The Older Man

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The Older Man Page 20

by Laurey Bright


  “I told you the other night,” she said. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you with my adolescent maunderings — “

  “I wasn’t embarrassed,” he said. “I’m … honoured that you gave me a little of your love, even if it was only for a while.” Softly he added, “Be happy, Rennie. I hope that with all my heart.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and then at last moved away, allowing her to go to the door.

  “Thank you, Grant,” she said. At this moment she felt she would never be happy again. Which was a ridiculous outlook, she knew. But knowing it didn’t alter anything.

  Lorna was talking to the receptionist in the outer office. She smiled. “Hello, Rennie.”

  Rennie’s lips stretched. “Hello.” Lorna was the last person she wanted to see just now. To be polite to. “I’ve just been collecting a reference from Grant,” she said, surprised at how normal her voice sounded.

  “Yes, he told me about it,” Lorna said.

  Of course he would have. He probably told her everything.

  Please God, not everything! No, he wouldn’t. Not about the fact that his young babysitter had thought she was in love with him. Not about kissing her, nearly making love to her. Not about how she could make him feel, in spite of his good intentions.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” she said to Lorna.

  “Not at all.” Lorna headed towards the door to Grant’s office. “Nice to see you again.” She nodded pleasantly and went in without knocking.

  Out on the street, Rennie took several deep breaths. The traffic seemed noisier than ever, and what she was breathing in was not so much fresh air as exhaust fumes.

  She tucked the envelope carefully into the bag hanging at her shoulder, and glanced at her watch. Plenty of time.

  She went back to the pedestrian lights, crossed, then retraced her steps on the other side of the street, resisting the urge to glance up at Grant’s office window. If she could see him, he would be with Lorna. Would they be standing close — kissing, perhaps?

  Stop torturing yourself.

  “Rennie! Ren!” Shane caught at her arm. He had Amanda hanging with him.

  “Sorry.” She smiled at them both. At least someone was happy in this world. “Hi, Amanda. How are you?”

  “Okay.” The girl smiled back briefly. But her face looked pinched and pale, “How’re you?”

  “We might have a bit of a problem,” Shane said.

  “I think Kevin’s after me,” the girl said.

  “She thought she saw him just a while ago,” Shane added. “Back there.”

  “I’m sure he was following us!” Amanda shuddered. “I’m scared.”

  Shane put his arm about her, pulling her close.

  “After all this time?” Rennie was sceptical. “It’s months since you broke if off with him.”

  “I think he’s done it before. I told myself I was bound to bump into him, but … And there’ve been phone calls at home. At first he used to abuse me if I answered, now he just hangs up. But I know it’s him.”

  “Go to the police,” Rennie said.

  “You think so?” Shane looked up.

  “He’s already hit her once. I think you should ask the police to check it out. Look, I’m sorry, but I’ve got an appointment. Talk her into it,” she advised Shane tersely. “Let me know what happens.”

  She turned along the street, brushing her way through the crowd. A man started out of a shop doorway, also in a hurry, she thought vaguely as she sidestepped to avoid him.

  Rennie stopped dead. It was Kevin. He had a peculiarly intent expression as he scanned the street behind her, then walked on, not seeing her at all.

  Coincidence? Surely not. He was following Amanda.

  If she turned back to follow him, to warn Shane and Amanda, she’d be late for her appointment.

  With all these people about, what harm could he do? He was probably playing a particularly cruel game with poor Amanda, deliberately showing himself now and then but being careful not to do anything criminal that could get him into trouble.

  Rennie’s flesh crawled. He really was a nasty piece of work.

  She started back the way she had come, almost running, scanning the bobbing heads in front of her.

  She bumped into someone, murmured a hasty apology and kept going. She could see Shane now. And Amanda, still snuggled against him, as they stood close to a big display window full of women’s shoes, Shane earnestly talking, dropping a kiss on her hair.

  And then she saw Kevin quite close to them, he must have moved awfully fast. Rennie broke into a run.

