by Anne Mather
Robert propped himself up on one elbow. ‘Help yourself,’ he advised lazily. ‘Just give me a sandwich. Anything you like.’
Sophie, whose appetite had not been helped by the contretemps at lunch time, enjoyed the alfresco meal, munching contentedly, gazing across the stream at a herd of dairy cows grazing in the meadow. The only sounds were the calling of the birds, an occasional insect buzzing about them, and the infrequent swish of a car passing on the road above them. They didn’t have to talk. Just being with Robert in this mood was enough.
Finally Robert reached for a can of beer and tearing off its tab drank deeply. Then he dropped the empty can on to the grass beside him and stretched out again.
Sophie drank a can of Coke, and then gathered the empty bags together. She put the two tins they had not used to one side and stretched out beside him. She didn’t much care if she got grass stains on the new cotton skirt. Robert seemed uncaring, and she felt the same. The sun was warm on her eyelids, and the meal they had shared had made her drowsy. She didn’t want to go to sleep, to miss any of this marvellous afternoon, but she couldn’t help herself…
When she opened her eyes again, Robert was tickling her nose with a blade of grass.
‘Do you realise it’s almost half past six?’ he asked humorously.
Sophie caught her breath. ‘Half past six?’ She pushed his teasing hand away. ‘But the Pages are coming at seven o’clock, and your mother always likes to serve dinner by a quarter to eight!’
Robert nodded. ‘I know.’ But he didn’t look perturbed.
‘Well, we’re going to be awfully late!’
‘Awfully,’ he agreed.
She stared up at him. ‘Don’t you care?’
‘Not particularly.’ He trailed the ringers of one hand down her cheek, her throat, the curve of her breast to her waist. His eyes had darkened perceptibly and there was a curious desperation in his voice as he said: ‘How would you like to have dinner with me instead? There’s an old country pub around here which serves the most delicious duckling you’ve ever tasted.’
‘But, Robert, you told Sally…’
‘That we couldn’t dine with them? I know. Did you want to?’ His voice had cooled slightly.
‘You know I didn’t,’ she exclaimed, conscious of his fingers caressing the skin of her waist beneath the fine texture of her jersey. ‘But what about your mother?’
Robert lowered his head to kiss the curve of her jaw-line. ‘I don’t want to spend the evening with my mother,’ he murmured huskily, ‘I want to spend it with you.’
‘But, Robert – ‘ Sophie was finding it incredibly difficult to maintain any sense of coherency in all this. ‘Robert — on the way here – ‘
‘On the way here I behaved as I should be behaving right now,’ he conceded, biting the lobe of her ear. ‘But this might be the last – ‘ He broke off abruptly. ‘Sophie, stop trying to find reasons for everything. Just kiss me—no—no, not like that. Like this…’
And his mouth parted her lips and the hard strength of his body was pressing her back into the soft green turf.
Robert kissed her many times—long, drugging kisses that made her tremble with emotions she didn’t altogether understand. She had the feeling that she was dreaming all this and that at the end there was going to be a rude awakening. He had never kissed her in quite this way before, and although she sensed that what they were doing was wrong, she didn’t know why. He was caressing her in a deliberately arousing way that made her arch her back towards him and ache with unknown longings and desires. And then, when she had lost all sense of inhibition and was almost wantonly yielding and responsive in his arms, he drew himself forcibly away from her, sitting with his legs drawn up in a hunched position, his head resting on his knees. .
It took Sophie some minutes to realise that had he not made the break when he did, he would not have been capable of doing so. She could have refused him nothing, and the fact that he had not taken her innocence was, to her, an example of the respect he had for her.
She sat up at last and scrambling on to her knees slid her arms over his shoulders and round his neck from behind. For a second he resisted and then he allowed her hands to slide down over the hair-roughened skin of his chest, holding him closely back against her. She rested her chin on his shoulder and said softly: ‘I love you, Robert. I’m sorry, but I can’t help it.’
Robert bent his head and put his lips to her bare arm. ‘I’m sorry, too, Sophie,’ he muttered thickly. ‘Because I’m very much afraid I love you, too.’
