Red Rose For Love

by Carole Mortimer

  Derek opened the door, a worried frown on his face; he had obviously heard the raised voices. 'Is everything all right?'

  Bart Jordan's fierce gaze never left Eve's scornful face. 'Get out!' he thundered at the other man. 'And don't come back unless I ask you to!'

  But----Cold green eyes were turned on him sharply. 'I said get out, Derek,' Bart ordered in a chilling voice. Eve didn't like the dangerous glitter in his eyes. In this mood Bart Jordan frightened her, and she realised that she had been the one to cause his anger.

  Derek gave a resigned shrug, then slowly moved back out of the room and closed the door behind him. Bart Jordan moved forward to grasp Eve's arms painfully in his hands, glaring down at her. 'I think you've done enough talking for one day,' he told her in a harsh voice. 'Now it's time you listened. You're a bad-tempered shrew, and if you were feeling stronger I would put you over my knee and give you the hiding you deserve!'

  'You and whose army?' she taunted.

  'Don't tempt me, Eve,' he ground out. 'Right now it would give me great pleasure to tan your backside. But I'm not going to, you ungrateful little wildcat.' He seemed not to care as once again she flinched at his use of that name for her. 'I won't give you the pleasure of having another excuse to dislike me.'

  Her eyes flashed deeply blue. 'I don't need an excuse—I can't bear you near me!'

  'You're so full of self-pity you can't--'

  'Self-pity?' she repeated shrilly.

  'Some man hurt you, and now you think every other man you meet is going to do the same,' he scowled darkly.

  'Well, here's one man who isn't going to continue battering his head against a brick wall!' He walked angrily to the door. 'I've tried to help you, Miss Meredith, but some people just don't want to be helped. Run yourself into the ground, half kill yourself—why the hell should I care!' He slammed the door on his way out. Eve dropped down heavily on to the bed. Well, she had done it now, that should get Bart Jordan out of her life once and for all.

  Derek came in a few minutes later, a curiously pate Derek. 'What the hell have you been saying to the man?' he demanded.

  She looked up at him with full eyes, the weakness back now that her argument with Bart Jordan was over. 'Just the truth,' she sighed.

  'And his offer to take care of you for a while?'

  'I told him exactly what he could do with it!'

  'Oh, Eve, Eve!' He shook his head. 'What have you done now?'

  Life sparkled in her eyes once more. 'I've stopped his interference once and for all. You have no right to discuss my private life with him, Derek, no right at all. You told him all about my godparents, and where I live. I don't like your having done that, especially to him.'

  His blue eyes narrowed. 'You keep saying diat, but why him especially?'

  'Because—because------'

  'Can it be dial you really like him but that you're afraid to admit it, even to yourself?'

  'No, it can't!' she snapped. 'I hate him!'

  Derek shrugged, sighing. 'If you say so. But now what are we going to do about getting you rested? You could stay here, I suppose---'

  'I'm going home.'

  'To the houseboat?' he frowned.

  'Yes,'

  'That's damned stupid, Eve, and you know it,' he scowled. 'There's no way I'm going to let you go back there while you're in this state.'

  'There's no way you're going to stop me,' she told him calmly. 'And I'm just a little tired, not in a "state". A couple of days' rest and I'll be fine.'

  'That isn't what the doctor said.'

  She shrugged. 'He's used to dealing with the idle rich, Derek. They probably enjoy being told to rest for a month. We lesser mortals don't have time for it.' She gave him a searching look. 'How is all this going to affect my career?'

  He looked away, his expression suddenly guarded. 'Too soon to tell,' he murmured. 'The important tiling now is to get you well.'

  'Derek?' she probed softly. 'The truth, now.'

  He shrugged. 'Like I said, it's too soon to tell,'

  'But...?'

  He sighed. 'Let's just say maybe I should start scouting around for a new star.'

  Eve bit her lip. 'As bad as that?'

  'I just don't know. You said you wanted the truth?’

  'Yes,' she nodded.

