by Anne Mather
‘Never mind about that now.’ Mr O’Shea had taken charge of the situation, and he sent Cyril off to make Rachel a cup of strong sweet tea, while he dealt with the cut on her arm. Happily, it wasn’t deep, and after bathing it in clean water, some antiseptic cream and a bandage sufficed. But she did feel rather shaken, and she wasn’t sorry when Mr O’Shea suggested to Cyril that she should be allowed to take the rest of the day off.
‘I wouldn’t come back until Monday, if I were you,’ he averred, ignoring Cyril’s thoroughly outraged impotence. ‘That was quite a fall, and it might be wise to rest your back for a couple of days. I’m sure Mr Caldwell would rather you did that than have you sueing him later for a slipped disc.’
And, of course, Cyril had to agree, although he prefaced his endorsement by insisting that she’d only herself to blame. But the fact remained that the working conditions in the shop were distinctly hazardous, and with Mr O’Shea’s encouragement he promised to get one of the larger auction houses to come and clear some of the less valuable items.
In consequence, Rachel was home by lunchtime, with strict instructions not to do anything energetic for the next seventy-two hours. ‘You have to think of Daisy,’ said Cyril, with one of his typically false displays of concern. ‘Who would look after her, if you had to go into hospital?’ he added, when what he was really saying was that she couldn’t afford to lose her job.
Thinking of her daughter reminded Rachel that she ought to ring Lady’s Mount, and ask them to tell Daisy to come straight home after school. The head teacher, Mrs Latimer, was most concerned when she heard why Rachel was making the call, and she offered her best wishes, and the hope that she’d soon be feeling better.
That done, Rachel made herself a cup of coffee, hesitating only a moment before adding a second spoonful of sugar. What price worrying about her weight now? she thought, as she changed from her skirt and blouse into casual clothes. There was no one to care if she was fat or thin, or reproach her if she ate too many sweet things.
Her image, in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old shirt of Ben’s she’d rescued from the bottom of his closet after he’d moved out, was not inspiring. She’d originally intended to tear the shirt up and use it for cleaning jobs, but it was so soft and comfortable to wear that she’d relented. Nevertheless, she was glad she wasn’t expecting any company. Apart from her appearance, her back was feeling rather stiff.
She was lying on the sofa in the snug, wondering if she had time to take a bath before Daisy got home, when her doorbell rang. A glance at her watch assured her that it couldn’t be her daughter. Not yet. And anyone else was just unwelcome.
Hoping whoever it was wouldn’t decide to look through the window, she pretended she hadn’t heard anything. It was probably just someone selling brushes. If she didn’t show her face they’d go away.
The bell rang again, this time accompanied by the rattle of the letter-box. ‘Rachel!’ Oh, God, it was Simon’s voice. ‘Rachel, I know you’re in there. Come on, Rachel,’ he was more wheedling now. ‘I’ve brought you something to make you feel better.’
It would have been all the same if she’d been in bed, thought Rachel wearily, rolling rather painfully off the couch. And whatever he’d brought, it was unlikely to make her feel better. She’d hoped she’d seen the last of him. She really thought he’d have got the message by now.
She looked at her watch again. She must have been asleep, because it was almost half-past three. Daisy would be home in half an hour. If only Simon could have held off until then.
When she opened the door, it was only wide enough for him to see her face. She had no intention of inviting him in. No intention of accepting anything except his apologies for disturbing her. Even the bunch of flowers in his hand, which he thrust towards her as soon as she was visible, were an unwarranted intrusion into her privacy. What was he doing here anyway? How had he known where to find her?
The answer was obvious, of course, and she didn’t need his rapid explanation to understand it. ‘Cyril said you needed cheering up,’ he added, his fair face flushed and defensive. ‘I saw him at lunchtime, in the Swan. I thought it was a good time to make amends.’
Rachel leaned heavily on the door, making no attempt to take the flowers, and his hand fell awkwardly to his side again. ‘No amends are necessary,’ she said evenly. ‘I think we both made a mistake. Me, for thinking I loved you, and you, for proving I didn’t.’
Simon’s face darkened. ‘Am I supposed to understand that?’
