“Would you like me to stay on?”
He put down his cup so hard that it splashed a few drops of coffee onto the typewritten pages on the table. “No, I would not!”
Hurt at his vehemence, she said, “The children have got used to me — “
“And they can get used to someone else. You are going back to university to finish your degree. And that’s final.”
“You can’t dictate what I do!” she protested.
“I never heard such a crazy idea! Three years of work and you’re going to throw it in just like that! You can’t give up now!”
“Surely I should the judge of that?”
“On what grounds do you base that statement?” he asked her sarcastically.
Mulishly she said, “It’s my life — “
“Yes, and you’re about to ruin it — “
” — and it’s my choice, not yours!”
“It’s my choice that I don’t want you looking after my children after the start of term. Your job ends right then. Understood?”
Rennie swallowed. “Understood.”
Softening a little, he said, “I didn’t mean to snarl, Rennie, but believe me, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Because of your age, and experience, I suppose,” Rennie said.
“You could say that.”
“And I know what I feel!” Rennie said, a clenched fist at her chest.
“Yes,” Grant said. “That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
His face was pale, his expression strained. He’d been overworking, she thought. “When did you decide to chuck it in?” he demanded. “Four weeks ago? Six? Two?”
Rennie shrugged. “What difference does it make?” She hadn’t decided anything, just thought that if the children — and Grant — needed her she could give at least think about giving them a year or so from her life. She’d expected a discussion, not a sudden flare-up from Grant.
“I should never have kissed you that night,” he said flatly.
“Which night?”
He made an impatient gesture. “The night I took you out to dinner. And proved to my own satisfaction that you weren’t, after all, infatuated with Ethan. It never occurred to me that I ran the risk you’d — “
“I’d what? Become infatuated with you, instead?” Rennie stood up, trembling. “That’s what you think, isn’t it? That I have an adolescent crush on you!”
Grant leaned back in his chair, his eyes hard and his face expressionless. “Can you deny it?”
“Yes!” Rennie said fiercely. She knew that the emotions she felt now had nothing to do with the romantic fantasising she had indulged in at puberty. This was something different. But she could see there was no hope of convincing him. “I deny it,” she said. “Absolutely.”
He was smiling, a faint, disbelieving smile. Rennie, goaded beyond bearing, said, “And what about you? You can’t tell me you feel nothing for me!”
“No, I won’t try,” he said. “I don’t deny your sexual attraction for me. Particularly since you’ve made it plain that it’s mutual. That’s a powerful aphrodisiac, and very flattering. But I’m not about to lose my head over a lovely adolescent, even one well over the age of consent and legally adult. Frankly, it could lead to more trouble than it’s worth.”
Rennie whitened. He spoke so coolly, as though delivering a legal opinion. She couldn’t remember when her confidence in herself had been so shaken. She felt small and insignificant, and very, very young.
Grant removed his eyes from her stricken face, and shuffled the papers before him, shoving his half empty coffee cup into the middle of the table. “And now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said in the same tone, “I really have a lot of work to get through.”
Rennie walked into the other room and realised she was holding an empty cup. She felt as though she’d been flattened by a steam-roller, her mind a blank. After a while, when it began to function again, she was shaken by the realisation that it was three more weeks to the end of the holidays. And she didn’t know how on earth she was going to get through them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Survive she did, somehow. It was made easier by her continuing anger with Grant, and his own distant manner. Also the frequent excuses he made for going out after the children were in bed. Work, she assumed.
But one night when she was about to go to bed, he came in and was not alone. The woman he introduced as Lorna Fielding, a colleague from his office, would have been in her early thirties, Rennie guessed, and very attractive. She wore a white shirt, slim black skirt and very high heels with black stockings, and her blonde hair was sleekly shining, falling against her jawline. She greeted Rennie pleasantly and seemed politely regretful when Rennie said she was going to bed. But long after turning out the light, Rennie could hear her voice and Grant’s in the lounge, with occasional bursts of laughter. Then there was a long silence broken only by music which she eventually identified as an Etude by Scriabin which she didn’t recall seeing in his collection. Apparently this wasn’t a business meeting. Eventually she pulled a pillow over her head and went to sleep.
Over breakfast she said casually, “I didn’t know you owned Scriabin’s Etude in D-sharp Minor.”
“You know it?” Grant looked up from his coffee in surprise.
“I’m not a total bimbo, you know,” Rennie told him with a hint of sharpness. “I listen to all kinds of music. Actually that’s one of my favourite pieces.”
“Feel free to play it,” he said. “There are other pieces of his on the tape. I only got it yesterday.”
And had brought Lorna Fielding home to share it with him. Or had she given it to him?
Inexplicably hurt, Rennie asked, “It wasn’t your birthday, was it?”
“No.” He looked blank. “I have to go.”
He got up and bent to kiss the children as usual. Ellen said, “Why don’t you kiss Rennie, Daddy?”
She cast him a mocking look, and with a faint glint in his eye he approached her and bent to brush his lips impersonally against her cheek.
The next evening, while the children were in the bath, Grant answered the telephone and called, “Rennie! It’s Larry Townsend, for you.”
