Running Away

by Rosina Lesley

  ‘Well?’ she said, standing well back out of the light.

  ‘I can’t talk to you from here.’ James stood, in the familiar hands-in-pockets stance, his back to the light, face unreadable.

  ‘Then go in to the other room and phone me,’ said Catherine, preparing to shut the door.

  ‘Cat.’ He put out a hand and stopped the door from closing. ‘Let me in.’

  ‘No.’ She pushed hard against his hand.

  ‘All right, you come in to the other room then.’ He maintained the pressure on the door.

  ‘What difference would that make?’

  ‘You could leave when you wanted to.’

  ‘Then why should I bother to come in in the first place?’

  ‘Catherine ...’ James’s voice showed he too was near breaking point, and suddenly, Catherine gave in, turning away from the door and moving slowly towards the bed. She heard the door click shut behind her and the room was in darkness.

  ‘May we have a light?’ James asked politely.

  ‘The one by the door,’ muttered Catherine, keeping her back to him. The dim light from the lobby by the door illuminated the room.

  ‘Won’t you look at me, Cat?’

  ‘No.’ Her breath caught in her throat as she felt, rather than heard, him moving towards her. Then his hands were on her shoulders, turning her round, tipping her face up.

  ‘You’ve been crying.’ He sounded surprised.

  She shook him off angrily. ‘What do you expect?’

  ‘Were you crying for Andrew?’

  She looked at him scornfully. ‘What a very odd question.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry.’ He pushed a hand through his hair, looking suddenly very tired. ‘It’s been a heck of week.’

  ‘No doubt.’ Catherine’s tone dripped icicles.

  ‘Cat, why are you so angry with me?’ he asked, plainly trying to sound reasonable.

  ‘I should have thought that was obvious. What isn’t so obvious is why you were so angry with me ?’ She lifted her chin pugnaciously to stare at him. Now he’d seen her looking awful, it didn’t seem to matter if he went on seeing her.

  ‘I jumped to conclusions. I’m very sorry. You’ll just have to blame the circumstances. But after I’d been home and found you gone ...’

  ‘Found me gone? Been home? Just when did you do that?’ Catherine’s voice was rising.

  ‘I was at home when you rang this evening.’ James looked bewildered.

  ‘Oh, this evening, yes.’ Catherine snorted. ‘You were there this evening.’

  ‘Cat, what’s the matter?’ James was in front of her, his hands once more on her shoulders. ‘I know you’re upset about Andrew, but for goodness sake explain ... I’m not psychic, you know.’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody well upset about Andrew. And I’m upset about what you said as well. How dare you insinuate that there was – that there could be – oh, go away. You’re disgusting.’ Catherine flung away from him, her voice wobbling out of control. James caught her back, pulling her up against him and forcing her to look up at him.

  ‘I’ve said I’m sorry. What more do you want? As if things weren’t bad enough–’

  ‘Stop it.’ Catherine’s voice was a screamed whisper. ‘Stop it. Get out. Go away.’ She tried to pummel his chest, but with one hand he captured her wrists and held them, while with the other arm he held her clamped against his body.

  ‘God, you’re an infuriating woman, Catherine Long.’ he muttered and then suddenly, his head blotted out the light and his lips were forcing hers back against her teeth. Catherine struggled, trying to turn her head, until it became increasingly obvious that she wasn’t going to get away, and that all she was doing was causing a reaction of the very sort calculated to make him keep hold of her.

  Then the nature of the embrace changed. Catherine felt all James’s pent-up anger and resentment dissipate against her lips, as his tongue slid smoothly to meet hers, as he let go of her hands to put both arms round her, cradle her head and pull her in to feel his body moving urgently against hers. Her mind stopped working altogether, as her own misery and worry poured into a totally uninhibited response, her body leaping into life as her hands moved over him, touching, smoothing and inciting. She could hear soft sounds and for a moment was surprised that they were coming from her own throat before she stopped thinking again. They collapsed on the bed and James was sliding her shoes off, then his own and somehow, both their jackets were off. His mouth was on her breast, his hands managing to divest her of all her clothing before together, clumsily, they removed his between them. Catherine’s mind cleared as James’s naked body moved against hers and she knew with total clarity that this was the moment she had been waiting for. That this time there would be no stopping, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Then his mouth and tongue were caressing each breast, one after another, while his hands stroked lower and her mind went off into a spiral of sensual delight. Her hands moved to caress him and he lifted his face.

