Love Without Lies

by Lee Wilkinson

Thinking of her friend, she reached for the phone. It would be the early hours of the morning in England, so she couldn’t tell Eve what she’d done, but she could leave a message.

  Having tapped in the familiar number, she waited for the answering machine to cut in, then said, ‘Eve, it’s Maddy. I’ve managed to get a seat on a flight leaving Boston tomorrow night. I’ll ring tomorrow afternoon, when you’re home from work, and give you the details. Bye for now.’

  Then, her head throbbing dully, she emailed Katie to tell her the news, before putting on her nightdress and going through to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

  She had been sleeping badly lately, but, now she had come to a decision and taken the first positive step towards going home, she should be able to sleep better, she told herself bracingly as she climbed into bed.

  For months she had tried not to think about Rafe, but, as though the decision to go back to London had opened the floodgates of memory, she found herself doing just that.

  She could see in her mind’s eye how his thick, sooty lashes brushed his hard cheeks when he looked down…how his clear green eyes could go silvery with laughter, or dark and smoky with desire…how the creases in his lean cheeks—too male to be called dimples—deepened when he smiled.

  She remembered how generous and caring he had been. How willing to give and take, to compromise. Remembered too how masterful and resourceful he could be when he thought it necessary. She had been at the Mayfair clinic one Friday evening when, returning early from what she knew had been a tiring business trip, he’d phoned to suggest that they had dinner together.

  Having agreed to work later than usual, and unwilling to keep him hanging about, she had said no, and arranged to meet him the next day for lunch. She had then spent the rest of the evening regretting her decision, and wishing she’d said yes.

  When she had left for home, he was waiting for her. Leaning nonchalantly against his Porsche, wearing casual clothes and, though the sun had gone down, sunglasses, he had straightened at her approach and moved purposefully to bar her way.

  Her heart had leapt and gladness fizzed through her like champagne.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ As he took her arm and drew her towards the car, she added lightly, ‘And why the shades?’

  ‘This is an abduction, doll,’ he said in the accent of an American film gangster.

  ‘Good gracious! Didn’t I ought to scream?’

  ‘If I was following the script, I should say menacingly, “Not if you know what’s good for you”.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘On the other hand, it would give me an excuse to kiss you,’ he drawled laconically.

  Lifting her face, she asked demurely, ‘Do you need an excuse?’

  ‘An invitation’s better. Not that I really need either.’ Bending his dark head, he kissed her with a hungry passion that showed how much he’d missed her.

  Then, as though his lips couldn’t bring themselves to part from hers, he murmured between soft, baby kisses, ‘I can’t wait to make love to you. I’ve thought about nothing else while I’ve been away.

  ‘This afternoon, in Paris, I brought an important board-meeting to an early close because I couldn’t concentrate. I kept imagining I was undressing you, touching you, feeling your response… I couldn’t wait to get back, to make it all happen…’

  A little breathlessly, she asked, ‘So what are we doing standing here?’

  ‘That’s a good question.’

  He hurried her into the car and, sliding in beside her, started the engine.

  When they turned down an unfamiliar road, she queried, ‘Where are we going?’

  Sounding happy and carefree, he told her, ‘To a little inn called the Woolpack. It’s right off the beaten track and no one will care if we stay in bed for the entire weekend.’

  ‘Oh, but I…’

  He glanced at her sharply. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell me you have other commitments?’

  Judging from his tone, if she said yes it would precipitate a showdown, and she wasn’t prepared.

  Brushing guilt aside, she decided that just for once she could miss her usual weekend visits to the nursing home.

  Never easy at telling lies, she swallowed and said, ‘I was going to say I haven’t got a toothbrush or any clean undies.’

  She felt him relax.

  ‘That’s all been taken care of,’ he told her. ‘I paid a visit to your flat and picked up what I thought you might need.’

  Giving her a wicked sidelong glance, he added, ‘I didn’t bother to pack a nightie.’