Sophie slid round him to stare into his impassioned dark face. ‘Oh, Robert,’ she breathed unsteadily, ‘don’t be sorry.’
Robert put her gently but firmly away from him and got to his feet, brushing down his trousers. ‘Come on,’ he said, but there was no edge to his urgency. ‘I think we need bright lights and music and people, don’t you? This place is much too secluded, the way I feel at the moment.’
They had dinner at the small country inn Robert had designated. The tables were all booked for the evening, but he was apparently known there and presently a table for two was produced for them. The food was delicious, as he had decreed. They ate fresh salmon, duckling dripping with orange sauce, a chocolate dessert that was coated with nuts and raisins. They drank a dry white wine that tingled on the palate, and Sophie had never been so happy. The fact that her long cotton skirt and simple jersey were in contrast to most of the elegantly dressed women there made not the slightest difference to her when Robert devoured her with his eyes every time he looked across the table at her.
Actually, she had washed her face and hands and combed her hair in the cloakroom before joining him in the bar before the meal, and her honey-gold skin and thick silky mane required no additional adornment. She had attracted a number of men’s eyes already, and Robert was not ignorant of the fact.
They lingered over their coffee, Robert enjoying a brandy with his, and then they emerged into the soft scented dusk and walked without haste to where they’ had left the car. Sophie felt ridiculously happy and sad all at the same time. Throughout the meal they had talked desultorily, but always about impersonal topics, and not once had they mentioned the thing which had to be uppermost in both their minds. She longed for him to give some further indication of his feelings for her; her own had never been in any doubt, and his earlier reluctance to admit his love for her was the only flaw in what had been a perfect evening.
In the car, he gave his attention to the lights and the ignition and Sophie fastened her safety belt with nervous fingers. Surely he would say something now that they were alone.
But he didn’t. The journey home was accomplished almost in silence and although she managed to convince herself that it was a companionable silence, there was an essence of restraint about it.
The Pages’ car was still standing in the drive at Penn Warren and Robert uttered an irritated ejaculation. ‘That’s all I need!’ he said harshly, standing on his brakes.
Sophie unfastened her safety strap. ‘Well, thank you-for a lovely evening anyway,’ she was beginning jerkily, when his fingers curved around her neck, under the weight of her hair, dragging her closely against him.
‘Don’t thank me, Sophie,’ he groaned passionately, burying his face in her hair. ‘Dear God, I want to make love to you.’ His breathing was erratic. ‘I should never have begun this. I knew I wouldn’t want to stop…’
His mouth was hungry and possessive, his breath sweet and scented with the brandy. Sophie’s head swam, and her limbs ached to be closer to him than the gear consol would allow, and she was holding his face between her hands and covering it with kisses when the car door was suddenly wrenched open and a draught of cool air swept into the heated interior.
‘You swine, Robert!’ muttered Simon, glaring at them in the light of the powerful torch he held in his hands. ‘You couldn’t leave her alone, could you?’
Robert put Sophie away from him and got slowly out of the car. Sophie s
crambled out, too, sure this was certain to erupt into a fight this time, and terrified for both of them.
‘Simon, please – ‘ she begged, grasping his arm, but he shook her off.
‘Go inside, Sophie. This is between Rob and me.’
‘No! No, it’s not.’ Sophie appealed to Robert as he came round the car. ‘Robert—
Robert, don’t do anything you’re liable to regret.’
Robert spared her an impatient glance and then he looked at his brother. ‘You’ve been asking for this, Simon.’
‘Have I?’ Simon seemed determined to taunt him. ‘And what have you been asking for, I wonder?’ His lip curled. ‘One woman isn’t enough for you, is it? You have to take mine as well.’
Sophie put herself between them. ‘I’m not your woman, Simon – ‘ she exclaimed, but Simon ignored her.
‘Anyway, as it happens, you don’t have the time right now to settle any scores with anyone,’ he went on bitterly. ‘You’ve got company. Oh, not the Pages—although they’re here as well, and avid to know where you and Sophie have been all evening.
