But why? Why, if he'd still felt something for her had he hidden it, and hidden it so successfully behind an abruptness that was close to being downright rude? Coming to the trees again, Olivia walked on for a few yards then stopped and leaned against a tree-trunk, not knowing what to do, what to think. Her heart filled with the wild hope that for some unknown reason he still loved her but didn't want her to know. And more than that he had been determined to antagonise her so much that she would keep well away from him in future. But that was crazy, impossible. Trying to think it through logically, using her trained observer's mind, the only other reason for Nick's behaviour that Olivia could come up with was that he must be feeling unwell. He had certainly looked very pale at first, but she had put that down to seeing her so suddenly. Olivia gave a mirthless laugh of self- mockery; maybe she was kidding herself that he still felt something for her when all the time he was just nursing an almighty hangover!
Not knowing what to think, she went to turn and go back to the car, but as she did so heard the main door of the building open and then close. Moving behind the thick trunk of a tree, where she could see but not be seen, Olivia saw that Nick had come out. He stood there for a moment, zipping up a black leather jacket he had changed into, and looked up at the sky, studying the formation of the clouds, a typical pilot's gesture. Then he began to walk across to one of the waiting helicopters. Only he didn't exactly walk. Instead he limped, not badly, just favouring his right leg, the long, energetic stride that she remembered completely gone.
Olivia drew in her breath, realising now why he hadn't moved from his chair. Something had happened to him, something terrible—and he hadn't wanted her to know! The unexpectedness of it held her riveted for a long moment, but he was coming nearer and she whirled round and ran back through the trees and down the slope, careless of the wild flowers, making sure that he didn't see her. When she reached the car Olivia leaned against it, out of breath, a flame of colour in her cheeks. Her heart was thumping, but not from running; it was singing with renewed hope and joy. The crazy fool! The stupid, wonderful, crazy fool! Olivia got in the car and tears ran down her cheeks again, but from relief this time. He must have been hurt in an accident of some kind. For a moment her mind froze with horror as she imagined him being hurt so badly, being in pain. Why hadn't he sent for her? She would have given up everything to be with him, surely he knew that? But she pushed the thought aside; it was too late to think of that now—it was only the future that mattered. If she was right, if Nick had put up this wall of stubborn pride around himself, then she had to think of some way to break it down.
Olivia didn't know what had happened to Nick's body, but she was as sure as hell going to make sure that he started thinking straight again, and the sooner he admitted that he still loved her, the better!
CHAPTER THREE
The sound of the helicopter's engines shattered the stillness of the morning. Looking up through the car windscreen, Olivia caught a glimpse of it flying north. 'Fly safely, my love,' she murmured. 'Oh, please take care.'
The lane was too narrow to turn the car; Olivia had to reverse to the fork before she could turn and head back to the main road. She had made no plans for the rest of the morning, had been unable to think past meeting Nick, and now she was glad she hadn't because there was no way she could concentrate on any work today. For half an hour or so she just drove around aimlessly, but presently came to a small town busy with traffic. Feeling unable to cope with it and longing for a coffee, Olivia followed the 'P' signs to a car park, and gratefully abandoned the car. The town, Bourton-on-the-Water, was obviously a tourist resort in summer, and even now cars lined the main road and there were visitors walking around, admiring the old Cotswold stone buildings and the shallow river that ran parallel to the road with pretty little stone bridges crossing it.
Olivia found a bow-windowed coffee-shop and dived inside to sit at a table near the window, where the sun shone through like a solarium. She drank two cups of coffee without a pause and, feeling a little better, sat back in her chair to think. If she was right—oh, God, please let me be right, she prayed—and Nick still cared for her, then it looked as if she had a difficult situation on her hands. Difficult, but not impossible. As long as she handled the whole thing with tact and delicacy; sledgehammer tactics were definitely out of place when it came to a man's pride. Again she wondered anxiously what had happened to Nick. The most likely thing was a car accident.
