by Daphne Clair
‘Sholto never said!’ Her voice was hushed, appalled.
‘He didn’t like to talk about it.’
‘I thought he came from a good home!’
‘Depends what you call good, doesn’t it?’ Derek said. ‘They weren’t terribly short of money. Their house was nice, all mod cons. But those aren’t the important things.’
‘No,’ Tara agreed. Love and protection were the most important things for children.
‘Anyway, I think he learned survival strategies as a child. He had a strange ability to distance himself on occasion—it drove the teachers wild. Nothing could reach him, it was as though he wasn’t there.’
‘Yes,’ Tara said. She knew exactly what he meant.
It had frightened her. Sholto, his face filled with icy contempt, stood at the bedroom door that he’d closed with unnatural quiet behind him, while Derek, hastily scrambling into his clothes, had valiantly tried taking all the blame on himself, claiming that he’d taken unfair advantage after Tara, at his instigation, had drunk more than she was used to, that none of it was her fault, and that she’d actually tried to send him away...
‘Are you telling me you tried to rape my wife?’ Sholto asked then, his voice deadly quiet, but his eyes, turned on Derek, made the other man stammer into silence.
Her heart thumping in fear, Tara had intervened. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘It wasn’t like that at all. I... invited Derek in here. It’s all my fault.’
‘That’s very touching,’ Sholto drawled. ‘Both the lovers sticking up for each other!’
‘We’re not lovers,’ Tara said.
‘Oh? Just a one-off, is it? A quickie while you thought my back was turned?’
‘Don’t!’ she choked. ‘Nothing happened, Sholto!’
‘Nothing?’ His eyes had lingered momentarily on the little heap of cotton lying on the floor that was her crumpled dress, the shoes discarded one by one on the carpet, then travelled with insulting precision from her bare feet up the length of her slim legs to the scanty piece of lace and satin that sat low on her hips, and then on past the flimsy camisole she wore, to her face, which by that time was flaming. ‘How disappointing for you. Perhaps you’d like me to leave. Only, as it happens to be my bedroom you’ve chosen for your roll in the hay—to speak euphemistically—I’m afraid I don’t feel inclined to be so tactful.’
Tara looked around wildly and found her favourite floral robe lying over the buttoned brocade tub chair in one corner of the room. She snatched it up and dragged it round her body, tying the sash tightly at her waist. Feeling slightly less at a disadvantage, she said bravely, ‘Supposing something had happened, do you have any right to throw stones?’
Sholto’s mouth thinned. ‘We’re back to that, are we? Is this some kind of childish revenge? I thought you’d been unbelievably stupid, choosing our bedroom for your little fling, but I suppose that was just an added stimulus. You liked the idea of cheating on me in my own bed, did you?’ His lips moved in something dreadfully like a smile.
Derek, fully dressed now, stepped forward and took his arm. ‘Sholto—’
Sholto shook him off. ‘Touch me again and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat,’ he said, his tone almost pleasant. His eyes were still on Tara. ‘Maybe you were hoping I’d walk in on you. Is that what you wanted?
Shocked husband discovers wife in bed with best friend. Sorry I missed the action. But I don’t think I’ll ask for a replay, thanks. Unless you insist—’
‘Look, Sholto—’ Derek began.
‘Get out,’ Sholto interrupted, without looking at him.
Derek looked at Tara, his eyes bothered. ‘I can’t leave you with—’
‘Get—out!’ Sholto repeated, his gaze at last swivelling to Derek’s face. Tara saw Derek flinch. ‘And take her with you.’
‘What?’ Derek blinked.
‘Sholto!’ Tara cried despairingly. ‘I’m sorry, this was stupid, but we can talk—’
He wheeled, turning his back on her, and flung open the bedroom door. ‘Get her out of here,’ he said to Derek. And then, his cold gaze chilling her into silence, he told Tara, ‘I’ll give you ten minutes to pack some clothes. The rest of your belongings will be waiting for you tomorrow.’
‘No!’ It was a cry of pain, but even as she started towards him he shut the door in her face.
