Sally Wentworth - Yesterday's Affair

by Sally Wentworth

  Nick was working as usual while he waited, writing up some reports by the look of it, as he sat in the clubhouse of the small airfield where they'd landed. He looked up in surprise when she came up to him. 'You're back early.'

  'Mm. Shall we go?'

  Nick glanced at his watch. 'You're due some flying time; do you want to go on somewhere else?'

  'No, I guess I'd rather get back.'

  He looked at her with a small frown between his brows, but gathered up his papers, paid his landing fee, and they went back to the chopper. The days were lighter for longer now that it was April, and the sun was still high as they flew over the Cotswolds. 'Want me to fly around a little? You haven't seen the Churn valley yet.'

  But Olivia shook her head. 'No, thanks.'

  Again Nick frowned, but headed for Harnbury-on-the- Wold. There were a couple of other pilots standing by one of the choppers when they flew in. Nick went to speak to them, leaving Olivia to collect her cameras. These she loaded into the trunk of her car, then walked over to the building and into Nick's office. He saw her go, and came quickly after her. He found Olivia looking more closely at the photos on the wall.

  'Is this your father?' She pointed at the elder man.

  'Yes. Is there something you want?'

  'He looks nice. I wish I could have known him.' Pulling up a chair, she sat down in it and put her feet up on Nick's desk.

  His face tightened, knowing she was up to something. 'I asked you what you wanted,' he reminded her, going to the other side of the desk.

  'I'm waiting for you to agree to go with me to the theatre tomorrow.'

  'Then you're due for a long wait.'

  'Why?'

  'Because I have no intention of going, of course.'

  'Why not?'

  'For heaven's sake, Olivia! It's perfectly obvious why not.'

  'Not to me it isn't.'

  "Then you must be extremely dense,' he snarled. 'I have to see you because you conned me into signing a contract to fly you around, but there's no way I want to see you socially. In fact I shall be extremely pleased when Friday comes round and I never have to see you again.'

  'What a rotten liar you are, Nick,' she answered equably.

  His square jaw jutted forward. 'I have never been more serious about anything in my life.'

  'In that case I shall have to remind you that you owe me.'

  'Owe you?' He blinked in surprise. 'For what?'

  'I'd bought two tickets for a concert at the Met that time you decided to do your big "I don't break up marriages!" act and go back to England. I lost good money on those.'

  'If you think a thing like that is—'

  'And of course you also owe me for something else.' Olivia lifted her head to hold his eyes. 'You owe me for not answering my letters when you knew how much I loved you and needed you. You owe me for not letting me know that you'd been in the plane crash and were hurt, that you were in hospital. You let me go through hell all those months because you were determined to go through your own private hell alone, instead of letting me be here with you where I belonged. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you for that, Nick.'

  His face had changed, grown bleak again. 'I had no right to send for you after I'd been fool—' He stopped abruptly.

  'After you'd been fool enough to walk out on me?' she guessed. Olivia swung her feet down and stood up. 'But doesn't love have any rights? Doesn't a lover? OK, maybe we hadn't exchanged any vows in a church, there was no "in sickness and in health", but you knew; that I loved you, no matter what. And if you hadn't been so full of pig-headed pride you—'

  She broke off and her chin came up. 'But you owe me for those months—and that's why you're going to put on your black tie and take me to that play tomorrow.' She walked to the door, then turned back to look at him as he still stood at his desk, his hands resting on it, his stern profile towards her. 'I'll meet you in the foyer of the theatre at six-thirty tomorrow evening.' He didn't speak, and she smiled a little grimly. 'So long, Nick. Be seeing you.'

  That evening Olivia spent a couple of hours working out how much money she'd got left. She had lent her flat back in New York to a friend so the rent was taken care of, and she reckoned there would still be a few thousand dollars left from her aunt's legacy once she had paid for her helicopter trips, a percentage of which she felt she could legitimately claim as expenses. There would be enough anyway for a new dress to wear to the theatre tomorrow, and for a visit to a beauty salon. So Olivia spent most of the next morning shopping, and finally chose a dress in deep rose velvet, quite figure-hugging and cut slightly off the shoulder, but with long sleeves. For once she didn't feel hungry, but made herself have a salad lunch. She also spent an hour on a sunbed to freshen up her tan, and had her hair done, having it put up but with tendrils of dark curls allowed to escape around her ears and neck. Sophisticated but not over the top.

