No Provocation

by Weston, Sophie

  `You always get your own way, don't you?' she said slowly at last.

  He frowned quickly. 'You've said that to me before. Do you really think I bully you?'

  `No,' she said. She hesitated. `Not bully exactly. But you make it impossible for me to do anything except exactly what you want. As if I'm a puppet and you're pulling my strings. I—don't like it, Justin.'

  He looked at her for a long minute, his face unreadable. Then he propped himself against the pine dressing-table and crossed his arms.

  `And what would you prefer?' he asked in a voice of mild interest.

  `Honesty,' she retorted.

  His eyebrows rose. 'Honesty, hmm? Plain, up-front, tell-it-like-it-is truth?' There was a faint edge to the smooth voice.

  `Yes.'

  Candy met his eyes. She realised with a little jolt that she had made a terrible mistake. I'm not ready for this, she thought, taking an involuntary step backwards. She shut her eyes tight as the lounging body came away from the dressing-table with unmistakable purpose.

  It was as shattering as before. Yet at the same time it was utterly unlike their previous kisses. It was like being caught in a storm, she thought—blinded and deafened by its violence, aware of nothing but the alien, elemental force of it. Justin, it seemed, had stopped treating her gently.

  She was gasping for breath when he lifted his head. He held her strongly. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as if it were an earthquake. Her head fell back. He stooped, and his mouth was burning on the sensitive skin of her throat.

  She made a small frightened noise. He stopped dead.

  `That's honesty for you,' Justin muttered against her skin. He sounded angry. He lifted his head and forced her to meet his eyes. 'Still want it?'

  Candy was paralysed. Everything she had felt when Tom Langton touched her came flooding back. She felt Justin could read it in her eyes. His fierce, cynical expression hurt.

  Then, abruptly, he let her go and turned away. There was a long silence. She tried to steady her shaking hands.

  Justin said quietly, 'What happens, Candy? We touch. You seem to be with me—and then you go away. It's happened every time.' He turned to face her. 'Why?'

  `I don't know what you mean,' she said swiftly.

  `I don't buy that.'

  `We—we don't know each other very well—'

  `I know what happens when we touch,' Justin interrupted ruthlessly. His voice gentled. 'Candy, we didn't

  know each other that first evening. But you came into my arms as if you belonged here. Didn't you?'

  She tried to meet his eyes and couldn't. She felt her colour rise.

  `Until—until what, Candy? Until I did something? Said something that worried you? What?'

  He was waiting for an answer. Eventually she said in a small voice, 'It's not you. It's me.'

  His sigh was exasperated. 'It's both of us. Something's going badly wrong and I don't know what; if you do, tell me, for God's sake. If not, I'll have to work it out somehow, and then you'll say I've pulled your strings again.'

  Candy made a helpless gesture. The dark face softened.

  `What is it, Candy? Tell me.'

  He sounded almost sad. Staring at him, Candy thought she would never have imagined that cool Justin Richmond could look so tired or sound so vulnerable.

  She said impulsively, 'There was—well, is, I suppose—a man.'

  Justin's eyes narrowed. She stopped, confused. 'Go on,' he said quietly.

  Candy hesitated, looking for the words. What was it about Tom that had frightened her so much? The speed with which he had turned from casual escort into near-violent predator? His physical strength and her own unexpected helplessness in the face of it? The cheerful obliviousness, then and afterwards, to her distress? It didn't seem much in retrospect.

  `I was probably very stupid.'

  Justin shrugged, his eyes never leaving her face. 'We're all stupid sometimes. Tell me.'

  Candy took a deep breath. 'Well, someone I knew—and liked, in a way—someone I thought I trusted ...' She couldn't go on.

  Justin was watching her. 'Seduced you?' he asked calmly.

  Candy almost jumped. It sounded so matter-of-fact.

  `Oh, no. Not that. We'd been out for the evening and he—sort of jumped on me. Without warning. Or if there was a warning I didn't see it.'

  `He frightened you?'

  Candy shivered. 'It felt as if he was eating me,' she said involuntarily.

