Scorpio Summer

by Jacqueline Gilbert

  'And I'm to swoon with thankfulness, I suppose?' she asked at last. She lifted her eyes to his face and saw an unexpected pallor round his mouth. No, she thought, he's not used to apologizing and doesn't like it.

  'You have every right to be scathing,' he said slowly, 'although knowing your strong sense of justice I'm sure you'll grant that I had some justification in thinking what I did.'

  She shook her head wonderingly and gave a laugh. 'Isn't it fine! Two seconds of your apology and you're saying it wasn't your fault!'

  'That wasn't quite what I said, but you have a point.' Felix pushed away his cup and felt in his pocket, bringing out a case and lighter. He offered her a cigarette which she refused, and taking one for himself, he lighted it, his eyes upon her face. Drawing deeply on the cigarette and looking at her through the smoke, he added: 'I was angry that night, as angry as I've been for a long while, and said things that must have distressed you deeply.'

  'Two-faced bitch?' suggested Frances.

  'Yes, well, at the time, things seemed to be in favour of such a label. I'm sorry. As I say, I was angry, and because generally I'm under control, when I do unleash things tend to happen. I'm not proud of myself.' He stretched out a hand for an ashtray from the next table. 'Aren't you interested in why I should now have this volte-face?'

  Frances lifted a shoulder. 'I suppose you've spoken to Mark.'

  He ignored her uninterested voice and continued factually .

  'I journeyed into Scotland last week to make the acquaintance of my new nephew—two weeks early and causing panic and confusion all round. Mark and I went out to celebrate the baby's arrival and as the whisky flowed so did Mark's confidences. He became garrulous and retrospective, and although I didn't consciously encourage him, I didn't stop him either, especially when he came to the relevant parts so far as you were concerned. He talked of many things during our alcoholic orgy, and rather naturally, because Chichester was really the turning point for both Mark and Jessica, that came up among a welter of reminiscences.' Felix paused for a moment, as if marshalling his thoughts. 'To understand fully I shall have to explain my relationship with my twin. I've always felt a responsibility towards Jessica. I've dragged her out of innumerable scrapes and I suppose she's come to rely on me too much in that way, hence her cry for help when things between her and Mark became sticky— I didn't want to interfere, I value Mark's friendship too much, but the ties of twinship were too strong.' He lifted his hands expressively. 'Jessica is intelligent and amusing, capable of deep feeling, but I'm afraid we Scorpions tend to like our own way. Now that's all right if you're answerable only to yourself, but when Jess married Mark she had to adjust and didn't find it easy.' He ground out his unfinished cigarette and frowned down at his hands, held loosely before him, elbows resting on his knees.

  'I've known Mark for so many years, long before he and Jess met, that I suppose he felt he could tell me things that a brother-in-law would normally keep to himself— and he knows I haven't always approved of Jessica's actions. The most important thing that came out of his ramblings, so far as I was concerned, was that you left Chichester before he did, more or less encouraging him to give his marriage another chance.'

  'How did my name come into things?' Frances felt compelled to ask.

  'Initially because ofPenruth. He was astounded that we'd been working together and from talking about your acting talent he slid easily into his feelings for you as a person. It was then that I found that what I'd taken to be an illicit meeting arranged between you both, was, in fact, an impulsive one on his side to ease his conscience.' Felix sat up and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head in barely concealed exasperation. 'Why didn't you explain the situation to me, Frances . . .?'

  'I doubt you would have believed me, the rage you were in,' she broke in swiftly. 'And why should I have done so? If you thought I was the sort of person to have an affair with a married man then I didn't care what you thought!'

  Liar, of course you cared, she told herself scornfully.

  'You became rather angry for someone who didn't care,' he replied thoughtfully.

  'Oh well, I suppose I did, in a way,' she said crossly. 'I thought we'd become friends over the weeks of working together. I respected your professional opinion of me . . .' she stopped. This was dangerous. 'No one likes to be called names,' she added shortly.

  There was silence between them for a moment and then Felix said:

  'Yes, I can understand that. Can you understand that knowing you were the girl involved with Mark at Chichester, and seeing him visit you secretly at your flat, it was quite credible for me to jump to the wrong conclusions?' He held her gaze and she eventually dropped her eyes to her hands, clenched in her lap.

