by Penny Jordan
Marcus gave a small shrug.
‘You say that, but so far as a potential purchaser is concerned the costs of running this place are going to be of prime importance.’
‘A prospective buyer? What prospective buyer?’ Polly demanded.
‘There isn’t one—as yet,’ Marcus admitted. ‘But, as in all things in life, it pays to be prepared.’
‘This is why you’ve got these management consultants in—because you’re going to sell Fraser House?’ Polly pounced accusingly.
‘It’s one option I may be considering, yes,’ Marcus agreed.
‘But you can’t sell…not without my agreement. I own fifty per cent of the business.’
‘I don’t need your agreement to sell my own share in the hotel,’ Marcus corrected her.
‘You’d sell out?’ Polly badly needed to sit down. Perhaps it was illogical of her to feel so shocked, as though the ground had been cut from beneath her feet, as though she was being betrayed and abandoned; but, nevertheless, that was exactly what she did feel.
‘Why not?’ Marcus shrugged again. ‘The main reason I had for suggesting that the house be turned into a hotel in the first place no longer exists.’
‘The main reason…? You mean now that Briony is grown up there’s nothing to keep you here?’ Polly demanded.
‘I don’t owe you any explanations, Polly,’ he reminded her starkly. ‘You’ve made your plans for the way you want to live your future, as you’ve made perfectly plain to me.’
‘I have a right to want a life of my own,’ Polly protested. ‘Whatever you may choose to think, at thirty-seven I’m still too young to sit back and sink into genteel senility.’
‘Too young for that, yes,’ Marcus agreed, with a bitter twist of his mouth, ‘but…’
‘But what?’ Polly pressed sharply. ‘Too old to have a relationship with Phil? Too old to have another child?’
‘Mr Fraser, if you could spare me a moment…’
Both of them turned towards the door as the young woman who had been questioning Polly earlier appeared, her forehead wrinkled as she informed Marcus, ‘I’ve discovered that the perennial borders are planted with fresh tulips every year, and I was wondering…’
‘You’re obviously busy,’ Polly told Marcus with a taunting smile. ‘Please don’t let me disturb you. We can finish our discussion later.’
‘Polly!’ Marcus called out warningly, but Polly refused to listen. Let him explain why the very expensive pink tulips were planted every autumn to flower the following spring. It had, after all, been his idea that they should flower just in time to celebrate Richard’s birthday, a reminder to them all that beauty and love and laughter never, ever died whilst there were still those to remember and enjoy such things—and Richard, of all men, had so loved all of those things.
Richard—what would he make of what was happening? He had thought the world of Marcus, hero-worshipped him really. Richard. It seemed so long ago now that she had loved and married him, and when she thought of him she thought of him as the boy he had been, a boy of whom she had fond memories—almost, in an odd sort of way, maternal memories now, since she’d had to grow and mature without him. She had never been able to visualise him as the man he might have become, perhaps because really there was only one man for her—Marcus. Right now she didn’t know whether she loved him or hated him, he was hurting her so much.
‘Hello, Ma. Have you heard the news?’
‘What news?’ Polly asked Briony cautiously. Had Marcus told Briony already that he was looking for a buyer for the hotel? That was her privilege, surely, but trust Marcus to pre-empt her role as Briony’s parent…
‘The news,’ Briony stressed impatiently. ‘Suzi’s pregnant and they’re going to get married. It’s all very unexpected and her parents are quite shocked. Her mother’s a little bit on the old-fashioned side, isn’t she? I imagine she would have preferred them to do things a little bit more traditionally, but these days plenty of couples have children without feeling any need to get married, and for myself—’
‘Briony.’ Polly interrupted her daughter stiffly, ‘Are you sure? I mean…’
‘Of course I’m sure. Chris rang me last night. He was complaining because Suzi is insisting on having a full-blown wedding—bridesmaids, page-boys, the lot. And a big marquee on the lawn. So you’d better prepare yourself. I know you’ve always refused to do wedding receptions but, according to Chris, Suzi has talked her way round Marcus and he’s already given his agreement.
