Picking up the package, she returned to the hall and, without giving herself time to think, knocked on the door of the sitting room and went in. Barnaby was in an armchair by the fire, but at the sight of her he got slowly to his feet, though he made no move to come nearer.
"I - I want to give you this," she stammered, and held out the package.
He looked at it and one shaggy brow lifted. "It looks nearly as big as you!"
"It's heavy," she said. "Take it."
He did so, and with quick precise movements unwrapped the paper to disclose the book.
Nicola watched him in a fever of anxiety, her heart hammering so loudly that she could not hear any other sound except its beat. It was ridiculous to be so nervous about the giving of a present. Even if it was not what he wanted it would surely meet with his approval. But he said nothing and looked at the book as though he had never seen one before in his life. Unable to bear the suspense, she ran over to his side. "Isn't it what you want? I thought you liked Gauguin. Those paintings you have in your bedroom - they're in the same sort of colours, and I thought -"
"It's a magnificent book," he said quickly. "But I -" He stopped and cleared his throat. "I never expected anything like it." He turned several of the pages reverently. "It's almost as good as looking at the real paintings. I've never seen such wonderful reproductions."
"It's a special edition," she explained.
Silent again, he continued to riffle through the pages, and she watched him, puzzled by his expression. There was no doubt that he was pleased, but it was not pleasure alone that marked his face, and she waited nervously for him to speak, half-anticipating what he would say and completely ready with her answer. Pray God he would see the funny side to her impersonation and not be angry with her.
"You shouldn't have bought me such an expensive present," he murmured at last. "I'd have appreciated anything from you Nicky, no matter how little its value."
"But I wanted to give you this." About to say she could afford it, she stopped, for even in her own ears the words sounded spoiled. What was the best way of telling him the truth? She had rehearsed it many times, but now that the moment had come all her carefully worked out phrases had disappeared, and all she could think of was her longing to throw herself into his arms. "The cost doesn't matter," she continued desperately, "as long as you like it."
"It's wonderful," he said firmly. "But it is expensive. I hope you didn't do anything foolish in order to get it for me."
"Not unless you consider it foolish of Nicky to return to her old way of life," a hard clear voice interrupted them.
With a gasp Nicola swung round to see Joanna.
"I assume there's a meaning behind that remark," Barnaby said.
"There certainly is," Joanna retorted. "And you're not going to like it."
"I'll tell Barnaby the truth," Nicola interrupted. "I was just going to when you came in."
"Pity I didn't give you a few minutes longer, then. It might have been amusing to know what story you'd made up this time! You've never been short on lies, have you?"
"For goodness' sake, Joanna," Barnaby exploded, "tell me what's on your mind."
"Nicky's playing you for a fool. That's what's on my mind! I know where she bought that book and how she got the money for it. From that man Marty - the one she promised you last week she was never going to see again."
Nicola stared at Joanna, repelled by the venom in her voice, yet at the same time curious to know how she had discovered the truth; but not the whole truth, she amended, smiling slightly, for Joanna still believed Marty was her elderly protector.
"Look at the way she's laughing," Joanna said harshly.
"I'm not laughing," Nicola said. "I merely find your bitchiness amusing."
"I don't find it amusing." Barnaby spoke to Nicola directly for the first time since Joanna had burst in on them. "Is what Joanna said the truth?"
"In a way," Nicola replied. "Marty did give me the money."
"Last week you promised me you wouldn't see him again."
"I had a reason for saying that. Please, Barnaby, let me talk to you alone."
"There's no point," he said harshly. "What you want to say can just as easily be said in front of Joanna."
"I want to talk to you alone," she repeated. "Please, Barnaby."
"Please, Barnaby," Joanna mocked, and moved close to him. "Don't tell me you're going to fall for that again. She's already made a fool of you once!" Joanna turned on Nicola. "You'll need a lot more than lies to get you out of trouble now. Your little game is over; though it beats me why you even bothered to play it. I saw your boy-friend in the bookshop this afternoon. I went there to pick up a print I'd ordered and he came in and asked if the book he'd paid for last week had been collected yet."