A thought occurred to her, and Olivia grew still; was that why she hadn't heard from him for months and then he'd written to end it all? Her heart tightened in her chest. Oh, she hoped so, she certainly hoped so. It explained so much that she hadn't been able to understand. That letter had been the biggest confidence-killer she'd ever known—far worse than the realisation that she had made a mistaken marriage, because it had hit not only her pride but her heart, too. It would have broken her if she'd been able to accept Nick's cold words, but somehow she had always clung to the hope that it was a mistake. And she could never bring herself to believe that he could be that cruel, that ruthless.
Feeling better, Olivia paid for her coffee and went for a walk alongside the little river. There were grey and white ducks swimming through the water; they looked cold, their feathers fluffed out. On impulse Olivia went into a bakery and bought a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, then found an empty wooden bench near the river's edge and threw some crusts into the water. It was as if a message had travelled the length of the river; soon she was surrounded by ducks jostling one another for the bread, quite tame and unafraid. She tried to be fair, throwing some out to the ducks that had been pushed to the back, but soon the loaf was all gone, although the ducks stayed. 'Sorry, fellas, you've had the lot.' She stood up and brushed the last crumbs from her skirt into the water, then turned to walk on.
She had to think of some way of seeing Nick again; until she did there was no way she was going to start to break down that barrier. But how, when he had been so cold and dismissive? Come on, brain, get to work, she told herself. Look on Nick as someone you want to interview but won't let you near him. Now, where is he most vulnerable? Of course, the helicopter business. Finding another seat, Olivia searched in her large travel- bag and pulled out the brochure. Reading it through carefully, she came to the conclusion that she would either have to hire a chopper or learn to fly one. But she remembered Nick saying he had two part-time pilots who did the teaching, so it looked as if it came down to hiring one. Olivia grew dejected again, realising that even if she did Nick would make sure he didn't fly her himself. But there had to be a way round it, there just had to be.
She got restlessly to her feet again and decided to go back to the car. Taking a last look round the town, she realised what an attractive place it was, despite the cars. It would have been better to have seen it a hundred years ago, maybe even two hundred, when it was just a sleepy little town and tourists had never even heard of it, but it still managed to be beautiful.
It took quite a while to find her way back to Stratford, following signposts with arms two yards long to accommodate names like Stow-on-the-Wold and Lower and Upper Slaughter. Having eventually got back to her hotel, Olivia thought she'd better do some work, and got out her guide books, but her mind wouldn't settle. She took out the brochure again and sat staring at it, then a small smile came to her lips. It was worth a try. If she could carry it off. If she could afford it. Olivia looked again at the scale of charges on the brochure; it was going to be expensive, but luckily her grandmother had left her quite a lot of money only the year before, and as the old lady had been romantically minded Olivia was quite sure her grandma would approve of her legacy being spent in this way.
Going down to Reception, Olivia gave the man on duty her best smile. 'Could you do something for me, please?'
He blinked and grew a couple of inches. 'Certainly, madam. Anything at all.'
'I'd like you to make a phone call for me. To this number.'
'But you
can call from your room. The phone system is quite easy.'
'Yes, I know, but I don't want to make the call myself.'
Carefully she explained what she wanted him to do, and he repeated, 'I'm to say I'm making the booking on behalf of a travel company who want to hire a helicopter three days a week for the next four weeks. And to insist that the helicopter be piloted by the proprietor Mr Nicholas Vaux. What if they ask me why?' he queried.
'Say that the travel company's operative is nervous of flying and insists on having an experienced pilot. Don't let them fob you off with anyone else. If they do, say the deal's off. And don't say my name at all and keep the gender neutral.' He raised his eyebrows. 'Don't tell them I'm a woman, just keep saying operative or representative. And be careful not to say she,' Olivia amplified. 'Ask them to have a contract all drawn up ready to sign. Have you got all that? It's vitally important you get it right.'