Rachel expelled her breath on a sigh. ‘It’s the truth. I’m afraid I let the prospect of financial security blind me to the real extent of my feelings. I liked you, Simon. I even think I was fond of you. But, you must agree, we did have different agendas.’
‘I don’t agree.’ Simon’s jaw jutted. He glanced over her shoulder. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Rachel hoped he wouldn’t make an issue of it. ‘We don’t have anything to say to one another. It was—fun, but it’s over. I’m sorry. I hope we can remain friends.’
Simon scowled. ‘It’s Leeming, isn’t it?’ he exclaimed, taking an aggressive step forward. ‘Ever since he came back, you’ve been acting like a fool. Good God, the man cuckolded you! He was having it off with that French nursemaid, who everyone knew was bound to cause trouble. Heavens, she’d already caused ructions between Harry Armstrong and his wife. So much so that his mother had threatened to have her deported!’ Rachel felt sick. ‘How do you know this?’
‘It was common knowledge at the lodge.’ Simon was very proud of the fact that he was a Freemason, and it wasn’t the first time he had spoken of the camaraderie that existed within the order. ‘The Armstrongs always did consider themselves better than the rest of us. Harry’s father—old man Armstrong, that is—used to act like he owned half the county.’
Rachel moistened her lips. ‘And you resented that.’
‘Well, wouldn’t you? We were all glad when they left the district.’
‘Which was when?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I’d like to know.’
Simon sighed. ‘Oh, well—not that long ago, actually. Soon after that trouble between you and your husband, I think it was. I know the house has been on the market for some time. I also heard that, in spite of all his mother’s efforts, Harry had to marry the girl eventually. There was talk that she was pregnant, and that they went to live in France, with her family.’
Rachel stared at him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘I didn’t think it would interest you.’ Simon shrugged. ‘The subject did seem kind of sensitive to broach. I’m only telling you now to prove what a bastard your husband was. For heaven’s sake, Rachel, going to bed with a pregnant woman! If that doesn’t show what a swine he is, I’d like to know what does.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHE got rid of him somehow. It wasn’t easy, and Rachel was sure Simon still believed she’d change her mind about him, after she’d had time to think. It was a measure of his conceit that he didn’t regard the way he had treated her as in any way comparable to the way Ben was supposed to have acted. That they had both deceived her was evident. That Ben’s deceit was a result of her own intolerance was almost impossible to bear.
She made herself another cup of coffee, knowing the caffeine wasn’t doing her nervous system any good, but desperate for something to fill the emptiness inside her. She wasn’t hungry. For all her fears of getting fat, she hadn’t eaten a proper meal since her mother left. And even before that she had only picked at her food. What she needed was sustenance, but not the edible kind.
It was nearly half-past four before she realised that Daisy should have been home by now. School finished at half-past three, and after allowing time for the children to collect their coats and their belongings, the mini-bus usually left at about twenty minutes to four. Then, with no hold-ups, and not forgetting the couple of stops he made along the way, the d
river usually managed to drop Daisy home at about five minutes past four. Occasionally it had been ten past, but never as late as this.
Rachel’s throat felt dry. Oh, God, she had been so wrapped up in her own misery, she’d actually forgotten all about her daughter. Surely Mrs Latimer had given her the message? She couldn’t be at the shop, could she? Cyril would have phoned.
Even so, knowing she had to check all possibilities before getting into a panic, Rachel forced herself to go into the hall and pick up the phone. Let it just be a mistake, she prayed urgently. Please, oh, please, don’t let anything bad have happened to her.
Her own aches and pains forgotten for the moment, she was dialling Cyril’s number when she heard the sound of a car turn into the drive. It wasn’t familiar, and briefly the thought that it might be the police, come to report an accident, kept her frozen to the spot.
But then common sense asserted itself, and putting down the receiver again, she went stiffly to the door. It could be Cyril, she told herself. She had to stop thinking the worst.
The sight of Ben, getting out of the grey Mercedes, almost caused her heart to stop beating altogether. Daisy wasn’t with him. She saw that straight away. And she could think of no reason for Ben to be here, unless he was the bearer of bad news.
