Dangerous Flirtation
Page 15
‘Have we met, Mr Fulton?’ she asked.
‘We weren’t formally introduced. You had other things on your mind at the time and you departed somewhat hurriedly. But the impression remains indelible.’
She was right, he had been one of the men sitting with Jack at the Napier. ‘I left you rather a mess to clean up, Mr Fulton, but then I imagine you must be used to it. Tell me,’ she asked, scornfully. ‘Do you always do Jack’s dirty work for him?’
When he replied, the man’s voice was touched with steel. ‘I’d do anything for Jack Drayton. He’s my friend as well as my boss and from the look of him when I drove him to the airport, he’s had about as much of you as he can take.’ She tried to speak. To protest. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. But the man hadn’t finished with her. ‘I’ll get an answer about the house for you, Miss Parry, if it’s that important to you. Then perhaps you’ll leave him alone so that he can draw a line under the experience and begin to forget all about you.’ He didn’t wait for her response, but hung up.
She continued to sit at her desk, the telephone to her ear, until the dialling tone changed to a high pitched note. He had sounded as if he blamed her for something, almost as if he hated her. She stared at the receiver as if unaware of the reason she was holding it before replacing it carefully on the receiver.
Something dropped onto the pad in front of her and she glanced down. A second tear splashed and puddled the ink.
* * *
Rosalind broke the news that they were about to become grandparents to her mother and father at the weekend. Her father’s Celtic fire seared her ears temporarily, those of the absent father of her baby for considerably longer and she took it without flinching. Her mother’s response appeared to be mainly irritation that a woman of her age could have been so careless.
‘First you let a steady man like Anthony slip through your fingers...then this.’
‘He didn’t slip, Mother. I pushed him.’
‘For a musician! Don’t you know they’re nothing but trouble!’ She glanced at her husband and her face softened. ‘Oh, Lord, who am I to blame you? Don’t fret, my dear. We’ll cope.’
‘What do you want us to do, cariad?’
‘Nothing, Dada. I just wanted you to know before you began to notice for yourselves.’
‘And Mr Drayton?’ her mother asked. ‘What has he to say regarding approaching fatherhood?’
There had been little point in trying to hide the identity of the baby’s father since they had both immediately jumped to the same, no doubt quite obvious, conclusion. ‘He doesn’t know anything about it.’
‘I do hope that he has some recollection—’ her mother began, but Rose stopped her.
‘He doesn’t know about the baby, Mother. I have no intention of telling him and I don’t want anyone else doing it for me. I shan’t be seeing him again. Ever.’ She looked at her father. ‘I want your promise.’
For a moment he looked as if he would challenge her. Then, catching his wife’s eye, he nodded. ‘All right, Rosie. Have it your own way. We’ll do everything we can for you, you know that.’
It was odd. She had hated Jack calling her Rosie because it reminded her of her absent father. Now it was her father reminding her of Jack. It took every ounce of self-control to hold herself together, but she made it, just, and managed to smile as well.
‘All I want from you right now, is a hand with this tape measure so that I can get on with finding a buyer for this house,’ she said, firmly changing the subject. ‘Have you looked at anything in Melchester yet?’
‘No. We were thinking of something a bit smaller. But perhaps now...well, we might look for something we could all share together. What do you say?’
‘No, Dada. I have to live my own life. So do you.’
He turned to his wife for support.
‘Rose will do exactly as she wants. She always has.’ She didn’t add “like her father”. She didn’t have to.
Rose and her father exchanged a guilty look and crept off to measure up the rest of the house.
But despite the awkward revelation of her pregnancy it had been a happy weekend. She was quite sorry when Sunday evening came and it was time to go back to the flat.
Rich Parry carried her bag to the car. ‘The club is re-opening next week, Rosie. We’ve a supper concert planned, a lot of old friends are playing. Will you come?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, Dada.’
He shrugged. ‘Seems a pity. It’ll be fun. And I doubt there’s any danger of Jack turning up for it, do you?’
‘Frankly, no. His office don’t expect him back for six months at least.’
‘You have tried to speak to him, then?’
‘Only about business. And I shan’t do that again.’ She stopped by the car. ‘I did mean what I said. I don’t want him to know about the baby.’ She shivered, slightly. She wasn’t a fool. She knew how hard it was going to be. She’d spent the past week working out the financial situation. In extremis she might finally have conceded to common sense and applied to Jack for assistance. Until she had spoken to Fulton.
‘I gave you my word, Rosie.’
‘I know you’ll keep it.’
‘Then come to the club. For me. Your mother has graciously agreed to come. You would be company for her. Bring Sarah and her boyfriend too. Make up a party.’ He gave her arm a little shake. ‘Life doesn’t stop, sweetheart.’
‘Of course it doesn’t. In fact, I’ll do better than that. I’ll bring everyone from the office. They all deserve a treat. It’s been a long winter.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ He grinned. ‘And look about for a house that can be divided nicely into two.’
She found her staff enthusiastic about a night at the relaunched jazz club. Sarah too, although Matt was away. They arrived early, were given a guided tour by Rich and then settled in some state at a table with a good view of the small stage.
