‘You promised Daniel you wouldn’t speak to me about it?’ Mrs. Grant cut in persuasively.
‘Yes.’
The grey head nodded thoughtfully. ‘Do you love my son, Joanne?’
‘I—Yes, very much,’ she admitted truthfully after a halting, embarrassed start.
‘Ah ... then it doesn’t matter that he rushed you into this marriage to satisfy my foolish desire,’ Serena Grant sighed, and Joanne felt as though the floor had caved in beneath her.
‘You—you know?’
‘I suspected it, and you’ve just confirmed it,’ the older woman admitted with a triumphant little smile playing about her lips.
‘Oh, Mother! You tricked me,’ Joanne rebuked her gently, realising that she had stepped neatly into the trap Serena Grant had laid for her.
‘Yes,’ she laughed softly and without the slightest sign of remorse. ‘Terrible old woman, aren’t I?’
‘Never terrible,’ Joanne contradicted. ‘We just underestimated you, that’s all.’
Her hand gripped Joanne’s with a surprising display of strength. ‘I must know the truth, my dear.’
‘If Daniel—’
‘To the devil with Daniel,’ she interrupted forcefully. ‘Tell me.’
A warning flashed through Joanne’s mind, but, after a brief hesitation, she brushed it aside, and began to explain about Bruce, her need for funds, and Daniel’s desire to make his mother happy. It came out haltingly at first, then the sheer relief of being able to tell the truth made the words tumble out in a rush until there was nothing more to say, and she lapsed into a silence that was all at once frightening. What had she done?
‘I never thought Daniel could be so foolish,’ Serena Grant remarked sadly. ‘But I’m so glad he’s able to help Bruce. He’s such a nice boy.’
‘Mother, if Daniel ever finds out that I told you—’
‘I shall leave you to tell him one day when you’ve sorted out your marriage,’ she interrupted Joanne understandingly, her blue gaze searching Joanne’s with a measure of urgency. ‘You do want it to be a real marriage, don’t you? You’re not just saying so to pacify me?’
‘I lie very badly, remember?’
Serena Grant nodded, satisfied. ‘Yes, you do, and I know you meant it.’
Joanne leaned forward and brushed her hand lightly over the grey head. ‘Mother ... knowing the truth hasn’t made you unhappy, has it?’
‘No,’ she smiled. ‘I’m quite satisfied now that I know everything, but I owe you an apology. ’
Joanne’s hand stilled its stroking movements. ‘An apology?’
‘Yes, my dear child. If I hadn’t been so foolishly eager to see Daniel married, he might have wooed you in his own good time, and then none of this would have been necessary. ’
‘Oh, Mother ... don’t say that,’ Joanne whispered, the thought of Daniel ever wooing her too unlikely to contemplate. ‘Getting to know you and love you has been an experience I shall always remember with gratitude.’ ‘You’re a sweet child.’
‘You’re tired,’ Joanne replied softly. ‘Go to sleep now.’ ‘Joanne ... give him a little time.’
‘I’ll give him all the time he wants,’ she promised, bending over Serena Grant to kiss her on the forehead. ‘Goodnight, Mother. ’
During the next few days as Serena Grant’s condition grew steadily worse, a new fear replaced Joanne’s feeling of relief. She had broken her word to Daniel, and she had no way of knowing how he would react if he should discover this. Would he understand, or would his faith in her be shattered completely?
‘You’ve been very thoughtful lately,’ Daniel remarked as he followed her out on to the stoep one evening after dinner. ‘Care to talk about it?’
Joanne pushed her hair away from her hot forehead, welcoming the coolness of the night air against her face.
‘I’ve been thinking about your mother—and about us. ’
‘Your thoughts about Mother I can understand, but what is it about us that troubles you?’
‘Oh, just our marriage in general. Nothing specific, really,’ she replied vaguely, intensely aware of his tall, dark shape standing so close to her.
‘Are you in a hurry to be free, Joanne?’