  The carefree mood was back, and with a little sigh, she rested her head lightly against his arm for a moment. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  He gave her knee a brief squeeze. ‘Next time I have to go to Paris I’d like you with me.’

  By the time they arrived at the Woolpack, a blue dusk was spreading gauzy veils over the countryside and bats were flittering about.

  The lamplit inn, a lopsided, half-timbered black and white building with overhanging eaves and tall, crooked chimneys, looked as if it belonged in some Charles Dickens novel.

  They were greeted by a plump and smiling landlady who showed them up to a small room under the eaves with a tiny en suite bathroom and black oak floorboards that creaked at every step.

  The ceiling sloped steeply, and the low casement windows were thrown open to the balmy night air. A high, old-fashioned double bed, with a goose-feather mattress and sheets that smelled of lavender, took up most of the space.

  A tray with a bottle of champagne and a plate of hors d’oeuvres was waiting by the bedside.

  When they had thanked the landlady she wished them a cheerful, ‘Goodnight,’ and bustled away.

  Rafe dropped their bags on a low chest and helped Madeleine out of her light jacket, before shedding his own. Then, glancing at the tray, he queried, ‘Hungry?’

  ‘Yes. But not for food.’

  He gave a low growl and, sweeping her into his arms, carried her over to the bed.

  Even though his need was every bit as urgent as hers, he didn’t hurry as he stripped off first her clothes and then his own and joined her.

  Her arms went round his neck while his hands shaped and moulded her, clasping her hips to pull her firmly against his lower body, before making love to her with an unleashed passion that sent her up in flames.

  When the heated rapture settled into a contented glow they lay in bed, kissing occasionally and feeding each other delicacies between sips of champagne.

  It was lovely and romantic, and Madeleine had never been happier.

  Afterwards, as though they couldn’t get enough of one another, they had made love again, and again, and, reliving that night, all the pleasure and warmth, she found herself trapped in a sensual haze.

  Only when the haze cleared and she realised she was alone was the warmth replaced by such bleak desolation that she felt like crying.

  Though what good would crying do? It was over. All in the past. She must forget Rafe. Forget the way he had made her feel. Forget the happiness he had brought her. Dismiss him from her thoughts and not look back.

  But that was easier said than done.

  After a restless night spent tossing and turning, she woke next morning heavy-eyed and unrefreshed, still feeling cold inside.

  Jumping out of bed, she headed for the bathroom. But, while a hot shower heated her skin, it failed to cure that inner chill of loss.

  When her aunt and uncle returned from church and asked her to join them for lunch, she broke the news that she had refused Alan’s proposal and was returning to England.

  Though they were sorry to lose her, they accepted her decision without attempting to change her mind… Grateful to them both, she kissed them and thanked them sincerely for all they’d done.

  Then, after writing and posting a short, difficult letter to Alan, she tidied her room and packed her few belongings.

  Her cases zipped and ready, she made herself a pot of tea and was
just reaching for the phone to call Eve, when it rang, making her jump.

  Wondering if it might be Alan, she answered cautiously, ‘Hello?’

  ‘Maddy?’

  ‘Eve! I was just going to ring you. I presume you got the message I left?’

  ‘Yes, I did. Now, that’s what I call getting a move-on. How did Alan react when you told him you couldn’t marry him? You have told him, I presume?’

  ‘Yes, I told him last night. He refused to take no for an answer.’ Madeleine sighed.

  ‘In that case you’re doing the right thing. You need to get out of there as quickly as possible for both your sakes. How did your aunt and uncle take it?’

  ‘Better than I’d expected. They’re disappointed, of course, but they didn’t try to put pressure on me.’

  ‘Thank the lord for small mercies. Now for my news. As soon as I got to the clinic I checked through the requests for physiotherapy. There was nothing that seemed up your street. Quite disappointing really.

