Trust Too Much

by Jayne Bauling

  ‘You must have had boyfriends in Australia?’ Simon prompted urgently, ignoring the reproach.

  ‘Boyfriends, not lovers.’ Fee saw his blank incomprehension and it broke her heart. ‘You can’t understand that, can you? I wanted—I didn’t want to live like nearly everyone I know, playing at love. Oh, I know how naive it sounds, and maybe it’s not realistic at all, but it’s how I am…or how I was, because—I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Simon. I keep thinking maybe, just maybe, I could give up wanting old-fashioned things, and be with you, because I want…what you want, if that’s all I can have—’

  And here she was, still stupidly hoping that he could reassure her and reduce his past, plus his enduring cynicism, to a size and shape she could deal with, because even if an affair couldn’t make her truly happy it was what he wanted—for now—and she ached to make him happy, if only in the superficial way which was all he seemed capable of.

  And here she was too having to fight back tears as she saw what was happening, the way his expression grew remote, and knew it for the withdrawal of his interest as he absorbed what he had just learned and he realised that she never could make him happy. She was too inexperienced; Fee could almost follow his thoughts despite the way he was masking them now.

  So this was it at last, the abrupt loss of interest she had always been expecting, come too late for her to feel the relief she had once so confidently anticipated. Instead, Fee felt as if she was dying.

  Already he was abandoning that carefully emotionless mask, boredom creeping into his expression as he leaned back, long legs stretched out in front of him, hands clasped behind his head.

  Fee managed not to flinch as he glanced at her and she recognised a familiar ruthlessness in the tense curve of his mouth, but the indifference in his eyes seared her.

  ‘Look, maybe you’re right, Fee,’ he agreed with an ennui to match the look in his eyes. ‘The difficulties would seem to be insurmountable after all, since I can hardly rewrite my personal history, so perhaps we should just forget it.’

  At least he wasn’t making it as callous as his rejection of Ismay Compton all those years ago. He was actually ready to let her think he was seeing the issue from her point of view at last and that he accepted it.

  But, perversely, Fee wasn’t prepared to play it that way.

  ‘It’s because of what you’ve just found out, isn’t it?’ she challenged in a tight, hard voice. ‘Because I’ve never had any real lovers.’

  ‘Oh, that’s a major part of it, admittedly,’ he conceded dismissively. ‘Initiating innocents has never been my scene.’

  Fee shaped a mocking smile. ‘I remember after you’d told Ismay Compton you didn’t want her you said I should see you when I’d grown up and got a bit of experience. Should I still let you know when that happens?’

  Simon’s face tightened and he stirred irritably.

  ‘I wouldn’t rush into anything, sweetheart, and if you’ve managed to stay so completely innocent this long maybe you really are destined for those old-fashioned things you mentioned,’ he advised, and gestured disgustedly. ‘God, I shudder to think of what they might be…But I’d better go and leave you alone. You look terrible and I’d suggest an early night if you hope to be any use at the office tomorrow.’

  ‘You wouldn’t prefer a more experienced assistant?’ Fee couldn’t help herself.

  ‘You’re starting to bore me, Fee,’ Simon snapped. ‘Our private relationship hasn’t intruded on our working one, so why should anything change now that we’ve decided to abandon the personal side?’

  They had decided. Fee supposed it was accurate. She hadn’t wanted an affair with Simon, and now he no longer wanted one either. She had no right to the misery clawing at her heart.

  She put down her glass, feeling suddenly sick, and such was the distance between her and Simon now that neither of them spoke as she accompanied him to the door, shrugging out of his jacket and handing it to him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said briefly.

  He couldn’t wait to get away from her, she accepted bitterly. He turned and strode away, disappearing from her view before she had even closed the door again.

  It had finally happened. Simon had lost interest in her.

  Only much later that night did she give way, weeping quietly and helplessly for the man she loved and the withdrawal of his shallow interest, once resented, now suddenly so much more desirable than his new indifference.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NOW that Simon had lost interest in Fee as a woman, it was obvious that he no longer felt any incentive to show her the charming side of his nature which had caused so many women to forgive him so much over the years.

