"At Green Spinney?"
"I don't mean Buckingham Palace! Tell me how you're doing. Is the old girl fond of you yet?"
There was an avid curiosity on the overpainted face that made Sharon reluctant to satisfy it.
"I don't see what business it is of yours. If you won't tell me who you are…"
She moved to the door but found her way barred.
"Don't give me that! You know damn well who I am.
Sharon looked at her coldly. Now that she was face to face with her telephone caller, her fear had gone and she felt only dislike.
"I've lost my memory," she stated. "I don't remember anything that happened before the plane crash."
"So that's it," the woman muttered, her hard blue eyes searching Sharon's face. As though satisfied with what they saw there, she relaxed. "I guess you're telling the truth. Your face was always a giveaway. Don't you remember anything? "
"No, I was hoping you could help me. Naturally I've learned a lot from my in-laws."
"I'll bet!"
"Do you know them?"
"Only by repute. And enough to stay well out of their way."
Sharon went on studying her companion. She could not imagine having anything in common with her, yet obviously they had been closely acquainted in the past.
She took a deep breath. "Would you mind telling me who you are?"
"Sharon Peters."
"What?"
The woman laughed. "You heard me. I'm Sharon Peters."
"You can't be!"
"I am. You're Sharon Moore. It was our having the same Christian name that gave me the idea in the first place."
"I can't even begin to follow you." Shakily Sharon collapsed onto the nearest chair. "If you could explain things from the beginning," she pleaded.
The woman shrugged and lit another cigarette.
"I married Rufus in Cape Town and he moved into my place and decided not to go back to his uncle's farm."
"That much I know. Adam told me."
"I daresay. And a pretty sour version of it, too, if I know anything about him. His letters were always cold as icebergs. What else has he told you about my marriage?"
"That his brother wasn't happy with you and that you were unfaithful to him," Sharon said bluntly.
"How charming!" The woman looked bitter. "What else did he say? I'm sure there was more than that."
"He said you encouraged Rufus to drink and gamble."
"That's a good one! As if Rufus ever needed any encouragement."
His widow inhaled on her cigarette and blew out an unhealthy cloud of smoke.
"The one thing I could never stand about Adam was the way he kidded himself about Rufus. He'd never admit his brother was a no-good with or without me! Anyway, if he'd come across with the money we wanted, I'd have made Rufus a good wife. I wanted to settle in London but Adam swore he wouldn't give us a penny if we did. It was stupid of him to show his hand that way, because I used it as a lever. Adam was willing to pay us anything to prevent his mother from finding out what we were like… or rather what I was like."
"But Adam never knew you."
"Rufus wrote him plenty." The dyed blond head wagged. "I couldn't care less what he said about me as long as the money kept coming. But when Rufus was killed, Adam refused to send another cent."
"Because Rufus had already left you."
"I was still his legal wife when he copped it."
The woman—it was difficult for Sharon to think of her as Mrs. Peters—stood up and angrily paced the room.
"I'd no intention of being left high and dry financially and I wrote to Adam and told him so. I warned him I'd hotfoot it to England unless he put his hand in his pocket, and after a lot of argy-bargy he came up with five thousand pounds and the offer of an allowance—as long as I kept away from his mother. Then out of the blue I got a letter from the old girl herself. Lord knows how she found my address but…"
"Adam left the envelope lying on his desk."
The woman gave a peal of laughter.
"What a gas! Serve him right. Anyway, the old girl begged me to come and stay with her; said she was longing to meet her darling Rufus's widow. I wrote back saying I was broke and she sent an air ticket by return." There was a pause. "That's where you came in."
Sharon's heart began to pound. "How?"
"I should have thought it obvious." The woman studied her appraisingly. "There's one thing you can say for me: I know my limitations. I couldn't see Mrs. Peters taking me to her bosom any more than I could see myself enjoying being clasped there. Apart from which I didn't want to leave Cape Town just then. So I asked you to impersonate me."
"And I agreed?"
"You're here, aren't you?"
"I can't believe it!"
"You were getting well paid."
Sharon swallowed. "You mean I did it for money?"
The real Sharon Peters laughed. "You certainly aren't doing it for love! One thousand pounds, to be precise."
Sharon was too shocked to speak. She had always refused to agree with Adam's sour view of her but now this woman was adding to the sourness.
"I don't believe it," she stated with more conviction than she felt. "I wouldn't do a thing like that just for money. I'm not… I don't… I'm not like that," she concluded." I feel it in my bones.''
"Then rattle your bones and try to feel a bit more," came the retort. "You did it for the money, so stop looking so snooty. Though to be fair to you, you wanted the money for your music. Do you remember that you play the piano?" She saw Sharon nod and went on, "You needed the money to continue your studies. That's why you agreed to stay at Green Spinney for a month. The idea was for you to wangle yourself into my mother-in-law's good books and make sure she put you in her will—or rather me—and also get Adam to increase my allowance."
Sharon backed away to the window. "I must have been mad to have agreed. No money in the world would have made me do such a thing."
"Well you did agree," came the blunt reminder. "For a thousand pounds. And you're going to keep your promise."
"I won't."