  Justin drew a deep sharp breath. But all he said was, `Nasty.'

  Candy shook her head. 'He let me go in the end. He thought I was a bit of a prude, but he did let me go. Well, he didn't want to offend my father, did he? He said ... he said we'd get married first if I insisted.' She was slightly shaken to hear the bitterness in her own voice.

  `Ah,' said Justin, 'I see.' He gave her his most charming smile suddenly. 'And you think, now we're married, I'll think I'm licensed to eat you.'

  She flushed brilliantly under the mocking eyes.

  `Don't worry,' he told her. 'Eating people isn't my style. What we do, we do together. Or not at all.'

  Although he was smiling at her, Candy had the oddest feeling he wasn't really seeing her. His eyes were bleak. She thought suddenly, I've hurt him.

  She put out a hand but he was already turning away. `So not at all,' he said over his shoulder. 'Unless you change your mind '

  After that the week should have been impossible. But Justin was as calm and friendly as if the encounter had never taken place. He did not even avoid personal subjects. Though he took care, Candy noticed, not to touch her.

  Candy followed his lead. Eventually, plucking up courage, she asked him about his first wife. He was surprised.

  `Marianne? What do you want to know?'

  `Oh, what she was like. How long you'd known her, how long you were together, that sort of thing,' she said airily.

  And were you in love with her? She didn't say that.

  The brown eyes were shrewd. He gave a small shrug but answered equably, 'She was a friend of the family. She wasn't very happy at home and she had an unhappy affair with her boss. My aunt and uncle were very kind when I went to live with them, but my father was seriously ill by then and I suppose I wasn't very happy either. University in a strange country, a whole new, noisy family, a lot of assumptions and expectations that I didn't know how to handle. I was insecure and Marianne was very kind. We were both much too young, of course.'

  `A friendly divorce?'

  Justin made a face. 'Divorce is a beastly business. I don't suppose it's ever really friendly. I don't think either of us bears ill will, if that's what you mean. A few scars, though. We're polite enough—but we're never going to be friends again.' He sounded sad.

  `Did you miss her?'

  With a rueful smile he shook his head. 'That's why she left. I was so busy. When my uncle fell ill, there were weeks we hardly saw each other.'

  And would you miss me? Probably less. For some reason, it made her feel desolate.

  Failing to sleep under the sloping roof, Candy castigated herself for her cowardice. If she had been brave enough to marry Justin, she argued internally, then she should be brave enough to do the thing properly. Yet she couldn't.

  It was not that she was afraid of him Far from it, Candy thought ruefully. Although Justin had not even tried to touch her again, there were times when she longed for him. If she was afraid of anything, it was her own unpredictable response.

  When he was away, shopping in the village or on one of his solitary dawn walks, she could tell herself it was all in her imagination. But as soon as she heard his step all her good sense dissolved.

  She watched him, largely in secret, all the time. She came to recognise his moods from the way he moved. The set of his shoulders could tell her whether he was tired, tense, irritated. She thought that the week was a greater strain on him than he expected, though any anger was deeply suppressed.

  It was a strain on her too. But she hid
her muddled feelings from Justin. She was, Candy thought ruefully, good at hiding her feelings. So she was as calm and casual as she could manage. The sleepless nights were the price she paid for it.

  It was a relief to go back to London in the end. They went to Justin's flat. He gave her the spare room without so much as a lift of an eyebrow by way of comment. He stood in the doorway, hesitating.

  `I'm afraid I'm going to be pretty busy in the next few weeks. What will you do with your days?'

  Candy aimed a cheerful smile slightly to the right of the immaculate dark head.

  `Move in. Make peace with my mother. Sort out what I do next at the Homeless Centre.'

  He looked relieved; or so it seemed to Candy.

  `Do you want any help? Moving in, I mean. Or negotiating with your mother.'

  Candy shook her head. It would have been heaven. But he had already said he was going to be busy. 'Thanks all the same.'

  Justin nodded. Candy felt a twinge of regret. She suppressed it at once.