‘Ma, are you still there?’ Briony demanded. ‘You haven’t said anything.’
‘Yes, I’m still here,’ Polly managed to tell her hoarsely.
Marcus was getting married. Marcus was going to be a father.
Marcus…
Marcus…
The pain that tore through her was the worst pain Polly had ever experienced, worse by far than the birth pangs which had torn into her when Briony was born, making her cry out and cling to Marcus so tightly that…
But that pain had heralded the arrival of her new life, a new beginning. It had been pain which had given birth to joy—the joy of becoming a mother. This was the pain of death and loss. This pain heralded the despair of finally having to acknowledge that Marcus was leaving her life. It would never end. This pain would be with her until her life’s end.
‘Briony, I have to go,’ she whispered.
‘Ma?’ she could hear her daughter protesting uncertainly, but Polly was already replacing the receiver.
‘Mrs Fraser.’
Numbly Polly looked blankly at the girl who had stopped her. She recognised her distantly, but the questions the girl was asking her seemed to be reaching her down a long, long tunnel. Something about some towels; what did she care about such things now?
Without responding Polly turned away from her and headed for the side door that led into the house’s private garden. Beyond it lay the wood where she and Briony had walked when Briony was little. They had gathered wood there for bonfire night and greenery for Christmas. And when he was at home Marcus had always come with them, holding Briony’s hand and making her laugh whilst he teased her. In her memories Polly saw herself as always standing slightly apart from them, alone and unwanted, just as she was alone and unwanted by Marcus now.
Marcus had been a wonderful surrogate father to Briony. Soon now he would have a child of his own—Suzi’s child.
The pain hit her like lightning, zig-zagging through her mind, her body, her heart, half blinding her as it knifed into her, causing her to stumble against a tree and to catch her foot in its exposed gnarled roots. As she fell Polly could feel the tears starting to flow, but she knew it wasn’t the pain of her fall that was making her cry. She could see her tears lying damply on her hand as she lifted it to her face to wipe them away. Odd that they were only water; for some reason she’d expected them to be dark red tears of blood, because that was how she felt—as though her very heart had been wrenched apart and its life’s blood was pouring from her.
‘Polly? Polly?’
Polly tensed in disbelief and anxiety as she heard Marcus calling her name. What was he doing looking for her? They had both been keeping their distance from one another recently, and so far as she knew Marcus was at his own house supervising the work there.
‘Polly.’
She heard the irritation in his voice as he saw her. Quickly she struggled to get up, wincing with shocked pain as she realised that when she’d fallen she had hurt her ankle. Not broken it, thankfully, but wrenched it badly enough for it to refuse to take her weight.
‘What’s wrong? What have you done?’ she heard him demanding as he reached her.
‘What does it look like I’ve done?’ she responded irritably. ‘I’ve wrenched my ankle.’
‘Here, lean on me,’ Marcus instructed as he helped her to her feet, ignoring her feeble attempts to push him away.
‘You know, then, about Suzi and the baby?’ he asked her gruffly, once he was sure she
was able to stand.
‘Yes…’ Polly responded tersely. ‘Briony rang. I…’ She took a deep breath, heroically intending to do the proper thing and congratulate him, but discovered, to her chagrin, that she just couldn’t.
‘Yes, I know,’ Marcus agreed. ‘She rang me too. She was concerned about you. She said you sounded…When I drove over to the hotel they said you’d gone out into the private garden and I guessed you might have come down here. It was always one of your favourite places of retreat.’
Immediately Polly was on the defensive. ‘What do you mean? I used to come here with Briony, yes, but…’
‘And on your own when you needed to be alone…The anniversary of Richard’s death,’ Marcus told her. ‘I saw you that first year…’
‘That was because—’ Quickly Polly stopped. There was no way she could explain to him now that she had come here then to ask Richard’s forgiveness for loving his cousin. Instead she told Marcus jerkily, ‘Briony says you want to have the reception at Fraser House.’
