The Sun and Catriona

by Rosemary Pollock

  ‘They’re very happy,’ Catriona said. Though she didn’t realise it, her voice sounded flat. ‘It was good of you to agree, in the end.’

  ‘I had little alternative,’ he remarked wryly. ‘Still, I am optimistic about Vittorio. He may quite possibly be able to control Antoinette, in which case he will have my profound respect. She is a little young for marriage, but on the other hand she is one of those women who badly need the stabilising influence of a husband.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘What are your own plans?’ he asked casually. ‘Or are they too private to be discussed?’

  She walked past him, out on to the verandah. This was the supreme test. Somehow she had to control her feelings, to prevent him guessing for an instant at the misery churning inside her.

  ‘I have a lot of work to do,’ she said. ‘I can’t wait to get back to it.’

  ‘Your stay here in Malta has not been entirely unproductive. This morning, Antoinette showed me one of your paintings.’

  ‘She did?’ Catriona was startled.

  ‘Yes. You must forgive her. I particularly wanted to see a sample of your work.’ There was a pause, then he went on: ‘I have quite a number of friends in the London art world, and I may be able to help you in some way.’

  ‘That’s very good of you.’

  ‘Not at all.’ He moved closer to her. ‘I suppose, now, I must ask how soon you would like to leave us. Naturally, you will want to get back to London as quickly as possible, and it will be necessary for me to arrange your flight. How about the day after tomorrow? There’s a Trident leaving at ten-thirty in the morning. Of course, if you would prefer not to wait so long?’

  Catriona tried to speak, but to her horror realised that she couldn’t. She dared not trust her voice. Silently Peter waited, while it seemed to her that minutes ticked away. Then he spoke again, very quietly.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say something, Catriona?’

  ‘I ... I... She gulped and was forced to stop. Colour flooded into her face and then receded. She looked away from him, then to her horror, she burst into tears.

  ‘I shall have to say it, then.’ His voice was very soft. ‘You are not going anywhere, Catriona. I need you and you need me. We are two parts of one whole—indivisible.’

  She looked up at him, blinking back the treacherous tears. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked huskily. And then her eyes met his and she began to feel she was drowning in something she still didn’t quite understand.

  ‘I mean that I love you,’ he said.

  His arms, as they closed around her, were like steel bands and when his mouth took possession of hers she felt as if sunlight were spreading inside her. For her, he was like the sun. Without him there was no warmth anywhere.

  ‘You can’t love me,’ she murmured uncertainly, as soon as she was free to speak. ‘You said...’

  ‘I know what I said.’ He kissed her eyelids and the tip of her nose, then rested his cheek against her hair. ‘When Marina was killed, I died too ... or thought I did. For twelve years I sincerely believed that in some respects my life was over, that I could never love another woman. But then you came along, with your courage and honesty,’—he kissed her again, lingeringly—‘and I didn’t know what to do about you. Yesterday, I was hovering on the brink. I wanted to accept the fact that I loved you, but I didn’t think it could be true. I thought I would suddenly wake up and discover that what I felt was just a mirage after all. In which case I knew I must not involve you in any way. But then last night I realised how much you meant to me, and suddenly it was all so simple. You see, you are everything I could ever want. If I don’t have you I shall die again and this time it will be the end.’ He drew back a little, gazing down into her face. ‘Babuha...’ His voice was anxious. ‘You feel something for me, don’t you? You love me a little?’

  ‘I’ve shown you what I feel.’ Catriona confessed, her face hidden against his shoulder. ‘You’re everything to me—everything in the world. No one in my life has ever mattered so much. I don’t think I could live without you. I ... I thought I was going to die when you talked about sending me back to England...’ She broke off, and as he kissed her again she wound her arms around his neck. The kiss lasted for a long time and when at last he lifted his head they still clung together.

  ‘When will you marry me?’ he asked, playing with the ends of her hair. ‘It must be soon. I will not wait, my love.’

  She smiled. Against his lips, she murmured, ‘what about Jacqueline? I thought you planned to marry her.’

  ‘Jacqueline?’ He looked surprised. ‘I would never have married her. She was—just a woman, someone to keep the boredom at bay. And she knew it. Besides, her career is everything to her and when she does marry she will probably pick the kind of man who can be useful to her.’

  ‘It’s funny.’ Catriona sighed contentedly. ‘Last night I was so jealous of her that I could hardly watch the play.’

  ‘You were jealous? How do you imagine I felt when I saw you drinking with Sciberras?’

  ‘You minded?’ She looked up at him, wide-eyed. ‘You were jealous of Paolo?’

  ‘Of course. I was out of my mind with jealousy. Why do you think I behaved so badly when we first boarded the Khamsin? I said terrible things to you then...’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘you did.’

  ‘Well, it was only because of Paolo. That afternoon I had held you in my arms and you had seemed to respond to me. Then suddenly I saw you with him and I could not endure it. I spent the rest of the evening pacing up and down in the Boschetto, annoying the birds, who were trying to sleep.’

  ‘But I thought—’ She looked up at him wonderingly. ‘After the play, I thought you must be with Jacqueline.’

  He shook his head. ‘I was too busy getting angry with you and Paolo. It hurt so much—and later on, when I thought about it...’ He broke off. ‘Have you forgiven me?’

  Catriona tilted her head back so that she could look up at him more easily. ‘I’ll forgive you,’ she said softly. ‘But, Peter, love me always, won’t you? And trust me.’

  The sun was getting low, now, and its golden light fell full on her upturned face. Bending his head, he kissed her again. ‘When we are married,’ he murmured, ‘you will be flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone. We shall not be two people any more. Does that answer you?’

  ‘Yes.’ She ran her fingers through the crisp dark hair at the nape of his neck. ‘Peter, I love you ... I want to make you so happy.’

  ‘You’re making me happy now, and you always will. We shall both be so happy that other people will find us unbearable. We shall spend several months of every year at Ghajn Lucia—there is a nursery there which needs filling up.’

  ‘Ghajn Lucia?’ She looked up at him quickly, blushing at his meaning. ‘You mean you’ll open the house up?’

  ‘Of course. I want you to love it as much as I do.’

  Twenty minutes later they walked into the hotel foyer hand in hand, and a sudden thought flashed across her mind. ‘Peter, my exhibition—it doesn’t seem to matter any more. Do you think that’s dreadful?’

  He smiled at the top of her head. ‘If it did matter, I would be worried.’

  ‘But the people behind it—They’ve been so kind.’

  ‘Ask them to come out here,’ he answered promptly. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to them.’

  ‘You mustn’t spoil me.’

  He smiled, his eyes dark with tenderness. ‘I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘Let’s ring Toni,’ she said suddenly. ‘I want her to know how wonderful everything is.’

  Standing still in the middle of the foyer, Peter looked down at her for a moment. Then he lifted her hand and kissed it. Several people glanced round, and she blushed.

  ‘Why did you do that?’

  He smiled whimsically. ‘I did it for several reasons. Mainly, because I wanted to. But also because I’ve just left the darkness behind me. And it’s such a beautiful morning.’

  >

 

  Rosemary Pollock, The Sun and Catriona