Before Nicola could reply Joanna swung back to Barnaby. "Don't you see what she did? She got money from one man to make a play for another! That's why she arranged to meet him last week - to get him to buy the book for her."
"Did he buy the book for you, Nicky?" Barnaby asked.
"Please let me talk to you alone," she cried.
"Just answer me," he grated. "Did this man buy the book for you?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then you can take it back to him." In a violent gesture he sent the book crashing to the floor.
"Barnaby, don't! You don't understand." She ran over and put her hand on his arm, but he flung it away with such force that she staggered back.
"I understand only too well," he shouted. "For some reason best known to yourself you have to conquer every man you meet, no matter who he is or how old he is. It's part of your sickness, Nicky, but I thought I could help you work your way through it."
"You can!" she cried. "I mean, it isn't true. Barnaby, please, you've got to listen to me!"
"I'm finished listening to you. I don't ever want to hear you or see you again. Get out of the hostel, Nicky. We've no room here for you." He strode out, slamming the door so hard that the curtains trembled on their hooks.
Nicola drew a shuddering breath. What an ugly and unnecessary scene this had been; ugly because of all that Joanna had implied, and unnecessary because if Joanna had come in only a few moments later the whole truth would already have been disclosed. Not that any lasting harm had been done, she would merely be unable to tell Barnaby the truth in the light- hearted way she had planned. She would have to go in search of him and begin her story knowing that he was full of anger towards her. Yet how quickly his anger would die when he learned the whole story.
She took a step forward and found her way barred by Joanna.
"I hope you're going upstairs to pack?"
"I'm going to see Barnaby first."
"You're wasting your time. Your lies won't help you now. You're a little tramp, Nicky, and Barnaby knows it!"
"You'd better be careful what you say," Nicola said tightly.
"You're the one who should be careful. Do you think I haven't seen the game you've been playing? You set your cap at Barnaby the minute you got here."
"And I've got him," Nicola flared, anger destroying her discretion. "You've done everything you can to turn him against me, but you haven't been able to stop him loving me."
"Loving you!" Joanna taunted, and burst out laughing.
" 'Wanting' is the word I'd use! That's the only emotion you're capable of arousing in a man. Not that it seems to worry you."
"You really do hate me, don't you?" Nicola said slowly. "I suppose it's because you love Barnaby too."
"If you're implying I'm jealous…" Colour flooded into Joanna's face, suffusing her usually placid features with a pink glow. "The most difficult part about having you here was watching you make a play for Barnaby and not being able to tell you the truth. But he wouldn't let me. He knew how you felt about him and he was sure he could help you to work your way out of it."
"Work my way out of it?" Nicola echoed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Joanna sighed heavily. "Lots of th
e girls Barnaby tries to help fall in love with him. They're immature and emotionally stunted - that's generally why they're here - and they see him as their saviour. But once they start to make something of their lives they realise that what they felt for him was part of their growing up."
"I was already grown up when I met Barnaby," Nicola said coldly.
"In years, perhaps. Not in terms of maturity." Joanna was fully in command of herself now and spoke with calm authority. "You were a child, Nicky. Those are Barnaby's words, not mine."
"He didn't kiss me as if I were a child," Nicola tossed her head in anger.
"He found that the most difficult part of the whole thing. Your physical wantonness and your - your childlike trust in him. Any man, other than Barnaby, would have taken advantage of it. You can count yourself lucky you came up against someone as ethical as him. Though even he found it hard to keep you at arm's length the whole time."
"If you're trying to make me regret loving Barnaby you're not succeeding. If you'd kindly get out of my way I'd like to go and talk to him."
