Handful of stardust

by Yvonne Whittal

  'I'll inquire for you, Mrs Carrington.' The line went silent for a while and then the receptionist returned to the telephone. 'That is correct, Mrs Carrington. Shall I send him up?'

  'Yes, thank you.'

  How on earth did Stan know that she was in Port Elizabeth? she wondered suddenly after replacing the receiver. Could Brett, thinking that she might want company, have let Stan know she would be here so that either he or Gillian could pay her a visit? Surely not, she decided with a touch of cynicism. Brett would never think of something like that; besides, she was quite capable of doing her own telephoning.

  A knock at the door interrupted her disturbed thoughts. She hastily put down her pen and went to answer it, but she was unprepared for the person who stood on the threshold. It was Clive, as handsome as ever, his boyish features displaying a certain weakness she had been too dazzled before to notice.

  'Hello, sweetie ! Surprised to see me?'

  Samantha stood as if turned to stone. 'Clive!' she managed at last. 'But I thought

  'That I was Stan?' he laughed knowingly as he brushed past her, closing the door. 'Yes, I'm afraid I made use of your inquiry because I had an idea that you might not want to see me.'

  Samantha came to life then, glancing nervously at the closed door and wishing she had taken more care before allowing the receptionist to send up this unwanted visitor. She was amazed also at the coolness within her. It was no use denying that she had dreaded meeting Clive again, yet now that she was face to face

  with him she felt not the slightest twinge of affection or regret that their relationship had floundered due to Brett's intervention. Clive had become more than a stranger—he was someone in whom she had not the slightest interest. An acquaintance long forgotten.

  'I don't think we have anything to say to each other,' she said coldly, not inviting him to sit down. 'What do you want?'

  'To talk to you, Sam, what else?' He stood with his hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he glanced about him with a cynical smile. 'Well, I must say you've done well for yourself. Landing a fish like Brett Carrington is what I call quite a catch.'

  His-inference that she had married Brett for his money infuriated her, but she managed to keep a tight hold on herself. 'Why did you come, Clive?' she asked.

  He turned to her then with a display of sincerity that was unconvincing. 'I came because I had a yen to see you again ... for old times' sake. We were very close once.'

  'How did you know I would be in Port Elizabeth this evening?'

  'Brett Carrington is news, sweetie, and as his wife you get the same rating.' He flashed his old dazzling smile at her. 'You know how news gets around.'

  His glance swept over her speculatively as though he were summing up her possibilities, taking in the expensive woollen dress that hid successfully the slight fullness at her waist, the diamond brooch Brett had given her as a wedding present pinned to the wide collar, and the soft leather shoes on her small feet.

  Throughout this crude inspection Samantha remained perfectly still, but when his grey eyes met hers once more there was undisguised desire in their depths. Samantha went rigid with distaste.

  'Does your wife know you're here?'

  'My ... what did you say?'

  Samantha had the satisfaction of seeing his composure shattered. 'Your wife, Clive,' she repeated calmly. 'I'm sure she won't like the idea—'

  'But I'm not married '

  The silence that followed his emphatic denial was filled with conflicting emotions. It was Samantha's turn to stare at him in confusion. 'I ... don't think I understand.'

  'Neither do I, sweetie,' he said agitatedly, peering down at her with renewed confidence. 'Is that why you married Brett? Because you thought I was married?'

  'I ... I don't ...' she floundered, unable to articulate sensibly while her mind was in such a turmoil. Why should Brett have lied to her? Was it not enough that he had brought proof of Clive's escapades with another woman?

  Clive was beside her now, but she was successful in evading his groping hands. 'Sam, sweetie, you don't realise how I've been pining my heart out for you.'

  'You surely don't expect me to believe that, do you?' she demanded, placing some distance between them. 'If you're not married then what's happened to the dark-haired woman who lived with you in a beach-front flat and called herself Mrs Wilmot?'

  Clive looked taken aback. 'Who told you that?'

  `To use your own words, Clive ... news gets around,' she replied with a touch of cynicism.

