by Sara Craven
He was standing beside the desk in his study, reading through some faxes. His briefcase was standing open on the desk beside him and he looked preoccupied, and a little remote. Phoebe hesitated for a moment, then tapped lightly on the open door.
When he saw who it was, he seemed to stiffen momentarily. His smile was brief, and forced.
'Is something the matter?'
'Yes, I'm afraid so.' Phoebe gave him a brief resume of the day's events at Westcombe Park School. 'Tara's naturally very upset, and I think she has cause.'
'Yes,' he said heavily. 'And you saw this coming, didn't you?' He gave her a wintry smile. 'Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do immediately. I have to go away tonight, and I could be gone for anything up to a week. I was just about to find her to say goodbye.'
Phoebe bit her lip. 'That will be another blow,' she told him quietly. 'She hardly sees you nowadays.'
'Has she complained?' he asked sharply.
'Not in so many words.' Phoebe lifted her chin. 'But then she wouldn't.' She paused. 'You couldn't delay your trip just for one day?'
He shook his head. 'It's out of the question. A company I helped a while back is the subject of a hostile takeover, and I'm trying to create a rescue package for them.'
'And your young daughter?' Her voice was husky. 'What about a rescue package for her?'
The grey eyes met hers with ice in their depths.
'That,' said Dominic, 'is what I pay you for.'
'And that,' Phoebe said shakily, 'is a bloody awful thing for a father to say.'
There was a pregnant silence, then Dominic lifted his hands in surrender.
'All right,' he said wearily. 'I can't do anything about this trip, but I swear when I get back—''Don't mention quality time,' she interrupted. 'Or I might hit you.'
She couldn't believe what she'd just said, and, to judge by his face, neither could he.
But the bleakness faded from his face, to be replaced by reluctant amusement. 'You might try,' he told her drily. 'And I was going to say that I shall devote myself to her interests,. including sorting out this school business. Is that acceptable?'
'I'm—sorry,' Phoebe stammered. 'It's just that she loves you so much—and you're missing out too.'
'It's good of you to think of me,' he said mockingly. 'Given the violence of your feelings.'
He looked at his watch. 'Hell, I've got to go. Is Tara watching television?' He barely waited for her answering nod before striding out of the room and across the hall.
Phoebe lingered, not wishing to intrude, wanting them to have at least this brief time together.
Then there was a strident peal of the doorbell, and Hazel Sinclair swept in, bringing a wave of cold air mixed with Poison.
'Where's Dominic?' she demanded imperiously. 'He hasn't left yet?'
'Not yet. But he's just saying goodbye to Tara. He may not want to be disturbed.'
Hazel gave Phoebe the kind of look most people reserve for woodlice.
'Don't be absurd,' she said crushingly. 'Are they upstairs?'
'No, they're in the small sitting room,' Phoebe admitted.
'More television, I suppose?' Hazel sniffed. 'I'd have thought you could have thought up something more intellectually stimulating for the child. Especially in view of the salary you're being paid,' she added sharply. 'But you girls are all the same—creating a generation of couch potatoes, just so that you can have an easy life.'
And she walked off, leaving Phoebe to follow, smarting.
'Dominic, darling.' Phoebe heard the honeyed greeting followed by a crisper, 'Good evening, Tara.'
'Hazel.' Dominic's tone was surprised, and held a faint reserve. 'I wasn't expecting you.' He was sitting beside the fire, with a watery-eyed Tara on his knee. He put the little girl down gently, and stood up.
'I know, my sweet, but I had to catch you before you went away.' She paused dramatically. 'I've got the most wonderful news. You remember the Claytons, of course—Howard and Linnet? Well, they've taken a house just outside Innsbruck for the whole of Christmas and the New Year.'
'Good for them.' Dominic frowned. 'But I don't see why you had to dash round here to tell me that.'
Hazel sighed elaborately. 'That's only the beginning. They've invited me out there for the whole of the holiday.' She gave an excited little laugh. 'Christmas in Innsbruck, darling. Wonderful food, marvellous skiing. Won't it be heavenly?'
'Paradise on earth,' he agreed courteously. 'I hope the snow stays deep and crisp and even for you.'