  As evening approached Olivia grew tense, wondering if Nick would come. She started getting ready much too early, but took her time, wanting to look her best. When she was dressed she added perfume—Poison, Nick's favourite, the scent he had always brought her when he'd come to New York. Still only just after six, not time to leave yet. The theatre was only ten minutes' walk away but Olivia had ordered a taxi to take her, not wanting to take a chance on the weather. She went to the window and looked out, wondering for the ten thousandth time if Nick would come, whether the moral blackmail she had unashamedly used would be enough to overcome his stubbornness.

  At six-twenty the desk rang through to say that her cab had arrived. Olivia picked up her coat and clutch-purse and took the lift down to the entrance. The weather was so fine and warm that she hardly needed her coat. The cab pulled up outside the theatre almost exactly at six- thirty. Olivia went inside but Nick wasn't there. She checked in her coat and went into the ladies' cloakroom for a few minutes, her heart thumping, trying not to think of what she would do if he didn't turn up. She had banked so much on tonight. When she came out five minutes later the foyer seemed to be full of tall, broad- shouldered men in evening dress. A great many heads turned to look at her appreciatively as she made her way through the crowd, but none of them was Nick's. A waiter came to offer her a glass of wine. Olivia took it with an unsteady smile and went to stand a couple of steps up the wide staircase leading to the boxes, where she could see over people's heads.

  Everyone was talking and she felt deafened by the noise, wanted to scream out to than all to shut up, shut up. The big clock in the foyer said six forty-five, and she knew he wasn't going to come. Olivia took a long drink from her glass of wine, thinking that tonight would be one time in her life when it would feel good to get drunk. The main door opened again and a small group of latecomers walked in. Behind them was a tall man with dark hair in an immaculate evening suit.

  Olivia drew in her breath as Nick looked about him, searching for her. He glanced up and grew very still as their eyes met. The laughing, chattering crowd dissolved and they might have been alone. Olivia's heart filled with pride at his handsomeness, and triumph that he had come. Tonight, she thought as she gazed down at Nick. Tonight I'll seduce him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Measure for Measure was one of the few Shakespeare plays that Olivia hadn't seen before. She'd read the play, of course, and had been looking forward to seeing it, but found that she couldn't give it the attention the production deserved. Her heart was still doing crazy somersaults and she found it difficult to transport her imagination to Vienna and to the problems of other lovers. She was too full of the wonder of being here beside Nick, feeling his shoulder against hers. Too rocked by the admiration and pride that had been in his eyes when he saw her, and which he couldn't hide.

  A waiter had offered him a glass of wine, and had to speak twice before Nick tore his gaze away and took a glass. He had walked through the crowd, his eyes still for her alone, and had climbed the stair to join her. He hadn't said anything—there had been no need; he had just clinked his glass ag
ainst hers in a silent toast. Then the play was announced and they had quickly finished their drinks and been gathered up by the rest of the audience as they made their way to their seats in this small, pretty theatre. They were good seats, on the front row of the box, where they could look over the wooden rail down on to the projecting apron stage with the seats set round it so that the players were almost among the audience. There was a great feeling of deja vu, of being back in Elizabethan times. But Olivia didn't want to go back in time; she wanted to be here, now, with Nick beside her.

  During the interval they went out on to the terrace that overlooked the river. Nick leaned against the rail, his eyes on the river, but Olivia leaned back against it so that she could see him.

  'You didn't go to sleep,' she said with a smile.

  'No.'

  Persevering, Olivia tried, 'It's a good production, isn't it? Very well acted.'

  'Yes, I suppose so,' Nick straightened up and turned to her, tension in his face. 'Olivia, I—'

  Swiftly she put her fingers over his mouth, afraid that he was again going to renounce her. 'Please don't spoil tonight.'

