Images Of Love

by Anne Mather

  ‘Satisfied?’ he muttered at last, lifting his mouth only inches from hers, and Tobie slipped her arms around his neck.

  ‘Not nearly,’ she mouthed, for his eyes alone, and with a determined effort, he dragged himself back from her, his breathing laboured.

  ‘Later,’ he grated, staring grimly through the car’s windows. Then: ‘Is this the best you can do, Morales?’

  ‘There’s a speed limit, Mr Lang, sir,’ Juan protested, though his eyes still danced. ‘But I’ll do what I can.’

  Impatient for the journey to be over, Tobie was a mass of nerves by the time they reached the imposing entrance to the Hotel Regency. When the major-domo opened the taxi door for her she got out rather jerkily, then hung about indecisively as Robert struggled to emerge. She would have liked to help him, only the hard line of his mouth at the evident effort it was taking deterred her, and it was left to the commissionaire to summon assistance.

  To Robert’s obvious indignity, a wheelchair was provided, and he was helped into it. Only then did he look up and meet Tobie’s eyes, and the expression on his face left her weak with compassion. It was compounded of pain and weariness and complete frustration, and she knew there was nothing she could say to assuage his feelings.

  The reception clerk evidently knew him, and the formalities were brief. Tobie didn’t know what arrangements Robert had made, or indeed in what capacity she was registered. She only knew that a porter was summoned to escort them to their rooms, and they crossed the marble foyer to the lifts.

  Their rooms were on the tenth floor. When the porter inserted the key and swung open the double doors, Tobie saw that they had been given a suite, and the elegant luxury of it all almost took her breath away. Preceding Robert into the cream and green opulence of a drawing room, she saw that from the long windows they had a magnificent view of the ocean, with the town and harbour away to the right. There was a beach below the hotel, and at this hour of the afternoon there were still sunbathers in the shade of the conically thatched roofs of the beach huts, lazily soaking up the last of the day. It was a perfect place for lovers, and as the door closed behind the porter she turned eagerly back to Robert.

  ‘It’s—beautiful,’ she exclaimed helplessly. ‘I can hardly believe I’m here!’

  Robert’s expression was not encouraging as he manoeuvred the wheelchair across the shell-coloured carpeting. ‘It’s adequate,’ he conceded, cursing when a rug impeded his progress. ‘The manager is a friend of mine.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ His attitude affected Tobie’s enthusiasm. ‘Anyway,’ she added, half defensively, ‘I like it. But then, as you would doubtless agree, I’m not much used to such things.’

  Robert gave her a hard look, then swung his chair about and headed for a door across the room. ‘This is one of the bedrooms,’ he said, without answering her. ‘There’s a bathroom beyond, and if you don’t mind, I think I’ll take a bath. I only had time to wash and shave at Soledad. I didn’t even change my clothes.’

  Tobie nodded. ‘All right. Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to help you?’

  ‘No!’ he snapped savagely. ‘You—relax! Read a magazine. You’ll find some in that cabinet over there.’

  Tobie watched him negotiate the narrow doorway into the bedroom, and then paced restlessly across the room. Its delicate beauty had lost its charm, however, and the whole day seemed to have gone sour on her. Why? What had she done? They had seemed close for those few minutes in the taxi. Had she imagined Robert’s impassioned declaration of his love for her?

  Standing by the window, she tried to make sense of it all, and when understanding came to her, she was amazed at her own lack of perception. Was she so blind to his feelings after all this time? Hadn’t she watched his humiliation for herself? It was this that had left him feeling raw and indignant, impatient with his weakness, and impatient with her for witnessing it.

  Leaving the window, she kicked off her sandals and walked silently through into the bedroom. It was another spacious apartment, with yellow silk curtains at the windows and a soft lemon carpet underfoot. All the units and the bedhead were white, and padded with satin, while the coverlet on the bed was figured white damask.

  To her surprise, a dark suit was laid on the bed, along with a pristine white shirt, and ignoring for a moment the sounds coming from the adjoining bathroom, Tobie opened a door of the tall closet. As she half expected, other men’s clothes were hanging there, and she realised Robert must keep this suite for when he was in Castries. It made it a more personal place somehow, not just a hotel bedroom, and her tongue appeared to moisten her lips as she stepped towards the bathroom door.

