’ Olivia reminded her tautly, steeling herself for the news that was to come. Obviously it was to do with Richard, but what? Had he sent Bella here? No, that wasn’t likely. If he had had anything to say to her, he’d have come himself. So what? Had he had an accident? That was less easy to dismiss. She did not wish him ill, although there were times during those early days when she had wished him dead. Was he going to get married at last? Was this an invitation to the wedding? How ironic! Being invited to meet Richard’s fiancée, with his seed growing inside her!

  But even she could not absorb this possibility without emotion. If he was going to get married, she didn’t want to know about it. Better she remained in ignorance of everything that happened at Copley. She wished Bella had written before making the journey. That way, she could have stopped her.

  ‘It’s Richard,’ said Bella now, and Olivia’s mouth slackened.

  ‘I thought it might be,’ she declared. ‘Well, whatever it is, Bella, I’d really rather not hear about it. I’m making my own life here—quite successfully, as it happens, and I don’t particularly care what Richard is doing.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Bella’s lips had tightened. ‘Well, I find that very hard to believe, Olivia.’

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s true.’

  Unable to sit still any longer, Olivia got to her feet, but as she crossed to the window Bella’s choked words halted her.

  ‘Richard is killing himself!’ she declared incoherently. ‘If he knew I was here, he’d likely kill me, too, but you’ve got to be told!’

  Olivia blinked, turning about and staring at her disbelievingly. ‘What do you mean?’ she demanded. ‘I don’t understand. Is this some new ploy he’s devised to make me return to Copley?’

  ‘No!’ Bella thrust her cup aside and rose to her feet. ‘I’ve told you, he doesn’t know I’m here.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘How—how is he killing himself?’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘Drink? Drugs?’

  Bella gave her a horrified glance. ‘Since when did Richard take drugs?’

  Olivia shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’m only asking.’

  ‘It’s work,’ said Bella reprovingly. ‘He’s working himself to death. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t relax. Even Alex can see the difference in him.’

  Olivia’s shoulders sagged. ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘You know why,’ Bella sniffed. ‘Oh, Olivia, won’t you come home?’

  Olivia turned away, thrusting her hands into her pants pockets. ‘This is my home.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Bella moved towards her. ‘You know it’s not. Copley is your home. It always has been, it always will be. You can’t drive us out of your life!’

  Olivia quivered. ‘Don’t be melodramatic, Bella. It’s not a question of me driving you out of my life——’

  ‘I know what happened!’ said Bella suddenly, and Olivia was aghast.

  ‘You know?’ Her lips parted. ‘You mean—Richard told you?’

  ‘No!’ Bella dispelled her horrified incredulity with an impatient hand. ‘I make the beds, remember? And change the sheets.’

  Olivia’s cheeks burned. ‘I see.’

  ‘Oh, Olivia, don’t think too badly of him.’ Bella tried to touch her arm, but Olivia flinched away from her. ‘Please, my dear, try to see it his way. He loves you so much—he always has, ever since you were a little girl. I knew that. I tried to tell you. And when you brought that pop singer to the house …’

  ‘Well, he disposed of Jules very satisfactorily, didn’t he?’ Olivia declared bitterly. ‘Bribing him to leave me alone!’

  ‘It could be pointed out that a man who really loved you wouldn’t submit to being bribed,’ Bella remarked quietly, and Olivia sighed.

  ‘I know, I know. As it happened, I’d already decided to send Jules away.’

  ‘You said you were going with him!’ argued Bella hotly, but Olivia shook her head.

  ‘No. That was—that was after—after Richard …’ She pressed her lips together. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘But it does.’ Bella again tried to take her arm. ‘Olivia, Richard believes you really cared about—about that man. He blames himself for—well, for what happened.’

  Olivia was momentarily disarmed, but then common sense reasserted itself. ‘Well! It was his fault,’ she said defensively. ‘He—interfered.’

  ‘For your own good!’ Bella was growing impatient now. ‘For heaven’s sake, Olivia, can’t you think of anyone else but yourself? Doesn’t Richard’s health mean anything to you?’

  Olivia’s lips trembled, but she kept herself aloof. ‘I—I’m sorry about that, of course——’

  ‘Are you? Are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Olivia held up her head.

  ‘But not enough to come home?’

  ‘No.’

  Bella shook her head. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, in a distraught tone. ‘I thought I knew you. I was sure if I appealed to you, to your better nature …’

  ‘My better nature?’ Olivia caught her breath. ‘Oh, Bella, you don’t know the half of it!’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Bella’s eyes were shrewd. ‘What are you saying? Is there somebody else?’

  Somebody—or something?

  Olivia swallowed convulsively. ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘Who? Who is it?’ Bella would not be put off now, and she grasped Olivia’s shoulders tightly. ‘Come along. I mean to know the truth. Have you been seeing that man Merignac since you came to London?’

  ‘No!’ Olivia tried to pull herself away, but Bella was amazingly strong for her age. ‘Look, I don’t have to tell you anything. Not any more. I’m free, and independent, for the first time in my life. Or——’ unexpectedly her voice broke, ‘or at least—I was!’

  Bella shook her head impatiently. ‘What are you talking about?’ Her face showed its bewilderment. ‘I don’t understand you, Olivia.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Olivia sucked in her cheeks. ‘I’d have thought a woman of your age and experience …’

  Comprehension dawned. ‘You can’t mean …’ Bella gulped. ‘Oh, no! It’s not possible!’

  ‘Isn’t it? I assure you it is. I’m pregnant.’ Olivia’s nails dug into her palms. ‘But not for long.’

  The appendage was deliberate, spoken coldly, callously, designed to shock—and it did.

  Bella gaze
d at her in horror. ‘You wouldn’t. You couldn’t!’

  ‘Oh, yes, I could.’ Olivia assumed a determination she was far from feeling. She had made no decision on what she was going to do yet, but Bella need never know. She only knew she wanted to convince her that she meant what she said, knowing her words would be carried back to Richard, would hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

  ‘But Olivia——’

  ‘It’s my affair,’ declared Olivia doggedly. ‘No one else’s.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Bella’s fingers were painful. ‘You must tell Richard. He has a right to know.’

  Olivia prised herself free. ‘I think you’d better go, Bella,’ she said, trying to remain calm. ‘I’m sorry now that I’ve told you. I realise it will hurt you much more than Richard, but if you do tell him, please don’t let him come here, because—because it will be too late.’

  Bella slumped down on to the divan. ‘Then I shall stay,’ she stated flatly. ‘I shall stay until I’ve talked some sense into you!’

  Olivia gazed at her. ‘You can’t!’

  ‘Why can’t I?’

  ‘Richard …’

  ‘Richard will eventually realise where I’ve gone. Then he’ll come looking for me.’

  Olivia gasped. ‘You mean—you mean he knows my address?’

  ‘Of course.’ Bella heaved a sigh as she saw the girl’s expression. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Olivia, he knows your handwriting. How could I pretend I didn’t know where you were?’

  Olivia moved her head in a helpless gesture. ‘You two,’ she exclaimed bitterly. ‘How can I believe either of you?’ She ran her hand over her stomach in a revealing gesture. ‘Well, when this is over, I’ll have no further ties with Copley—or Richard.’

  Brushing an involuntary tear from her cheek, she snatched up her anorak and walked towards the door. Bella, barely recovered from the shock of learning that Olivia was pregnant, got half to her feet. ‘Where are you going?’