‘It’s lovely, Dada. Transformed,’ she said, as they walked around the buffet, helping themselves to food, accompanied by the music of an enthusiastic young Dutch group.
‘All it took was money and there was no shortage of that.’
‘And a lot of enthusiasm.’
‘That wasn’t in short supply, either. I think your mother is impressed. I thought I’d have to drag her kicking and screaming into this sink of iniquity.’
Rose laughed. ‘Don’t exaggerate. She looks perfectly happy. You both look happy. Are you?’
‘Yes, thank you, my child. We have both of us mellowed a little with the passing years. And looking forward to the prospect of becoming grand—’
‘Shhh! That’s still on the classified list as far as the office is concerned.’
‘Oh, right.’ He glanced at her plate as she turned back to the table. ‘Have you got enough to eat?’
‘Plenty, thanks.’
‘Not hankering for a little salmon mousse?’ he asked, teasing her. ‘I thought it safer to cross it off the caterer’s list.’
‘If I don’t see another one for twenty years it will still be too soon,’ she confessed. Then chuckled. ‘But your lovely club is safe. I have sworn a solemn oath never to throw another plate in my life.’
They rejoined the others at their table, listened to the music. Later, when the dishes had been cleared, it was the turn of the serious musicians. The club was crowded, but when Rich Parry began to play there wasn’t a sound to be heard.
Rose turned to her mother, was stunned to see that proud and somewhat fierce lady sitting with tears streaming down her face. ‘I didn’t know,’ she said. ‘Heaven help me, I didn’t know he was that good.’ Afterwards, when the enraptured audience finally let him go, her mother excused herself and hurried backstage.
There was a moment’s hiatus in the proceedings. The stage remained in darkness. People began to shift in their seats. Then there was a note. Almost undetectable. Low at first. Low, blue, heart-stoppingly intense. It grew out of the darkness, cli
mbing steadily, rising and the audience held its collective breath. Waiting. Then the sound burst upwards, outwards, filled the room and the narrow beam of the spotlight finally fell on the black-clad figure bent over the saxophone, touching the darkness of his hair, gleaming off the instrument, only his face was left in shadow.
Alone on the stage, propped casually on a tall stool, Jack played as if no one else in the world could hear him.
Rose wanted to run. Escape. Hide from him and the sweet, searching music. But she couldn’t. She was pinned to her seat by long, haunting minor chords that evoked every feeling, every gesture of the man. It was as if he was making love to her through music. His hands played the keys as if they were her body, sure of his touch, tormenting and tender by turns. Stroking every last response from her, every final gasp of pleasure until she could stand no more and crashed headlong into oblivion.
* * *
Her eyes half opened, her lids flickering uncertainly against the light. It was too bright and she closed them again. ‘She’s coming round.’ It was her father’s voice.
The door opened and the room fell silent. ‘What happened?’ His voice was hard. Almost unrecognisable.
‘She fainted,’ Rich Parry answered, sharply. ‘She’s had a shock. What the devil did you think you were playing at, turning up unannounced and helping yourself to the stage the minute my back was turned? I promised her you wouldn’t be here tonight.’
‘A little presumptuous of you, Rich. This is my club, after all. It was always my intention to play on the opening night, even if I had to find out the date second-hand from someone who had been offered a gig.’
A groan escaped her lips. She didn’t want it to. She just wanted to lie very still with her eyes tight shut until the nightmare went away. A cool hand touched her forehead in a familiar gesture. ‘She’s very pale. Have you called a doctor?’
‘Of course I have. He’ll be here any moment.’
The door opened and Rose finally opened her eyes as her wrist was grasped by a professional and the doctor smiled down at her. ‘This is no way to look after yourself, young lady. You should be at home with your feet up. I told you to take it easy for the first few months.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose there’s much harm done.’ He shone a light in her eyes. ‘Did anyone see her fall? Did she knock her head?’
‘She just sort of slithered to the floor. She’d had a bit of a shock,’ Sarah said, tightly and scowled at the perpetrator.
‘I’m all right,’ she protested. ‘Don’t make a fuss. I just want to go home.’
‘Best place for you, but just lie still for a moment while I take a look at you.’
He ushered everyone from the room, checked her over. When he was satisfied he opened the door. ‘Mr Drayton? Will you come in?’
‘No!’ But Sarah and her parents melted away. Only Jack stood leaning against the door, white-faced, silent. She lay back and closed her eyes again, unable to bear it.
‘Take her home young man and tuck her up in bed. You know where to call me if you have any worries. I know she’ll be in capable hands.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll see you at the clinic next week. In the meantime, no more gallivanting. We want to deliver this little package safe and sound.’
‘I wasn’t gallivanting...’
‘Goodnight to you both.’ The door shut behind him and for a long while there was silence.
When she found the strength to open her eyes, Jack was still staring at her. ‘Where’s Harlowe?’ he asked, quietly. ‘He never seems to be around when he’s needed.’
A tiny frown of concentration wrinkled her forehead. ‘Why would Anthony be here? He doesn’t like jazz.’
‘So you came without him? Is it that bad already? Well, I did warn you.’ The words were bitter.