“How did he know this number?” she wondered, taking the receiver from him.
“I gave his father my card. He had a small legal problem and asked if he could look me up after the holidays.”
“I’ve got two tickets for Alice and the Amaranthas for tomorrow night,” Larry told her. “Thought you might like to come to the concert with me.”
“Alice and the Amaranthas?” It was one of her favourite pop groups. “How did you get those? They were booked out months ago!”
“I have my ways,” Larry said modestly. “Well, are you coming?”
“Um, yes,” she said, for some reason thinking of the laughter she had heard last night when Grant and his woman friend were alone together. “I’ll have to ask, though. Wait.”
“Yes, of course you can go,” Grant told her. “I’ll make a point of being home. Don’t worry about the children. Tell him he can pick you up here.”
“I can meet him in town.”
“You can meet him here.”
“Even my parents don’t insist on that!”
For a moment Grant looked tightlipped. Then he said, “Well, if you’re sure. But get him to bring you home, anyway. Or use a taxi.”
“Will you mind if I invite him in afterwards for coffee?”
“Of course not.” He sounded rather clipped. “If that’s what you usually do at home.”
When she ushered Larry into the house the kitchen light was on. He followed her into the brightly lit room, where Grant was still sitting at the table, his shirtsleeves rolled up, his eyes a little tired.
“I’m making coffee for us,” she told him. “Would you like some?”
“Thank you.” He pushed the papers away and asked “How was the concert?
“Fabulous,” she sa
id.
“Grr-eat!” Larry crowed, closing his eyes and waving a fist for emphasis. He was wearing heavy boots and a long coat over jeans with a purple shirt, and the gold ring gleamed in his ear. “You should have seen it when they did ‘Turkey Red’. Man, that was rad!” He launched into an imitation, swaying from side to side and then stepping into the middle of the room to do a twirl, the coat flapping and swirling about him.
“I’m sure it was wonderful,” Grant said when he had finished.
“Yeah, shame you missed it,” Larry sympathised.
Grant’s lips twitched wryly. “I’ll live, I think.”
“Coffee,” Rennie interrupted. “Are you coming through to the other room with us, Grant?”
He looked from her to Larry. “No, thanks. Far be it from me to intrude on love’s young dream.”
“Huh?” Larry took a cup from Rennie as she thrust it into his hand.
She banged another down in front of Grant, giving him a wordless glare. “Come on, then,” she said to Larry, scooping up her cup. “Grant has work to do.”
Half an hour later she let him out, and closed the front door behind him. Grant came out of the kitchen, and she said coolly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you.” Larry had still been on a high from the concert, and she had laughed a lot.
“Not at all,” Grant answered. “I wondered about the children, though.”
“They haven’t woken. And we weren’t that noisy. No more so than you and your friend the other night.”
“Did we disturb you?”
“It’s your house.”
“Yes.”
“But that remark of yours was quite uncalled for.”
“Which remark?”
“‘Love’s young dream’,” she repeated sarcastically. “A cheap crack, don’t you think?”
He shrugged.
“Larry’s a friend. Nothing more.”
“Your choice, not his.”
“How would you know? He never attempted to make a pass.”
“One day he’ll pluck up courage. Just remember what happened to you once before — or nearly happened.”
“Larry doesn’t drink much.”
“Good for him. It isn’t only drink that can drive men to madness.”
Rennie snorted. “Good heavens, we are getting melodramatic, aren’t we? I’m not Helen of Troy!”
A reluctant smile tugged at Grant’s mouth. “You don’t need to be,” he said cryptically.
Rennie said huskily, “Thank you — I think?”
“As if you didn’t know.” His gaze slipped over her clinging shirt and tight jeans. Almost to himself, he said, “I don’t believe Helen was half as sexy.”
The flush now encompassed her whole body. And that wasn’t all. Her gaze riveted on him, she thought, How can he make me feel like this, without even touching me? And closed her eyes.
“Don’t do that!” Grant’s harsh voice brought them wide open again. He had moved closer, but halted abruptly as she looked at him. She saw his chest rise and fall once. “You’d better get yourself off to bed,” he said.
“The cups,” Rennie said. “I should wash them — “
“Leave them. They can wait until morning.”
Rennie swallowed. “Well, goodnight then,” she said lamely. She had to walk past him. She didn’t look at him, but she knew he was watching her all the way to her bedroom.
She had begun spending more nights at home so that the break wouldn’t be so noticeable for the children. Toby seemed to take the impending change in his stride, but Ellen had begun sucking her thumb again, and Rennie spent much time reassuring her.
“I’ve told Ellen that I’ll visit her and Toby often,” she said to Grant one night as they were finishing their coffee after dinner. “I thought it would help her to get used the change.”
“That’s good of you,” he said formally, putting down his cup on the table. “I’m sure you’re right, but I hope it doesn’t cut into your social life, or your studies. Thank you,” he added.
“That’s all right. I’ll try not to intrude on you.”
With a hint of impatience, he said, “Of course you won’t be intruding. Toby and Ellen are fond of you, and anything that will help them is fine by me, you know that.”
“You’re a very good father,” Rennie said impulsively.