No, your fiancée is here, Robert — Emma! Don’t you think you ought to go in and say hello to her before she, like me, begins to wonder what can be delaying you so long in the driveway?’
CHAPTER FIVE
SOPHIE had been sick, violently and nauseatingly sick, and her indisposition had served the dual purpose of ridding her body of the food which had gone sour on her, and giving her a vital excuse for not joining her parents and their guests downstairs.
After Simon’s shattering announcement, it had taken Robert fully a minute to grasp what he was saying. Then he had turned, his face grim, and strode away towards the house leaving Sophie to stand shivering beside the car. She had been so shocked, her teeth had started to chatter, and Simon had taken pity on her and putting an arm about her had almost carried her to the house. He had helped her up the stairs and into her bedroom, and then the nausea which had been welling up inside her filled her mouth and she had had to run into the bathroom. She had stood there vomiting for almost five minutes and when she finally turned, Simon was leaning against the bathroom wall right behind her, holding out a soft towel for her to wipe her sweating face.
But now she was back in the bedroom, weak and trembling, but drained of the sick apprehension which had overwhelmed her. She fumbled unsteadily with the zip fastener of her skirt, and Simon, who was standing near the door regarding her anxiously, said: ‘Are you sure you’re all right now?’
Sophie nodded vigorously. ‘Of — of course. It — it must have been something I’d eaten - ‘
‘Don’t tell me lies, Sophie, on top of everything else,’ he exclaimed savagely. ‘I know perfectly well what’s wrong with you! You didn’t know Robert was engaged, did you? He didn’t tell you. The very reason your father sent him to meet you at the station when you first returned home—so he could advise you of that fact. But he conveniently forgot!’
Sophie’s lips were dry. ‘Simon, please…’
Simon’s fists clenched and unclenched by his sides. ‘I could kill him. I really could!’
‘I’m tired, Simon…’
‘My brother! My sainted brother! I always admired him, do you know that? Always looked up to him! But he’s no better than an animal—a buck stag - ‘
‘Simon!’
His mother’s voice brought him up short, and he glanced round, flushing as his mother came into the room. She took in Sophie’s distressed appearance in a moment and then turned back to her son.
‘Go downstairs, Simon,’ she advised him coldly. ‘Vicky is waiting to say goodbye to you.’
Simon looked as though he was about to argue, but something in Sophie’s pale exhausted face caused him to change his mind. Without a word he turned and left them, slamming the door behind him. Then Laura approached her stepdaughter, pushing Sophie’s hands aside and unloosening the skirt fastener for her. When the girl had stepped out of it, Laura picked it up and threw it over a chair, and then helped her off with her jersey. When the folds of her cotton nightdress had been slipped over her head, Sophie pulled back the bedcovers and slipped between the sheets. Then she stared miserably up at her stepmother, waiting for the axe to fall.
But Laura merely shook her head resignedly and said: ‘How do you feel now, Sophie?’
‘I’m all right.’ Sophie’s voice was muffled.
‘Are you?’ Laura stood looking down at her. ‘Oh, my dear, we didn’t want you to be hurt.’
Sophie closed her eyes. Open, they were too revealing. ‘Hurt?’ she echoed quickly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do. Sophie, I couldn’t help overhearing what Simon was saying as I came along the landing. Robert didn’t tell you, did he? I should have guessed he hadn’t.
You were too—happy with him to have known. Going out with him this afternoon.’
She shook her head. ‘I should have, listened to your father. I should have stopped you. I know he didn’t approve. But we believed you knew…’ She broke off. ‘Well, you might as well know it all. Emma’s here for a few days’ holiday, Robert will be returning to Cymtraeth next week, but Emma will be staying on. They’re planning to get married later in the year.’
Sophie thought she could not feel any more pain, but she could—hot searing pain that caused a sob of pure agony to escape her. Uncaring of what Laura must be thinking of her, she rolled over on to her stomach and buried her face in the pillow, sobbing Uncontrollably.