  'Well then, it could be that bad.' He sat down next to her, his arm about her shoulders. 'You don't really have it in you, do you?' he probed gently. 'Oh, you can sing, but then so can hundreds of other girls. Bart Jordan made me realise that it was only my pushing that had got you this far, that you don't really have the drive to make it to the top.'

  Her face coloured angrily. 'And just when did he convince you of that?'

  'Last night.' He grimaced. 'I should have realised before. You were reluctant to commit yourself to doing these concerts, when most girls would sell their soul for a chance like that.. You know it's the truth, Eve. Don't let your dislike of Bart Jordan make you say any differently.'

  'Derek--—'

  'Eve, be honest with yourself if not with me,'

  She sighed. 'Okay, so maybe I've realised my reluctance too. But where does that leave me?'

  He shrugged. 'Where do you want it to leave you?'

  She looked down at her hands. 'You really want to know?'

  He nodded. 'I really do.'

  She took a deep breath, searching for the right words. Derek had been a good friend to her over the last five years, had moulded her career, had given her the minor success she had today.

  'It's all right, Eve,' he gave a rueful grin, 'I think I know what you want. You want to go back to Norfolk and never have to face an audience again, right?'

  'Yes,' she admitted huskily, looking at him pleadingly for understanding. 'I'm really grateful for what you've done for me, and I've enjoyed—-most, of it.

  But-----'

  'It's the "buts" of this world that usually mean trouble,' he derided.

  'I'm sorry, Derek, I really am. I just don't think I'm

  cut out for this type of life. I've tried, but I—I---'

  'You hate it.'

  ‘Yes.' Oh, it was a relief just to be able to admit it, to say the words out loud.

  'I already guessed that.' He shrugged. 'So we drop the idea of you becoming the next Kate Bush. You look a bit like her, you know. You have that same air of mystery about you. Of course, you're more beautiful, b u t — '

  'Flattery, Derek? From you?'she mocked gently.

  'From me,' he nodded, smiling. 'You have a terrific voice, Eve, husky and sexy. Your body is beautiful, and you have the face of an angel, but if your heart isn't in what we're trying to achieve then we may as well forget it.'

  She knew he was right, had known it for some time but had been too afraid to admit it. And she hadn't wanted to let Derek down, had known the lengths he had gone to to get her the few breaks she had had. For every girl who succeeded in this business there were thousands who never made it out of the second-rate clubs she used to sing in. As Derek said, she had a voice, a reasonably attractive face, but she couldn't live up to the image she had created. It was time to drop out and give one of those other girls a chance.

  'What will happen about tonight?' she asked. 'We'll lose money on it, and---'

  'It's all been taken care of,' Derek dismissed.

  'The backers----'

  'Backer—in the singular,' he corrected.

  Her eyes opened wide with alarm. 'Oh, my God,

  not----'

  'Yes,' Derek sighed heavily, 'Bart Jordan financed the whole thing.'

  She was very pale. 'But you told me--' she

  frowned, swallowing hard. 'I know for a fact that we had four or five backers to start with.'

  'Yes, but Bart Jordan approached me several months ago and offered to pay for it all. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss at the time.' He groaned. 'I wish to God I'd never starred it!'

  So did she. It put her under a liability to Bartholomew Jordan. No wonder he thought he had the
right to dictate to her whether or not she did the show tonight! It also made her wonder whether she could have misunderstood his interest of the last few nights. He could have just been at the shows to keep an eye on his investment.

  'How much money is he losing?' she asked, dreading the answer.

  Derek shrugged. 'Who knows? He's been dealing with the financial side of things. I think we just about broke even the last four nights, so I suppose he lost all of tonight's takings, plus the musicians still have to be paid. The theatre was booked for five nights too. He'll be out a few thousand, I suppose. Not that he can't afford it, but----'

  'But that isn't the point,' she finished grimly. 'Oh God,' she groaned, 'I've never owed anyone money in my life, and now it seems I owe Bart Jordan thousands!'

  'Don't be silly, Eve.' Derek patted her hand. 'You don't owe him anything. This was an investment for him, just like any other business deal he might make. He knew the odds when he made the offer.'