Joanna did not move. Her skin was still pink and there was a strange glitter in her eyes. But it was her hands that caught Nicola's attention, for the blunt fingers twined and intertwined with each other, showing an uncertainty that was not to be seen on her face. "It won't do you any good, Nicky." Her voice was unexpectedly husky. "I can see I'll have to tell you the whole truth. Barnaby didn't want anyone to know because… well, he hates a fuss and, more important still, he feels it might affect some of the girls here - but you'll be leaving here tonight anyway, so it won't make any difference if I tell you."
"Tell me what?"
"About Barnaby and myself. At least it will help you to understand why I was angry at the way you tried to monopolise him. I know you thought I was petty about it, but -" she shrugged - "I may be a qualified social worker, but when it comes to love I'm as jealous and possessive as most women."
Nicola's heart thumped heavily. "What are you trying to say?"
"Can't you guess? Barnaby and I are engaged. We're planning to be married in a couple of months."
"No," Nicola gasped. "I don't believe it!" She stared at Joanna and the brown eyes returned her gaze without wavering.
"It's true," Joanna said quietly. "You can ask Barnaby yourself if you don't believe me. He tried to tell you the night he took you to the pictures - but I gather things got a bit out of hand. You made your feelings so clear that he was afraid you'd run away if he told you the truth."
"And now?"
"You're leaving anyway. This man Marty obviously has a strong hold over you, and perhaps if you play your cards right he might marry you. He's much older than you, of course, but that might be what you need."
Nicola still could not speak and Joanna moved a step closer, her face warm with compassion. "Right now you think you love Barnaby, but I can assure you that once you go back to your friend you'll forget the hostel and everyone in it. Barnaby has such a strong personality that -"
"Stop it!" Nicola cried, and blindly walked to the door. Her hands were fumbling on the knob when Joanna came to stand beside her.
"You'll get over it, Nicky. All the other girls have. If you'd like to leave the hostel tonight I can take you in my car."
"That won't be necessary." Nicola spoke with difficulty, her mouth so dry that her tongue could barely move. "I've nothing to pack."
"Barnaby bought you a couple of dresses. I'm sure he'd want you to take them."
"Leave them for another homeless stray. I won't need them any more."
"Is it back to your old life, then?"
"Naturally! It's what you thought I'd do all along, isn't it?" Not waiting for an answer, Nicola ran out.
Without bothering to fetch a coat she wrenched open the front door and raced down the path and along the pavement. The air struck cold against her bare arms, but it did not deter her, so anxious was she to put the hostel as far behind her as she could.
So much for all her dreams and hopes. What a fool she had been not to see the reality of the situation instead of her own projection of it! Despite Barnaby's insistence that everyone call him by his first name, he was and always had been a doctor in charge of a social experiment, with everyone at the hostel a part of it. But stupidly she had believed he had seen her as a woman, had read into everything he had said a personal meaning which had never been there.
Of course he had responded to her. She had never given him a chance not to! From the moment they had met she had flung herself at him. Wanton, Joanna had called her behaviour, and wanton she had undoubtedly been.
But she had loved him and hadn't cared if he had known it. Tears filled her eyes at the thought. How much heartache she would have been saved if he had been equally truthful with her. Despite the psychological reasons Joanna had given her for Barnaby's secrecy over his engagement, Nicola could not condone his behaviour. He had known she wanted him and he had deliberately allowed her to believe that only the fact that she was staying in the hostel under his care was preventing him from openly declaring his own love for her. Yet how skilfully he had shown her his feelings without putting them into words. Remembering his kisses and the touch of his hands on her body, she burned with shame. Even Joanna knew he had responded to her, for guilt must have made him tell her so.
The glare of headlamps pierced the darkness and she shrank back against a fence. If this was Barnaby coming in search of her she had no intention of being found. If she saw him now she would break down; humiliate herself more by letting him know she still cared for him. But the lights were those of a taxi, and as it came abreast of her she saw it was unoccupied, and ran forward to stop it
"Belgravia," she said, opening the door and jumping in. "I'll direct you once we get there."