Derek caught her arm as she made to reach for the knob. His face white and rigid, he said, ‘It’s no use, Tara. Nobody can talk to him when he’s like this. Get some things together and I’ll find you somewhere to stay—’
‘I’m not going anywhere!’ she cried in dismay. ‘I can’t! He doesn’t mean it!’ she added, panic-stricken. ‘He can’t!’
Derek said soberly, holding her arms firmly, ‘He means it, honey. In his present mood I wouldn’t put it past him to bodily throw you out on the street, dressed or not. Come on.’ He pushed her gently towards the wardrobe. ‘Put some clothes on. Do you have an overnight bag here? You’d better shove some stuff into it...’
Tara obeyed at last, shaking so badly she could barely fasten the blouse that was the first thing that came to hand. She hauled on a pair of jeans, and some Brazilian sandals, telling herself this wasn’t real.
It didn’t feel real, it was like a nightmare, a bad dream from which she was bound to waken. When she’d come into the room with Derek, after sharing a couple of bottles of wine, she’d been feeling warm and muzzy and pleasantly tipsy, and just a little defiant. Now she was rock sober and her body felt tense and shivery.
‘I can’t go,’ she said again, even as, with Derek’s urging, she found some undies and dumped them into the bag he held, along with a nightie. ‘I’ve never seen Sholto this way.’
‘I have,’ Derek said grimly. ‘And believe me, you’re safer out of it.’
‘Safer?’ Tara stood hugging her arms about her shaking body, her eyes wide. ‘Sholto wouldn’t hurt me!’ She’d been frightened for Derek’s physical safety, yes, but not her own.
Derek just looked at her for a second. ‘Do you have something warm to put on?’ he asked.
When she didn’t answer, he opened a couple of drawers himself, rummaged about and tossed her a sweatshirt. ‘Here, this’ll do.’
Automatically she caught it and put it on, but said stubbornly, ‘Derek, stop it! I can’t just walk out with you.’
‘You don’t have a choice,’ he told her. ‘There is no way Sholto is going to let you stay tonight. Maybe when he’s calmed down—’
‘He is calm!’ she objected. He hadn’t even raised his voice. ‘I just need to talk to him—’ She’d tell him she’d been stupidly drunk, that she hadn’t meant any of it, and he’d forgive her. He had to forgive her because he loved her—didn’t he?
‘He won’t listen,’ Derek warned her. ‘And anyway, I’m not leaving you with him. Not now.’
‘But—’
‘Where’s your toothbrush?’ He was walking into the en suite bathroom, holding the overnight bag. ‘Is yours the pink one?’ he called.
‘Oh, damn my toothbrush! This is ludicrous—I tell you, I’m staying here!’
Derek came out of the bathroom. ‘Okay,’ he said almost pityingly. ‘Try talking to him, then. I’ll wait.’ He put the bag down on the floor and leaned against the wall, folding his arms.
Tara cast him a half-despairing, half-exasperated look and went to the door, hesitating a little before opening it.
She walked along the short passageway that led to the large living room, luxuriously carpeted in wall-to-wall mushroom plush pile with a couple of gleaming oriental rugs on top defining the seating areas, one near the big fireplace with its realistic gas-powered fire, the other placed at the bay window that gave a magnificent view of the harbour.
Sholto was by the window, not seated on one of the wide, comfortable armchairs, but standing with a hand in his pocket, gazing out at the blue-green waters of the Waitemata.
He turned as she came into the room, and glanced at his wa
tch.
‘Sholto—’
‘You’re ready?’ he asked, his voice remote, his face quite without expression. ‘Where’s Derek?’
‘Sholto, you don’t really want me to go—like this. You have to listen to me—’
‘Actually, I don’t. I’m sorry to disillusion you, but at this moment what I most want in the entire world is to be shot of your presence. I wouldn’t trust myself to lay hands on you and physically remove you, but if you don’t go, then I will leave. And I think you’ll agree that it would be rather difficult for you to hold me here against my wishes.’
Tara swallowed. ‘You’re being unreasonable and unfair. Can’t we talk about it?’
‘I’m afraid talking about it would be a futile exercise. I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself that it’s my fault I can no longer trust you. In a way you’re right. I should have known better than to marry you in the first place—’
‘Sholto!’