She saw he was frowning as he looked at her.
‘That’s what Suzi wants and—’
‘And what Suzi wants Suzi gets; is that it?’ Polly asked him in what she intended to be a light, carefree voice but which instead sounded more like one riven with anguish and pain.
‘Look, Polly, I know how you must feel,’ Marcus told her, confirming her fears that her voice had given her away. ‘Believe me, I am truly sorry, but I did try to warn you.’
‘Try to warn me? When? When you were in bed with me? When you were having sex with me?’ Polly demanded angrily. ‘Have you told—’
Just in time she managed to stop herself, sniffing back her tears as she struggled with her emotion.
‘I’m sorry. I ought to be congratulating you. No wonder you’ve been chivvying the workmen on at the house. It must be nearly ready now, and of course I can understand why you want to sell the hotel,’ she told him with careful politeness. ‘In the circumstances Suzi won’t be wanting to take over its management. I know I found it difficult when Briony was a baby, though of course my circumstances were different. I was…I had to work,’ she said quietly.
‘Suzi won’t be having it entirely easy,’ Marcus pointed out sharply. ‘Her pregnancy wasn’t exactly planned.’
‘No, but you obviously aren’t totally surprised,’ Polly said gently.
‘No,’ Marcus agreed shortly. ‘In the circumstances perhaps it was inevitable, although I’m still sorry that you had to…Whether you believe me or not, Polly, the last thing I wanted was for you to be hurt, and if there was any way I could—’
‘If I were you I’d worry more about whether or not I could be pregnant as well rather than how much I might be hurt,’ Polly chided him swiftly, but as she saw the shocked look in his eyes she wished she had not spoken so impetuously. It was obvious that it hadn’t occurred to him that their unprotected sex could have resulted in a pregnancy. Perhaps he had assumed that she was protected, but there had never been any need.
‘What are you saying?’ he demanded hoarsely, confirming her suspicion that she had shocked him. ‘Is there any possibility that you could be pregnant, Polly?’
‘No,’ she denied. ‘No…’
‘Polly…’
She winced as he gave her a little warning shake, forgetting about the injury to her ankle in his anxiety to know the truth and then immediately checking as he felt her fall heavily against him.
‘Polly?’
The urgency in his voice might have made her smile, albeit a little ruefully, at any other time. Right now, though, it made her want to cry. How ironic it was that he should feel anxious and concerned for her—but he wasn’t concerned for her, was he? He was concerned for Suzi and himself and for their child, anxious that their future happiness together shouldn’t be blighted by…
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted heavily. ‘It’s too soon to know but I…It isn’t as easy to conceive when one’s older,’ she pointed out quietly. ‘So I don’t think…’
‘What will you do if…?’
What will you do, not What will we do, Polly noticed bleakly, but then why should she expect anything else? She had known all along that he loved Suzi…
‘I’ll deal with that problem when and if I have to,’ Polly told him. ‘I’d better get back to the hotel. They’ll be wondering where on earth I’ve got to. I’m sorry that Briony disturbed you, Marcus. You must have more than enough to do without nursemaiding me. No doubt Suzi and her mother will want to come over to the hotel to discuss the reception. Will you be coming with them or—?’
‘I don’t know,’ Marcus told her harshly. ‘Perhaps, in the circumstances…Look, this isn’t easy for me, Polly.’
‘Do you think it’s easy for me?’ Polly couldn’t resist asking bitterly as she tried to pull away from him, wincing when the pain lanced through her ankle.
‘Keep still,’ Marcus instructed her. ‘What the hell are you trying to do—make the injury even worse? Lean on me.’
It was pointless trying to refuse. Polly knew perfectly well that without his support it was going to be virtually impossible for her to get back to the hotel. Her ankle had swollen whilst they had been talking and it was beginning to ache very painfully indeed.