  It was not locked, and she turned the handle quietly, not wishing to startle him. Like the bedroom and the drawing room, the bathroom was huge, and the bath itself, a circular basin in the middle of the floor, was filled with soapy water. The wheelchair had been pushed carelessly towards a shower cubicle, and Robert was sitting in the bath, with his back towards the door. He was in the process of soaping his arms, and although there were mirrors, they were steamy and he didn’t observe her barefoot approach.

  Tobie knelt down on the tiles beside the bath. It was a tantalising experience, having him at her mercy like this, and she was half reluctant to expose herself. She enjoyed watching him, though she acknowledged he might not approve of her so doing.

  Unable to resist any longer, she stroked her fingernail across his shoulder, and his involuntary move exposed the scars along his spine she had made the day before. He swung round in the spacious basin, confronting her with angry eyes, but she was too much in love with him to be deterred by anything he might say.

  ‘This is nice,’ she said huskily, her gesture describing their surroundings. ‘I gather you’ve stayed here before. You didn’t tell me that.’

  ‘It’s useful to have somewhere private,’ he conceded tautly, shifting in the water. ‘And I thought you’d prefer this to going back to Soledad right away. But if you’d rather—’

  ‘Oh, no. No!’ Tobie shook her head. ‘Not Soledad,’ she demurred unsteadily, and his eyes darkened at the implied protest.

  ‘I shan’t be long,’ he muttered now. ‘Then we can talk. There’s a lot to be said, a lot to be explained.’

  Tobie hesitated. ‘Do you want me to go? Or do you want me to help you? I could wash your back—in mitigation for those scratches I inflicted, if you like. I’m quite good in the bathroom. At least, that’s what Laura’s twins tell me.’

  ‘You’re quite good at bathing children, is that what you mean?’ enquired Robert tightly, and she sighed.

  ‘No. Laura’s twins are seven. They’re quite capable of bathing themselves. We—we have fun together, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘Why don’t you want me to help you, Robert? I love you. Don’t push me away.’

  His long lashes lowered, hiding the expression in his eyes. ‘Even like this?’ he demanded violently. ‘Knowing what a physical wreck I am? Oh, Tobie, if only I hadn’t been such a bloody fool!’

  ‘I—I’d second that,’ she murmured unsteadily, stretching out her hand towards him. ‘So don’t—don’t be a bloody fool now! Don’t you know it’s you I care about—the man you are? Not the shell that gives you existence!’

  He moved then, kneeling in front of her, burying his face in the hands she so tentatively offered. ‘I can’t let you go, I can’t!’ he muttered in an anguished voice, and her heart lurched inside her. ‘Without you, it’s only half a life, and I can’t take it any longer.’

  ‘I don’t want you to take it,’ she whispered huskily. ‘I want you to take me! As God’s my witness, no one else ever has.’

  With a sound of impatience he got to his feet, and although she protested, he stepped out on to the rim of the basin, swaying slightly as he did so. ‘I’m not paralysed,’ he stated, reaching for a towel and wrapping it about himself. ‘Give me that bathrobe, will you? Then maybe we can say what has to be said before we go too far.’

  Tobie got obed
iently to her feet, handing him the fleecy robe that was hanging behind the door. Its dark brown colouring accentuated his darkness, as well as the pallor of his face, and she had to steel herself not to follow its contours with her hands and use herself as a shield to protect him. She ached to touch him, to feel his arms about her and his mouth on hers. But Robert’s determination deterred her, and she went back into the bedroom at his command.

  He followed her slowly, reaching the bed with evident difficulty, and on impulse she stopped him there. ‘Why can’t we stay here?’ she suggested, indicating its generous proportions. ‘You can relax, and we can talk.’ She gazed at him appealingly. ‘Mmm?’

  Robert lounged on to the end of the bed, looking at her through narrowed eyes. ‘All right,’ he said, with a sigh, acknowledging his own weakness. ‘I’ll admit, I am tired. But that’s mostly because I didn’t get any sleep last night.’

  ‘You didn’t?’ Tobie’s lips parted in sympathy, then she made an anxious sound. ‘I didn’t ask you—how is Mr Jennings? I’m afraid I forgot all about him.’