  So Justin, an elegant stranger again in one of his impeccable grey suits, went to the office; and Candy went to the Mayfair house.

  Lady Neilson was less reproachful than might have been expected. She had other things on her mind, it was evident. In very few minutes she was confiding to Candy that Sir Leslie had slept at home only once in the intervening week. She attributed this to her daughter's behaviour.

  `He's so angry about your marrying Justin, darling. He's been horrible ever since Justin phoned.'

  Candy bit her lip. 'I'm sorry, Mother.'

  Judith's eyes filled with tears. 'How you can ... he's such a cold fish. Of course, I know he's supposed to be an absolute lady-killer. But how do you ever know what he's thinking?'

  By the way his shoulders lock, his mouth compresses, his eyes go black ...

  `If it's important,' Candy said quietly, 'he tells me.'

  But Judith was not really interested in her new son-in-law. She complained steadily until Candy left with a few soothing, meaningless commiserations and took her cases back to the flat.

  She unpacked swiftly, scarcely filling half the wardrobe space. Then she went to the Homeless Centre.

  Mel Langham was doing phone duty when she went in. Dave was seeing a journalist and Helen was thumping her way through the correspondence. Candy took up a pile of coffee-stained, dog-eared papers and began to sort through them methodically.

  Mel flung a smile at her. 'Thank heaven. Decent filing at last. Don't get married again, Candy.'

  Eventually the journalist left. He had a camera, she noticed. Dave walked through the office with him,

  talking too hard to notice that she was there. The journalist looked dazed.

  `Good old Dave. Another half-page spread,' Mel said. Dave ignored that in a beaming welcome.

  `Candy.' He was delighted. He swung her off her typist's chair and into the air as lightly as if she had been a cuddly toy. 'What are you doing here? I thought you were on honeymoon.'

  `Done that,' she said breathlessly.

  He put her down, still exuberant. 'We've missed you.' `We told her,' Helen said a little drily.

  Candy warmed. 'I thought I'd make myself useful again.'

  Dave nodded sagely. 'You'll be useful. We need someone to do some really professional fund-raising.'

  Candy, who was signing her name on the evening rota, blinked.

  `Dances,' explained Dave airily. 'Royal patrons. Television coverage, that sort of thing. Your husband's on the board of River TV, isn't he?'

  Candy went cold.

  `I don't discuss business with him, I'm afraid,' she said in a wooden voice.

  Mel put in sharply, Tor goodness' sake, Dave, they're newlyweds. They're not going to spend their evenings talking about his job.'

  Candy flushed scarlet. Dave looked confused.

  `I just thought Candy might bring him along one evening,' he said.

  Embarrassed, Candy said she would ask. Dave brightened at once but Mel wore a slight frown.

  `Look,' she said when Candy was getting ready to go home, 'don't let Dave pull your strings. He does good work, lord knows, but he's a man with an obsession. And he doesn't notice other people too well.'

  There was a faint bitterness there. Candy looked enquiring.

  `I've had the same crush on him as everyone else,' Mel confirmed in a goaded voice. 'He's that sort of man. Don't fall for that emotional blackmail he hands out. Your marriage is the most important thing now. Go for it.'

  It was easier said than done, thought Candy. She had no idea what Justin wanted. And Justin, courteous and as remote as the moon, didn't say.

  So she retreated. She spent conscience time with her mother. She worked hard at the Centre, doing the administration in the day and going out on the soup rounds at night. Justin never commented.

  So one night she blurted out, 'Justin, is this what you expected when we married?'

  Justin stopped in surprise. He had just come in and was in the middle of shrugging himself out of his jacket. He looked very tall, in his tailored trousers and waistcoat. Like some twenties Chicago gambler, Candy thought with a stab of surprise and something else that she did not want to think about. He slipped the links out of his cuffs with great deliberation and shook out the crisp cotton sleeves.

  `Well?' insisted Candy.

  `I'm not sure I had any expectations,' Justin said carefully. He poured himself a whisky, asking Candy with a gesture if she wanted one too. When she shook her head he came to the fireplace with his drink and looked at her searchingly. 'Did you? Are you disappointed?'