‘You make that sound as though you’re asking me whether I’m in a hurry for your mother to die, and you know I’m not, I—’
‘Joanne!’ he interrupted, turning her roughly to face him. ‘Forget my mother for the moment. Are you in a hurry to be free of me?’
A pulse leapt oddly in her throat. ‘N-not particularly. ’
‘And what exactly does that mean?’ he asked, lowering his head to take a closer look at her in the dull light that filtered through the living-room curtains.
‘Well, I’m not going to rush to a lawyer the moment— the moment—’ The words choked her. ‘Oh, Daniel!’
‘Joanne.’
His hand moved across her shoulder, slipped beneath the wide collar of her silk blouse, and came to rest finally against the nape of her neck, his caressing fingers sending a tingling sensation along her nerves.
‘Don’t ... please!’
‘When you tremble like this I want to hold you in my arms,’ he said, his breath fanning her forehead. ‘Joanne, you’re not averse to my kisses, I know that. Do you think that some day you might consider giving our marriage a chance?’
‘You mean—make it a real marriage?’ she asked in surprise, trying to ignore the sensuality of his touch.
‘Why not? Would it be so impossible?’
‘But you don’t love me,’ she protested, clenching her
hands at her sides and quelling the desire to touch him.
‘Love, Joanne, is a word that’s been used too often until it has become meaningless. I think that, given the opportunity, we could make a success of our marriage, and I’m willing to give it a try, if you are. ’
‘I—I don’t know,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘I shall have to think about it.’
A smile touched his lips. ‘I shan’t rush you, my dear. Take your time. But I might as well warn you that I’m no longer going to limit my kisses to when we have an audience. There are other times when I’ve wanted to kiss you for my own sake, like now for instance. ’
Before she could protest, his lips had fastened on to hers, and all desire to resist was swept aside as his arms drew her close against the hardness of his body. She could feel the warmth of his skin through the thinness of his shirt, and her hand lingered for a moment where she could feel his heavy heartbeat. It would be so easy to give him her answer that very minute, but how could she when it would not be a marriage based on love for Daniel?
‘No more, please,’ she begged eventually, her hands against his chest.
‘Then stop trembling.’
‘I’m not trembling.’
‘Liar,’ he laughed softly against her throat. ‘Joanne, you will consider my suggestion?’
‘Yes—yes, I said I would,’ she replied, anxious to escape the sensual touch of his hands. ‘Daniel, let me go.’
‘Must I?’
‘Please!’
His hand touched the side of her breast. ‘Your heart is beating so fast. ’ ‘Daniel, for pity’s sake!’ she pleaded when her heart began to race at a suffocating speed.
‘All right,’ he said, releasing her abruptly, and moving a step away. ‘There’s no need to panic. I’m not that desperate ... yet.’
Her cheeks flamed. ‘You make me think that all your suggestion boils down to is—sex.’
‘What could be more important than that?’ he wanted to know, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the low wall, his manner infuriatingly confident.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘You’re hateful!’
‘If you find me so hateful, then why do you tremble each time I touch you?’ he demanded, drawing hard on his cigarette.
‘It’s disgust!’ she lied defensively, her agitation increasing when he laughed suddenly.
‘No, my Jo
anne, it’s not disgust that makes you tremble, just wholesome desire.’
‘Never! ’ she argued fiercely, wishing she could slap that smug look off his face.
‘We shall see.’
His laughter mocked her as she fled inside, but she never reached the sanctuary of her room, for Sister Johnson confronted her in the passage, a worried look on her usually placid face.
‘Mrs. Grant, you offered your assistance some time ago, and I think I’m going to need it from now on.’ She met Joanne’s steady glance. ‘Mrs. Grant senior needs someone in attendance twenty-four hours a day now. ’
Shock rippled through Joanne, then her years of training took over, giving her the courage to approach the problem professionally. ‘Shall we take it in four-hour shifts as from this very moment?’
‘That would be a tremendous relief, Mrs. Grant. ’
‘Make it Joanne, then there won’t be any confusion,’ she said briskly. ‘If you’ll just fill me in on the prescribed treatment?’
Sister Johnson nodded and took Joanne through to Serena Grant’s room, and for the next few minutes Joanne listened with deep concentration.