It took them fifteen minutes to walk slowly back to the hotel, but once they were there, instead of heading inside, Marcus started to guide her towards his car.
‘Marcus, what are you doing?’ she demanded tiredly.
‘I’m taking you down to the surgery,’ Marcus informed her coolly. ‘That ankle needs professional attention.’
‘Maybe it does, but there’s no need for you to get involved. I can—’
‘You can what—drive yourself?’ Marcus gave her a derisory look. ‘I don’t think so.’
There wasn’t any point in arguing with him, and besides, her ankle was beginning to scream the need for some kind of pain relief—so much so…Polly gave a soft gasp of pain as Marcus helped her into his car.
‘You aren’t going to pass out on me, are you, Polly?’ Marcus asked her sharply as she closed her eyes and the pain started to wash over her in nauseating waves.
‘No, I’m not!’ she retorted immediately, gritting her teeth in stubborn determination.
‘Good girl,’ she heard Marcus telling her with unexpected tenderness as he put the car in motion. ‘It won’t be long now.’
It wasn’t—Marcus was a fast and a good driver—but it was still an agonising ten minutes before he was pulling up in the car park to their excellent local medical centre.
As she reached for the door handle he instructed, ‘Stay there, I’ll get someone to come out to you.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘I’VE got to rest for a week? I can’t possibly do that,’ Polly protested to her doctor after he had examined her, bandaged up her ankle and prescribed some pain-killers. ‘I’ve got a hotel to run.’
‘I’m sorry, but in order to get the bruising down you will have to rest,’ Dr Jarvis persisted.
‘Don’t worry, Dr Jarvis, I shall see that she does,’ Marcus informed him, and, ignoring Polly’s irritation, he turned to her to say firmly, ‘Until that bandage comes off next week, you will be staying with me, Polly.’
‘Staying with you, Marcus? Didn’t you hear what I just said. I’ve got a hotel to run!’
‘Yes, I heard you, and you can run it…during the day…just so long as you do so from a chair. But there’s no way you are going to be able to work a twelve-hour day the way you are at the moment.’
‘And if I can’t, whose fault is that?’ Polly fumed. ‘I’m not the one who called in those wretched people and—’
‘Polly, there’s no point in arguing with me. You are staying with me until that ankle has healed, and if I find that you are overdoing things then…’
‘Then what?’ she challenged him.
‘Then you will be staying with me twenty-four hours a day if necessary,’ Marcus told her softly.
Twenty-four hours a day with Marcus. Polly closed her eyes as she was attacked by a wave of weak longing.
What about Suzi? she wanted to say, but for some reason she just couldn’t bring herself to form the words, to ask Marcus what his soon-to-be wife would think about him moving Polly into the house they were going to share.
Not that Suzi had any need to feel concerned, as Marcus had no doubt made more than clear to her, reassuring her with all those tender words and touches that were the province of the lover.
‘What is it? Is your ankle worse?’ Marcus asked sharply as Polly gave a soft sound of pain at the thought of the loving intimacy Suzi would share with him.
Quickly Polly shook her head before very reluctantly allowing Marcus to guide her back to his car.
‘We’ll stop off at the hotel on the way back so that you can collect whatever you need,’ he told her as he waited to join the traffic.
‘I can’t possibly run the hotel from your house, Marcus. I need to be there on the spot,’ Polly protested, trying desperately to find a way to change his mind.
However, the thin smile he gave her as he slid the car out into the busy main road told her that she had failed even before he replied acerbically, ‘Really? It’s odd, isn’t it, how the hotel has suddenly become so important to you when not so very long ago you announced that it was so important that you intended to leave?’
‘That’s different,’ Polly insisted. ‘At the moment the hotel is still my responsibility.’
‘Mmm…Have you spoken to Bernstein recently, by the way?’
‘Phil? No, I haven’t,’ Polly admitted, adding, ‘He’s away at the moment in the Caribbean.’
‘Yes, I know; Suzi flew out to meet him there.’