  All week Fee suffered under both his natural impatience and an excessively edgy mood, his tolerance a thing of the past, replaced by a driving perfectionism and occasionally unreasonable demands.

  ‘Didn’t you once boast that you managed to stay friends with women after you lost interest in them?’ she snapped unwisely one morning, goaded beyond endurance.

  Simon went from furiously blazing irritation to icy rejection in the space of seconds.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you’d leave personal matters behind at home instead of dragging them into the office with you,’ he requested coldly and watched with deliberate cruelty as she absorbed it. ‘After all, you did insist that certain rules govern our working relationship. I merely pointed out that you were late.’

  ‘Less than five minutes,’ she offered, completely losing the remnants of an earlier urge to apologise.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I overslept.’ Her answer bordered on insolent.

  And she had overslept because it had been three o’clock before any sleep had come to her in the first place.

  Simon’s mouth tightened, giving him an oddly nervy look as he stared at her.

  ‘Maynah Norman was never late,’ he said abruptly.

  ‘Because she just couldn’t wait to see you again every morning.’ Fee knew it was a cheap crack and she dropped her eyes for a few seconds, drawing a slow, controlling breath before raising them to his angrily brooding face again. ‘I suppose you’re wishing you had her or someone else working for you now instead of me because you’re feeling a fool, having thought you wanted me only to find you don’t really after all, but stop taking it out on me, Simon. It’s your responsibility; you decided you had to do Charles a favour and offer me this job.’

  ‘I never feel a fool,’ he retorted crushingly. ‘May I remind you that you’re here to work, not to attempt to analyse me? Plus you know me well enough to be aware that I was not doing Charles a favour. You got the job because you were capable of doing it, or so it seemed, but apparently the first flush of enthusiasm that made you so efficient is fading…And don’t wear that perfume in the office again. I don’t like it.’

  ‘I’m not wearing any.’

  ‘Whatever it is, then.’

  His mood continued to be unreasonable and he lost his temper quite spectacularly with a couple of people that week. Fee knew it was only a matter of time before she found herself the target of one of his sharp-tongued rages and she kept bracing herself mentally, warily alert every time his glance strayed her way, whether idly or deliberately.

  She half expected the explosion to occur on the Friday morning when he was having one of his irregular meetings with Rhodes Properties’ various departmental heads, including Miss Sung-Li from Personnel, in the small informal conference-room adjoining their suite of offices.

  For a start, Simon was already offended by the head of Marketing, whose natural caution made him distrustful of the facts and figures he could reel off from memory, and he was terse as he demanded the document the man required as confirmation.

  Self-consciously aware of everyone present watching her, and recognising the stormy look in Simon’s eyes, Fee took extra care, double-checking the title and coding of the relevant segment although she had been prepared for the demand, nervous of making a mi
stake but equally apprehensive of his finding her caution unacceptably slow.

  To her surprise, however, the explosion never came, although his mouth remained tight, so sheer relief caused her to relax her guard, and she was unprepared, the colour draining from her face as he turned on her after the meeting had ended and the others departed for their own offices.

  ‘Perhaps you were right! I’m seriously beginning to regret letting Charles influence me, since apparently it’s beyond you to supply what I require promptly…’

  There was more, but afterwards she could never remember all that he had said, and she didn’t really take it in at the time either. She just stood there, shrivelling under a corrosive cascade of criticism as he lashed her with his tongue, too devastated to summon any sort of defence, incapable of even the simple expedient of flight until a belated sense of her rights rescued her and anger rose.

  ‘It hasn’t taken you long to change your mind and start blaming Charles, considering that only a day or two ago you were still denying that you’d offered me this job as a favour to him—but that’s absolutely typical of how perverse you’ve been all week,’ she taunted cuttingly. ‘This—now—is just another example of that! Why didn’t you say all this at the time, when I was being insufficiently prompt for your liking, and I could have speeded it up, instead of waiting until now—?’