'Not just for me, darling.' She pouted playfully. 'For us. They want me to bring my—partner.'
There was an astonished silence, broken by a sudden tearful roar from Tara.
'No,' she screamed, her face contorted. 'You're not taking my daddy away for Christmas. I won't let you. You're an old witch and I hate you.'
'That's enough.' Phoebe and Dominic spoke in unison as Hazel turned crimson.
'Well,' Hazel said with a metallic laugh. 'One can see who's become completely out of hand.' She looked inimically at Phoebe. 'And the reason.'
Tara wilted instantly. She took her father's hand. 'Daddy, you won't go—will you?' she pleaded woefully. 'You won't leave me?'
Dominic crouched down beside her. 'It could be fun,' he said gently. 'You've never learned to ski.'
'Dominic,' Hazel intercepted, 'I'm afraid that's out of the question. It's a grown-up party. Howard and Linnet have no children. They couldn't cope—wouldn't want to...' Her voice tailed away.
He got to his feet. 'Then I wouldn't want to either,' he said calmly.
'You mean you're turning down the invitation? Oh, I don't believe it.' For a moment Hazel sounded hysterical, then she visibly pulled herself together, even managing a smile. 'Clearly we can't talk about it now. You have to go. But think it over carefully while you're away, and we'll discuss it when you return.'
There was a pause, then Dominic said, 'Very well.' He turned to Phoebe. 'Take Tara downstairs, will you? It must be her suppertime.'
'Supper,' Hazel echoed. 'If I'd dared speak to an adult like that at her age, I'd have been sent to bed without any supper.'
Phoebe saw Tara shrink. She said quietly, 'You chose rather a bad moment. Miss Sinclair. But Tara's sorry now, and would like to tell you so.'
There was a silence, then Tara, eyes downcast, muttered an apology.
Dominic dropped a swift kiss on her hair. 'That's better,' he told her. 'Now, be good for Phoebe, and I'll be back before you know it.'
'But I want to wave goodbye,' Tara objected.
Phoebe hastily intervened. 'You can wave from the nursery window.' She hustled the little girl, still protesting, from the room.
'Why do I have to go upstairs?' she demanded.
'Because Daddy wants to say goodbye to Miss Sinclair now, and we'd be in the way,' said Phoebe, feeling only the truth would serve.
'I wish Miss Sinclair would go away,' Tara said morosely.
So do I, thought Phoebe. But I have an awful feeling that she's here to stay.
Together they watched from the window as Dominic emerged onto the floodlit drive. Hazel was with him, her arm tucked through his, leaning intimately against him. Her face was turned up towards him and she was smiling, talking eagerly, their recent difference apparently forgotten.
At the side of the Range Rover, they paused. Phoebe saw Dominic bend towards her, and Hazel wind her arms round his neck, drawing him down to her for a passionate kiss.
Phoebe turned away, not wanting to see any more.
After a moment Tara joined her, solemn-faced. 'Phoebe—would you mind if I don't have any supper? I don't feel very hungry.' Her lip quivered. 'I don't want Daddy to go away with her.'
Phoebe gave her a quick hug. 'He won't go. He said so. Everything will be fine, you'll see.'
And she wished, with a heavy heart, that she could believe it.
CHAPTER TEN
TARA was flushed and heavy-eyed the next morning, and complained that she didn'
t feel very well. She produced a convincing cough, so Phoebe allowed her the benefit of the doubt, and rang the school to excuse her.
She didn't feel magnificent herself. She'd spent a restless night with troubled dreams, and had woken with a headache.
A day without pressure might do us both good, she thought.
'What lessons will you be missing?' she asked.
'No lessons.' Tara's lips quivered. 'They're going to be practising the play.'
'Oh, well,' Phoebe said stoutly. 'Then you can practise your surprise for Daddy.'
Tara shook her head. 'I don't want to do that any more. It's all spoiled.'
'You may change your mind later,' Phoebe told her gently, mentally cursing Mrs Franks and all her works.
Tara was silent for a moment. Then she asked, 'Can I sleep in Daddy's room while he's away?'
'I don't know,' Phoebe said, surprised. 'We'll have to ask Carrie.'
'She',11 let me,' Tara said confidently.
Which proved to be the case.