'Yes, madam.' The man gave her a disparaging glance and shrugged, his opinion that all Americans were crazy confirmed for all time. But he picked up the phone and dialled the number. Olivia watched and listened eagerly, terrified he would make a mistake, her clenched fists on the desk as she willed him to get it right. He was magnificent, not slipping up once, and within minutes he had confirmed that Nick would definitely be available to fly her, starting the day after tomorrow.
Olivia could have hugged him. 'That's fantastic. You British hotel staff are just great]' She almost danced back to her room and threw herself down on her bed, rolling on it in joy. Then she lay and gazed up at the ceiling, a big smile on her face. Aloud she said, 'Nicholas Vaux, you don't stand a chance.'
That afternoon she worked, if exploring one of the oldest and most beautiful towns in England could be called working. As excited as she was about Nick, Olivia was soon lost in awestruck wonder at the wood and plaster houses, their upper floors projecting out over the street, that were to be found in almost every street of the town. She went into Shakespeare's birthplace, and felt like crying at the wonder of being there. She trod the old sloping floorboards that creaked beneath her feet, gazed at the room where the great man was born, and spent a long time poring over the exhibits in the tiny museum in one of the upper rooms. Afterwards she went out into the garden at the back of the house and walked along a path between scalloped beds of thyme and basil and sweet marjoram. Looking back at the house, Olivia could almost see Mary Arden, Shakespeare's mother, coming out to pick herbs to add to the evening meal. The sense of history was so overwhelming that she almost forgot to record her reactions into her hand-held microcassette recorder. Olivia looked at the gadget and chuckled: a jump of four centuries in as many seconds.
The next day Olivia spent visiting all the places in Stratford that had American connections, like the beautiful half-timbered house in the High Street which was once the home of Katherine Rogers, mother of John Harvard, the founder of Harvard University. Then there was the American fountain in the market-place, and the window donated by Americans in the church where Shakespeare and his family were buried. And she also went into the Teddy Bear Museum because she couldn't resist it. In the evening she wrote up her notes on the word processor, trying to concentrate, trying not to let her mind ceaselessly think ahead to tomorrow.
At nine-thirty the next morning Olivia drove again to Harnbury-on-the-Wold and through the gateway that led to the heliport. She was wearing a thick sweater, jeans and boots, and had brought with her a jacket in case it was cold, sun-specs against the bright morning light, and a flight-bag containing her cameras and guide books. She wanted to appear as professional as possible even though her heart was fluttering with nervous tension. If anything, she was more nervous today than she had been two days ago; so much depended on her ability to carry this through, to more or less force Nick into keeping his promise to be her pilot.
When she drove up to the buildings, Olivia went straight into the office and signed the contract that Jane had waiting for her, filling in all the necessary details and making sure it specified that Nick would act as her pilot. It took a while, and when she came out she saw Nick standing in the distance beside one of the helicopters, his back to her, talking to a white-overalled mechanic. Quickly she went over to where she'd parked the car in the shade of the office buildings, collected her things from the back seat and locked it. Then said a last but forceful prayer. She was already wearing the sunglasses, and kept them on as she took a deep breath and turned to go across to Nick—and found him walking towards her.
'Good morning,' he called out. The sun was in his eyes and he put a hand up to shield them. 'Are you from the travel company? Afraid I don't know—' He stopped abruptly as she came nearer. 'Olivia!'
'Hi. It's a great morning, isn't it? I can't wait to get started. Are we all set to go?'
She walked past him towards the waiting chopper, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. 'What the hell are you doing here?' he demanded tersely, his fingers digging into her.
'Hey, that hurts.'
But he didn't let go. 'Is it you who's hired me to fly them around? Is it?' he repeated forcefully.
'Why, sure. But you knew that; didn't your secretary loll you?'
'No, she damn well didn't, because you made sure not to give your name.'
'Well, I was busy so I didn't make the booking myself ; I asked someone at the hotel to do it. Did they forget to give my name?'