  She saw Kevin move forward, and yelled, “Shane!

  But she was too late. Kevin lunged, grabbed at Amanda, shoving her aside. Then his fist crashed into Shane’s face, and Shane slumped to the ground.

  As Rennie reached them, Amanda launched herself on Kevin, shrieking, hitting out at him. He felled her with the back of his hand, just as Shane, starting groggily to his feet, swung wildly and ineptly at the other man, before Kevin knocked him flying again, and drew back a booted foot.

  Amanda flung herself across Shane’s prone body. Rennie shot forward and gave Kevin a hard shove. People had stopped, some frozen in shock, one or two beginning to move cautiously forward. Someone said, “Call the police!”

  Kevin rounded on Rennie, astonishment in his face, and then murder. “You!” he said. “You bitch! I’ll fix you, too. I’ll fix the lot of you!”

  She saw his fist coming at her, and tried to dodge, her hands automatically going up to defend herself. She twisted away, saw her own frightened face reflected in plate glass, oddly mixed up with rows of shiny new shoes. And then something slammed into her, and she knew he had hit her, before the world went black and she felt herself falling and heard a terrible crashing all around her. But she never felt the plate glass smash on the impact of her body, never felt the deadly slivers slice into her still upraised arms, her shoulders, her back. And her face.

  When she became conscious again, her face felt stiff. Both arms and her right hand were bandaged, and after a while she realised there were bandages on her head, too, and dressings covering half her face.

  “Sore?” A nurse bent over her, feeling her pulse.

  “Not specially.” Her voice sounded strange. She asked for a drink of water.

  When she handed it back, the nurse put the glass down on the bedside cupboard. “Your mother’s outside. I’ll send her in, shall I?”

  Marian came in, smiling but pale. “You look better,” she said.

  “You’ve been in before?”

  “Mmm. You were pretty groggy, though. You don’t remember?”

  “No.” There had been dreams. She thought they were dreams. Grant had been in some of them. Grant, Shane, her parents.

  “Do you remember what happened? Why you’re here?”

  “Kevin,” Rennie answered. “Is Amanda all right? And Shane?”

  “They’re both okay. Shane was kept in overnight and then discharged. You got the worst of it, I’m afraid. Shane’s inclined to blame himself for that.”

  “It wasn’t his fault. I went through that window, didn’t I?” Rennie asked, looking at her hands. She could see several small red nicks not covered by the bandages. “How bad are the cuts?”

  “They can’t tell yet. Fortunately the glass missed your eyes.” Her mother sounded reassuringly matter-of-fact.

  “He must have been crazy,” Rennie said. “Kevin. With all those people about — “

  “I could wish some of those people had reacted a bit faster,” Marian said.

  “Didn’t they do anything?”

  “Oh, yes. But only after he’d knocked you through that window. Then a couple of men held him until the police got there. And the ambulance.”

  Rennie moved her right arm, and winced. “You must have been worried. Getting a call from the hospital — or was it the police? I suppose that would be worse.”

  “Actually, Grant phoned
me.”

  “Grant? How did he — “

  “It happened right across the street from his office,” Marian reminded her. “When the ambulance arrived, naturally he looked out to see what was going on. He recognised you — well, your clothes — as they were putting you on the stretcher. He went down, insisted on going with you to the hospital, then phoned me. When I arrived he was with you. You don’t remember?

  Rennie shook her head. “I thought I’d dreamed — ” Grant holding her hand, stroking her hair, whispering words of comfort and love into her ear. That part she must have dreamed. “That was kind of him,” she said. “Please thank him for me.”

  Marian hesitated. “I have, of course, for all of us. But you can do that yourself when you’re feeling better,” she added.

  “I don’t want to see him.”

  “You don’t want to see him? Or you don’t want him to see you?”

  “Does it matter?” Rennie felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Please! Please, keep him away from me!”

  Marian got up and took her hand. “All right, I’ll explain that you’re not up to having visitors except family, okay?”

