Never Leave Me

by Margaret Pemberton

  Her mouth was suddenly dry, her throat tight. ‘And does she still offer solace and comfort?’ she asked, not able to tear her eyes away from his, seeing again the gold flecks in the amber-dark depths, seeing incomprehension and then incredulity.

  ‘My God! You don’t think I’m still having an affair with her, do you?’ The expression on her face was his answer. He ran his hand through the thick tumble of his hair, searching for the right words, knowing that even as he told her that his affair with Jacqueline was over, he would have to admit to other, possibly more hurtful affairs. ‘Jacqueline wanted from me what she had always wanted from me – marriage. I told her it was impossible. She left America for France months ago, and I haven’t seen her since. Apart from one letter, in which she told me she was to marry a Frenchman, we haven’t corresponded.’

  He saw her relief and before she could express it, continued ruthlessly, ‘I hurt Jacqueline unforgiveably and I determined I would never hurt anyone else in the same way, but that doesn’t mean that there haven’t been other women, Lisette. There have. Women better suited than Jacqueline was to an affair with a man who has no intention of marrying them.’

  ‘Is there someone now?’ She had twisted on to her knees, her eyes holding his, already knowing the answer.

  He gave a slight, almost indiscernible shrug of his shoulders. ‘Yes. There is a girl in New York.’

  She knew from the tone of his voice that the girl in New York was unimportant.

  He was watching her curiously, waiting, she knew, not for her reaction to his disclosures, but for what she had still to tell him.

  ‘What I have to say isn’t quite so easy,’ she said, a catch in her voice as she saw Dominic and Melanie walking over the grass towards them. ‘It concerns Luke … and I don’t want to talk about Luke while Melanie is with us.’

  Greg turned his head, watching the children as they approached. ‘No,’ he said, certain of what it was that she was going to tell him, and as little desirous of hearing it as she was to tell it. ‘Let’s leave all revelations concerning Luke until Melanie returns to England.’

  ‘And other revelations?’ she asked quietly as he rose to his feet.

  She saw shock flare through his eyes and then he said tightly, ‘Are there other revelations?’’

  She nodded, her face set and pale.

  The white lines etching his mouth grew more pronounced. ‘They’ve waited all these years,’ he said decisively, stretching out his hand to her and drawing her to her feet. ‘They can wait two weeks longer.’

  She felt weak with relief. It was a reprieve. No matter what happened when Melanie left for England and she told him at last about Dominic’s paternity; about her affair with Luke. There were two weeks in which she could make some sort of recompense. In which she could show him how very much she loved him.

  That night, when the children were asleep, they made love. It was nothing like her love-making with Luke. Nothing like the tortured, anguished love-making they had endured in the years following Lucy’s birth. It was as if they were once more beneath the eaves of Madame Chamot’s cottage, once more touching for the first time, surrendering with wonder and passion to their overwhelming physical need of each other.

  ‘I love you … love you … love you …’ she whispered as he cradled her beneath him, his hands caressing the soft, gentle curve of her thighs, his lips moving hotly from her mouth to her throat to the rose-pink upthrust of her nipples. His head moved lower and she cried out in pleasure, her hips moving up to meet him, her fingers tightening in his hair as his hot, stabbing tongue searched and found.

  She moaned rapturously, overcome by the sense of completeness, the sense of rightness that his love-making gave her. It was like flying. Like the sensation in dreams of having wings and soaring high above the earth. With a deep groan of need, he entered her and she gasped, her arms tightening around him; knowing that this time frigidity would not cripple her. That the climax they reached would be as perfect, as cataclysmic, as the climax they had reached together on that long ago night in Sainte-Marie-des-Ponts.

  ‘I love you, Lisette … love you …’ he uttered hoarsely as they moved together, ascending a summit so high, so terrible in its beauty, that he doubted he would survive it. He heard her cry his name, felt his very heart jar and move, and then hot gold shot through him, and he knew, as the most intense orgasm of his life convulsed him, that they had conceived another child.