  ‘Don’t, darling,’ he said huskily, his voice barely a whisper. ‘I can’t hold on much longer.’

  ‘Then don’t,’ she whispered into his mouth, opening her body to him and, with a groan, he lifted himself over her and at last he was where he belonged. Catherine felt her body contract to absorb him, then the rhythm, unfamiliar yet familiar, took her over and a moment later her eyes opened wide with surprise and her body arched spasmodically against his as he let out a muffled cry that was her name.

  Little bits of the world returned to Catherine slowly. The feel of James’s hair against her mouth, the feel of his damp skin against hers, cool air against both of them. She moved, very slightly.

  ‘Cat?’ He spoke against her neck.

  ‘Yes?’ she whispered, not knowing what to say, what the etiquette was in these situations.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She couldn’t repress a small giggle, and it made him move, lift his head and look at her.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It seemed such an inadequate thing to say.’

  He smiled reluctantly. ‘Is that a compliment?’

  ‘I think so,’ she whispered, kissing his chin.

  ‘Then consider it returned.’ He moved away from her a little, smoothing her hair away from her face. ‘It shouldn’t have been like that though.’

  ‘Wasn’t it good enough?’ she asked innocently.

  It was his turn to laugh as he pulled her close and kissed her hair. ‘I meant that it shouldn’t have happened as a result of ... well, my anger, really.’

  ‘And our feelings about Andrew?’ put in Catherine. ‘And you insulting me?’

  ‘Did you have to say that?’ He moved further away.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She felt something cold inside her solar plexus. ‘But I thought that’s what you meant.’

  ‘I suppose I did. Partly. But that’s not the only reason.’ He sighed.

  The little cold kernel was growing. ‘No,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘There’s everything that led up to it. Neither of us meant it to happen, did we?’ He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her. Not knowing what to answer, for whether she had meant it to happen or not, she had certainly wanted it to happen, and now or next week wouldn’t have made any difference.

  ‘I took advantage of you again, didn’t I? When you had made it quite plain each time before that I was out of order.’ He flung himself back on the bed and she averted her eyes from his naked body, which was already having the most disturbing effect on her again. She shivered.

  ‘Oh, hell, you’re cold.’ He swung his legs off the bed and pulled back the covers. ‘There. You get in and have a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning after I’ve been to the hospital.’

  Catherine sat up, clutching the bedclothes, her eyes wide and puzzled. ‘Are you going?’

  ‘Yes, little Cat. I’m going.’ He sighed and reached for his trousers, pulling them on over bare legs and then turning back to drop
a kiss on her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. ‘It shouldn’t have happened. You’ll just have to try and forgive me.’ And he was gone.

  Like an automaton, Catherine got up and went into the shower, where she stood for a long time under the stinging spray before returning to the bedroom and collecting up her clothes. Her brain seemed to have seized up completely, her whole body just one solid lump of unfamiliar physical sensations, including the awful numb feeling inside. How could he? Her mind fought to get back in to gear. How could he make love to her like that, with such passion, wringing such passion from her and then say he shouldn’t have done it? And leave her? With vague surprise she noticed that she was packing, but the implications of this were too complicated for her muddled brain at the moment, so she just carried on, her tired mind going round and round like a hamster on a wheel – squeak, squeak, squeak.

  Downstairs, the reception area was dimmed and a sleepy desk clerk came out when she rang the bell.

  ‘Could I have the bill for Room 233?’ Catherine asked, noting without surprise the desk clerk’s puzzled expression.

  ‘233 and 231 were on the same b ill, madam, Mr Hamilton’s.’

