They drove along the winding coast road and far below them they could discern the gleam of the sea. At last the lights of Monte Carlo twinkled ahead and within a short time they drew up in the square of one of the most fairytale capitals of Europe. The winter season was in full spate and the Casino was ablaze with lights. Lance parked the car and led the way to the entrance.
It was the first time Rose had been in the Casino and she looked around with interest. So this was the place where so many fortunes were lost and won? If only one could decide one's life by the spin of a ball. If only one could leave the decisions to Fate and not have to make a choice oneself.
"I've set a limit," Susan said by her side. "I'm a terribly unlucky gambler so I never bring more than ten pounds with me."
"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love," Lance said, his voice tender as his eyes rested on Susan.
"So far I've not been lucky at either," the girl retorted.
"Well, you luck's changing now," he replied and catching hold of her hand led her over to one of the tables.
Rose smiled at Alan. "What's your luck like?"
"Lousy!"
She nodded her head in agreement and as of one accord they made their way to another table. Perhaps it was because neither of them cared, whether they won or lost that Fate looked kindly on them and by the end of the evening they had won nearly fifty pounds apiece. But by midnight the novelty of winning had worn thin and Rose longed for the peace of her rooms. She pushed back her chair and looked at Alan. He nodded and as the ball came to rest, picked up his chips and followed her over to the table where Lance and Susan were still playing.
Luck had smiled on them too, for there was an enormous pile of chips in front of the girl.
"I've had the most fabulous luck," she grinned. "I've won nearly two hundred pounds and Lance has won double that."
"I told you your luck would change with me," he said and planted a quick kiss on the top of her head.
"If you both want to go on playing Alan and I can get a taxi home," Rose said and was horrified that her voice was high and brittle.
Lance looked at her quickly. "My dear, I'm awfully sorry. I didn't realize you were tired. It's barely midnight."
"I know, but it's hot and noisy in here."
"It's about time we all packed it in," he agreed. "There's a saying about leaving the table while you're still winning. Come on, Sue, let's go and cash our chips."
It was a pleasure to walk out into the cool night air and Rose lifted her face to the starry sky and let the breeze play on her closed lids. She felt hands come behind her and pull her stole more closely over her shoulders and without opening her eyes she knew it was Lance.
"You don't want to catch a cold," he said softly in her ear, and she nodded without speaking and pulled back from him.
The drive home was more boisterous than the drive into Monte Carlo had been, for Susan and Lance seemed in high spirits and sang at the top of their voices. Only she and Alan sat quiet, like a couple of suet puddings, she thought, furious with herself at not being able to enter into the spirit of gaiety. Yet how could she sing when all she longed to do was to reach the solitude of her room and give way to the tears that even now were stinging her eyes?
Lance and Susan were still singing as he drew up at the villa.
"Home safe and sound," he carolled and seemed so delighted with himself that Rose could have slapped him. "If you'd like to get out I'll take the car into the garage."
"I'll do it if you like," Alan said.
"Not necessary, old chap."
Alan and Susan scrambled out of the back seat and joined Rose, but even as Lance slowly let in the clutch Susan flung herself forward, opened the door of the front seat and jumped in again.
"I'll drive to the garage with you," she said, and waved to Alan and Rose.
"That was a smart move," Lance whispered as they shot past the house. "You're learning, Sue, my sweet."
She laughed. "I hope it does the trick but Alan still hasn't seen us in a clinch."
"Never mind. He will."
Lance's words came true sooner than he had expected, for as the car disappeared from sight Rose gave an exclamation of annoyance. "I've left my bag in the front seat."
"I'll get it for you," Alan offered and before she could stop him, strode off to the garage.
Lance had already parked the car and was waiting for Susan to climb out. As she did so something clattered to the floor and he bent and picked up a brocaded bag.
"It's Rose's," he said, and even as he spoke he heard heavy steps along the path. He stopped speaking and listened intently. "That's Alan coming round for it."
Without giving Susan a chance to draw back, he pulled her against him. She started to giggle and he put his hand on the back of her head and shook it.
"Shhhh," he warned. "Now's your main chance."
Alan, stepping into the garage, drew back as if he had stepped on an electric wire and indeed the shock of seeing Susan in Lance's arms with the same intensity. Blindly, without collecting what he had come for, he strode away, not seeing that he was walking away from the house, not seeing anything except tangled blonde hair hidden against a dark jacket.
Only when they realized they were alone did Susan move away and look at Lance triumphantly. "If that hasn't done the trick, I don't know what will."
"You've nothing to worry about now," Lance replied, catching hold of her arm and walking back to the house.
Rose was not downstairs and he switched off the lights and closed the front door. "Give me her bag" he said to Susan. I'll pop it into her room on the way up."
Rose was sitting at the dressing table brushing her hair when she heard a knock on her door, and she was so startled that the brush slipped from her fingers with a clatter. The knock came again and putting on a dressing- gown she hurried over to the door, "Who is it?"