  She felt as she had felt with Dieter in the turret room at Valmy, that she had stepped out of time. That the days that followed had no relation to anything that had gone before, or that would come after. She savoured every moment, every second, storing them away in her memory so that nothing would ever be able to rob her of them.

  ‘I don’t want Melanie to go back to London,’ Dominic said to her as the first magic-filled week ended, and the second week began.

  She had hugged his shoulders, not letting him see the agony that flashed through her eyes. ‘No, mon petit,’ she had said, her voice even huskier than usual. ‘Neither do I.’

  As he walked disconsolately away from her she wondered, with terror, if Greg would no longer wish to act as a father to him when he knew the truth. If she was putting not only her own happiness at risk, but his also. Her nails dug deep into her palms. If she was, it was the terrible price she would have to pay. She could only pray that not only would Greg forgive her, but that in time Dominic would forgive her also.

  ‘I shan’t be able to come with you to the airport to see Melanie off,’ Greg said the day before Melanie was due to leave. ‘United Oil are coming in to discuss next year’s campaign.’

  ‘That’s all right, chéri,’ she said, her smile brilliant, refusing to think of the moment when Melanie left, thinking only of the day stretching out before them, the day he had promised to spend entirely with her.

  He stood behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. ‘How about a few days in Texas next week? Now that the Hal Green deal has gone through without a hitch, I’d like to fly down there and cast my eye over the new agency personally.’

  ‘Texas would be lovely,’ she said, her voice faltering slightly. By next week he would probably not want to go anywhere with her. Might not even still be living with her.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said, sliding his hands up towards her breasts. ‘And now, if Simonette has taken all those incredibly inquisitive children bowling, let’s take advantage of our privacy and go to bed.’

  It was only ten o’clock in the morning and they had returned to bed as hungrily and as eagerly as two healthy animals in heat. At lunchtime he had taken her to the most exclusive restaurant in San Francisco and ordered lobster and champagne.

  ‘If this is what it’s like staying home and not working, I might just retire,’ he said grinning, clasping her hands tightly in his.

  ‘Alors! And miss all the wheeling and dealing that you love so much?’ she said, her mouth curving into a deep smile. ‘I think you would get very bored, very quickly, mon amour.’

  He laughed, ‘I doubt it, the wheeling and dealing is pretty fraught at the moment. Del-Air Airlines have appointed a new marketing director and he’s unhappy with the campaign we produced that was briefed by his predecessor.’

  ‘Is there any real chance of him moving the account?’ she asked, realising how little he had talked to her of business in the past; how far she had distanced herself from all that was important to him.

  ‘He will if we don’t produce an outstanding advertising campaign,’ he said, topping up her glass of champagne, only the hardening of his jawline indicating how serious such a loss would be.

  ‘Then perhaps you should be at the agency now, and not here with me,’ she said anxiously.

  He squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Nick’s working on the new campaign now. If there’s a problem he’ll be on the telephone to me within minutes. I told him where I was lunching. Now stop worrying.’

  ‘Did you als
o tell him where you could be contacted at ten o’clock this morning?’ she asked mischievously.

  His eyes gleamed. ‘No, you saucy wench, I didn’t. Nor have I told him where he will be able to contact me at three o’clock this afternoon, but I have a shrewd suspicion it will be in the same place!’

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Dering,’ the maitre d’hóte said deferentially. ‘There is a telephone call for you.’

  ‘Damn and blast,’ Greg said explosively, throwing his napkin on the table, excusing himself from her and striding over towards the telephone.

  She knew, by the grim expression on his face as he spoke to Nick, that their last, idyllic day had come to an end.

  ‘I’m sorry, my love,’ he said when he returned. ‘It’s action stations. I won’t even be able to take you back home. I’ll ring for a cab for you.’