  ‘Mr Hamilton has been taken to hospital. His nephew is occupying his room at present, so I shall pay my bill and go.’

  ‘Very well, m adam.’ The young man sighed faintly, used to the vagaries of hotel guests, even in the middle of the night.

  ‘Can I get in to the car park?’ asked Catherine as she punched in her pin number.

  ‘Yes, m adam.’

  ‘Oh, and could I leave a message for Mr Grant? Mr Hamilton’s nephew?’

  ‘Would you like some paper, m adam?’ The desk clerk drew over a pen.

  ‘No, thank you. Just say I hope Mr Hamilton progresses well. I shall be in to see him shortly.’

  ‘Certainly, m adam. Have a safe journey.’ And Catherine left him looking after her, still with a slightly puzzled expression.

  It was less than 24 hours since she had arrived here, she thought as she drove out of the car park and into the quiet streets. In fact, 24 hours ago she had been lying sleepless in Felicity’s spare room torturing herself with the fact that James and Diana were back together again. And now? Now he had made love to her, she had given him the final commitment, and he had destroyed what he had given her with careless words afterwards, proving that what had happened had arisen out of the exceptional circumstances and the emotion of the moment. It shouldn’t have happened, he said, and she agreed with him. She had felt bad enough before tonight; now it was a hundred times worse. And what made it worse still, she thought with a start, was that Andrew, the unwitting cause of all this, was lying in a hospital bed and she was driving away from him. For the first time since she had rushed into her hotel room away from James, she felt the tears starting again, and wished she would try and remember not to cry while she was driving. Sniffing hard, she promised herself that whatever happened, she would come up tomorrow by train to visit Andrew in the hospital. Somehow, she would have to avoid James, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

  Chapter Ten

  IT WAS A GREAT surprise to Catherine when she awoke that she had actually made it home in one piece. Most of the journey back to the village had been accomplished in a vaguely dream-like state that would not have augured well for either her or other road users should she have met any. However, traffic is usually fairly light between two and three in the morning, and other than the lorries that thundered past her on the motorway, she met nothing.

  Her brain appeared to have gone on strike altogether this morning, but she managed to organise herself to get dressed, unload the van and make herself a cup of tea and a slice of toast. She even remembered to unplug the phone and turn off her mobile in case James should take it in to his head to ring her. She was pretty sure from what he had said that he wouldn’t find out that she had left the hotel until he himself left to go to the hospital, if even then, but in case he did, she was taking no chances.

  Later in the morning, she drove the van back to the hire company in town and picked up her car, which she then drove to the station and bought a ticket for London. Quite how she was going to avoid James when she got to the hospital, she didn’t know, but she was far too tired to worry about it, and settling back in a corner of the seat, she fell asleep.

  The staff nurse at the desk in intensive care was small, dark and efficient. Mr Hamilton had spent a comfortable night, she said, and because the heart attack had been comparatively minor, was due to be moved to a side ward later on, preparatory to being released tomorrow if he spent a stable night. Yes, Mr Grant had been in, but he had left, saying he would be back after Mr Hamilton had been moved later. Catherine noticed the way the girl’s face became animated as she mentioned James. Did he have that effect on all females, she wondered? How had Diana coped with it? Perhaps there was more to her infidelities than met the eye. Perhaps she was merely trying to keep her end up. Moving slowly along the corridor to the door to the intensive care unit, Catherine reflected mournfully that whatever it had been, at least Diana had the experience to cope with it again.

  Andrew was awake, and looking considerably better.

  ‘What a way to spend our holiday,’ he said ruefully, as she approached the bed, garbed in the protective clothing insisted upon by the intensive care guardian angels. ‘I’m sorry, my dear.’

  ‘Oh, Andrew. Don’t be so silly. I’m the one that’s sorry. I’m sure if I hadn’t burdened you with all my problems this wouldn’t have happened.’

  ‘None of those problems were yours exclusively, though, were they?’ Andrew patted her hand. ‘They were all caused by my family. So don’t you fret. Anyway, at least James is here. You phoned him to come, he said?’