  'Sam, it meant nothing, I swear it. She was—' 'It really doesn't concern me.'

  'Don't lie, Sam,' he laughed, advancing upon her with determination. 'Admit that it concerns you very much. You don't love Brett, you love me, and don't deny it.'

  His audacity was almost laughable. He was so sure

  that his fatal charm would have her falling into his arms that he was blind to the look of scorn that flashed across her sensitive face. 'Clive, I'm no longer free. I'm married to Brett, and that's the way it's going to Stay.'

  `That doesn't mean we can't take what happiness we can find.'

  Samantha began to panic. `I'm not sure I understand you.'

  `Oh, come now,' he laughed knowingly as she sidestepped him once more. 'You're no longer the innocent young girl you used to be. Be nice to me, Sam. Let me stay with you tonight.'

  `You must be mad ! ' she exclaimed in horror, seeing him for the first time as he really was—a man without scruples or sense of decency, and with the misguided idea that every woman was fair game. It was a moment of revelation that filled her with a relief so great that she would never be able to thank Brett enough for saving her from this obnoxious man stalking her about the

  room .

  Clive bridged the gap between them with a swiftness that caught her by surprise. His arms tightened about her as she fought against him, his breathing laboured as his mouth sought hers. 'I want you, Sam. I've always wanted you, you know that.'

  Filled with revulsion she managed somehow to evade his lips, but even as she did so she felt his hands fumbling with her zip. 'Let me go '

  `Sam, I've got to have you.'

  `No ! ' Anger gave her added strength and she managed to free one of her hands, striking him a vicious blow across the cheek. Clive released her instantly, his ardour decidedly dampened by the stinging slap, and clearly startled by her unexpected attack.

  `One would swear you were still a virgin by the way

  you're carrying on,' he muttered with well-remembered petulance, fingering his cheek that was reddening rapidly.

  'Well, I'm not ! she exclaimed furiously. 'But that doesn't mean that I have the desire to go to bed with any other man who comes my way. I'm going to have a baby—Brett's baby And, for your information I'm very happily married and have no wish to seek pleasure elsewhere! '

  'A baby? Well, what do you know ! ' he laughed nastily, recovering his composure swiftly. 'So Brett has made it after all.'

  Samantha flinched inwardly as she struggled to control the shaking of her limbs. 'Yes, Brett has made it after all, and won't be losing his inheritance.'

  Clive raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'So you got my letter ... and you don't mind Brett marrying you for that reason?'

  'No, I don't,' she lied. Not for anything in the world would she let him know how much his letter had hurt her. 'I don't know what you hoped to gain by sending me that letter, but you may as well know that it makes no difference to me at all. I love Brett enough to overcome that stumbling block—if what you wrote is true?'

  'Oh, it's true all right,' he said, observing her closely while he lit a cigarette with unsteady hands.

  'How did you find out about it?'

  'Well, I once heard ' He broke off abruptly and

  laughed briefly. 'Oh no, you're not going to catch me out that easily. Let's just say that I heard it mentioned once.' His expression sobered and became almost pleading. 'Sam, I did love you, you know.'

  'You don't know the
meaning of the word love, Clive. To you it means having affairs with women and dropping them when you've tired of them. To me, loving

  someone represents a more lasting relationship, and being true to one person only. Now get out of here,' she ordered contemptuously, 'and I hope I never have to see you again I '

  'Take it easy, sweetie, I'm going,' he said defensively. 'If ever you should change your mind—'

  'I shan't,' Samantha interrupted forcefully at his audacity, fighting a mental and physical fatigue. 'Goodbye

  It was only after she had closed and locked the door behind him that she allowed herself to relax. It was perhaps just as well that he had come, she decided, subsiding weakly into a chair, for now he would know, once and for all, that everything was over between them—that it had in fact been over a long time ago.

  The telephone rang, interrupting her thoughts, and every nerve in her body reacted violently to the sound. It would be Brett. 'Oh, Brett, Brett, why did you do this to me! Why did you have to walk into my life only to break my heart in the way you have?'