  ‘Then just before I was due to go home I had a phone call from a Mrs Rampling, who desperately needs help. Her husband had a stroke some three months ago, and at the same time fractured his hip. She’s worried that he’s making very little progress. It seems he’s a difficult man who hates hospitals and clinics, but he’s agreed to have a physiotherapist treat him at home.

  ‘She told me that what she really needs is someone who would be willing to live in for as long as it takes to give him a better quality of life.’

  ‘Where do the Ramplings live?’

  ‘I gather that at the moment they’re living in Kent, in a big house near the village of Hethersage.

  ‘Apart from the fact that Mr Rampling can be ‘uncooperative’, I must say that it sounds like a good bet. The salary she mentioned is generous in the extreme, and you’d have your own self-contained accommodation. Interested?’

  Without hesitation, Madeleine said, ‘Very.’

  ‘Then perhaps you should give her a ring? If you can find a pen and paper, here’s the number…’

  When Madeleine rang the number Eve had given her, a woman’s pleasant voice repeated the number, then added, ‘Harriet Rampling speaking.’

  ‘Mrs Rampling, it’s Madeleine Knight.’

  ‘Oh, Miss Knight… How good of you to ring me so promptly. I gather from Miss Collins that you’re still in the States?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘If the salary I suggested is acceptable, would you be willing to come to us on your return? For a trial period at least?’

  ‘Yes, certainly,’ Madeleine answered eagerly.

  ‘Oh, that is good news!’

  ‘I understand you live in Kent, near Hethersage?’

  ‘Yes, we’ve been living there since my husband came out of hospital. Normally we live in London, but we’re having our house at Regent’s Park extensively altered, to make life easier for George. Until it’s finished, which looks like being several more weeks, our son suggested we stay with him at Hethersage Hall.

  ‘It is a good-sized place and we have our own ground-floor accommodation. There’s also a comfortable self-contained flat we hoped might be suitable for you. It’s not huge, but it does have a reasonable living room, a bedroom, a kitchen and an outside stairway which gives some degree of privacy.’

  Then a shade anxiously, ‘I think you’ll like it.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ Madeleine concluded.

  She heard a distinct sigh of relief before Mrs Rampling went on, ‘You can either eat with us or do your own thing, whichever suits you. I gather you’re returning to England quite soon?’

  ‘I’m leaving Boston tonight. I should be arriving in London tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Do you have any immediate plans? Anyone you want to spend Christmas with before you come to us?’

  While Madeleine knew that Eve would make her welcome, she also knew there was very little room in the small flat. And now Dave had moved in, and Noel was sleeping there, it would be quite impossible.

  Added to that, Eve and Dave and Noel and Zoe made a foursome. She would be the odd one out. It wasn’t a situation she fancied. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘You have no family?’

  ‘No. My mother died just over a year ago, and my father’s in California. I shall probably book into a hotel until after the holiday.’

  ‘Perhaps you want to stay in London…?’

  ‘Not particularly,’ Madeleine added.

  ‘Then wouldn’t it make more sense to come straight to the hall?’

  Tempted, Madeleine hesitated. The thought of spending the holiday alone in a hotel wasn’t particularly appealing, and, now that she’d splurged on a first-class ticket, money was even tighter than she had anticipated.

  ‘Well, I…I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family over Christmas.’

  ‘My dear, of course you wouldn’t be intruding… Though, as a matter of fact, George and I are flying up to Scotland first thing tomorrow morning. We’re staying with our son and daughter over Christmas and the New Year.’ Her excitement evident, she added, ‘They have a brand-new baby boy, and both George and I are looking forward immensely to seeing our latest grandson.’

  Then, getting back to practicalities, ‘Our being away from the hall will give you breathing space, and also a good chance to settle into your flat. What do you say?’

  It would be ideal in some ways, Madeleine thought, though it would leave her with Mrs Rampling’s other son and his family. Unless they too were going away?

  But even if they weren’t, she needn’t feel she was intruding. The flat was self-contained, so she could keep herself to herself.