  Lifting his hand, Nick took hold of her wrist and pulled it gently down. 'I was only going to say how attractive you look. That dress is—perfect for you.'

  'Wow!' Olivia gave a shaky laugh. 'Now that I didn't expect.'

  Nick's brows flickered and his mouth tightened for a moment, in inner anger, Olivia thought. 'You must think me an ill-mannered brute—' he began, but again Olivia stopped him.

  'I know what you are, what you will always be to me. Nothing can change that. Not ever.' She smiled. 'No matter how hard you try.'

  'I don't deserve that, Olivia.' Nick's voice grew husky.

  She laughed, her heart swelling with hope. 'Probably not, but you're stuck with it anyway.' Then not wanting to get too serious yet, she said, 'How about a drink? I'm thirsty.'

  He was still as good at getting drinks as ever, shouldering his way to the bar, but when he came back Olivia was talking to the theatre manager. She went to introduce him to Nick, but it turned out that they already knew each other. 'My father used to be a keen supporter of the theatre,' Nick explained.

  'Which we hope you will be, too,' the manager said. 'And I hear you've inherited Harnbury Hall; I wonder if Shakespeare ever went there—it must be about his time.'

  'It's possible, I suppose,' Nick agreed.

  'Have you received your invitation to take part in the Birthday Celebration procession yet?' the other man asked.

  'Yes, but I'm not sure whether I'll be able to take part.'

  Nick said it dismissively, and the manager took the hint and didn't press him. 'Why don't you both come to the party backstage afterwards?' he invited.

  'Thanks, we'd love to,' Olivia said before Nick had a chance to refuse. They talked for a few minutes longer, but then the second half was announced and the manager excused himself.

  'Was that the procession through the town they hold on Shakespeare's birthday?' Olivia enquired as she and Nick made their way back to their seats.

  'Yes, that's right.'

  'I've read about it. How come you got invited? I thought they only had overseas dignitaries—ambassadors and that kind of person.'

  'No, the format was changed recently. Now they have local dignitaries, actors from the Royal Shakespeare Company, and artistic representatives from the EC countries. They've put the emphasis on the arts rather than the diplomatic corps. Which is as it should be, I think.'

  'And they've invited you as a local representative?'

  'For my father's sake, as much as anything, I suppose.'

  'That's good,' Olivia said warmly. 'You should be pleased—and you should go for his sake.'

  'Yes, perhaps.' Nick hesitated for a moment but whatever he was going to say was lost as the next act began.

  The 'backstage' party spread on to the stage itself, some of the audience staying behind for it. The actors joined in, too, but they had taken off their costumes and their make-up and were just well-known faces. Olivia was excited to see and even to meet some of them, but told Nick that she was pleased they'd taken off their costumes. 'It would destroy the magic to see the greasepaint and realise that the jewels on the costumes were only glass.'

  To her surprise Nick knew several people there, mostiy men he had gone to school with locally.

  'Which school?' Olivia questioned.

  'The grammar school, in the town.'

  She stared at him. 'But that was the school that Shakespeare went to!'

  'Yes, that's right.'

  'Nick, I could hit you! Why didn't you tell me?'

  He looked amused. 'You didn't ask.'

  'For Pete's sake!' She glowered at him and thrust out her empty glass. 'I need another drink.'

  He laughed and went to get her one, threading his way through the crowd.

  Olivia was standing near the back of the stage, and now she turned to look around her, seeing the theatre as the actors must see it during a performance. Although it was small, the rows of seats still looked intimidating, and

  Olivia couldn't see herself ever having the courage to step on to a stage in front of crowds of people.

  'Hello. I don't think we've met.'

  She turned as a fair-haüed, very good-looking young man came over to her. He looked vaguely familiar and she frowned a little, trying to remember. 'I'm not sure.'

  'I'm with the RSC,' he supplied. 'I'm appearing at the other theatre.'

  'Oh, sure, now I remember. I went there a week or so ago. It was a great production.'

  'Thanks.' He gave her a charming smile. 'You're American?'