  I suppose it was,' she admitted, and he sat back, satisfied.

  'Thank you for allowing me to have my say, Frances. I selfishly hope that you're going to accept my apology.' He lightened his voice deliberately. 'We Scorpions don't like being proved wrong; it doesn't sit well with our personality. I'll even grovel on the floor if you really want me to,' he added persuasively.

  Many a night had Frances lain in bed imagining Felix doing just that, with herself standing haughtily over him, but now, somehow, the idea didn't appeal and she said wearily.

  'Oh, of course I'll accept your apology, Felix. It all seems so unimportant now and not worth bothering about.'

  His eyes narrowed and he replied deliberately: 'Aren't you glad that our misunderstanding has been cleared up?'

  She shrugged. 'I suppose so.'

  He nodded slowly. 'Rather stupid of me to expect that it should mean as much to you as to myself.' He rose to his feet. 'I hope you won't take your disappointment in me to extend to my mother. She is genuinely fond of you, Frances, and if you can spare the time to look in on her now and again . . .' He left the sentence unfinished and Frances stood up without replying.

  They began to walk towards the lounge exit.

  'Did you watchPenruth while you were in Leeds?' Felix asked, and Frances turned in surprise.

  'How did you know where I was?'

  'Through Gareth, who had it from Zoe,' he explained, holding open the door and following her through.

  'Oh, I see. Yes, I did,' she replied absently, realizing that the escape to Leeds was no escape at all. 'Were you pleased with the favourable response from the critics?' she asked, making an effort for normality as they collected her coat.

  'I'm never fully satisfied with anything I do and can always wish I'd done something differently, but I was able to watch it without squirming too much.' He paused. 'I understand Julian has had quite a number of offers of work resulting from it.'

  'Has he? That's good. What is he doing now, do you know?' There was silence and she turned to him, thinking Felix hadn't heard, ready to ask the question again, but was forestalled by him saying slowly:

  'He's at the National. I assumed you would have known that.'

  Frances stared. 'No. Why should I?'

  'I thought you were on close terms with Raynor,' Felix said mildly, and Frances found it necessary to say evenly:

  'Julian is a good friend, but a Christmas card is all the correspondence we share.'

  'I see. And what about you, Frances?'

  'Oh,Penruth has more than paid off so far as my career is concerned, so like Mark, you can scrub me off your conscience.' They were, by now, on the steps of the hotel and pulling her coat together Frances said coolly: 'Goodbye, Felix. I suppose this meeting between us had to be made, at some time or another.'

  'Can I get you a taxi? It looks as though it's going to rain.'

  'No, thank you, I'd rather walk.' She held out her hand with finality and he took it, searching her face with a deeply penetrating look before nodding slightly, and saying formally.

  'Goodbye, Frances . . . and good luck.'

  She ran down the steps and began to walk swiftly home.

  There was a message on the pad from Zoe when she reached the flat. It read: 'Age
ncy rang. Someone needs a Rosalind. Ring back and confirm availability—urgent. Looks like this is goodbye again! Zoe.'

  Frances rang the agency, confirmed that she had played in As You Like It before, that she was available to leave at once, and in less than two hours was on the train for Nottingham.

  Frances was with the Playhouse for three months and the pretty violet-blue flowers of the clematis were in full bloom around the front door of Lady Ravenscar's house when she finally decided to pay her a visit.

  Simkin admitted her, showing her into the long, gracious room, and then surprised her by saying:

  'Lady Ravenscar is not at home at present, Miss Heron. She is with Miss Jessica in Edinburgh.'

  'Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't realize . . . yes, of course, she must be so pleased about the arrival of her new grandson. Well, perhaps you could tell her I called and . . .'

  'Do you wish to see Mr Felix?' Simkin asked deferentially, and Frances' mind went blank, quite unable to produce an excuse that would sound convincing on the spur of the moment.

  'Is he here ? Oh, well . . . perhaps he's busy ? I mean, I don't ..'.' She trailed off beneath Simkin's patient look and added feebly: 'If it's convenient, Simkin.'

  He inclined his head and left the room quietly.