‘What’s all the fuss about?’ Serena Grant asked weakly.
‘No fuss, Mother,’ Joanne assured her calmly. ‘From this evening onwards I’m going to give Sister Johnson a break every now and then. ’
‘Am I getting worse?’
Joanne stared down into those blue eyes dulled with pain, and felt her heart contract violently. ‘We’re just intensifying the treatment, Mother.’ She glanced over her shoulder at Sister Johnson. ‘Get some rest while you can, Sister.’
‘I haven’t much longer, have I, Joanne?’ Serena Grant asked once they were alone, and Joanne swallowed violently at the lump in her throat.
‘Please, Mother, don’t say things like that! ’
‘My dear, I’ve known for such—a long time now that — that this day would come,’ the words came with difficulty, as if a great tiredness had enveloped her. ‘I’m not afraid to
die, Joanne. It will be a merciful release from this p-pain I’ve had to endure for so long.’
‘Mother—’
‘Joanne ...’ she interrupted with her usual determination. ‘Would you read to me as you always do? Your voice—so soothing. ’
‘What shall I read to you, Mother?’ she asked, taking the small Bible from the bedside table, and paging through it she prayed silently that her voice would not desert her on this occasion.
‘Nothing too sad,’ Serena Grant sighed, the injection Sister Johnson had given her taking effect. ‘I always liked that thirteenth chapter about love in the first book of Corinthians. Read it to me again.’
Joanne found the place and read to her quietly, but when she reached the end of the seventh verse, Serena Grant gestured that she should read it again.
‘Love never gives up; its faith, hope, and patience never fail,’ Joanne read to her softly. ‘Love is eternal.’
‘Love is eternal,’ Serena Grant repeated after Joanne. ‘Aren’t those the most beautiful words, Joanne?’
‘Yes, the most beautiful,’ Joanne agreed, and Serena Grant closed her eyes and went to sleep.
Two days later, just after midnight, Joanne stood beside Daniel’s bed and shook him gently.
‘Lorelei,’ he murmured in his sleep, drawing her closer. ‘Daniel, your mother is asking for you,’ she pleaded in an anguished voice, and he was instantly wide awake, leaping out of bed, and pulling on his dark blue dressing gown before Joanne had time to reach the door. It was the last time Serena Grant spoke to anyone, for, less than an hour later, she went into a coma and, before the sun could rise over Tabie Bay, she was gone.
‘I’m so sorry, Daniel,’ said Joanne, catching a trembling lip between her teeth as he turned away from the window, his face haggard, and dark stubbles of beard on his lean jaw. ‘It sounds so terribly inadequate at a time like this, but—’
‘I know,’ he cut in, the roughness in his voice touching her heart as he drew her head down on to his chest. Her arms circled his waist and they clung together for a moment as if to draw strength from each other. His cheek was rough against her own, and then he drew away. ‘I’d better go and shave, there’ll be plenty to do this morning.’
‘If there’s anything I could do to help?’
Daniel nodded. ‘You could telephone my secretary and ask her to cancel all my appointments for this morning.
Then you can telephone the hospital and tell them I shall be doing my rounds a little later than usual this morning. ’ He passed a tired hand over his eyes. ‘The rest I’ll see to myself. ’
Dr. Erasmus came early that morning after Sister Johnson had telephoned him, and shortly afterwards there was nothing except an empty bed where Serena Grant had lain, and an aching emptiness in Joanne’s heart.
Sister Johnson remained until after the funeral and, as she carried her suitcases into the hall to await her taxi, she handed a sealed envelope to Joanne.
‘Mrs. Grant asked me to give you this when it was all over,’ she told Joanne. ‘She was most explicit about that, and that you had to be alone when I gave it to you. ’ Joanne stared at the shaky handwriting on the envelope and blinked back her tears. ‘Thank you, Sister Johnson, and thank you for everything you did for Mrs. Grant. I’m sure my husband has spoken to you already.’