"You have no choice. I can make things awkward for anyone who goes around impersonating me."
"I couldn't have done it without your knowledge."
"I'll say I was ill in a nursing home and that's when you got the idea of taking my place. A friend of mine runs one and she'll be happy to say I was an inmate." The scarlet-painted mouth curled in a smile. "Shall I goon?"
"No!"
"Just one more thing. If you stay at the Peters's until you've done what you promised, I'll give you five hundred pounds more than we agreed."
"I don't want the money. None of it!"
"That's up to you. But you're going to keep the promise you made me. If you don't, I'll pay the Peterses a visit myself. I've a couple of weeks to spare and I wouldn't mind playing the sad little widow for a short time."
"You mustn't! Mrs. Peters is ill. The shock of knowing l was an impostor and then meeting you… She'd see through you quicker than you think."
"I'll only do it if you go back on your word," Sharon Peters said placidly.
"If I go through with it, what happens when I leave Green Spinney?"
"When you leave—which, let me remind you, can't be till you've got what I want—you can do what you like. I'll go back to Cape Town and write a monthly letter of love and affection that should keep everyone happy."
Sharon clenched her hands. "It's awful! I can't bear to think of it."
"Then you're stupid. You'll be better off by fifteen hundred pounds and the old girl will have sweet memories of dear Rufus's wife."
Sharon stared at the heavily made-up face.
"I still don't believe I did it for the money."
"Why not? You're no better than me so wipe that haughty look off your face. I'll expect to hear you've completed your side of the bargain within the next two weeks."
Once more in Park Lane, Sharon walked aimlessly. People jostled her but she neith
er saw nor felt them. At last she knew the truth about herself and she wished with all her heart that she was still in ignorance of it.
Although she was not the real Sharon Peters and had never behaved as badly as Adam believed, she seemed little better than than the hard-faced blonde she had just left. She shuddered. No matter how much her musical career meant to her, how could she have agreed to deceive a dead man's family?
But she had and, because of Mrs. Peters's recent heart attack, was forced to continue with the deception. If she didn't, the real Sharon would have no compunction about going to Green Spinney and lolling her mother-in-law the truth about Rufus.
I'll leave the moment Mrs. Peters has recovered, she vowed. Then I'll tell Adam the truth and let him deal with his sister-in-law any way he likes.
It was not a solution that pleased her, for it meant further pretence on her part, but it was the only one she could think of. In a few weeks, if things went well, she would be free to leave Green Spinney and Adam. Most of all Adam… from whom she would never truly be free.
CHAPTER TEN
Unable to face the meaningless trivia of a two-hour session at a Mayfair hairdresser, Sharon decided to return home. Home, she thought bitterly, knowing that Green Spinney could never be this to her.
It was only when her train was already pulling out of the station that she realised she had forgotten to call Adam. Still, as he disliked her so much, giving him another reason to do so would hardly make any any difference.
As soon as she reached the house she went to see her mother-in-law. But no, she mustn't think of her as that. Mrs. Peters was a stranger and the sooner she became so in actuality, the better.
"You're back early, my dear." The old lady was reading a newspaper but put it aside happily as Sharon came toward her.
"Gerald couldn't fit me in. I should have booked an appointment."
"I've never known him refuse before. I'll phone him and—"
"Please don't. It wasn't his fault. He had so many customers that he couldn't have squeezed me in. Actually I didn't even ask him."
With distaste, Sharon wondered if her life of deceit had turned her into a first-class liar. Never had she believed that falsehoods could roll so glibly off her tongue.
"Why didn't you let someone else do your hair? I wanted you to look pretty tonight."
"Why tonight?"
"Didn't Adam tell you? You're dining at Helen's."
"He never said a word."
"Isn't that just like him? He took it for granted you'd go, I suppose. What will you wear?"
Sharon forced herself to think about it. "My blue silk."
" Why not the lilac? You haven't worn it once."
"I've hardly worn any of the things you bought me. You were much too extravagant." How the real Sharon Peters would despise her for saying such a thing!
"Nonsense," the older woman said. "I enjoy spending money on you. It's one of the few pleasures I have."
"I'm not sure Adam likes it."
"He has no reason to worry," was the firm answer. " He is head of the company and very successful.''
"What does he do?"
Uttering the question made Sharon realise how little she knew about him.
"I suppose one could call him a business entrepreneur," his mother replied. "He dabbles in lots of things: engineering, property, farming. He's a highly eligible man, you know. I only wish he'd hurry up and marry. Then if I could persuade you to stay with me permanently, I'd have the two things I want most in the world."
Too moved to speak, Sharon silently pressed Mrs. Peters's hand.
"You bring Rufus so close to me," the woman went on. "If only you had had a child."
Sharon pulled her hand away and Mrs. Peters stopped abruptly.
"Forgive me, my dear. I shouldn't have said that. You're young and beautiful and you can't spend the rest of your life mourning for Rufus. I don't blame you for wanting to leave here. It's wrong of me to keep reminding you of things you 're trying to forget."
"That isn't the reason," Sharon said hastily. "Please don't stop talking of Rufus if it makes you happy. It's just that I… I'm not sure it's good for you to keep harking back to the past."