He looked grimly rueful. “Not particularly, until I was forced into it by circumstances. Then I didn’t have much choice. As a matter of fact, I was a bit shaken by the way they — particularly Ellen — depended on me after their mother died. Ellen was a baby when I left, I hadn’t even had time to get fond of her. I suppose I was all they had, but it was a frightening responsibility.”
“Well, you’re doing a good job now. And it’s worthwhile, isn’t it?”
He looked faintly surprised. “Yes, I haven’t taken the time to think about it, but I’ve derived a great deal of pleasure out of those two, as well as worry. Oh, I meant to tell you, I’ve cancelled the advertisement for a nanny-housekeeper, so you needn’t answer any more calls. I had a call from Mrs Beddoe. Her daughter is out of hospital and progressing nicely at home. Mrs Beddoe is coming back to Auckland next week, and she’d like to continue in the job. She said to give you her regards.”
“Oh, I’m so pleased!”
“Yes, I thought you would be. The children liked her, and they haven’t forgotten her, either. I imagine even Ellen will find the transition quite easy.”
And so will you, she thought bitterly. Rashly, she said it aloud. “You’ll be relieved to see me go, won’t you?”
He looked at her across the table. “Don’t be silly.”
“I’m being honest. Why can’t you?” she challenged him.
His mouth was wry. “That’s your forte. Perhaps I don’t dare.”
Rennie looked at him scornfully. “You mean you’re a coward?”
His lips went tight. “Stop it, Rennie,” he warned. “You could get more than you bargained for.”
She leaned across the table. “Just once, why don’t you let yourself go with your feelings?”
“I did, ‘just once,’” he reminded her, softly jeering. “And you were scared stiff.”
Rennie swallowed, trying not to blush. “That’s an exaggeration. I was nervous, that’s all. And anyway, you — meant to scare me, then. You said — you said you wanted to teach me a lesson.”
“You want another one?” The jeering note was stronger now, the curve of his lips almost cruel.
Rennie swallowed. “I just want you,” she said baldly. “And I know you want me.” She saw his face close, his fist on the table clench, and said hurriedly, “And it isn’t just sex and — and flattery with you, either. You’re not that sort of man.” Before she could lose her courage, she went on. “I think you’re in love me. Why don’t you want to admit it?”
He was looking down at the table, but then he raised his head and she almost flinched at the blaze in his eyes. Anger, obviously, but desire, too?
He got up suddenly, and she held her breath, but he slammed away from her towards the sink, for a moment leaned his hands on the counter, his head bowed, and then turned to face her. “Listen to me,” he said. “It’s a first time, for you. At your age, being in love is enough. You think it’s so simple, that love can move mountains, overcome all obstacles. It’s not like that, Rennie. Not in the real world, where I live.”
“You think I don’t — ?”
Brutally he reminded her, “I’ve been in love before, Rennie. When Jean and I met she was eighteen and I was ten years older. I was,” he said deliberately, “madly in love with her, then.”
Rennie steeled herself not to flinch as he went on. “My father was sixteen years older than my mother. My parents’ marriage wasn’t exactly a glowing testimonial to the state of matrimony, but I didn’t give the parallel much consideration.” He paused.
“What does that have to do with us?” Rennie demanded stubbornly.
“There are too many si
milarities. You are the same age that Jean was when I first met her.”
“And I’m studying law — ” Rennie conceded impatiently.
“Yes, an A student — “
“You need them to get into law school at all. I had to work for them.”
“I’m not implying otherwise. You’re bright, and ambitious, and young — just as Jean was.”
“I’m not Jean!”
He looked at her, and she saw pain in his eyes, but with a sinking heart she knew intuitively that he wasn’t seeing Rennie, alone. Her image in his mind was overshadowed by the indelible memories of his marriage and his ex-wife.
“She said, “You really think the fact that you were older was the reason for the break-up of your marriage?”
“Perhaps not,” he conceded after a moment. “But it did seem to accentuate the problems. I’m sure Jean felt that a younger man would have been more competent in the house, and she certainly thought I was too far removed from my own childhood to be any good at childrearing.”
It sounded to Rennie as though Jean had flung at him whatever came to mind when they were arguing. And probably Grant had accepted the accusations with that stoic calm which Toby had inherited. His own arguments would have been incised with an infuriating logic, but his wife’s accusations had bitten deep. Grant was almost morbidly aware of his own shortcomings.
He said, and there was pain in his voice, too, “I think we both hoped that Ellen’s birth would perform some sort of miracle for us and restore our marriage. But by then it was too late. Jean was always tired, and when I tried to help — my efforts weren’t very welcome.”
Tired and irritable, Rennie thought. Giving herself too much to do, setting unrealistically high standards and refusing help, but at the same time resenting the workload. And resenting the drastic change of direction in her life. “She was punishing you,” she said slowly.
“Perhaps,” he acknowledged. “Certainly I felt guilty, and I guess we both felt cheated. She wasn’t the loving, passionate girl I had married, and she must have felt that I’d forced her into a role that she hadn’t been prepared for but was determined to make the best of. And my attitude didn’t help her. I began to feel shut out. By the time Toby was two I’d found my own compensation.”
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