'Of course she can, the mite,' Carrie said warmly. 'If it makes her feel closer to him. You can give me a hand to change the linen,' she added briskly.
'Oh.' Phoebe's throat tightened. 'Yes—of course.'
Another hurdle to be surmounted, she thought. Up to that moment she'd never had cause to enter Dominic's bedroom, and on the rare occasions when the door had been open she'd scuttled past, with her face averted.
Like Bluebeard's chamber, she thought, swallowing, it had been the focal point for so many nightmares over the years. Maybe going in there to do a simple, practical task might now lay them to rest for ever. But she couldn't be sure, and she might find herself condemned again to the dark, torturous world of memory.
Her jaw felt taut, and her fists were clenched as she followed Carrie into the room. And stopped, her lips parting in a gasp of astonishment. Because this was not the room she remembered.
The dark red walls were now papered in a creamy shade with a faint gold stripe, and the canopied bed had disappeared entirely, replaced by a wide, modern divan with a heavy bronze silk coverlet. The rest of the furniture was different too.
I wouldn't have known the place, she thought, relief flooding over her.
'Nice, isn't it?' Carrie misread her expression. 'Mr Dominic had it all redone when his marriage ended. And small blame to him. No one would want to sleep with his kind of memories.'
Or mine, thought Phoebe.
'When are we going to get the Christmas tree?' Tara asked eagerly over lunch. 'We could decorate it to welcome Daddy back.'
'That's a nice idea.' Phoebe smiled at her, glad to see that she was looking far less woebegone.
'Mr Dominic's got an account at Harvey's Nurseries,' Carrie put in. 'Choose the one you want, and they'll deliver it.'
'Can we go this afternoon?' Tara begged. 'Only I have to be home by teatime, because Daddy's promised to phone me every evening.'
Phoebe's heart skipped a painful beat. 'Then we'd better hurry,' she returned lightly.
The big shed at the nurseries where the trees were stored smelt deliciously of pine. There were a number of other people engaged on the same leisurely task. The real rush had still to begin.
After a lot of debate, Phoebe and Tara settled for a medium-sized tree which still had its own roots.
'Then we can plant it in the garden after Christmas,' Tara said happily.
The rest of the afternoon was occupied by sorting through the big box of baubles and tree hangings that Carrie had unearthed from a cupboard, and constructing from thin wire, cardboard and some old lace curtains an angel to occupy the top of the tree. She wore rather too much lipstick for a real seraph, and her halo was appropriately lop-sided, but Tara thought she was perfect.
She had a lot to tell Dominic during the precious phone call. Phoebe could hear her racing excitedly on out in the hall.
Dominic, she thought, would be lucky to get a word in. But apparently he managed it, because suddenly Tara came flying in.
'Daddy wants a word,' she announced. She looked suddenly apprehensive. 'I hope he isn't cross because I didn't go to school.'
So do I, thought Phoebe wryly.
But the deep voice was alive with amusement. 'Is this the same woeful scrap we had to comfort yesterday?'
'It seems so.' Phoebe hesitated. 'Did she mention that she's moved into your room? I-—I hope you don't mind.'
'As long as she doesn't imagine it's a long-term arrangement,' he returned drily. 'I have other plans.'
Phoebe bit her lip. 'Yes—of course.'
'Are you all right?' His voice was suddenly sharp. Even miles away, he didn't miss a nuance.
'Fine,' she said ultra-brightly. 'I've had a splendid day.'
'Mine hasn't been too bad either.' He paused. 'I may be back sooner than I expected.'
She despised herself for the swift lift of her heart that his words induced.
She said sedately, 'That's good.'
'I hope so,' he said gravely. 'After all, we have a lot to talk about.'
She said hurriedly, 'I think Tara's education should be a priority.'
She heard something that might have been a sigh. 'Yes, I'm sure you do. But we'll discuss the agenda when I get there.' He paused again. 'Goodnight, Phoebe. Be good. Keep safe.'
She replaced the receiver slowly, aware of the flutter of her pulses. His parting words seemed to enfold her like strong arms.
Only it was far too late for safety now, she acknowledged, sighing in her own turn as she returned to the drawing room.
'You're all pink,' said Tara, adding reflectively, 'I think we should buy some mistletoe.'
