Joanne enjoyed the moments she spent alone with Serena Grant. She was a wise and clever woman, who seldom wasted time on platitudes, preferring instead the direct approach that kept Joanne on her toes.
‘I’m glad you’re marrying my son,’ she admitted to Joanne one day after one of their harmless verbal battles. ‘He’s not the easiest man to live with, but you’re not a fool. You’ll cope admirably, my dear.’
Whether she would be able to cope or not made no difference, Joanne thought afterwards, for Daniel Grant would discard her like a worthless garment the moment his mother was no longer there.
On her wedding day Joanne was strangely calm and composed as she stared at her image in the tall mirror of the dressing-table. Her wedding gown of white embroidered silk, and her veil, made of imported Madeira lace, was Serena Grant’s gift to her son’s bride, and it was a gesture which had touched Joanne’s heart deeply.
'This is my wedding day,’ Joanne said to herself as she fingered her veil absently. ‘I always imagined it would be the happiest day of my life, and here I am, less than an hour away from that wonderful moment, feeling as though this is someone else’s day; someone else’s wedding I’m about to attend.’
On the spacious lawn outside stood the marquee Daniel had hired for the afternoon, and the caterers were fussing over the last-minute details. But Joanne felt curiously detached from it all as she left her room and walked down
the passage to the living-room where Bruce awaited her.
He looked unfamiliar in his dark suit with the white carnation in his buttonhole, and Joanne felt inordinately sorry for him at that moment as he fingered his collar nervously when he turned from the window at the sound of her step.
Bruce stared at her for several seconds, his glance travelling from the exquisite lace veil pinned to her golden-brown hair, down to her satin slippers. There was an ethereal quality about her; a pureness that made her an untouchable vision until the smile that began in her eyes curved her lips humorously.
‘Do you think Daniel will approve of the way I look?’
‘Jo ...’ Bruce shook his head as if to clear away the cobwebs. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Coming from my brother, that’s quite a compliment,’ she said quietly.
‘It’s the truth,’ Bruce replied, his throat working. ‘I wish Mom and Dad were here today to see you as I’m seeing you. They would be more than proud of their daughter. ’
Joanne’s throat tightened, but this was not the moment for tears, or for thinking of what might have been. ‘I suppose Daniel and his mother have left for the church?’ ‘About fifteen minutes ago, yes,’ Bruce nodded, running a finger along the inside of his collar once more. ‘Shall we go? The car Daniel ordered for us is waiting, and we don’t want to be late. ’
‘It’s customary for the bride to be late,’ she reminded him with a faint smile on her lips, but his apparent nervousness forced her to relent. ‘Perhaps it would be better if we don’t keep Daniel waiting. He’s never been a very patient man, and I can’t see him being tolerant, not even on his wedding day!’
Carrying a single orchid and prayer book, Joanne entered the church some minutes later on Bruce’s arm. The moment had come, and there was no longer any opportunity for a change of heart.
She became aware of several things almost simultaneously; the look of relief on Bruce’s face at having brought her this far without a hitch, the approval in Daniel’s glance as it arrested hers, and the warm pressure of his fingers as he took her hand and placed it on his arm. Above all, she was aware of the intense happiness on Serena Grant’s thin face, and the proud tilt of her head that forbade the tears that hovered on her lashes from spilling on to her pale cheeks.
It was for her sake now, more than Bruce’s, that Joanne was marrying Daniel. She could not let this woman down; this woman who had accepted her fate so bravely and without complaint.
Joanne remembered very little of the ceremony that followed, recalling only the moment when Daniel placed the ring on her finger, and the feeling of panic which had assailed her momentarily. Then it was all over, and they walked out into the sunshine to be met by a sea of strange faces and a shower of confetti. She heard Daniel laugh and raise his hand protectively above her, cameras flashed, and then she was whisked off to a car and driven back to Constantia.
‘Your mother,’ Joanne said with sudden alarm as she turned towards Daniel in the back seat of the low-slung convertible.