  Robert shook his head. ‘He’s a sick man, but he’s known that for some time.’

  Tobie frowned. ‘I thought he had a stroke.’

  ‘He did. But that’s not what I meant.’ Robert bent his head. ‘Harvey has cancer. He’s had it for the past five years. He knows he’s dying, and now he doesn’t care when.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Now that Cilla and Jim have finally got together,’ explained Robert quietly. ‘That trip to Miami—you remember?’ She nodded. ‘I did have a meeting with Rowan Hartley, but primarily it was an opportunity for Jim and Cilla to see something of one another, away from the island.’ His lips twisted. ‘I guess you saw it differently.’

  ‘You know I did,’ exclaimed Tobie hotly, sitting down beside him, her eyes wide and indignant. ‘And you knew I would, didn’t you?’ she insisted, brushing his robe aside and gripping his knee with her hand. ‘You wanted to make me jealous!’

  ‘Did I succeed?’ he asked humorously, letting her have her way. But as her fingers crept higher, he stilled their intimate progress. ‘Tobie, we have to talk, and when you do that—’

  ‘Does it bother you?’ she breathed, but he put her firmly away from him and moved back on the bed.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ignoring the disappointed signals her eyes were making, ‘Harvey recovered consciousness, but he’s very weak. The doctors are not optimistic, and that was why I stayed with Cilla last night. Jim was away, he had a charter to the States, but he’s back now, so I was able to leave them.’

  ‘I see.’ Tobie sobered. ‘I’m sorry. Mark led me to believe—’

  ‘We’ll get to Mark in a minute,’ said Robert heavily. ‘First there’s something I must tell you. It was without doubt my mother who sent you away from the hospital.’

  Tobie gazed at him. ‘Was it?’

  ‘Yes.’ He shook his head. ‘Will you forgive me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Tobie wriggled back beside him, the hem of her dress working up above her knees. ‘How did you find out? Not Mark!’ She blinked. ‘I thought he didn’t know.’

  ‘He doesn’t. Or at least, I’m pretty sure not,’ declared Robert flatly. Then he frowned. ‘Will you pass me the pants I dropped over there?’

  ‘The jeans?’ Tobie grimaced. ‘Of course.’ She scrambled off the bed, picked up the jeans, and climbed on again. ‘Here you are.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Robert gave her a half smile, rummaging in the back pocket and bringing out a folded sheet of paper. ‘Take a look at that,’ he advised her, dropping the jeans again. ‘Tell me what you think.’

  Tobie opened the sheet of paper slowly, and as she did so her own image appeared before her, a delicate charcoal drawing, that captured the warm beauty of her classically-boned features.

  She gazed at it wide-eyed for several seconds, then she looked up at him speechlessly. It was the most precious thing she had ever been given, the gift of Robert’s love.

  ‘I did it last night,’ he told her gently. ‘Sitting at Harvey’s bedside. Cilla said she liked it.’

  Tobie shook her head, pressing her lips together to stop their trembling. ‘It—it’s very flattering,’ she said, looking at it again, but Robert shook his head.

  ‘It’s you,’ he said firmly, taking it from her and studying it himself. ‘And it should prove once and for all that you’re never out of my mind.’

  Tobie’s heart was in her eyes. ‘Oh, Robert!’ she breathed, and he folded the paper again with hands that trembled.

  ‘I have to tell you,’ he said, but it was obviously an effort for him not to touch her, ‘this little picture is proof to me that my mother is at the bottom of all this.’

  Tobie shook her head bewilderedly. ‘It is?’

  ‘Yes.’ He expelled his breath slowly. ‘Yesterday afternoon, during the conversation I had with Mark, he admitted that Mother had told him she’d seen you before—in a painting in my studio.’

  ‘Yes?’ Tobie still didn’t see the connection.

  ‘Well, she couldn’t have,’ he said flatly. ‘Until I drew this little sketch last night I didn’t have a picture of you.’

  Tobie stared at him. ‘But you must have done! I mean—you sketched me—’

  ‘—dozens of times,’ he conceded gently. ‘And I painted you, at least twice.’ He paused. ‘But I destroyed them all.’