‘Oh, Sophie!’ Laura sat down beside her on the bed. She put a hand on the girl’s heaving shoulders. ‘Sophie, don’t take it so badly. It had to happen sooner or later.
You must have known that! One day he was bound to find the right girl—the woman he could love-‘
‘He doesn’t love her,’ choked Sophie. ‘He loves me – ’
‘I know he loves you, darling. You’re his little sister. Both the boys love you-‘
‘No— no!’ Sophie twisted her head from side to side. ‘Not like that. He loves me—he really loves me!’
‘Stop it, Sophie!’ Laura was beginning to sound a little impatient now. ‘You mustn’t lose control of yourself like this. It’s not good for you, and how do you think Emma would feel if she could hear you-‘
‘I don’t care about Emma!’
‘Well, that’s not very kind, is it? Sophie, Sophie— Emma is going to be your sister-in-law. You should be happy for her—for both of them. I think they’ll be very happy together. And think how nice it will be to have a sister-‘
Sophie’s only response was to drag a pillow over her head to shut out the sound of her stepmother’s voice, and with an exclamation Laura got to her feet.
‘I think you’re being very silly, Sophie,’ she said reprovingly. ‘I’ve tried to be patient with you, to understand you, but I can’t condone such selfish behaviour. I think I’d better leave you to pull yourself together. We’ll talk about this later.’ She paused.
‘But I would —beg you not to say anything to Emma about this. I don’t want her upset, and I shall be very angry if you try to cause trouble between her and Robert.’
Sophie didn’t answer, and with a heavy sigh her stepmother walked to the bedroom door. She opened it and then gasped: ‘Robert! What are you doing here?’
Sophie stopped sobbing and listened.
‘I came to find you, Mother. The Pages are leaving.’ He looked beyond her into the bedroom. ‘Where’s Sophie?’
Laura tried to block his view of the bed with her body, but Sophie thrust the pillows aside and lifted a ravaged face to look at him.
‘My God! Sophie!’ he muttered, and would have pushed his mother aside and entered the room had she not lifted a hand and struck him hard across his face. It was the first time she had laid a hand on him since he was a schoolboy.
‘Don’t you dare to go near her!’ she commanded fiercely. ‘Haven’t you done enough?’
Robert stared at his mother disbelievingly, r
aising a hand to touch the stinging marks left by her fingers. Then his expression hardened. ‘What’s the matter with Sophie?’ he demanded.
Laura was holding herself taut, but Sophie could sense the effort it was costing her.
‘She’s got a headache,’ she replied evenly. ‘A—sick headache.’
‘I want to speak to her,’ said Robert in controlled tones.
‘You can’t – ‘ Laura’s hands curled into her palms. ‘Robert—please-‘
Sophie couldn’t bear the agonised appeal in her stepmother’s voice. With a tremulous intake of breath, she buried her face under the covers, pulling the pillow back over her head.
‘Sophie!’ Robert’s voice came across to her, but she didn’t look up again. ‘Sophie—speak to me!’
‘Go away,’ she moaned from beneath her pillows. ‘Just go away. I don’t want to speak to—to anyone.’
She heard her bedroom door close a few moments later and tentatively lifted her head, half expecting her stepmother to be in the room with her. But she was alone.
Sophie slept the sleep of exhaustion and awakened in the early morning when the first faint fingers of sunlight were probing the curtains at her windows. She awoke with an aching head and a horrible taste in her mouth, and she slid out of bed and padded into the bathroom to get a drink and two aspirins. For a few minutes she was able to keep her thoughts at bay, but as her conscious mind took full possession they came flooding back to torment her. The events of the evening before filled her with trepidation, and she sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.
No wonder Robert had been so reluctant to tell her he loved her. She doubted in the cold light of morning that he really did. Perhaps he had only told her that because she had said she loved him. Perhaps he had felt guilty…
She lifted her head and stared without pleasure at her reflection mirrored in the vanity unit. She looked terrible. Not even a night’s sleep had been sufficient to erase the puffiness from her eyelids, and her pallor was pronounced and unhealthy-looking. Dear God, she thought painfully; what must Robert have thought when he saw her like this?