  There wasn't much time for her to collect her scattered wits. Almost immediately the door opened and her panic changed to surprise.

  'Why, Gareth! You here as well? How are you?’

  Gareth took her hands and held them for a moment, smiling, before replying: 'I'm fine, Frances, and there's no need for me to ask how you are, I can see for myself that you're looking very well! Zoe told me you were working hard at the Playhouse. How did it go?'

  'Not too badly, considering my initiation was only one rehearsal with a full cast before going on—live dangerously, that's me!' she replied, laughing as she remembered stepping into the shoes of an actress who had fallen ill on the eve of curtain-up. 'But the plays that followed were not so nerve-racking.' She eyed him with renewed interest. 'You've seen Zoe recently?'

  'Yes, indeed. We enjoyed a very good meal together last night, as a matter of fact,' Gareth answered blandly, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. 'Simkin says you want to see Felix?'

  'No!' exclaimed Frances, rather too quickly. 'I came to see Lady Ravenscar, but as she's in Edinburgh Simkin suggested I should see Felix, but if he's busy I. . .'

  'I wouldn't say he was busy,' Gareth broke in, looking at her closely. 'You haven't seen Zoe since you arrived back?' he asked slowly.

  'Why, yes, I have briefly. We've not had a chance to talk much.' She frowned at his expression and asked a puzzled: 'Why?'

  'You obviously haven't heard about the accident.'

  A cool hand of fear gripped her heart. 'What accident?' she breathed, and time was suspended for his answer.

  'The one Felix was involved in,' Gareth explained, and taking a startled look at her face, added abruptly: 'Frances! Good heavens, girl, come and sit down!'

  Frances felt as if her legs had turned to jelly and was aware of the knowledge that she must not faint. Her heart was pounding and her throat swelled and tightened. She was thankful for Gareth's support to the chair and the next thing was to find a glass in her hand and his voice coming from far away, ordering her to drink it slowly.

  She did so blindly, his voice becoming stronger. 'Look, Frances, there's no need to panic. It's all over and done with now—at least, the worrying part,' and when Frances dared venture a look at his face she found herself blushing beneath the kindly concern shown there.

  'I'm sorry, Gareth. I suppose I . . ." She stopped. Excuses were going to be pointless after that little give away. 'What has happened to him?'

  Gareth seated himself opposite. 'Well now, let me see . . . Felix was driving home late one evening, about a couple of months ago, when he became involved in a police chase. It seems that four youths had broken into a warehouse and had to make a quick getaway, and unfortunately Felix crossed their path. He didn't stand a chance. After hitting the Lancia they crashed into a shop front. Two of them were killed outright.'

  'How dreadful,' Frances said, beginning to shake again. 'And Felix?'

  Gareth leaned forward and removed the glass from her hands, pretending not to notice the state she was in.

  'Felix has been extremely lucky, coming out of it with numerous superficial cuts and bruises, one very deep cut on his forehead and a cracked rib.' He rubbed the side of his nose pensively. 'What did cause us some concern was a splinter of glass that lodged itself in his right eye. He had an emergency operation immediately on arrival at the hospital and it was touch and go whether the eye could be saved. We know now that it has been.' Gareth handed her back the glass and watched her take a sip. 'Margaret has borne up under the strain remarkably well, she's an amazingly resilient old lady, and now that Felix is convalescing and the danger is over I was able to persuade her to go and stay with Jessica for a while.' He stood up and strolled over to the window. 'Will you see him, Frances?'

  'I don't think I. . . He won't want to be bothered . . .'

  Gareth turned quickly, his dark eyes shrewdly appraising her.

  'He knows someone's here,' he said quietly. 'He'll ask who it was.'

  Frances rested her head in her hands, completely unprepared by the force of her emotions and unable to hide them from Gareth. What a fool she was! Only a fool would have kidded herself that Felix meant nothing to her. It didn't matter that all he felt for her was a physical attraction, her feelings may have started off that way, but a deeper feeling had crept up on her, one which she had refused to acknowledge. What a way to find out the truth! The mere thought of Felix hurt was painful and she clung to Gareth's assurance that the danger was over. He wouldn't say that unless . . . Her stomach lurched and she sat up quickly, asking urgently.