‘My mother and Sister Johnson will return with Bruce in the car that took you to the church,’ he assured her abruptly, and Joanne lapsed into a relieved silence.
It was over, barring the reception, and that, Daniel had assured her some days ago, would not be dragged out unnecessarily, for he intended that they should leave immediately afterwards for his cottage.
Daniel’s mother had invited over a hundred guests to the wedding, and the marquee accommodated them perfectly. Among the guests Joanne recognised some of the hospital staff, but in the confusion she never had a moment to have a word with one of them before Serena Grant whispered that it was time to change into something more comfortable.
Joanne went inside, thankful to escape for a few minutes, but Daniel caught up with her as she was about to enter her room, and her pulse quickened absurdly as he opened the door and followed her in.
‘You look a little pale,’ he said with a touch of concern. ‘Are you feeling well enough to travel?’
‘I’m perfectly well, Daniel,’ she assured him, but he would not have agreed with her had he taken her pulse at that moment.
His compelling glance held hers for interminable seconds before he said: ‘I’ve seen many brides, but never one as beautiful as you. I had to tell you now before you changed into something else. ’
Joanne stared at him in surprise. How unlike Daniel to feel the need to compliment her, she thought, but instead she said; ‘Thank you, Daniel. It’s kind of you to say so.’
His expression was unfathomable as he inclined his head briefly and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him. How strange, Joanne thought. How utterly, delightfully strange!
There was no time to ponder over his behaviour as she removed her wedding gown and veil, and slipped into an amber coloured dress that enhanced the colour of her eyes. Through her open window she could hear the sound of the children playing beneath the oak trees on the lawn, their voices obliterating to some extent the noise coming from the marquee. Joanne only hoped that Serena Grant would not be too exhausted by the day’s proceedings. She was not strong, no matter how much she argued to the contrary, and Joanne often came to the conclusion that it was her stubbornness that kept her going for such long hours on end.
‘I shall miss the two of you,’ Serena Grant announced when Joanne and Daniel went to say farewell. ‘But don’t hurry back on my account. ’
‘Is that an order, Mother?’ Daniel demanded humorously.
‘It is, and well you know it.’ Her blue gaze softened slightly as she sat looking up at them. ‘I never saw you kiss your bride, Daniel. It’s customary for the groom to kiss the bride at least once during the marriage proceedings, and I’m surprised at you for neglecting to do so, considering what a beautiful bride Joanne made. ’
Joanne’s heart lurched uncomfortably, but Daniel took his mother’s accusation in his stride. ‘How remiss of me, Mother, but I shall set the record straight at once. Come here, Joanne. Your husband wants to kiss you.’
There, in front of Serena Grant, Sister Johnson, Bruce and several other guests, Daniel drew Joanne into his arms and placed his lips on hers, much to the enjoyment of everyone. It was a cool, impersonal kiss that left her unmoved, but, for the benefit of those watching, Daniel did not release her too soon.
‘Satisfied?’ he asked, smiling down at his mother while he kept his arm firmly about Joanne’s waist.
‘More than satisfied, Daniel. Now, be off, the two of you, and enjoy yourselves.’
Joanne kissed her soft ch
eek. ‘Take care of yourself. ’ ‘And you, my dear,’ she smiled briefly. ‘Be happy.’ Joanne turned away to hide the tears that stung her eyelids, only to find herself facing a forlorn-looking Bruce. ‘You’ll be back at the university when I get back, but I’ll telephone you at your flat one evening, then you can come over and have dinner with us.’
‘I look forward to that,’ he said, his lean face creasing into a smile that vanished almost instantly again. ‘Jo, there were so many things I wanted to say to you, but somehow... ’
Joanne swallowed down the lump in her throat as she took his hand in her own. ‘I know, Bruce. It’s sometimes difficult to speak of the things that matter most, and you’re all I have. ’
‘You have Daniel now,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes, I have Daniel,’ she agreed quietly, ‘but it’s not quite the same, is it?’