"Perhaps I won't when I've other things to look forward to."
A small silver clock chimed the hour and Mrs. Peters frowned. "Time's getting on. You'd better go and do your hair. And be sure to come in and see me before you leave."
The prospect of dining with Helen was not something Sharon relished, particularly that night, when all she wanted was to be left alone to think over everything that had happened. But having failed Adam once today she was unwilling to incur his wrath again.
The knowledge that she was not Rufus's wife—not anyone's wife, in fact—made her feel more her own person. Before, she had a reputation to live up to. Now, she had a sense of freedom, which she marked by wearing her hair differently—long and loose—and by choosing the least sophisticated dress in her wardrobe. It was a full-skirted" one of organza with a softly draped bodice and wide, shawl collar.
As soon as she was dressed, she paid her promised visit to Mrs. Peters, whose expression told her she had never looked lovelier, then went downstairs in search of Adam.
She found him in the drawing room, his manner aloof as he regarded her.
"Why didn't you have the courtesy to call and let me know you weren't coming back with me from London?" he asked.
She clutched her handbag tightly. "I forgot. When I remembered, I was already on the train."
"You could have phoned me when you got home."
"It was too late."
"It's never too late for good manners. Or was your appointment in town so important that you forgot everything else?"
"The hairdresser couldn't take me, "she lied.
"I wasn't referring to the hairdresser," he said, "but to the rendezvous you made with your telephone caller last night."
Her cheeks flamed, giving her away, and his expression became harder.
"I assumed it was with someone you knew in South Africa?"
"Yes."
"A man?"
"No," she replied and looked away.
"I don't believe you," he said harshly. "But keep it a secret if you wish. I don't care what you do when you're away from here, as long as you behave yourself while you're in my home.''
Stung, she turned on him. "You could do with a few lessons on how to behave, too! You might at least have told me I was invited to Helen's tonight, instead of taking it for granted I'd come."
"I overlooked it," he said stiffly. "It won't happen again." He stared at his watch. "We'd better go."
Silently she followed him to the car, dismayed to see he was going to do the driving. If he used the journey to berate her further, she'd get out and walk!
"You look different tonight," he remarked as he set the car in motion.
"My hair's longer."
"And your neckline is higher." His tone was dry. "Have you decided to play the ingenue?"
"I thought you'd find it less disturbing!"
"It isn't what shows that counts. A cover-up can sometimes be more revealing. Which reminds me, you'll be meeting several of our close neighbours and friends this evening, so watch yourself."
Abruptly she was possessed by such a wild longing to tell him the truth about herself—or the little she knew of it—that she started to tremble.
She was still trembling when they reached the large Queen Anne house set back at the end of an uneven lane. The front door was open and they walked through the hall into a rectangular drawing room.
It was crowded with people and Helen disengaged herself from a group by the window and crossed to meet them. In black silk, with diamonds at her throat, she looked every inch the grande dame.
"How late you are! We've been holding dinner for you." She slipped her arm through Adam's and drew him away.
He moved a step, then stopped and spoke to Sharon.
"Come along, I'll introduce you t
o some of our neighbours."
"How sweet of you to play host," Helen said with a smile.
"It's the least I can do," he answered, flinging Helen a sardonic look that the woman met with shrug.
With the ease of familiarity, Adam escorted Sharon around the room, and she was soon lost in a welter of names and faces. Finally everyone moved into the dining room, and Sharon found herself seated next to an elderly gentleman named Colonel Gerard. Hearing she came from South Africa he bored her with a long story of the Boer War, and she was hard put to listen with a semblance of attention. Farther down the table she noticed Simon, who raised his eyebrows as he glanced from her to the colonel.
After dinner he made an attempt to join her but was skilfully manoeuvred away by Helen, who had placed Sharon next to a middle-aged vicar and his wife, a friendly but dull couple who discoursed endlessly on child welfare.
Adam was fully preoccupied with Helen, who was as possessive of him as if he were already her husband. More so, Sharon thought bitterly, for as a husband he might have been allowed to circulate among the guests and not be expected to act as a permanent armrest. Stonily she watched him, wishing her bones did not seem to turn to jelly each time he casually glanced in her direction. He was the most handsome man in the room, with his wide-shouldered grace and shining black head.
Finally pleading a need for fresh air, she managed to disengage herself from her companions and wandered out into the garden. A large oak tree stood guard by a small pool, and she paused under its branches and listened to the hooting of an owl.
"You look like the sugar-plum fairy standing there." A male voice spoke out of the darkness. "Is your hair real or is it candy floss?"
She turned and saw a smiling young man. "It's candy floss. It melts in the sunshine."
"Then this i', certainly not ill-met by moonlight, fair Titania! You're Adam's sister-in-law, aren't you? I'm Tony Gerard, one of your neighbours when I'm not in London. You met my father earlier on."
"Oh!"
"You may well say 'oh.' Most people say 'ouch'!"
"That's not a very filial thing to say."
"Only a filial would dare say it!" He grinned. "I'd knock down anyone else who did!"
She laughed. "I know much more about the Boer War now."
Rachel Lindsay - Forgotten Marriage Page 10