  ‘In that case I’ll be happy to, if you’re sure that arrangement suits you, and your son won’t mind?’

  ‘Quite sure. That’s all settled, then.

  ‘Mary Boyce, the housekeeper, will have everything ready for you, and if you can tell me your flight number and what time you’re due to land, we’ll send Jack, Mary’s husband, to pick you up.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Madeleine gave her the information.

  Sounding warm and friendly, Mrs Rampling added, ‘Do make yourself at home. Though it will be January before we actually meet, I’m looking forward to it. Have a good flight.’

  ‘Goodbye, and thank you again.’

  Relieved and excited, Madeleine quickly called Eve to give her the good news and thank her.

  ‘What are friends for?’ she asked. Then, with more than a hint of uncertainty, ‘But are you sure you want to give this a shot? After all, you don’t really know what you’ll be letting yourself in for.’

  ‘Hey, everything’s arranged. Don’t try and talk me out of it now. It’s much too late.’

  Then curiously, ‘You seemed to be all in favour earlier. Why have you changed your mind?’

  ‘At the time I was quite convinced it was in your best interests, but now I…I can’t help having second thoughts.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be fine.’

  Still sounding anxious, unlike herself, Eve said, ‘I just hope everything turns out all right. But if it doesn’t work, you can always come to us, you know. We’ll manage somehow.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

  ‘Now, don’t forget, if you’re not happy with the situation, let me know straight away.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AFTER a technical fault that made the big jet almost two hours late getting airborne, the flight was smooth and uneventful.

  Madeleine could never sleep on planes, and after so many disturbed nights she was feeling shattered by the time they landed.

  The formalities over, she changed her dollars into pounds and, bearing in mind the warnings she had received, slipped half the money into her handbag and the other half into her flight bag.

  Both bags on her shoulder, she was heading for the exit when a uniformed chauffeur approached her and queried, ‘Miss Knight?’

  Wondering how he had managed to pic
k her out of such a crowd, she answered, ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Mrs Rampling asked me to meet you.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve had to wait so long.’

  ‘That’s all right, miss,’ he said politely. ‘When I discovered the flight was running late I used the time to get some breakfast. Now, if you’ll come with me, miss, the car’s waiting outside.’ She willingly surrendered the unwieldy baggage trolley and followed his short, thick-set figure out to a sleek grey limousine.

  It was a bitterly cold, curiously still day, with a sky that gleamed grey and pearly, as iridescent as the inside of a mussel shell.

  After the warmth of the terminal, Madeleine found herself starting to shiver in the bleak air. But with a speed and efficiency she could only admire she was installed in the luxurious car, and her luggage stowed away.

  The comfortable seats were covered in soft fawn leather and it was pleasantly warm. Almost before they were clear of the airport, lack of sleep catching up on her, her eyelids began to droop and she slipped into a doze.

  When she surfaced they were travelling along a quiet country road with skeletal trees on one side and an old lichen-covered wall on the other.

  Stifling a yawn, she sat up straighter and looked around her just as they reached a stone-built gatehouse with tall, barley-sugar chimneys and mullioned windows.

  As they turned towards the entrance, a pair of black ornamental gates slid aside at their approach and closed behind them.

  Rolling parkland stretched away on either side as they followed a serpentine drive that ran between high, mossy banks.

  Hethersage Hall, hidden from sight until they had rounded the final bend, was wrapped snugly in a fold in the hills. It was a homely, rambling place, not at all stiff and starchy as its name suggested.

  The walls were mellow stone, the roofs a natural slate. Half a dozen gables peaked and sloped at various odd angles, yet the whole thing had a charming symmetry. There were diamond-leaded windows and an oak front door that was metal-studded and silvery with age.

  When the car drew to a halt on the cobbled apron and the chauffeur helped Madeleine out, the door was opened wide and a small, plump woman with curly grey hair appeared, smiling a greeting.