  She frowned. 'And you say he approached you?'

  'Mm,' he nodded.

  'What did he say, his exact words?'

  'I can't remember that, love,' Derek laughed dismissively. 'I was smashed at the time. Judy and I were at some party or other—you know the sort I mean, too much booze and no food.'

  She grimaced. 'Too much free sex too.' She had been to one of Derek's 'scouting' parties, as he called them, and after the sixth approach, obviously sexual ones, she had left.

  'That too,' he acknowledged. 'It was a bad night for me. One of the backers had just dropped out and I was having trouble getting a replacement. Bart Jordan's offer was like a gift from heaven. But he insisted he be the only one involved in the deal.'

  Eve gave him a sharp look. 'Deal? What deal?'

  He licked his lips, obviously nervous, something unusual for him. 'I agreed to let him have your contract if things didn't work out,' he revealed reluctantly.

  'Your-—! Derek, you can't do dial without consulting me, surely?' she gasped. He looked sheepish. 'I didn't think you would ever need to know about it. I was so sure you were going to make it.'

  'What happens now?' she asked dully. 'Do I belong to Bartholomew Jordan?'

  ' Vow don't belong to anyone, your career does.'

  'To Bart Jordan.'

  Derek gave her a reproachful look. 'He isn't the devil himself, Eve.'

  'Isn't he?'

  'Eve!'

  'Okay, I'm sorry.' She put a hand up to her aching temple, sighing deeply. 'He didn't get such a bargain, anyway. I'm not going to sing publicly again.'

  'And you aren't going to fight the fact that he now has your contract?' Derek seemed surprised by her lack of fight.

  'Why should I?' she shrugged. 'He can't make me work. That contract just entitles him to fifteen per cent of whatever I earn. In future that will be nil.'

  'Eve,' Derek put his hand on her arm, 'I really didn't think it would come to this, I've really landed you in it, haven't I?'

  She shook her head, her smile wan. 'I landed myself in it. I should have been honest with you from the start.'

  'And I shouldn't have pushed you so damned hard.

  I'm responsible for the exhaustion you're suffering.'

  'No,' she assured him, 'there were faults on both sides. And my only consolation is that my contract runs out in six months' time. Maybe I can stay out of Bart Jordan's way for that amount of time.'

  'The way he walked out of here I doubt you'll see him again,' Derek grinned.

  'I hope not.' She frowned. 'Can he make me work, Derek?'

  'Not if you don't want to. You know our contract was only drawn up in the first place for business reasons, it never meant a damn thing, and it has so many loopholes...' He shrugged. 'I think that's why I let him have it.'

  She doubted Bart Jordan regarded the contract in such a casual light. After all, why agree to take it if he didn't intend using it? But maybe once she was back in Norfolk she would never see him again. Derek seemed to think that was what would happen. She certainly hoped so.

  Derek and Judy were against her going back to Norfolk, voicing their objections right up to the time she got on the train. When it had become clear that she was adamant about going Derek had offered to drive her, an offer she had declined. Derek was used to driving in London traffic, and his driving certainly wasn't conducive to rest and relaxation. At least on the train she could go to sleep if she wanted to, without fear of hitting something or someone while she slept.

  Norfolk and her home were everything she remembered them being—and they were a lot more besides! All the drawbacks Bart Jordan had pointed out to her turned out to be reality.

  She loved this part of England, the stark flatness that had a beauty of its own. The Broads were beautiful this time of year, all the mother ducks proudly showing off their young, the little soft downy creatures following as their mothers swam majestically down the river. Eve could sit and view this scene from her houseboat actually on the Broads, but sometimes she would take her rowboat out to Salhouse Broad to see the many families of migratory geese that nested in the sandy-shored inlet there.

  But not this year. Right now she was having trouble just surviving. The water buckets had never seemed so heavy, or the walk to the shop so far. Not that she had any appetite for the food she bought, but as she had to make the waft anyway to telephone Derek from the callbox there she bought some supplies at the same time. It would save her the trouble of having to make the journey again when she did feel like eating. She realised after walking the first mile back down the rough track to the houseboat that she had overdone the shopping; the last mile was just pure torture to her. By the time she reached her home it was all she could do to stagger down the steps and collapse on to the couch in the living area. So much for reassuring Derek that she was well, and able to take care of herself!