‘It was one of my more major mistakes,’ he said calmly. ‘But even that can be rectified. I’ll see that you’re financially looked after.’
Tara thought she was going to faint. He was talking about divorce! She looked at him, her lips parting in shock, and saw the face of a stranger—a cold, aloof stranger.
As she stared wordlessly, trembling anew and with ice seeping through her veins, he lifted his voice slightly and called in a peremptory voice, ‘Derek!’
Tara heard a movement behind her and Sholto looked over her shoulder, saying, ‘Get her out of here, will you? Out of my home and out of my sight.’
Derek’s arm came protectively about her, and she walked with him to the door as though walking through water, not taking anything in, even after Derek had tucked her into his car, slinging the bag onto the back seat.
He said something to her that she didn’t hear. She should answer him but her tongue seemed to have glued itself to the roof of her mouth. She wasn’t even aware of the worried look he cast her way. Some time later he stopped the car and helped her out, and she went obediently where he led her.
He opened a door and drew her inside, and pushed her gently into a chair, then left the room.
He returned after a few minutes with a cup of strong coffee and she drank it absently, without tasting anything, before she looked up into his anxious eyes and said, ‘This is your place.’
‘You’re not fit to be left in a hotel tonight, and I thought you might not want your friends to know that Sholto threw you out. I have a spare room. It’s yours for as long as you need it, no strings. I promise not to disturb you.’
‘Thank you, Derek,’ she whispered, her lips feeling oddly stiff. ‘I’ve been very silly, haven’t I?’
‘Possibly,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I’ve been pretty stupid myself—and maybe Sholto is the biggest idiot of the three of us. At least you and I know how to acknowledge our mistakes.’
Tara began to shiver again. ‘He said... he s-said he does, too. He...he—oh, Derek! He wants to divorce me!’
Derek held her while she cried, in great, gulping sobs of despair. He rocked her like a child until she laid her head against his shoulder with a sigh of sheer exhaustion. Then he helped her to the bedroom and unpacked for her and left her to get into her nightie and use the bathroom. He brought her aspirin and switched off the light that hurt her reddened, swollen eyes, and left her feeling, if not happier, at least temporarily emptied of emotion.
‘You’ve been good to me, Derek,’ she said now, gazing at the blue expanse of the sea. On this side of the island there was nothing between them and the horizon, a narrow indigo line dividing the water from the hazy sky. The children and their parents were still in the water, but the other adults were drying off on their towels in the sun.
‘I’m very fond of you, Tara,’ he said. ‘At one time I thought I was in love with you, although I knew even then it was no use.’
Turning a troubled gaze on him, she said, ‘In love with me? When?’
‘You hadn’t guessed? Why do you think I ended up in your bedroom with you that day? I’m not in the habit of seducing my friends’ wives, you know. Only, because it was you, I couldn’t resist the opportunity. I felt bad about it, but I rationalised that if Sholto was making you so unhappy that you had to turn to me for solace—well, I guess I tried to tell myself he had it coming.’
‘It was as much my idea as yours—and the wine had quite a lot to do with it. Not that it’s an excuse, but I know I wouldn’t have seen that as a solution to anything if I hadn’t been maudlin drunk and sorry for myself.’
‘I should tell you something,’ Derek said.
‘What?’ She looked at him curiously, struck by a strange note in his voice.
‘A lot of women find a sympathetic ear when they’re feeling unloved and unwanted very seductive,’ he said. ‘I have to confess, you were no exception in that respect.’
‘Do you mean you deliberately planned to—to—?’
‘Get you into bed? It wasn’t that cold-blooded. But for some time I’d been fighting a dire attraction to you, the wife of my best friend, and once you started confiding— I guess the automatic reflexes kicked in. I like women, I like to make love to them.’
‘I know that,’ Tara said softly. ‘But you’re—selective.’ She’d met several of his women friends and they were all mature, attractive, intelligent. His lifestyle was none of her business, but she was glad that he wasn’t the sort to prey on those younger and less experienced than himself.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You didn’t really know much about men before you married Sholto, did you?’