"It's me, Lance."
Her body trembled, but when she opened the door her face was composed.
"You left this in the car," he said, holding out the bag.
"Oh." She looked down at it. "Alan went back for it."
"Did he? Well, he didn't come to the garage."
Rose stared at him and saw a smudge of lipstick at the corner of his mouth. The bag shook in her hand and fell to the ground. They both bent to pick it up at the same time and would have collided had not Lance caught hold of her. When they straightened he did not release his grasp, but remained staring at her, feeling the soft flesh beneath his fingers. Never had Rose looked lovelier. Sadness lent depth to her eyes and in the rose-shaded light of her room her face looked transluscently pale. But it was not at her face that he stared, but at the beautiful curve of her body, clearly outlined by the light shining behind her.
"You look lovely," he said huskily. "Lovelier than I've ever seen you."
"I haven't changed," she said, and the effort she made to keep her voice steady made it seem hard and cold.
"Yes you have," he said, "you're not the same at all. In fact, I'm not sure that the name Rose suits you any more." His eyes rested on the curve of her breast, the indentation of her waist and the slender length of her hip visible beneath the folds of her chiffon dressing-gown. "In fact you look more like an orchid."
She shrugged. "I'm still a rose at heart."
"Have you got one?"
"Have I got what?"
"A heart." His hands pressed more heavily on her shoulders. "Heart of a rose — I like to think it's there still waiting to open for the right man, to the right touch."
The rest of his words died away and his face descended to hers as their lips met. For a moment she resisted and feeling her resistance his hold tightened. Deeply he drank of her kisses, seeming to draw her very life through her mouth, and she clung to him, her resistance gone, all fight drained away from her. For what seemed an eternity they remained together and he was the first one to draw back, his face unexpectedly white, an incredulous expression in his eyes.
"Rose," he s
aid incredulously. "My God! All this time and I never knew. Oh Rose…" He went to take her into his arms again but before he could do so she reached out and hit him across the face.
"How dare you?" she panted. "Until tonight I believed we were friends. I believed that no matter what happened — and what else you did — you always respected me. But now — now you've made me feel cheap."
"Because I kissed you? Because I held you in my arms?"
"Yes," she said. "Go back to Susan." And before he could answer she pushed him outside and locked the door in his face.
Lance stared at the closed door, suddenly realizing the reason she had rounded on him in this way. She believed he was in love with Susan. What a stupid fool he was not to have guessed! No wonder she hated herself for responding to his kisses. He walked along the corridor to his room. First thing tomorrow he would tell Rose the truth of his relationship with Susan, even if it meant Alan finding out. Damn it all, his own life and happiness were at stake. Tonight for the first time he realized why, since his marriage, he had started to work so determinedly in the business, why he had wanted to make something of his life instead of idling away his time. It had been for Rose, to win her approval and love. Her love.
Overwhelmed by the discovery he found sleep difficult, and tossed and turned restlessly. At half past four, bleary- eyed and with a pounding headache, he went to the bathroom in search of sleeping tablets. He knew Didi kept a supply handy and he routed out all the pill boxes until he found the capsules he wanted. The instructions said only one was to be taken, but determined to have a decent sleep — there was so much he was going to say to Rose when he saw her and he wanted to feel on top of the world — he took two pills and swallowed them with a glass of water. Then he staggered back to bed and within minutes lay in a slumber so deep that he was not aware of the passing of time, nor of the house stirring to life and the hours slowly passing until the morning had disappeared and noon-time came round. So deep in sleep that he did not know that Rose had left the villa on her way to Nice Airport.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE noise of the plane was a steady drone in her ears as Rose leaned back in her seat and looked through the window at the coastline of France thousands of feet below. One silver wing dipped as they turned northward and within a few moments the blue waters of the Mediterranean could be seen no more and ahead, obscured by cloud, lay the snow-capped mountains of the Alps.
From the moment she had locked her bedroom door on Lance, she had known there was only one course of action open to her; to set him free. It was not fair to tie him any longer to a loveless marriage. Once she had decided this, it was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders.
But as the hours passed and she settled down in a chair by the window and watched the dawn slowly rise in the sky, she acknowledged that his behavior had been typical of most men in the same situation. Coming from Susan, his senses still aroused, his passion till unabated, he had taken another woman in his arms and kissed her. There was no insult in it and only hurt pride had made her lose her temper. Her cheeks burned as she remembered the bitter things she had said and the thought of seeing him again filled her with such embarrassment that she determined to leave the villa first thing in the morning. Whatever she had to say to him could be put in a letter; conversation between them would only lead to recriminations or worse still, his reiteration that his marriage was important to him and must continue.