  Right now she just wished that Aunt Sophy and Uncle George were back from Egypt. Her uncle had been an archaeologist for as long as she could remember, and Aunt Sophy always went with him on his trips, Eve too when she was younger. She wished now that she had gone with them this time.

  Aunt Sophy disapproved of her career as a singer, she also disapproved of the houseboat Eve had insisted on living on as soon as she was old enough to have her own home. This way she managed to have her privacy and a family at the same time. Not that Aunt Sophy and Uncle George were really family, but they had cared for her since she was twelve years old, taking their responsibility as her godparents very seriously. Oh, how she wished they were here now, Aunt Sophy fussing over her, Uncle George quietly vague as he always was. But they weren't here, and she was too tired to move from the couch, her last thought before she fell asleep that the frozen food still in the shopping bag would all go off if she didn't get it into her tiny freezer. When she woke up it was four o'clock in the morning. She had slept for twelve hours!

  Not that she felt any better for it; her movements were weary as she struggled to sit up, licking her dry lips. She was very thirsty, cold too, the tee-shirt she had been wearing that afternoon was no barrier against the coldness of the Norfolk nights. She rubbed her chilled arms, pulling a thick sweater out of a cupboard before moving to the stove to make herself a wanting cup of tea.

  Damn, damn, damn! The gas cylinder was empty. She would have to go outside and change the valve over to her spare tank. These cylinders usually lasted a few weeks, and she remembered now that it was almost a month since she had replaced it.

  It was even colder outside, a fine summer rain was falling from the darkened sky, and her feet slipped on the damp grass as she walked around to the back of the houseboat, her canvas shoes getting soaked in the process. She reached out to pull herself on to the back of the houseboat, and her feet somehow slipped from beneath her. She had no time to do anything, no way of stopping herself as she fell with a loud splash into the murky, dark water. The Norfolk Broads were known for the fierceness of their currents, fatalities occurring every year, both Holiday makers and local fishermen a
like. But there was no fear of that in this quiet inlet of water that belonged to her auntand uncle, being a way for them to manoeuvre their motor-cruiser out on to the main Broad. But her lack of strength was making it difficult for her to get up on to the muddy bank. She grabbed handfuls of grass, cutting her hands on its sharp edges as she kept slipping back into the water, and each time it was becoming more of a struggle to reach the side and try again. The water looked so deep and inviting, almost warm and comforting, it's arms seeming to reach out to her and draw her downwards, ever downwards. And then she thought of Bart Jordan's 'I told you so' look when she told him she was dead. She was so tired and confused that the illogicality of such a thought didn't even occur to her. All she knew was that it was the added incentive she needed to drag herself up on to the muddy bank and into the long wet grass. But that was as far as that burst of energy would take her; she dropped face down into the grass, her hair matted with water and mud combined, her clothes and face equally dirty, her hands cut and bleeding. Suddenly it wasn't just dark any more, it was pitch black, a curious feeling of peace washing over her as she slipped quietly into oblivion.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IF only she could open her eyes—but her lids felt as if they were glued together, or maybe they were just too heavy for her to lift. And she couldn't move, she felt— she felt paralysed.

  She groaned, more of a whimper really. At once the light she could detect through her closed lids was blacked out.

  'Eve?' a huskily male voice was prompting. 'Eve, are you in pain?'

  How could she be in pain when she couldn't feel anything? And who was this man? His voice sounded familiar, but----'Eve?' his voice sharpened with concern. 'Shall I get someone to help you?'

  Someone to help her? Who? She was alone, so completely alone. She remembered now, remembered falling, the shock of the cold water, dragging herself back on to the bank. This man must be an hallucination. She was alone, no one would even think of checking on her until she missed Derek's call on Saturday. Yes, this man was an hallucination, and one didn't talk to an hallucination.