‘I’d dated,’ she said, ‘ever since I was sixteen.’
‘Is that so? And how many of those dates ended up in your bed? Or you in theirs?’ he asked shrewdly.
Tara hunched a shoulder. Until she met Sholto, she’d intended to wait until she was married before giving a man access to her body. ‘None,’ she admitted.
‘That’s what I figured,’ he said. ‘When I told Sholto I’d taken advantage of you, it was nothing but the truth.’
‘But I—I practically begged you to kiss me.’ She flushed, remembering that she’d turned her lips up to him, an irresistible impulse that she hadn’t even tried to analyse until later.
‘Sure. After I’d been cuddling you, stroking you—’
‘Comforting me,’ she said. ‘You were comforting me! I might have been a child.’
‘I knew full well you were no child. I wouldn’t have touched a child the way I was touching you.’ He paused. ‘Do you know at what point the comforting became lovemaking?’
Slowly Tara shook her head.
‘I do. A long time before you realised it. I was very cautious—I didn’t want to frighten you. But I did want to make love to you, I wanted it very badly.’
‘I thought,’ Tara said haltingly, ‘I thought it was because I’d asked you to. I did ask you to take me to the bedroom, didn’t I?’
‘And I wanted to shout hallelujah. I hadn’t dared hope that you’d say it outright. I thought I’d have to suggest it, and I was afraid you’d pull back then.’
‘I nearly did. I was horrified to hear myself say it. But you kissed me again, and—’
‘And something else entered the equation about then, didn’t it?’ Derek guessed. ‘You were going to push me away, but instead you kissed me back almost angrily. You’d decided it would serve Sholto right, hadn’t you?’
Tara gazed down at the sand. ‘I guess you’re right,’ she murmured. ‘I was using you, Derek.’
‘I knew that. I didn’t care. But I should never have tried to make you go through with it. I’m sorry as hell that it wrecked your marriage.’
Tara argued, ‘That wasn’t what wrecked it. None of it would have happened if our marriage hadn’t already been in trouble. If Sholto had been willing to talk, to work through our problems.’
‘He’s never talked about his problems. Not personal ones. I was the closest friend he had at scho
ol, but most of what happened when his parents died I found out from gossip and the newspapers. Sholto never said much about it at all.’
‘I wonder if he talks to Averil.’
‘His new fiancée? She’d be lucky,’ Derek said cynically.
She is, Tara thought, then resolutely pushed the thought away.
Derek said, ‘Do you still believe he was unfaithful?’
About to say yes, Tara hesitated. She’d been so sure at the time that ever since she’d regarded it as a given, just tried not to think about it, as she tried not to think about her marriage at all, because it caused too much pain, and no one liked giving themselves pain. ‘He didn’t really deny it, he just evaded the issue. Said it wasn’t even worth discussing.’
Derek gave a little snort. ‘Typical. Sholto won’t explain himself to anyone. He took the rap for a few things at school that he didn’t do, rather than make excuses for himself.’
‘I suppose he didn’t want to tell tales.’
‘I don’t think the question of telling tales arose at all. He just wouldn’t ever bother to defend himself.’ Derek gave a faintly sour grin. ‘I think some of the teachers decided it was a deliberate ploy to make them feel guilty. One of them used to get so mad he picked on Sholto every time he got the chance.’
‘What did Sholto do?’
‘That’s the odd thing,’ Derek said, frowning. ‘I don’t think he ever tried to retaliate. He was only a kid then, of course, and what can kids do to teachers who bully them? But...I dunno. It was the teacher who was humiliated in the end. He’d go red and start stuttering with rage. And Sholto would just look at him with a kind of smirk on his mouth—very slight, but there. I think it was what the army used to call dumb insolence. Sholto was a master at it. Mind you, it was a different story with other kids. He was known as a fighter. It was one of the things that got him into trouble with the teachers. But in the end all the other kids were scared to take him on.’
‘He was that tough?’ She could well believe it.
Derek was quiet, brooding. ‘There was this day,’ he said finally, ‘when a bigger guy was looking for a fight and he picked on Sholto.’ Derek stopped, shaking his head.