Clinging desperately to the doorframe, she said her daughter’s name, hardly aware of the tears on her cheeks, until Ben leapt up the steps towards her. ‘She’s OK,’ he said huskily. ‘She’s with my secretary.’ He brushed a tear from her cheek with a gentle hand. ‘I’m sorry if you were worried. I’m afraid there was a hold-up on the M40.’
Rachel blinked, half afraid that if she let go of the frame her legs would give out on her. ‘A hold-up?’ she echoed faintly. ‘But I—I don’t understand.’
‘You will,’ said Ben gently, gesturing into the hall behind her. ‘Shall we go inside? I don’t feel inclined to give Mrs Reynolds anything else to gossip about, do you?’
Rachel shook her head, and moved obediently aside, so that he could come in. It occurred to her, as the ache in her back reasserted itself, that she hadn’t even hesitated before letting him in. Was she really that desperate to see him? She was rather afraid she was.
‘Are you all right?’
He’d halted in the hall, tall and disturbingly attractive in those familiar surroundings. And his first words, once the door was closed, brought the foolish tears to her eyes again. The fact that he had asked the question proved that someone must have told him about her fall. It could only have been Daisy, and Rachel hoped he didn’t think she had had anything to do with it.
So, ‘I’m fine,’ she managed briskly, making a determined effort to walk normally along the hall. Her back protested at the sudden exertion as she turned into the living-room. ‘I—I’m sorry Daisy troubled you. As you can see, I’m on the mend.’
‘Are you?’ Ben followed her into the room, and she was aware of his eyes watching her like a hawk. The knowledge made her clumsy, and without waiting for him to join her she sank down weakly on to the sofa. ‘Daisy didn’t—trouble me,’ he added. ‘Your mother phoned me, actually. She thought I ought to know.’
Rachel blinked. ‘My mother? But, how——?’
‘All right.’ Ben came to stand behind the sofa, and Rachel shuffled to the edge of the seat almost instinctively. ‘Daisy did contact her grandmother. She was worried about you, and I think Mrs Latimer thought it was a good idea.’ He rested his hands on the smooth fabric, and moulded it, unthinkingly. ‘I told Daisy to wait for me at the school, and I got down here as soon as I could.’
‘There was no need …’
Rachel lifted her shoulders helplessly, wondering why it was that Ben always saw her at her worst. Oh, he looked a little dishevelled himself, with his hair rumpled by the wind—or by the raking movement of his hands, she couldn’t be sure—and the shadow of his beard darkening his jawline, but he still looked sexy, and too desirable to be true.
‘Wasn’t there?’ he asked now, and to her alarm he came round the sofa and seated himself beside her. The cushion, depressed by his weight, tilted alarmingly, and she clutched the arm of the sofa tightly, to prevent herself from falling into his arms. ‘What happened?’
His tone was so gentle that Rachel had to look down at her knees to prevent him from seeing the stupid weakness in her eyes. Oh, God, she just wasn’t up to dealing with him now.
‘I—nothing much,’ she mumbled, in answer, touching her hair with a nervous hand, and then stopping herself from doing so. ‘I—had a fall, that’s all. I got a shock more than anything else. The only reason I rang the school was to let Daisy know where I was.’
‘How did you fall?’
‘From some steps.’ Rachel made a distracted gesture. ‘Where is Daisy anyway? You said——’
‘I said she was with my secretary, and she is. Karen’s very good with children. It probably comes from the fact that she’s had three of her own, plus a couple of grandchildren.’
‘Grandchildren?’
Rachel was surprised, and Ben pulled a wry face. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘You thought she was blonde and beautiful, didn’t you?’ He grinned. ‘Well, she is, I suppose. Blonde, anyway. But forty-six if she’s a day, and very happily married.’
Rachel coloured. ‘I never …’ Her voice trailed away. He’d known she was lying. ‘So—where are they?’ She frowned. ‘Not waiting in the car!’
‘Can you see that?’ Ben’s tone was dry. ‘Our daughter sitting meekly in the car while we talked? No. I dropped the pair of them off in Cheltenham. Karen’s taking her shopping, and then they’re going to get some tea. I wanted to speak to you without interruption. And we both know how impossible that is, if Daisy’s around.’