  ‘Will you be able to finish lunch?’ she asked, fighting down a wave of panic, trying not to let her distress show.

  He shook his head. ‘No, I’m leaving now. It could be a long session, so don’t worry if I’m not home until the early hours. We’ll make up for everything next week in Texas.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes brilliant, her kiss warm, her heart breaking. ‘Next week.’

  He left her with the same speed with which Dieter had left her on the morning of the invasion. A telephone call. Departure. She shivered, overcome by a sense of time and events repeating themselves.

  ‘Would Madame like dessert?’ the waiter asked.

  ‘No thank you.’ She picked up her purse and rose from the table. She was being foolish. Dieter had left her to face death in battle. Greg had left her for no other reason than a boardroom skirmish.

  The maitre d’hóte deferentially slipped her full length mink around her shoulders. She thanked him, feeling icily chill. Dieter had returned to her only to die in her arms. Greg would return to her and she, herself, would say the words which would destroy his love for her.

  ‘A taxi cab is waiting, Madame,’ the maitre d’hóte said, wondering why such a beautiful woman, with a rich, handsome husband who obviously adored her, was looking so sad.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said again and he was touched by the sweetness in her voice. He wondered how old she was. Twenty-five? Twenty-six? Perhaps even older. There was a timelessness about her that would never date. She was a woman who would be beautiful, even when old.

  ‘Goodbye Madame,’ he said again, wishing he could offer her some comfort. ‘Au revoir.’

  She waited for him that evening, sitting alone on the patio looking out over the silky blackness of the bay. The hills beyond were veiled in mist, the distant lights of Marin sparkling like diamonds in the dusk. He didn’t return. At nine he telephoned, his voice apologetic. ‘This is going to be an all-night session, sweetheart. I shan’t be back before Melanie leaves. Say goodbye to her from me, and pack your bags. I’ve arranged for us to fly down to Houston tomorrow night’

  ‘That’ll be nice, chéri.’ There was an underlying tremble in her voice that belied her words. He frowned. He had nearly forgotten the confession she had waited so long to make to him.

  ‘If you’re worrying about the talk we still have to have, please don’t,’ he said, signalling to Nick who was waiting to go into the conference room, that he was about to join him.

  ‘But I’m worried,’ she said, wishing that he was in the room with her, that she could reach out and touch him, bury herself in his arms. ‘I have left it so long… and there is so much to say.’

  ‘About Luke?’ His deep, dark voice was understanding.

  ‘Oui, chéri. About Luke, and about Dominic.’

  ‘The reply to your telex has just come in, Mr Dering,’ his secretary interrupted. He took it from her hand, casting his eye over the list of figures.

  ‘Goodbye, chéri,’ Lisette was saying. ‘Je t’adore.’

  He was just about to ask her why she should want to talk about Dominic in the same breath as Luke but the line had gone dead.

  ‘Everyone is waiting for you, Mr Dering,’ his secretary prompted as he seemed about to redial.

  ‘Yes.’ He jettisoned all thoughts of Luke Brandon. They would talk about Luke when the marathon meeting he was about to enter was over. When they were on their way to Houston. ‘Make sure there’s plenty of coffee on hand,’ he said, ‘and bring the strategy file in with you.’

  ‘I don’t want to go home at all!’ Melanie said emphatically the next morning when her cases were brought down from her room and stowed into the Zephyr’s boot.

  ‘You will be able to come again, ma petite’ Lisette said comfortingly, wondering if Luke would allow her to visit again when their affair was over.

  ‘I think it’s rotten,’ Dominic said, his face pale, his eyes fierce. ‘Mel living in London and me living in San Francisco and never being able to see each other,’

  ‘We will when we grow older,’ Melanie said optimistically. ‘Daddy lives in London and yet he flies to Los Angeles every month, sometimes twice a month. Mummy doesn’t like it. She says she doesn’t know why he doesn’t live here permanently!’