  “Thank you.” The tears were trickling down her cheeks, now, soaking into the dressings and bandages.

  “Shh.” Her mother smoothed her hair. “It’s all right, Rennie. Everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”

  It won’t, Rennie thought. But she was childishly glad of her mother’s comforting presence, and in a little while the tears stopped and she went to sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  She had to agree to see Grant. It was unreasonable not to, and he had been asking to visit. She didn’t dare say that she couldn’t bear him to bring Lorna, but when he arrived he was alone, bearing only messages from her. And flowers. She was glad of the yellow roses, because the business of thanking him and smelling their perfume and asking a nurse for a vase helped her to get over the initial greeting.

  “They tell me you stayed with me on the way to the hospital,” she said. “I don’t remember, but thank you.”

  “I only wish I’d realised sooner what was going on,” he said tautly. “If I’d looked out the window before it happened…”

  “Even if you had been watching,” she said, “there was nothing anyone could have done. I’ve had enough guilt to deal with from Shane and Amanda. Don’t you start.”

  His smile was strained. “They got off lightly.”

  “I was the unlucky one,” she agreed. “I must have been a mess.”

  His mouth compressed as he nodded. He said, his voice hoarse, “You were, rather. I’ve never seen so much blood in my life.”

  Rennie looked down at the blue hospital coverlet. “I’m sorry if I gave you a fright.”

  “I was scared out of my mind.”

  “Maybe it’s just as well I was unconscious.”

  “Rennie — why didn’t you want to see me?”

  “Don’t take it personally. I’m not exactly pretty just now. I guess I was just self-conscious.”

  “You looked much worse in the ambulance. Compared to then, you’re a raving beauty now, bandages and all!” He smiled, but not with his eyes, which were anxious.

  “Yes, I s’pose. How is Lorna?” she asked. “And the children?”

  “Lorna’s well,” he said shortly. “The children…” He hesitated. “They wanted to visit, but … oh, I forgot. They made cards for you.” He took an envelope from his pocket and handed it over. Her bandaged hand fumbled with the opening of it and he had to help her.

  Looking at the childish drawings, and the painstakingly printed messages, she blinked back tears. “Thank them for me,” she said. “I can’t write to them with this — ” She moved her bandaged hand. “And you’re right, it’s probably better if they don’t visit.”

  “Rennie — ” He stretched out his hand to hers, and she said sharply, “Please don’t touch me, Grant!”

  He sat back, looking at her strangely. She thought he had paled.

  “It hurts,” she explained, and tried to smile. “I have cuts and bruises all over. “I just — don’t want to be touched. Nothing personal.”

  “No,” he said woodenly. “Of course, nothing personal.”

  “It was kind of you to come,” she said.

  “I came because I — because I wanted to.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “Give my love to Ellen and Toby. And Lorna,” she added with an effort.

  His mouth was wry. “Are you dismissing me?”

  She said, “I am rather tired. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologise,” he said. “I should be doing that.”

  She didn’t know what for. She didn’t ask.

  He looked at her for a few moments, rather helplessly. Then he said, “Get well, Rennie.” He leaned over and very gently kissed a spot on her forehead that wasn’t bandaged, turned abruptly and left the room.

  She had to make a statement to the police. But there was no need to appear in court. Kevin had decided to plead guilty, they said, so the case would be wrapped up quite quickly.

  Shane came to tell her about the verdict.

  “Is he going to jail?” she asked him.

  “He got a suspended sentence, on condition that he remains under supervision and gets some treatment,” Shane said. “And Amanda has taken out a court order against him molesting her. So if he goes near her he’ll be rearrested and have to serve his sentence.”

  “I see.” So he wasn’t to be locked up. Rennie shivered. Her left arm had been freed of its dressings, the right one was lightly bandaged and in a sling. There had been damage to the tendons of her right hand. She was having physiotherapy, but a certain amount of stiffness would probably remain. The dressings on her face were lighter and smaller than they had been. She’d had further surgery and would need more in a few months’ time.