  'That's right.'

  'And you're an actress,' he said definitely.

  'Why, no. What gives you that idea?'

  With flattering gallantry—or was it just plain flattery?—he said, 'Because any girl as lovely as you must surely be an actress. You outshine every woman here.'

  'I agree with you.'

  Nick had come up to them, and spoke from behind her. Olivia turned and took the drink from him, looking laughingly up into his eyes. 'Do you?'

  'Yes.' There was an intensity in his voice and in his eyes that made her own laughter fade as she looked at him.

  'Oh,' Olivia said inadequately. Remembering, she turned to speak to the young actor again, but he had gone, lost in the crowd.

  'Who was that?' Nick demanded.

  'An actor. I can't remember his name. He's appearing in the other theatre.'

  'Humph.'

  Nick made a disparaging noise, and Olivia looked at him in disbelief. 'Why, Nick, I do believe you're jealous.' 'Nonsense,' he retorted too quickly.

  'No? Then why else did you come rushing back here to stake your claim?'

  She said it half jokingly, but Nick frowned. 'I have no claim in you, Olivia,' he said heavily.

  Not wanting the conversation to take that kind of turn, she quickly changed the subject and, as soon as they'd finished their drinks, suggested, 'Let's go, shall we?'

  There was a mist on the river as they came out of the theatre, and Olivia put up the collar of her coat, glad of its warmth.

  'I'll walk you back to your hotel,' Nick offered.

  'OK, thanks.'

  They began to walk along, Olivia's high heels echoing on the pavement, but they'd only gone a couple of hundred yards when she stopped as if something had just occurred to her. 'Hey, I just remembered: you promised to show me your family tree.'

  'I don't remember promising.'

  'Sure, you did,' Olivia lied. 'Let's go look at it now. Where's your car?'

  'But it's gone midnight.'

  'So what? In New York nobody goes to bed before two, three in the morning.'

  'Maybe I'D bring it with me to the office tomorrow and you can look at it there,' Nick temporised.

  She shook her head. 'I may duck out tomorrow.'

  'Not fly? But why?'

  Olivia shrugged. 'I guess I won't.'

  'You sign
ed that contract you're always reminding me about; I could hold you to it.' She smiled but shook her head again. His tone becoming serious, Nick asked, 'Why not, Olivia?'

  'Because..she hesitated '… because I think I'd rather tonight be our last time together.'

  There was a long pause before Nick said bleakly, 'I see.'

  She gave a light smile and slipped her hand through his arm. 'So let's go see your family tree. I really don't want to miss that.'

  For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but then Nick said, 'No, OK, if that's what you want.'

  'Great. I can ring for a cab to bring me back.'

  'Of course not. I'll take you home.'

  Luckily Nick's car was parked not far away, and on the way to Harnbury Olivia kept up a bright, mostly onesided conversation about the play and the party, not wanting to give him an opportunity to think about changing his mind. The great gates opened electronically and they drove down the curving avenue to the house at last. Olivia gave a small sigh of relief as they entered the hall, with its now familiar smell of age.

  'Do you remember the way to the library?'

  'I think I'd better follow you.'

  The family tree was kept in a big map chest, with wide, shallow drawers that pulled out so the maps could lie flat. 'Here it is.' Nick took a vellum sheet, wrapped in layers of tissue, from the third drawer down, and laid it carefully on a big desk under the central light. He unwrapped it to reveal the family tree, yellow with age, but still legible, the names painted in with bright colours. Nick stood beside her, reading out the names as they travelled over six hundred years.

  'It stops in the seventeenth century,' Olivia remarked.

  'Yes, this was done in 1618; see the date there in the corner. To hang up in here when the house was built, presumably. After that all the names were put in the family Bible. Here, I'll show you.' He went over to a beautifully carved Bible-box and heaved out the huge, brass-bound volume. The front leaves were full of names and dates of birth, marriage and death. So much history in so many different hands, the scratch of quill feathers, the flow of fountain-pen. And at the very end, almost at the bottom of a page, in Nick's firm handwriting, his father's name and the date of his death.