Phoebe thought she might have trouble getting Tara to bed that night, but the little girl behaved with total docility, sliding under the covers of the vast bed with her favourite teddy.
'The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner it will be another day and Daddy will come back,' she confided.
'I can't argue with that.' Phoebe kissed her goodnight.
Carrie had gone to the village Women's Institute Christmas party, and the house seemed deathly quiet and empty.
Phoebe tidied away the unused decorations, decided it would be best to shop for some fresh tinsel, and fetched the step-stool for a last attempt at straightening the angel's halo.
'That's better,' she said rather breathlessly, after a brief struggle.
'Much,' an amused male voice commented from behind her, and hands closed on her waist, lifting her down from the stool.
Even as her lips parted in a yelp of fright she knew that she recognised the voice. She wrenched herself free, spinning round, her heart in her mouth.
'Tony—Tony Cathery,' she said unsteadily. 'What the hell are you doing here?'
'I could ask you the same thing,' he said, looking equally taken aback. 'Where's old Dom?'
'He's not here at the moment.' Phoebe gave him a look of loathing. 'Don't tell me he's expecting you?'
He laughed. 'I wouldn't go that far, but he knows I keep turning up, like a bad penny.' His own glance was appraising. 'What's your excuse?'
'I work here,' she said huskily. 'I'm his daughter's nanny.'
'Seriously?' His brows lifted. 'Well,' he said, 'there's a turn-up for the books. So your original brief encounter has all been forgiven and forgotten?'
Phoebe hesitated fatally. 'Naturally.'
'Fascinating,' he said softly. 'Now, I got the opposite impression from Dom. But they do say that time is a great healer.' He crossed to the drinks table and poured himself a generous whisky.
'Care to join me?' He waved the decanter at her. 'Oh, no, I was forgetting. You prefer vodka.'
'You disgust me,' Phoebe said slowly.
Tony laughed. 'That isn't how you used to feel, my sweet.-There was a time when you couldn't get enough of me.'
Phoebe walked to the door. 'I think you'd better leave.'
'Ordering me out? That's a bit rich coming from a nanny, darling, to a member of the family.' He smiled m
aliciously at her startled expression. 'You didn't know that Dom and I were tenuously related, did you? Which proves that you and he have never discussed the events of six years ago. Because he'd have told you, for sure.'
'My God.' Phoebe remembered an earlier conversation with Carrie. 'You're his stepbrother.'
'Got it in one,' he said negligently. He drank some of the whisky, watching her reflectively. 'So, it's still a big secret. How interesting—and how useful.'
Phoebe lifted her chin. 'Why so?'
'Well, for one thing you can stop giving me orders,' he said with sudden coldness. 'That is, if you want your pitiful attempt at seduction to remain a secret. And I don't think you'd last long if Dom knew who you really were.' He tutted. 'Just imagine him letting the little slag he threw out of his house look after his precious child.'
He shook his head sadly. 'He said some pretty rotten things to me too—almost unforgivable actually. And I was only trying to organise his usual welcome. Serena, you see, used to greet him like that—when she was in the mood. Problem was, she used to greet a lot of people in the same way, including myself. And Dom caught us together. In his room. On his bed.'
He grimaced. 'Big mistake. I became seriously persona non grata, and so did poor Serena. So I tried to get back into his good books by providing him with compensation. After all, one naked blonde on a bed is pretty much like another. Except that you were totally inexperienced,' he added. 'And Dom might have enjoyed the contrast after Serena's—accomplishments.'
He looked her over. His smile made Phoebe feel dirty. 'I might have enjoyed you myself, actually. You improved one hundred per cent once we'd got your kit off. An amazing little body.'
Phoebe took a deep breath. 'I don't know what you're trying to achieve, but it's not working. I'd like you to go-'
'Well, there we differ.' Tony poured himself some more whisky. 'Because I'm staying. I suppose Dom's still got that old dragon of a housekeeper? Roust her out, will you, and get her to knock me up a meal.'
'She's out,' Phoebe said shortly.
His smile widened. 'And I suspect anything you cooked for me might not do me any good.' He shrugged. 'I'll have to go to the pub. Would you like to come with me?'