  'He is all right, Gareth ? You're not just saying that. . .'

  'In time he'll be almost as good as new. The head wound will leave a scar, but his sight will be unimpaired.'

  Gareth gave an exclamation of concern and crossed to her, and she rose to meet him. Putting his hands on her shoulders he said compassionately: 'Had I the slightest inkling how you felt I would have told you differently, but I had no idea . . .'

  She gave a wobbly smile. 'Neither had I. I'm sorry to be such a fool,' and she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief and blew her nose. 'I wonder why Zoe didn't write and let me know.'

  Gareth frowned in thought. 'I didn't see her myself during the critical week and then I may have mentioned it casually, in passing. We doctors like to leave our work behind us, you know, and if Zoe was not aware of the situation either she probably forgot to mention it.' He paused. 'Will you see him, Frances? I'm sure he'd be pleased if you did.'

  Frances shook her head uncertainly. 'We've met once in nine months, Gareth, and then our relationship was strained.'

  'Nevertheless, the visit from a pretty girl is bound to cheer him up. It gets rather lonely, you know, not being able to see . . .' Gareth allowed the words to linger provocatively between them and watched the indecision change as she replied weakly.

  'Very well, I'll see him if you think . . .'

  'Good!' Gareth broke in quickly before she had second thoughts. 'He's still bandaged, so you needn't worry about how you look—tear-stained, I mean.' He was taking her across the room as he spoke. 'But you'll find that blind people, however temporary, become supersensitive, and voices can be a giveaway.'

  She stopped, halting their progress. 'Gareth, you won't say anything to Felix, will you?' she began awkwardly. 'About me, I mean. It's all on my side, you see, and I couldn't bear for him to know how I feel.'

  He shook his head reproachfully and opened the door.

  Ahead of them, through the library, was the conservatory. 'Felix is out there today, feeling bored, so beware. I'll leave you to him, I was just on my way out when you arrived.' He squeezed her arm. 'Good luck, Frances. 'Bye for now,' and before she could protest she was g
ently pushed towards the conservatory door and found herself alone with Felix.

  'Who was it, Gareth?' Felix asked lazily. He was lying in a reclining lounger, dressed in slacks and sweater, the door to the garden being partially open, letting in the May sunshine. A table by his side held a bowl of fruit and a portable radio, and the daily paper was spread out on the other chair, as if Gareth had been reading from it.

  'Gareth?' Felix said sharply, sitting up during the silence caused by her stunned appraisal of the scene.

  Frances was galvanised into speech and action, walking hesitantly over and saying: 'It's all right, Felix, it's only me. Gareth has left.'

  Felix turned his head in the direction of her voice, body movement suspended, and then he visibly relaxed and answered in a drawling voice:

  'Well, well, so it's only "me", is it? Hullo, Frances, how kind of you to visit.'

  'Hullo, Felix,' Frances replied. Don't think about loving him. She must be rational. Don't think about the way she wanted to rush over and cling to him, to feel his body against hers, to have his hands warm and possessively holding her, his lips seeking her own. Her eyes devoured the lower half of his face, the brown skin curiously opaque, the mouth stretched into a half-smile, as if unsure of himself.

  It was this unsureness, this vulnerability, that was nearly her undoing.

  'No, please, don't get up,' she said hastily, as he began to move. 'How are you, Felix?'

  'As well as can be expected, thank you,' he answered politely, making her desperately sure that she should not have come.

  'I . . . I had no idea . . . none at all, that you'd been in an accident.'

  'Really?'

  He didn't believe her. 'I came to see Lady Ravenscar and Gareth told me,' she explained helplessly.

  'Mother's loss is my gain, it seems.' Felix paused. 'So you didn't know,' he added matter-of-factly.

  'Not a thing. I shall have something to say to Zoe, not writing!''

  He smiled rather wryly. 'I don't believe your friend altogether approves of me. Come here, Frances. I can't bear disembodied voices,' he ordered, stretching out a hand. Frances hesitated momentarily and then stepped forward, placing her own in his grasp. He lifted it to his face, very close to his lips. 'Mmm, you smell nice . . . what is it?'