  Samantha raised herself tiredly and lifted the receiver, a strange calmness taking possession of her as she heard his voice.

  'I hope everything is to your satisfaction?' he asked after a peremptory greeting.

  'Yes, thank you.'

  'Did the journey tire you?'

  'Not at all.'

  Her own voice sounded peculiarly lifeless to her own ears and Brett must have been aware of this, for he said: 'You must take care of yourself, Samantha. Don't overtax your strength.'

  Naturally, she thought cynically. She must not do anything to harm the child he needed so desperately. 'Oh, I shan't do that, Brett.'

  There was a brief silence before she heard him ask: 'Has something happened to upset you, Samantha?'

  What an understatement, she thought, her emotions bordering on hysteria. 'No.'

  'You're tired, perhaps?'

  'Yes.'

  'Then I'll say goodnight, Samantha. Sleep well.'

  The line went dead and she was left holding, a lifeless instrument in her hand. It was so tragically symbolic of her marriage that she was on the verge of tears.

  'Oh, Brett, why did you let me love you?' her anguished heart cried. 'Why couldn't you have told me the truth instead of letting me go on hoping?'

  There was no longer any joy in this shopping expedition. The parcel of baby clothes in her bedroom was a bitter reminder of the function she had been chosen to perform. It was wrong to feel this way, she realised after a sleepless night. Her child would come blameless into the world, and it would need her love and attention. She had to prepare for its arrival as though nothing had happened to mar the occasion. It would, after all, be her child just as much as Brett's.

  On an impulse she telephoned Gillian before leaving the hotel after breakfast. 'Could you get away from work and meet me at Garlicks for lunch?'

  'I'll say I can,' Gillian agreed enthusiastically. 'Is Brett not with you?'

  'No.' Through the window she could see Lucas waiting patiently beside the Mercedes. 'Gillian, I must fly. See you later.'

  A fine drizzling rain fell that morning and, helped on by the south-easterly wind, it made shopping rather uncomfortable. Everything felt clammy to the touch, but Samantha was used to this kind of weather, the refreshing chill in the air whipping against her cheeks

  and bringing a touch of colour to them.

  It was somehow comforting to ride through familiar streets, to walk into familiar shops, and to feel the pulsating city around her. It had been months since she had last walked these streets, for Brett never once offered to bring her with him on his frequent trips. Had he been afraid that she might meet Clive and learn the truth? A tantalising thought, but one that touched a rawness deep within her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  AT twelve-thirty, with the last of her shopping done, Samantha dismissed Lucas and ordered him to return to the hotel with her parcels. But Lucas' brown face was almost indignant.

  `But, Madam,' he argued. The Madam can't expect me just to leave the Madam here in the middle of Main Street? Master Brett will never

  `Lucas, please, go back to the hotel. I'll have lunch in town and then I'll take a bus or a taxi.'

  `Well, I don't know what Master Brett will say,' Lucas shook his head doubtfully.

  `Master Brett need not know,' Samantha assured him, slipping out of the car just as the robot turned, green. `Don't worry so much, Lucas, nothing will happen to me.'

  Lucas was forced to drive on while Samantha made her way swiftly to where she was to meet Gillian. She found a table without much difficulty and shortly afterwards Gillian arrived, windswept and drawing attention to herself as she almost shrieked with delight at the sight of her friend.

  `Sam darling, it's good to see you,' she said, slipping into the chair opposite Samantha. 'You're looking a bit hollow-eyed, though. Pregnancy not agreeing with you?'

  'It has nothing to do with my pregnancy. I'm really fine, I ...' She bit her lip nervously and fought against the tears that stung her eyelids.

  Gillian glanced at her with concern. 'What is it,

  Sam? I've never seen you this agitated before. Has something happened to upset you?'

  'Yes, I ... I have to talk to someone, or go mad!'

  Gillian placed her elbows on the table and leaned closer. 'Talk away, darling. I'm an awfully good listener, but I don't guarantee my advice.'