  ‘Because I happen to know how you fall apart when you’ve got a whole lot of people staring at you, especially in uncomfortable circumstances,’ he derided bitingly.

  It silenced Fee. She wanted to weep, unbearably moved by this unexpected evidence of the obvious strength of mind or character that had enabled him to remember and consider that personal idiosyncrasy of hers even while he was in a blazing temper. Her eyes focused on the toes of his expensive leather shoes as she tried to assemble a professionally composed expression.

  ‘I’m sorry I was slow,’ she began finally, looking up, but then personal resentment mastered her once more. ‘You made me nervous.’

  ‘Then you’re not fit to be doing this job,’ Simon returned, brutally dismissive as he glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go over to the New Territories. I’ll be quite late getting back, but there’s nothing I’ll want you for, so don’t wait. I’ll see you on Monday.’

  He was right, Fee reflected unhappily when he had gone. Loving Simon made her unfit to be his assistant because she was incapable of keeping her own rules. Emotion got in the way. It wasn’t the hard, impatient side of his nature that was affecting her, though; it was the little instances of caring, such as his consideration for her hatred of attention; the glimpses of the man he could be—the man she loved—that made it unbearable to go on working for him.

  ‘Yes, it might be possible for you to swap jobs with…let’s see, the head of Services’ assistant, I think,’ Miss Sung-Li conceded disapprovingly when Fee went to see her. ‘But put your request for a transfer in writing, to Mr Rhodes and to me, and then if he’s willing we’ll see what can be done. If, as you imply, a personality clash has emerged, he may be agreeable, although he won’t be too pleased at having to get used to yet another assistant.’

  Simon hadn’t returned to the office by the time she was ready to leave, so Fee left his copy of her request on his desk and went home to change, having promised to attend one of Babs’s dinner parties that night. She didn’t feel like socialising, but for Babs’s sake, because she had been so concerned about her since discovering that she was in love with Simon, she was determined to make a show of philosophical insouciance. For her own sake, too. She couldn’t let this crush her.

  She arrived at the house early, but Babs, still wandering around in a robe, claimed not to need any help and left her downstairs.

  ‘Charles is showering and I must dress. If anyone else arrives, let them in, give them a drink and entertain them…on the patio as it’s a nice evening. You look gorgeous, little one, only you could do with more makeup, blusher especially,’ she added before disappearing upstairs.

  The doorbell rang only a few minutes later, and Fee’s determined composure shattered as she pulled open the front door and found Simon standing there, still in the clothes he had worn at work although he was carrying his jacket and his tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, its sleeves rolled up.

  For the most fleeting of moments her reaction to his presence was the familiar one—that coming to life, so vibrant and intense that soft warm colour flooded her face. Then in the next second it had receded, leaving her even paler than before.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, the hostile tone deliberately contrived, because all she could feel was love and the pain of longing. ‘Babs and Charles are having a dinner party, but I happen to know you’re not invited.’

  She had made sure of that before agreeing to attend.

  ‘I want to talk to you, obviously,’ Simon answered her impatiently. ‘You weren’t at your apartment and this seemed the obvious place to try next.’

  Fee drew a sharp breath, one hand playing nervously with the door-handle.

  ‘Anything you’ve got to say to me can be said at Rhodes Properties. That’s the only relationship we’ve got these days,’ she added a little bitterly.

  ‘This is to do with our working relationship, but since you weren’t at the office…’ Simon shrugged. ‘I want to know the meaning of that ridiculous request I found on my desk.’

  ‘Couldn’t you understand it?’ Fee mocked. ‘I thought I’d used absolutely plain English. I want to move to one of the regular departments.’

  ‘Yes, but why? Because I bawled you out today? You can take it, Fee.’ He paused, hard blue eyes sweeping her outfit of a plain strapless black top and graceful black lace skirt of mid-calf length, a recent purchase from Stanley Market. ‘You’re tougher than you think.’