  Candy's eyes fell away from his. 'I thought we'd—see a bit more of each other.'

  Justin smiled. It could be a trick of the light which made it seem as if the smile did not reach his eyes.

  `Is this a complaint about my work schedule? Alison told me you wouldn't put up with it for long.'

  `Oh.' Candy flushed vividly. It had not occurred to her that she had the right to say anything about his work scheduling. Clearly his secretary did not agree with her.

  Justin watched her wryly.

  `You must say what you want, you know.'

  Candy decided to be brave.

  `All right. I want you to come with me one night.'

  He said nothing, watching her over the top of his glass. Candy knew the power of his silences by now. She set her teeth.

  `When we're doing the soup run. I just want you to

  see . .

  He said nothing for a long minute. He took a long swallow of whisky, not taking his eyes off her.

  At last he asked, 'Why?'

  Because I want to be with you. Because I want you to know me better. Because I want to know you. Candy floundered through all the possibilities and ended with the weakest.

  `Dave said ...'

  `Ah,' Justin said. He looked down at his whisky. 'Dave Tresilian. The Galahad of the Centre.'

  There was note in the even voice that was almost hostile. He could have been talking about an enemy. Candy stared. It almost sounded like—jealousy? But that was preposterous.

  `I think it's time you saw what I do with my evenings,' she said. 'And why.'

  There was a little silence. Justin watched her inscrutably. Then he moved, draining the last of his whisky.

  `Very well.' He met her eyes. 'It seems a reasonable idea,' he agreed levelly. 'I'm a reasonable man. I agree. When?'

  Candy swallowed. She did not realise how much she had expected him to say no.

  Justin extracted a thin diary from the inside pocket of his discarded jacket. He thumbed through it swiftly, frowning. 'Are you going tonight?'

  `Yes,' she agreed.

  `Then let's get it over with,' he said, throwing the jacket away from him almost violently. 'Tonight.'

  It was not a success. After that exchange, Candy thought, she should have known it would not be a success.

  To begin with, Dave played it wrong. He was too eager to please, to show off all their achievements. And J
ustin behaved impeccably, so Dave did not notice the lack of response. But Candy noticed. She writhed inwardly, willing Dave to shut up. But he was on roll and saw nothing wrong.

  They all went out in the rickety van together, Dave with his arm casually round her to keep her steady on the bench beside him.

  Candy was wearing her usual jeans and sweater, like all the others. Justin, at her insistence, had dressed warmly, in tweed trousers and sweater of softest cashmere under a heavy waxed jacket. He looked hopelessly out of place. His manners were perfect. Only Candy saw that there was an impenetrable wall of ice behind his apparent friendliness.

  When they stopped Justin came to her side to start serving out the hot soup and coffee. But Dave was not having that. He wanted to give this new potential patron a conducted tour of the down-and-outs, Candy saw with a sinking heart.

  `Dave, don't,' she murmured.

  But he chose not to hear. And, with a diamond-hard smile, Justin went with him, his head bent courteously to pick up the monologue. Candy could have screamed.

  Dave was still talking when they got back to the van. Justin looked weary. Of course, he had been up since before six, Candy thought with a flash of compassion. And he had looked tired when he'd come in from the office. She felt her irritation with Dave increase.

  When they got back to the Centre she was abrupt with him

  `I'd like to show you the projections for this year—' he was saying, but she interrupted.

  `We're both tired, Dave,' she told him curtly.

  Justin looked down at her, one eyebrow flicking up. Dave looked astounded. She had never used that tone to him before.

  `Another time,' Justin said to him pleasantly. Dave insisted, 'But it won't take a minute.'

  `Yes, it will,' said Candy. She softened her words with a smile, but the thread of anger was still there if he cared to listen. 'Once you get going, you forget the time. I want to go home now. I'll see you tomorrow, Dave.'

  And she almost dragged Justin back to where they had left the car in the street outside the Centre.

  `I'll drive,' he said, holding out his hand for the keys.