Daniel gestured impatiently that they should leave, and Joanne planted a hurried kiss on Bruce’s cheek before joining her husband. Her husband. How strange that sounded, she thought to herself as she climbed into the car and waved for the last time. Now they were alone, completely alone for a whole week, and heaven only knew how they would get the time to pass.
The drive to Daniel’s cottage took several hours, and darkness had descended before they turned off the main road, heading for the coastal village of Salt Bay.
‘We’re almost there,’ Daniel said as she stifled a yawn. ‘I arranged with one of the locals to leave something in the oven for us when they went in to air the cottage and prepare our rooms, so we can have something to eat and get to bed early.’
‘Didn’t they think it strange that two bedrooms should be prepared when you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon?’ Joanne asked sleepily, blessing the darkness that hid her flushed cheeks.
‘If they did, then they never mentioned it,’ Daniel replied calmly, keeping his eyes on the ribbon of road illuminated by the car’s lights. ‘Does it trouble you what people think?’
‘Not really, but—’ She chewed her lip nervously.
‘I was thinking of your mother. What if she should hear
that—that we—’
‘That we didn’t sleep together on our honeymoon?’ he finished for her with a bluntness that sent the colour rushing back to her cheeks. ‘My father was several years older than my mother, Joanne, and they always had their own rooms. My mother wouldn’t think it strange at all that we don’t share the same room. She’ll merely think I have the same preference as she and my father had.’
‘And have you?’ she could not help asking, stealing a glance at this formidable man seated beside her.
‘No, I don’t,’ he said abruptly. ‘I would want my wife in bed with me all night, and every night. I wouldn’t agree to single beds either. Does that surprise you?’
‘Not really,’ she admitted, keeping her eyes in front of her. ‘I think I should also want to—to—’ She faltered with embarrassment.
‘You would also want to sleep in your husband’s arms?’ Daniel questioned mockingly. ‘Is that what you wanted to
say?’
‘Yes.’
‘You may yet have your wish, Joanne. With someone else,’ he added when he saw her start nervously.
‘With someone else, but never with you,’ she thought, wincing inwardly at the thrust of pain that held her silent. Daniel’s cottage was situated almost on the beach, a row of cedar trees making it quite secluded from the other cottages further along the stretch of sand. Caught in the beam of the car’s lights, Joanne was afforded a glimpse of the thatched roof, the shuttered windows, and an ivy creeper making its lazy way along the one wall.
The interior of the cottage was not very large, consisting of a lounge, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom.
‘This will be your room,’ he said, pushing open the first door to the left and placing her suitcase inside. ‘I’ll take the room at the back.’
His footsteps echoed further down the short passage as she stared about her, taking in the iron and copper bed with its multi-coloured bedspread that matched the curtains at the window. The dressing-table was an old-fashioned wooden one with several drawers, and a large mirror; the wardrobe was small, but large enough to accommodate the amount of clothes she had brought with her, and beside the window stood a marble-topped stand with an earthenware jug and basin placed neatly on it. The floorboards were polished and bare except for a small rug beside the bed, but the overall impression was pleasing. It was the ideal place to come to when one wanted to relax with the minimum of fuss, she thought, venturing into the lounge with its brick fireplace and padded green chairs.
Curiosity more than hunger drew her towards the kitchen, where she found a small table set for two, and a tempting stew waiting in the oven.
‘Are you hungry?’ that familiar gravelly voice asked behind her, and she swung round to find Daniel leaning with his hand against the door jamb, his jacket and tie removed, and a speculative look in his eyes.
‘Not particularly. Are you?’
‘No,’ he said, coming towards her. ‘But I suggest that we do eat something before we go to bed, or we might find ourselves awake around midnight, and starving.’ He stretched out an arm and Joanne backed away involuntarily, the colour surging into her cheeks as she saw him raise his eyebrows mockingly. ‘I’m taking down the plates, Joanne, nothing more than that.’
It had been a long day with unavoidable tension piling up within her, and the tears suddenly brimmed her eyes, spilling over on to her cheeks before she could check them.