  ‘It has nothing to do with that,’ Fee denied the charge, taking a hasty step backwards as he moved into the hallway. ‘I really don’t think you should come in, Simon. Babs doesn’t like you any more.’

  ‘I don’t particularly like her either,’ he returned dismissively, the hand he had put out to her bare shoulder swiftly removed and then returned to where the soft fabric of her top covered her lower back as he turned her towards the lounge door. ‘In here. Then what is it about if not that? You said I made you nervous, I remember…But you had, and have, no need to be. You ought to have known that—known that I’d never embarrass you by criticising you in front of other people. You might have had that much faith in me. You can trust me, Fee.’

  In the lounge, Fee faced him.

  ‘When not so long ago you said I trust too much?’ she challenged sharply. ‘And you were right. Why should I trust you now?’

  ‘Because in this matter you can—because you know me.’ His confidence was almost arrogance.

  ‘Why even in this matter?’ she taunted sceptically. ‘Four years ago, you didn’t feel any compunction about humiliating me publicly—’

  ‘Forget that,’ Simon snapped irritably. ‘There was a reason for the way I behaved then, but I will never treat you like that again, Fee, so there’s no need for you to request a move.’

  Fee shook her head helplessly, watching him drop his jacket on to a chair.

  ‘Except that my request has nothing to do with that either,’ she asserted tightly, and saw him frown. ‘Don’t you know what it is really, Simon? With all your experience, you ought to have guessed!’

  Had she really once complacently congratulated herself because she wasn’t going to end up like Maynah Norman?

  ‘I do know that you’re letting something emotional get in the way,’ Simon stated grimly. ‘Not very professional of you, is it, Fee?’

  ‘Probably not,’ she acknowledged caustically. ‘But you see, Simon, I’m putting myself first—my emotional self, because I am an emotional being…You wouldn’t have a clue about that, though, would you? But there are a lot of us around, you know, people whose work—careers—are important to them, yes, but who aren
’t obsessed the way you are, because they’ve got other things they value in their lives…like peace, and emotional and mental comfort. But I don’t expect you to understand, because Rhodes Properties is all you care about really.’

  ‘Or all I’ve got?’ he suggested tautly.

  ‘The only thing of value anyway, because it’s the only thing you find fulfilling,’ she derided.

  ‘Yes, you may be right there,’ he allowed, unusually harsh. ‘But that’s beside the point—’

  ‘I’m not withdrawing my request,’ she insisted swiftly. ‘And if you can’t or won’t grant it, I’ll just have to leave Rhodes Properties altogether. I’m sorry to be messing you around like this, but it’s just not working out, and I have to consider myself.’

  Simon was silent for so long that at first Fee thought he must be concocting some ploy to manipulate her into changing her mind and thus spare himself the annoyance of having to adjust to yet another assistant. Then she became aware of his complicated expression, as if he was conducting some internal debate with himself.

  ‘I suppose I’ve messed you around equally,’ he said finally in a voice so empty of any sort of emotion that Fee had a strong sense of some kind of struggle being at an end. ‘Will you really be happier away from me, child?’

  Child. Fee had frozen. So it had come to this. In Simon’s eyes she had become a child, divested of her womanhood by his discovery that she had never had a lover.

  ‘Yes!’ It was emphatic, but inwardly she was falling apart.

  Simon stirred restlessly, taking a step towards her, lifting his hands but letting them drop again without touching her.

  ‘And are you so very unhappy now, little Fee?’ he asked, expression returning to his voice, but the tone was so gently indulgent that even without the inaccurate adjective preceding her name it would have put him firmly in the same camp as those others, like Babs, to whom she had remained ‘little Fee’.

  ‘Yes!’ Suddenly beyond dissembling, feeling as if she was dying, Fee confirmed it despairingly and, since he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, some treacherous, self-destructive instinct made her move forward and lift her hands to his shoulders, utterly unable to help herself. ‘You know what’s happened, don’t you? I should hate you for it, only I can’t! I love you!’