Rachel quivered. ‘But—how will they get back?’
Ben’s mouth compressed. ‘Let Karen worry about that, will you? They’ll get a taxi, I guess. You’ll find she’s quite efficient when you get to know her.’
Rachel bent her head again. ‘I’m sure she is,’ she said, letting go of the arm of the sofa to smooth her damp palms over her knees. ‘And—it was—kind of you to be so—so concerned——’
Ben swore then, so that she broke off what she was saying to stare at him with half fearful eyes. ‘It wasn’t kind at all,’ he said harshly, spreading his legs and running agitated hands up and down his thighs. ‘For God’s sake, Rachel——’ his eyes searched her face, dark and frustrated ‘—I was worried about you, dammit! When your mother said you and Barrass had broken up, I felt bloody responsible!’
Rachel’s lips parted. ‘My mother had no right——’
‘Yes, she did. She had every right.’ Ben was breathing unevenly now. ‘She knew how I felt about you. Knew that anything concerning you would concern me.’ He paused. ‘What happened? Did he find out about us going to Watersmeet, or did that employer of yours happen to tell him that I’d come to the shop looking for you the other day? It’s the sort of thing Cyril would do, the old bastard! Well, if you’re expecting me to say I’m sorry, I shouldn’t hold your breath!’
Rachel trembled. ‘Simon knows—nothing about us. He—he suspects. But—it’s nothing to do with him any longer.’
Ben stared at her. ‘So—do you want me to talk to him?’ he asked tersely, and Rachel almost choked.
‘What?’
‘I said do you want me to talk to him?’ Ben was very tense, his hands lying along his thighs now, still, but not relaxed, as Rachel could see. ‘I will if you want me to. I’ll tell him how it was. That it was all my fault. If the fool has any sense, he’ll forgive you.’
Rachel expelled her breath on a shivery sigh. ‘And—and what if I don’t want him to forgive me?’ she asked unsteadily, as the realisation that she was being given another chance, too, began to dawn on her dazed senses, and Ben frowned.
‘Am I supposed to understand that?’ he asked stiffly. ‘Rachel, your mother said——’ ‘Yes?’ Suddenly, she felt a wave of confidence sweeping over her. ‘W
hat did my mother say? Did she tell you I went to see you? Did she tell you I went to the hotel?’
Ben blinked. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘What hotel?’
Rachel straightened her spine, feeling the little twinge it gave, but not really caring suddenly. ‘The Old Swan, of course,’ she replied softly. ‘But—you’d gone back to London.’
Ben stared at her with guarded eyes. ‘You went to the Swan?’ he echoed. ‘When?’
Rachel swallowed a little nervously. ‘That evening. The evening after—after we’d—talked.’
‘Why?’
Rachel moved her shoulders. ‘Why did you leave?’ she asked, instead of answering him, and Ben’s fingers dug grimly into his thighs.
‘You know why,’ he said harshly. ‘There’s only so much a man can take without losing his self-respect, as well as his reason. When I left here, I never wanted to see you again. You and I were finished. This time, I thought, for good!’
Rachel wet her dry lips with a tentative tongue. ‘So—so why did you come back?’
‘God, you know that too!’ he grated roughly. ‘Your mother only had to hint that you might be injured, or in pain, and I couldn’t wait to drop everything and get down here.’ He lifted one hand and ran frustrated fingers through his hair. ‘That’s what you do to me, damn you. What you’ve always done to me. That’s why I found it so inconceivable that you could—oh, damn! What’s the use?’
Rachel hesitated only a moment, and then she laid her hand on his knee. The muscle jumped beneath her fingers, and she felt the stiffness that invaded his bones at her touch. But instead of responding to his withdrawal, she finger-walked along his thigh, until his hand came down, imprisoning hers against his leg.
‘Don’t.’
‘Why not?’ She looked into his eyes. ‘Don’t you like it?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Is this a game, Rachel? Have you suddenly devised some new way to make me squirm? Look …’ He held up his free hand. ‘If you’ve got something to say, say it. Don’t make a fool of me. I can do that too easily for myself.’