Sister Johnson nodded, then, as her taxi came crunching up the drive, she held out her hand and clasped Joanne’s. ‘Goodbye, Joanne, and God bless.’
Joanne stared at the envelope in her hand after Sister Johnson had gone and, going into her room where she could be alone, she slipped her thumb beneath the flap and opened it.
‘My dear Joanne,’ Serena Grant’s spidery handwriting leapt out at her from the page, ‘I am writing this while I still find myself capable of holding a pen. Later—who knows but God?
I want you to know that, had I been able to choose, I could not have chosen a more loving and dear wife for my son and, knowing the truth, I am happier than I deserve to be.
I am confident that your love for Daniel will find a way to overcome the obstacles between you, but may I issue a word of warning—don’t enter into a real marriage unless there is complete truth between you. It never pays to conceal things from each other. Tell Daniel that I knew the truth before my death, and tell him, too, that my happiness was even greater knowing that my son loved me enough to go to such lengths to ensure my happiness. I love you both very dearly, and I know that one day you will be rewarded for your loving kindness towards the impossible old woman that I am.’ It was signed. ‘Serena Grant.’
Joanne, strangled by the tears she could no longer control, fell across her bed and wept until she felt drained and shaky, and considerably calmer.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The silence in the house, without Serena Grant and Sister Johnson, was almost too much to bear, and Joanne found the loneliness gnawing away at her. Daniel spent his days at the hospital during those first two weeks after the funeral, and his evenings closeted in his study, shutting Joanne out by his aloofness as surely as if he had turned the key in the lock.
There was no longer any purpose for their marriage to continue, and his suggestion that they consider making it a real marriage was never mentioned again. The opportunity to discuss it never arose, and neither did Daniel give her any encouragement to speak of the things that troubled her. Instead, they shared silent meals, and seldom saw each other in between. It was a most unsatisfactory situation, and Joanne, used to being active, found she was bored to distraction.
The winter rains in the Cape had begun, driving her indoors to escape the chilling dampness, and the bleakness of the grey sky, but, after two weeks of near solitude, she was almost desperate to put an end to her misery. It was Daniel, strangely enough, who made the first move, and Joanne could only imagine that the unsatisfactory situation had troubled him as well when there was a sharp tap on the connecting door one evening while she was brushing her
hair before going to bed.
‘There’s something I want to discuss with you,’ he said abruptly, and Joanne nervously fingered the cord of her silk dressing gown as she rose from the stool and faced him.
‘There are a few things I want to discuss with you as well, Daniel,’ she said, thinking that the darkness of his roll-necked sweater and pants gave his lean body the appearance of a sleek panther with its true strength hidden when the hunting instinct was not there. ‘Our marriage, for instance,’ she added when he glanced at her strangely.
‘Ah, yes—our marriage,’ he said with a hint of mockery curving his mouth. ‘Are you in a hurry to end it?’
Joanne tugged once more at the cord of her gown and turned away. ‘It’s not that I’m in a hurry to end it, Daniel, but we must come to some decision about what we’re going to do. I can’t sit about here indefinitely, doing nothing with my life, and feeling totally redundant.’
‘What would you suggest we do?’ he asked with a casualness that chilled her.
‘I suggest we discuss the possibility of having our marriage annulled some time in the future so I can get myself a job somewhere which would at least give me something with which to occupy my time. ’
‘Is that me talking?’ she wondered when with every part of her being she wished that he would show some sign that he cared.
‘You don’t, in other words, think we could make our marriage work out?’ she heard him ask softly, and her mouth went dry.
‘I—Daniel, I—’ she faltered helplessly, and stopped.
‘I did suggest it once, didn’t I?’
‘Yes, but—I thought—I didn’t think you were really serious. ’
‘I am very serious about it, and I was hoping you would give me your answer.’
‘Now?’ she asked wide-eyed as she swung round to face him. ‘You want an answer now?’
He thrust his hands into his pockets and nodded. ‘Why not? You’ve had enough time to think about it during these past weeks. ’
Her heart fluttered to a halt and raced on again.
‘Do you—do you think a loveless marriage has any chance of succeeding?’
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