  ‘Yes.’ Catherine looked down at their hands. ‘That was all right, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Of course. You’ve seen him then?’

  ‘Not this morning,’ s aid Catherine evasively.

  ‘Oh. I thought he said he had left you asleep and he was going to see you when he got back.’ Andrew raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, I was in bed when he left,’ Catherine prevaricated, not wanting to upset him. ‘But I must have left ... What time did he leave here?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. Time doesn’t mean much, in here, you know. Did you know I’m going to a small ward later? Then I’ll be able to go tomorrow. Isn’t that good?’

  ‘Great.’ Catherine smiled back. ‘Will you go back to Gardener’s Cottage?’

  ‘No, James thinks I’d be better in a suite at the Hall until I’m fully recovered. Then I can be waited on.’

  ‘What did James say he was going to do?’ asked Catherine, casually.

  ‘Do?’ Andrew looked surprised. ‘He didn’t. Should he be doing anything? Oh.’ He nodded. ‘I see what you mean. About Diana and the company, you mean?’

  Catherine shrugged. ‘Well–’

  ‘Oh, he just told me not to worry about it. Said it would all be all right and I wasn’t to think about it. Well,’ Andrew inclined his head as far as possible in Catherine’s direction conspiratorially, ‘I don’t much care what does happen, to tell you the truth. Isn’t that dreadful. But as long as we don’t lose the old Hall and your cottage, then I’m not too bothered.’

  ‘Is that all he said?’ The words were torn unwillingly from Catherine, as she twisted the strap of her shoulder bag into a chewed-looking mess.

  ‘Well, yes. Should he have said any more?’

  ‘No.’ Catherine tried a bright smile. ‘I just wondered. We haven’t had a chance to talk much, you see.’

  ‘Well, you’ll see him later, won’t you? You can sort everything out then.’ Andrew let out a small sigh and closed his eyes.

  ‘And you’re tired.’ Catherine stood up. ‘I’ll go now, and I’ll see you when you get back home tomorrow. You won’t want me fussing around up here.’

  Andrew opened his eyes. ‘I don’t mind you fussing around me.’ He smiled. ‘But yo
u know how James is. The minimum amount of fuss. So you stay out of it, as you said. I’ll see you at home.’

  Catherine was relieved that Andrew had been in no state to question the fact that James and she had apparently no idea of each other’s movements, and that he had little interest in what had been going on with Diana and Concept. She wouldn’t have been able to answer him and it was essential at the moment that he was not worried. Encouraged by the fact that he had to all intents and purposes recovered considerably since the previous night, she took a taxi back to the station and boarded the next train home.

  As she let herself in to Garth Cottage, the phone was ringing. She stood and waited for it to stop, her heart banging against her ribs, and when it did, went straight over and dialled Felicity’s new number.

  ‘It wasn’t you, was it, ringing just now?’ she asked, after she had explained about Andrew, leaving out the encounter with James.

  ‘No. Didn’t you get there in time? Annoying that, isn’t it? Still, you can do the 1471 thing, otherwise you’ll never know who it was, and it could have been something really exciting.’

  Catherine forbore to say that she knew damned well who the caller had been, simply agreeing with her sister.

  ‘So, are you feeling better? Oh, sorry.’ Felicity sighed. ‘How stupid, after what’s happened. I meant, are you feeling better about ... er ...’

  ‘James and Diana?’ Catherine’s mouth twisted wryly. ‘Well, I’ve hardly had time to think about it, have I?’ she lied.

  ‘I suppose not. James came up, though, you said? Didn’t you speak to him?’

  ‘That was hardly what was on our minds,’ said Catherine truthfully.

  ‘No, I suppose not.’ Felicity sounded subdued. ‘But presumably he’ll be bringing Andrew home, so you’ll see him then, won’t you?’

  Catherine tried to ignore the surge of adrenaline at the thought. ‘I suppose so. I don’t know how long he’ll stay.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘Cat–’ Felicity was tentative. ‘On Saturday night, when you left ...’ she hesitated.