Her head was throbbing and the light was still too bright. He wasn’t making any sense, but it was too much effort to sort it out.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded.
‘I imagine the doctor assumed I’m the father of the child you’re carrying. Hardly surprising since he saw me with you day and night while you had the flu. He presumably thought we were living together. It doesn’t matter. You can to disabuse him when you attend his ante natal clinic. It should give you both a good laugh.’
‘Laugh?’ She sat up. Too quickly. Swearing at her stupidity, he caught her and laid her back down. ‘I don’t know why you think it’s funny, Jack,’ she said, crossly, but her voice was too weak to have any impact. ‘There is nothing funny about pregnancy. It’s really very serious.’
‘Reserve your complaints for your husband.’ He stood back, his eyes blanked of expression. ‘I think I’d better go before he comes to collect you. I’m not in the mood to run into him right now.’
She pulled herself back up, fighting the dizziness. ‘Jack!’
He turned, his fingers around the door handle, his voice cold as a glacier. ‘I really don’t think there’s anything else left to say, do you?’
Temper flared dangerously. ‘There’s plenty left to say, Jack Drayton.’ She had finally made it to her feet and stood clutching the end of the sofa, but the room was swaying about her.
‘I’d like to help you, Rosie. But you left my bed to keep your promise to your precious Anthony. I should have remembered that you always keep your promises and you never made any to me. Not in words.’ His face was livid against the black open-necked shirt, the dark hair. ‘But I still don’t understand how you could have done that. After the night we spent together.’ He took a step towards her. ‘How you could still go to him. I tried to stop you. When I woke up and realised you’d gone, I came after you but I was too late. You were already married.’
‘So you left?’ She said it almost to herself. It was true. She hadn’t imagined it. He thought she had married Anthony. ‘You went back to the Lodge and packed and left.’ With understanding came hope, just a little of it, but enough to send her heart into an agitated clamour.
‘Of course I left. What did you want me to do, stand around and cheer? Wish you luck? Throw a little confetti?’
‘You should have. Oh, Jack, you should have.’ She took a step towards him, held out her hands. ‘Hold me.’
He seized her shoulders, kept her at arms length. ‘What sort of game is this, Rosie? You made your decision. It’s too late to change your mind. I have strict rules about messing with other men’s wives.’
‘Noble.’ She smiled. ‘I said so.’
His face creased with concern as her legs finally gave up the unequal task and began to buckle beneath her and he swung her into her arms and laid her once more on the sofa.
‘Are you really okay?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Shall I get the doctor back? He may not have left.’
‘I don’t need a doctor, Jack. I just need you.’
He looked haunted. For the first time she noticed how drawn he looked. Hollow-eyed. ‘Rosie, please don’t—’
She reached up and placed one finger across his lips. ‘I didn’t marry Anthony Harlowe. When I met him in the Napier it was to explain that I couldn’t marry him after all because I had fallen in love with someone else.’ That sounded very bold but this was no time for games. No time to take a chance that he might not understand. ‘He, poor love, was thoroughly relieved. He had been thrown into Julie’s company—’
‘Julie?’
‘My secretary. You’ve met her at the office. Thirtyish, fair hair, about my height?’
‘What about her?’
‘When I was sick Anthony saw rather a lot of her.’ She giggled. ‘In fact, I had the impression from Julie that he saw all of her. Not that it matters, because he married her instead of me.’
‘You’re not married...’ He looked as if he had been hit with a sand-bag. ‘But I saw you…’
‘You saw Julie. I promised her I would go to the ceremony. She didn’t want anyone to think I was resentful that Anthony had dumped me. She has a tidy mind.’
‘I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Jack. I was trying to save myself but I never stood a chance. I was a novice playing the games master.’
He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them. ‘You underrate yourself, my love. There’s a great deal to be said for untutored enthusiasm.’ He very gently, almost fearfully, laid his hand upon her abdomen. ‘The baby is mine?’
She nodded and in the most tender, most heart-touching gesture, he bent and kissed her there.
‘Will you marry me, Rosie?’ he asked.
‘Because of the baby?’
‘No, because I love you. Because I fell in love with a photograph of a laughing red-headed girl very early one morning in a bar in New Orleans. We’d played, talked and then got drunk together and Rich started to tell me about his family. How he missed them, how he could never go back. How you could never go back. I didn’t understand that. Not until I woke up and found myself alone and the girl I loved married to someone else.’
‘You saw my picture and came to look for me?’ she asked, stunned.
‘Oh yes, my love, I came to look for you and Rich made it easy. It was your birthday soon, he said. Could I call and say hello from your Dada.’
‘He told me that.’
‘And there you were. Not a girl any more. More lovely, more desirable. A woman. A woman apparently about to marry someone else.’
‘For a life of comfort and ease?’ she felt sure enough now, to tease him a little.
‘It seemed likely. You can hardly blame me for thinking it.’
‘You were wrong, Jack. I was going to marry Anthony because he offered emotional security. He would never walk away...’
‘No?’ he asked. ‘Then what’s he doing married to someone else?’
‘I was the one who walked away, Jack.’
‘Why?’ There was an urgency about the question, a need…