Daniel swore softly as he put aside the plates and drew her forcibly against him. ‘I can take plenty, Joanne, but not a woman’s tears, and not on our wedding day. ’
‘I’m sorry,’ she muttered, choking back her tears. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m not usually this
weepy.’
‘We’ve both had a strenuous day, but you’ll feel better in the morning. ’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she agreed, the warmth of his body against her own, and the touch of his hand in her hair far too disturbing for comfort.
‘Joanne,’ her name sounded like a caress on his lips as he forced her face into the open. ‘You have nothing to fear. I give you my word, just as I take your word for it that you’ll do nothing to make my mother suspect the true reason for our marriage. You believe me, don’t you?’
‘Yes ... I believe you, Daniel.’
‘Good,’ he said abruptly as he released her. ‘Now, let’s eat, and, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator.’
Joanne dished up the stew while Daniel hunted for glasses and opened the bottle of champagne. The cork did not land in her lap on this occasion, but she found that she could laugh without embarrassment when he teased her gently about his mother’s remark on that evening when they celebrated their engagement. Neither of them had been hungry, yet very little was left of the stew when they eventually piled their plates into the basin and sat down to another glass of champagne.
‘Do you come here often?’ Joanne finally asked out of curiosity.
‘Whenever I get the opportunity, yes,’ Daniel admitted, his eyes clouding. ‘But I haven’t been here for quite some time now. ’
‘Because of your mother?’
‘Mainly, yes,’ he sighed, staring down at the sparkling liquid he was swivelling absently in his glass.
The finality of his mother’s illness was unacceptable to Joanne. ‘Daniel, is there nothing—’
‘If there was, do you think I’d sit back and allow the inevitable to happen?’ he interrupted harshly, his eyes darkening with fury.
‘No, of course not.’
‘I didn’t intend to snap your head off,’ he remarked after a brief, uncomfortable pause. ‘Of all people you should know just how frustrating it can be for a doctor when his medical knowledge is not capable of preventing a patient’s death. You feel utterly useless, as though your years of study had been worthless, wasted
time.’
‘I do understand how you feel,’ Joanne assured him, recalling the many occasions she had witnessed a doctor’s desperate struggle to save a patient’s life, draining his vast knowledge of medicine, and finding it inadequate in the end. ‘It’s just that knowing your mother, and knowing her courage, makes it so difficult to accept. And I hate the idea that we’re deceiving her.’
‘You couldn’t hate it more than I do, but let’s not discuss it further,’ he brushed aside the subject and raised his glass. ‘Shall we drink a toast to the future, and whatever it may hold in store for us?’
They drained their glasses in silence, but as Joanne moved towards the steel basin to wash the dishes, Daniel gripped her arm and steered her firmly from the kitchen.
‘Leave them,’ he ordered when she began to protest. ‘You have all day tomorrow to be as domesticated as you like, but not tonight. Doctor’s orders!’
A humorous smile plucked at her lips and, as they reached her bedroom door, she glanced up into his stern face and said: ‘Yes, Doctor,’ in her best theatre Sister voice.
Daniel smiled briefly and tugged at her hair. ‘Goodnight, Joanne. Sleep well.’
Joanne switched on her light and closed the door, leaning against it for a moment. She felt curiously deflated, but, as her glance came to rest on her suitcase, she sprang into action and unpacked her clothes before going through to
the bathroom. There was no key in the lock, but she hoped the sound of running water would warn Daniel of her presence.
She had had no reason to fear, however, for she had been in bed for some time before she heard Daniel’s footsteps cross the passage and enter the bathroom.
This was her wedding night, she thought as she lay listening to the sound of the surf, but it was a wedding night with a difference. She was legally Mrs. Daniel Grant, but her husband had no need of her as a wife in the true sense, while she—Joanne moaned softly as she buried her face in her pillow.
Why did she have to love him so much? Why did she have to lie there wishing he would forget their stupid agreement, and come to her?
Love is Eternal Page 5