  ‘You destroyed them?’ Tobie swallowed convulsively, and now he reached for her hand.

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘I burned them all. As soon as I could get my hands on them.’

  ‘Robert!’

  ‘Imagine, if you can, how I felt,’ he begged her softly. ‘So far as I knew, you hadn’t even bothered to come and see me! I was in a pretty low state, partially paralysed, or so I believed, and the only person I truly cared about had run out on me. Oh, yes—’ this as she endeavoured to pull away from him, ‘that was what I thought. And when I found out about the baby …’

  Tobie stared at him. ‘When did you find out about the baby?’

  Robert held her gaze with his. ‘Oh, I suppose it must have been about two weeks after the accident.’

  ‘Two weeks!’ Tobie made a helpless gesture. ‘But you said—your mother—’

  ‘My mother didn’t tell me, someone else did. A private investigator I had hired to find you. Only he didn’t—find you, I mean. After—after losing the baby, you apparently went away, and short of approaching your sister, he had no way of finding out where.’

  ‘Oh, Robert!’ Tobie slumped. ‘What must you have thought?’

  ‘You know what I thought,’ he said simply. ‘Your apparent disregard for what had happened to me—losing the baby; I thought you’d decided to get out of London so I shouldn’t find you.’

  Tobie shook her head. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘I know it now.’ Robert caressed her fingers. ‘I realise losing the baby must have been a blow. You were right to go away. A change of scene was what you needed.’

  Tobie shook her head. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, biting so hard on her lower lip she almost drew blood. ‘I didn’t go away—at least, not in the way you imagine.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you ever heard of a place called Riderbeck?’

  Robert frowned. ‘I can’t say that I have. Why? What is it? A hostel of some sort?’

  Tobie almost smiled. ‘It’s a mental institution,’ she got out chokingly. ‘A psychiatric hospital. I spent six months there.’

  Robert drew back to look into her strained face. ‘My God! Why?’

  Tobie sniffed. ‘I—I had a nervous breakdown. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t talk: it was a complete collapse.’ She quivered beneath his gaze. ‘Does it make a difference?’

  ‘Of course it makes a difference!’ he muttered, in a strangled voice. ‘Oh, Tobie, Tobie! If only I’d known!’ He gave up his attempt at detachment and hauled her into his arms. ‘My darling, I’d give anything to be able to go back and sta
rt again, but as I can’t, I can only promise you it will never happen again.’

  Tobie’s tears mingled with drops of water that ran down her cheek from his damp hair, but she was unaware of them. Robert was holding her, kissing her, telling her in a thousand different ways that he loved her, and all the anxiety of the past melted beneath his ardent caress.

  ‘God, I could kill my mother for that,’ he muttered, his face buried in the hollow between her breasts. ‘But at least I think I know why she did it, although God knows it’s no excuse.’

  Tobie parted the lapels of his bathrobe so that the hair on his chest brushed her breasts. ‘So long as we’re together now, that’s all that matters,’ she breathed, as his fingers loosened the last buttons of her bodice. ‘Mmm, darling, you smell delicious.’

  Robert’s breathing had quickened, but he pulled himself up from her, cupping her breast in his cool brown fingers. ‘If only you’d told me about the baby that day at the apartment,’ he exclaimed, ‘instead of pretending you were planning to leave me.’

  Tobie gasped. ‘I didn’t do that!’

  ‘Not in so many words, perhaps, but I thought I knew the implication. You said you wanted us to make a commitment, that you wanted marriage or nothing. And I, poor fool that I was, had only seen marriage as the hell my father’s had been.’

  Tobie raised her hands to his cheeks. ‘Oh, Robert, if only you’d told me that! If only you hadn’t got so angry!’

  He shook his head. ‘I guess it was resentment, more than anger,’ he admitted. ‘I didn’t care for the hold you were getting on me. I wasn’t used to it, and I rebelled.’

  Tobie hesitated. ‘Why did you talk to Mark yesterday?’

  ‘Oh—’ Reluctantly, Robert released her and rolled on to his back, staring up at the ceiling. ‘Well, I wanted to tell him that you wouldn’t be leaving with him. I was going to admit that we already knew one another, and that, if you’d have me, I was going to ask you to marry me.’