The cab jerked into motion, each chug of its engine taking Nicola further from the hostel. Yet no matter what physical distance separated her from Barnaby Grayson she knew that for a long time to come he would be heartbreakingly alive in her heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"How much longer is it going to take you to get Dr. Grayson out of your system?" George Martin posed the question to his goddaughter one afternoon early in March, six weeks after she had left the hostel. "It never took you this long before."
"I was never in love before."
"Are you sure it isn't a question of wanting something because you can't have it?"
She sighed and tinned away, then heard him walk across the carpet to stand beside her as she looked out over the quiet square. "Forgive me, Nicola. I shouldn't have said that."
"I don't blame you for thinking it. I even wonder myself if that's the reason. I wish it was."
"It isn't, is it?" George Martin said. "You really did love him."
"I do," she corrected, "but I'll get over it in time. I've got to," she muttered. "It can't always hurt like this."
"Why not go to America? I know the Campbells have invited you."
"Running away won't help."
"Nor will burning the candle at both ends. All that'll do is burn you out." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her round, looking concerned as he felt the brittleness of her bones.
Always slight and delicate in appearance, she now looked ethereal, as though a strong wind could blow her away. He sighed, wondering if the glitter and the gaiety that was so much a part of the girl he loved like a daughter would ever return.
He touched his fingers to her hollow cheek. "Even make-up can't hide the shadows under those big eyes of yours," he warned. "You can't go on like this, my dear. Grayson's in love with another girl and you must forget him."
"Don't you think I'm trying?" she cried, and pulling out of his grasp, walked with quick nervous steps around the room, an elfin figure of a girl with a pale, heart-shaped face and dark, flyaway hair. Silk skirts rustled round her silk-clad legs, and expensive perfume lingered in the air as she moved. What a far cry she was from the girl who had entered the hostel and found a new world she had
never dreamed of. But that was in the past, and her future now was a bleak one; rich with money but poor of love - at least the love of the one and only man she wanted.
For the first few hours after her return home Nicola had lived in the hope and dread of Barnaby coming in search of her, and only as day dawned did she realise he still did not know her identity. He believed she had once worked for Nicola Rosten and had stolen her mink wrap, therefore this would be the last place he would expect to find her. Yet even if he had found her it would have served no purpose. No matter from how many different angles she looked at the situation, she still could not condone his behaviour. It had been wrong of him not to tell her about Joanna. Wrong and cruel.
The knowledge that she had been able to rouse him to passion no longer gave her the same satisfaction that it had done a month ago, for distance made her see things more clearly and she was able to see her actions through his eyes, and guess the pity he must have felt for the girl he had believed her to be. Nicky Rose, trying to escape from a relationship with a man old enough to be her father - a girl who had said she had never been able to love boys her own age. Yet in encouraging her to love him what had Barnaby hoped to achieve? And for how long had he intended keeping his engagement to Joanna a secret? The questions multiplied with such rapidity that she had forced herself to stop thinking of them. Unless she did, she would go mad.
"The car's here," Marty said behind her. "Did you mean it about coming to the office with me?"
"Of course." She picked up a sable coat lying on the back of a chair and negligently slung it around her shoulders. "Don't you think I'm learning the business fast?"
"Too fast," he smiled. "But then you've a Rosten head on your shoulders."
Sitting in the back of the Rolls George Martin gave her a brief outline of the meeting they were going to attend, and by the time the vast edifice of Rosten's London headquarters in Cheapside came into view, Nicola was fully acquainted with the details of the bid her company was going to make for another. Not that it would matter if they didn't succeed, she thought with a sigh. What was the worth of one million when one had so many already? It was only possible to eat one meal at a time and drive in one car at a time, she thought ironically, and even with two arms and ten fingers there was a limit to the diamonds you could wear. It was even pointless to buy more houses, for no matter where she lived, there was only one place she cared about: the hostel where she had met and fallen in love with Barnaby. The hostel where he might even now be living as Joanna's husband.
Roberta Leigh - Cinderella in Mink Page 13