She pushed back her chair and began to pace the room again. There was no doubt that if Lance were free he would marry Susan and, because she desperately wanted his happiness, she realized the only way to give it to him was to get an annulment. Then they would both be free to go their separate ways. But would Lance be free? Would he not still be bound to her by guilt? Indeed, it would be even stronger in the realization that he had let her down.
Reluctantly she came to the conclusion that to give Lance his freedom would not be enough; she would have to give him his freedom of mind too. And the only way she could do that was to make herself well again.
She thought of the time she had spent in the nursing home and all that the doctor had said to her, wondering in which direction lay the solution. Suddenly, the last conversation she had had with him came to her mind. He had mentioned a Professor Salberg in Switzerland who had perfected an operation which, if successful, would give a complete cure and which, if unsuccessful, could result in death. It was the hardest decision she had ever had to make in her life! To have the operation and run the risk of death, or not have the operation and commit both herself and Lance to a marriage that would become increasingly intolerable as the years passed.
The more she thought about it the more she realized that an operation was the only logical action, and when at last dawn filled the sky she had decided to go to Zurich immediately.
Only the maids were stirring when she left the villa in an ancient taxi that had come from the nearest village. She had decided against using the chauffeur for fear he would tell Lance her destination, but when she reached the airport and saw the crowds of people she regretted her action, for it was well nigh impossible to get a porter. Luckily the taxi driver took pity on her and carried her case to the desk where she could collect her ticket. She tipped him generously and was rewarded by verbose thanks and a blast of heavy garlic breath that left her gasping as she handed her boarding card to the stewardess and walked across the tarmac to the plane.
It was only when Rose landed at Zurich and went into a telephone box to ring the Professor that she realized he might refuse to see her without a letter from her doctor. But it was too late to do anything about it now and she dialled the man's number with a trembling hand. Was he at home or was he abroad on one of his many journeys? A continual burring sounded in her ears and in despair she had decided there was no answer when the receiver was picked up at the other end. A few moments later she emerged from the booth and hailed a taxi, giving the Professor's address in a voice which was already shaky with fear.
Rose's interview with him was shorter than she had anticipated for after examining her he told her he could make no decision until he had seen X-rays of her injury.
"If you could give me the name of the doctor who attended you it would save time."
"I can't. I don't want to get in touch with him.
Seeing Professor Salberg's enquiring look she felt duty bound to explain.
"My husband doesn't know I want to have the operation," she said. "If he found out he'd try and stop me. That's why I've told no one. No one at all."
"Do you think it wise? After all, your husband has a right to know."
"He hasn't," she said firmly. "It's my life and my decision."
The Professor stared at her and then seeing she did not intend to say more, picked up a pen and began to write on a paper in front of him. After a moment he lifted up his head and handed her the sheet. "If you'll take this and go to my nursing home, you will be X-rayed. I suggest you spend the night there, because if, after studying the pictures, I decide to operate I will wish to do so at once."
"I see____ I…"
"There's still time for you to change your mind," he said gently.
"No. I don't want to change my mind. It's just that somehow I never thought you'd agree to do it so quickly."
"I haven't agreed yet, my dear, but if I do decide to go ahead I see no point in keeping you waiting. The longer the wait the greater the fear will become and that is something I do not wish my patients to have."
He stood up and Rose followed him to the door. He shook her hand firmly and motioned his receptionist to show her out, promising to call and see her at the nursing home that evening when he would tell her of his final decision.
For the whole of the afternoon Rose lay on a hard metal table in the X-ray room of the Professor's clinic on the outskirts of Zurich. She had thought the X-rays she had had after her accident had been thorough, but they were as nothing compared with the dozens of pictures that were taken of her that afte
rnoon. She was photographed from every angle, prodded and poked and questioned until she felt there was nothing about her body that the radiologist did not know.
When all the pictures had been completed she was allowed to go to her bedroom, a green-walled room over- loooking a large, tree shaded garden, now covered with snow. She had forgotten how cold Switzerland could be in the winter and was glad she had had the foresight to bring a woollen bedjacket. But even lying in bed she was not allowed to rest for there were visits from two other doctors who took blood tests and asked her yet more questions.
At eight o'clock Professor Salberg came into her room and stood at the foot of her bed.
"If you really want this operation," he said gravely, "I am prepared to do it. But I must warn you it is a dangerous one."
"I know. But I want you to go ahead."
"Don't you think you should let your husband know? At least tell him of your decision and ask him to be here with you."
"No. I want to be alone." She leaned forward. "I'd like you to do it as soon as possible."
"I've already told you I will. I merely wanted you to know that I was willing to wait for you to contact your husband and get him here. However, your decision is the final one." He held out his hand. "I will operate tomorrow, so next time I see you, you will be in this room after the operation."
"Won't I see you in the theatre?"
"Not if the anaesthetist does his job properly! Goodnight and God be with you."
Rachel Lindsay - Heart of a Rose Page 18