  She was allowed home in time for Christmas. The bandages and dressings came off, and she nerved herself to look in a mirror. The smaller cuts were healing nicely and would soon disappear, but there was a nasty purple scar on her temple, which she could comb her hair over, and another on her right cheek, jagged and uneven.

  On Christmas Day only relatives were invited. Rennie knew her mother was being tactful. She forced herself to appear at lunch, but afterwards pleaded tiredness and said she wanted to rest. No one dared suggest a birthday party to her. Her mother told her that Grant was asking to see her. She said no. She knew her family was worried.

  When visitors came she fled to her room. One day Ethan and Celeste’s car drew up outside, and she retreated from the window muttering an excuse as her mother went to let them in. From her bedroom, she heard Ethan’s footsteps in the passageway, and then he knocked on the door, calling her name.

  She didn’t answer, but he came in anyway, bringing her scrambling resentfully off the bed, facing him with angry eyes.

  “Rennie,” he said gently, putting both arms around her. “Your parents are worried sick. You do realise you’re suffering from depression?”

  Rennie nodded. She wanted to tell him it was more than that, but that name would do for now.

  “We know something about that, Celeste and I. Sheerwind is a good place to be when you need emotional healing. We want you to come back with us.”

  “Sheerwind?” The magical island she had dreamed of visiting. A place where no one would know her. A thousand miles across the Pacific, a thousand miles from Kevin. And from Grant.

  “We’ll check with your GP and the hospital,” Ethan said, “but we have a semi-retired doctor almost next door on the island. Henry will be glad to keep an eye on you. The only other near neighbour is a writer, and he’s away just now researching a new book in New Guinea.” He was telling her there would be almost no one she had to meet.

  Her mother helped her to pack, and arranged her hair to fall across the scarred cheek so that it wasn’t so obvious. Rennie didn’t have the heart to tell her that really it didn’t matter.

  The fli
ght was quite short and uneventful. Celeste and Ethan fussed over her unobtrusively, and when they arrived on the island Celeste insisted that Rennie should take the front seat next to Ethan so that she could see the scenery. There was only one town, Conneston. They soon passed through it, and followed a road bordered by tall rubber trees with glossy leaves, a few palms waving above everything else, and lots of shrubby scarlet and yellow hibiscus.

  The road eventually rounded a hillside to a small bay where the water was enclosed by a steep, tree-covered slope. Ethan’s house was nestled on the slope, a magnificent wall of glass giving the maximum impact from the spacious living room. The sea opened out from the bay and stretched away limitless to the horizon. Today it looked very calm, a great spread of crinkled dark blue with sequin glints sparking off it.

  “It’s just as you described it,” Rennie said, turning to him as he carried in her case. “I feel better already.”

  The days went by, then weeks. Rennie swam and sunbathed, and watched Celeste painting silks in her studio, trying to show a normal amount of enthusiasm. But she overheard Celeste and Ethan discussing her once, when they were sitting on the terrace outside the house, unaware that their voices carried in the evening air, all the way to the trees where Rennie was climbing the path from the beach after a quick swim.

  “…a vivacious girl. It’s not like her to be this quiet,” came Celeste’s voice. “Is it?”

  “She certainly isn’t herself. Better, though, than when she arrived here. Give her time,” Ethan said easily.

  That night she dreamed. Saw a face behind her, reflected in glass, distorted by hatred. And then she fell and the face disintegrated into a thousand pieces, and pain sliced into her.

  She woke with a scream, and found strong arms around her, pulling her close, and a deep voice saying, “Shh. It’s all right, Rennie, it’s only a dream.”

  “Grant!” she gasped, and clutched at him, shuddering with relief. “Oh, Grant!”

  “No, not Grant,” Ethan said in a strange voice. He turned his head, and Rennie, lifting her hot forehead from his comforting chest, saw Celeste was standing by the bed.

  Celeste took her hand. “Did you want Grant?” she asked quietly.

 

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