  Samantha sat for a moment, wondering where to begin and how to explain the confusion her life had become. It was not going to be easy talking about it but, with her father away in Cape Town, Gillian was the only other person who could perhaps listen impartially and give advice.

  'What would you say if I told you I had reason to suspect that Brett merely married me in order to have an heir?' Samantha began, unable to disguise the quiver in her voice.

  'Don't be silly! Brett loves you.'

  'I doubt it very much.'

  Gillian's glance sharpened. 'What on earth has given you the idea that Brett needed an heir so desperately?'

  Samantha explained briefly, telling her of Clive's letter containing the damaging statement and his visit the previous evening, omitting nothing except his revolting suggestions that made her shudder to think what could have happened.

  'You don't mean to tell me you believed Clive?' Gillian asked incredulously when she had finished. 'Really, Sam, you amaze me. You've always been so level-headed.'

  The tears sprang instantly to Samantha's eyes. 'I'm so confused at the moment that I don't know what to believe.'

  'That I can see,' her friend nodded sympathetically, but with a touch of impatience. 'Look, Sam, there's only one thing you can do, and you should have done it

  immediately you received that letter. Go home and confront Brett with this information, and I would like to stake my life on it that there's something wrong with the story Clive gave you.'

  'Oh, Gillian, I wish I could believe that.'

  'Cheer up, darling, it's not the end of the world yet,' her friend laughed, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. 'There must be some explanation for Brett's behaviour, and I bet it's not at all what Clive has insinuated.'

  They ordered lunch, but Samantha found it difficult to eat. There was nothing, however, that could put Gillian off her food. She was always at her happiest when she could eat, and the miracle was that she never gained an ounce of superfluous weight.

  'By the way,' she said, working her way through a second helping of dessert, 'Stan and I are getting married in November and I shall expect Brett and yourself at the wedding. The invitations will be going out soon.'

  'Gillian, I'm so happy for you,' Samantha exclaimed delightedly, her own problems momentarily forgotten as she shared in her friend's plans. It was only afterwards that she realised with a pang of regret how sadly her own wedding arrangements had lacked the enthusiasm Gillian was displaying, but she brushed aside these painful thoughts lest her heedless tears should fall
in public.

  When they eventually parted company, Samantha was forced to promise Gillian that she would follow her advice about confronting Brett. It was no use leaving something like that to become worse as time progressed, Gillian had said wisely.

  Samantha took a bus back to the hotel, enjoying the short walk from the bus stop and the refreshing coolness of the rain on her hot face. She had to think, but

  she felt mentally exhausted and, by the time she had reached her suite, she was no nearer a solution than she had been when she had parted from Gillian in town.

  She removed her hat and coat, shaking the few drops of rain from her hair, and only then did she notice the tall figure emerging from the deep chair beside the window.

  'Brett!'

  His name on her lips was a mixture of delight and despair while she marvelled at how arrogantly self-assured he appeared to be as he came towards her. She wished she could hate him for what he had done to her, but the heavy thudding of her heart mocked her and almost sent her rushing into his arms.

  'What are you doing here? I thought—'

  'I decided to fetch you myself. I've already sent Lucas home with your parcels,' he said smoothly. 'Sit down, you look exhausted.'

  'I don't want to

  'Do as you're told! ' he instructed sternly, giving her a gentle push into a chair behind her. 'I've ordered tea ah, here it is.'

  The tray of tea was placed on the small table between them and, surprisingly, Brett poured, neither of them attempting to speak until the warm liquid had succeeded in steadying her trembling hands.

  'This excursion has been too much for you, Samantha.'

  'Oh, for goodness' sake, stop fussing ! ' she exclaimed, rising agitatedly and turning her back on him to escape the intense scrutiny of his eyes.

  'Surely a husband is entitled to fuss over his wife when she's going to have his child?' he said.

  She was in the grip of such acute unhappiness that

  she flinched under the impact and gripped the back of her chair for support. 'Clive was here last night,' she blurted out in an effort to shock him into some positive action.