Nick's face hardened. 'They said it was for a travel company.'
'Oh, really, these hotel staff—you can't trust them to
' Did you really? I wonder why I don't believe you.'
Olivia didn't even blush. 'What does it matter? Are we nil set to go?'
'We're not going anywhere. Did you really think that you could get away with this ploy? Do you think I don't see through it?'
'What do you mean?'
The direct question took him by surprise. Nick's eyebrows drew into a frown and he let go of her arm. His jaw tightened and he said shortly, 'There's nothing between us any longer, Olivia. It's over. Finished. I stopped feeling anything for you long ago.'
It was cruel and it was meant to be. But Olivia had expected nothing less and didn't even flinch. She laughed, again taking him completely by surprise. 'Well, I already knew that. You made it plain enough last time. And if we'd had time to talk I would have told you what a relief it was to hear it. Mind you, our—er—affair was great while it lasted and I wouldn't have missed those months for worlds. Matter of fact, I still feel pretty nostalgic about that time—that's one of the reasons why I looked you up. But then I realised you might get the wrong idea and think I wanted to pick up again, so I was pleased when you made it clear you didn't.'
'Really?' Nick still looked totally disbelieving. 'What were the other reasons?'
'For looking you up? The fact that you were based in this area and that you had the chopper business, of course.' He was still frowning so she let a patient note come into her voice and said, 'I'm doing a series of travel features on the Cotswolds, stately homes, the National Trust, Shakespeare's England, that kind of thing. I decided to base myself in Stratford-upon-Avon because if's near the Cotswolds and because it's so central. But I only have a limited time and I wanted to get round to see as much as possible, so I needed to hire a chopper to beat the traffic jams. So I thought as you were an old friend I would put the business your way. We are still friends, aren't we?' she added, thankful for the dark glasses.
He ducked that one, the coward, instead saying, 'Why didn't you tell me any of this before?'
'There was hardly time. And I must admit I was a little nervous about seeing you again in case you got the wrong idea. But it was so long ago; it hadn't occurred to me until the last minute that you might take my visit to mean that I was still interested. But luckily you didn't,' she said with a sunny smile.
'No.' Nick's eyes were on her face, studying her, but he couldn't ask her to take off the glasses becaus
e Olivia had been careful to move round so that she was facing the sun. 'Why didn't you tell me you wanted to hire one of my choppers?'
But she had the answer to that one, too. 'I hadn't seen your brochure; I didn't know whether my expenses would cover your hire charges.'
The simple reply took him aback. He gave a little negative shake of his head, as if he didn't know whether to believe her or not, but then his head came up again as he said, 'But why insist on having me as your pilot? All of my staff are fully qualified and competent.'
'I expect they are, but I know you're good. And was it you or someone else who told me always to insist on the best?' She laughed again and indicated the cameras in her open flight-bag. 'Besides, you're more likely to be patient with me when I ask you to fly around in circles while I take photographs.'
Nick's eyes narrowed. 'I didn't know you were into photography.'
'Well, I probably wasn't when I knew you. I took a course on it about eighteen months or so ago, so that I could do photo-journalism. The publishers like that; it saves them money if they can send one person on an assignment instead of two.' She managed to say it casually, not wanting him to guess that she had been so lonely, so desolate when he had left her that she had taken the course to give herself something to do, a challenge to try to take her mind off her unhappiness for a while.
'The other pilots are as good as me if not better,' Nick said firmly. 'We've one due in about an hour. He can take you wherever you want to—'
'No!' Olivia cut in firmly. 'Didn't whoever booked for me tell you? I'm—I'm nervous of flying in a helicopter. I'm not going to trust myself to just anyone. It has to be someone I can trust. And what's the point in waiting round for an hour when you're all ready to go?'
'Olivia, I don't think it would be a good idea for us to—to be cooped up together for hours on end.'
Sally Wentworth - Yesterday's Affair Page 4