  ‘Is that true, Maman?’ Dominic asked with interest. ‘Why doesn’t Uncle Luke come here and stay with us?’

  ‘Because he is far too busy,’ Lisette said, turning quickly away from their questioning faces, an anguished flush staining her cheeks.

  ‘And why can’t I go to the airport?’ Dominic continued relentlessly. ‘I’d much rather go to the airport with Mel than attend prizegiving.’

  ‘Prizegiving is very important, Dominic,’ Lisette said, knowing that that was not the real reason she had been so firm about his not accompanying them. It was because she knew that later in the morning Greg would return from his all-night meeting with Del-Air and it was then that she had to talk to him. There could be no further equivocation. No further postponement.

  ‘Ask Uncle Luke if you can come back at Easter,’ Dominic shouted to Melanie as Lisette bundled her into the car. ‘We can visit Alcatraz and go sailing and …’

  ‘’Bye,’ Melanie yelled as Lisette revved the engine and slid the car into first gear. ‘’ Bye! I’ll come back! I promise!’

  As they headed out towards the airport, two shining rivers of tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks. Lisette squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t cry, ma petite. Easter is not so far away.’

  ‘But I don’t know that Daddy will let me come,’ Melanie said, looking very small and very dejected. ‘He doesn’t always understand things, you see.’

  Lisette did see. Her face was sombre as they approached the airport. She doubted very much if Luke would understand what she herself had to say to him, and she was very much afraid that when he did understand, he would forbid Melanie to have any further contact with Dominic.

  ‘Goodbye, Aunt Lisette,’ Melanie said waveringly as they stood at the flight gate and a competent looking air hostess took her hand. ‘I enjoyed myself ever so much and perhaps if you tell Mummy how very, very much I want to come back, I might be able to.’

  Lisette kissed her on the cheek. She had not been in contact with Annabel since she had begun her affair with Luke. ‘I will do everything I can to make sure that you come back to us at Easter,’ she said, hoping that Luke would not seek retribution at the ending of their affair, through the children. ‘And now it’s time for you to go, ma petite. God bless and au revoir.’

  Melanie had flung her arms around her neck, hugging her tightly, and then had turned, disdaining the air hostess’s proffered hand, walking bleakly through the London flight gate.

  Lisette walked up to the observation room, waiting until the airliner had taxied down the runway and then winged upwards, the sun silver on its wings. In fourteen hours’time Melanie would be back in London with Annabel and possibly with Luke.

  She walked quickly out of the observation room and towards her parked car. Within days, Luke would be in Carmel, demanding to see her. She opened the Zephyr’s door and slid behind the wheel. She still hadn’t told him
that their affair was over. She still hadn’t removed her possessions from the cottage they had shared. She swung left on to the freeway, knowing that she must do so immediately. That by the time she spoke to Greg, every link with Luke had to be severed. She pressed her foot down hard on the accelerator, ignoring the turn-off that would lead her towards home, continuing south towards Carmel.

  Greg emerged from his conference room at nine-thirty, tired and dishevelled, but with the Del-Air promotion ready to present. He glanced down at his watch. Melanie’s flight was at ten. With luck he would still be in time to wave goodby to her. He dismissed his chauffeur, easing the Cadillac limousine out of the underground garage, satisfied with the stragey they had hammered out, looking forward to the next few days in Texas with Lisette. No matter what she told him about Luke, it would not come as a shock to him. He had long ago accepted that her relationship with Luke, before he himself had met her, was one that still had to be exorcised. He ran his hand over the early-morning stubble on his jaw. Hopefully, at last, it was just about to be.

  Traffic was heavy and it was five past ten by the time he sped down the turn-off towards the airport. Melanie’s flight would already have left, but with luck Lisette would still be on her way from the observation room to her parked car. As he entered the short-term parking lot, he saw the unmistakeable gleam of her midnight-blue Lincoln speeding towards a distant exit. He slewed round in pursuit, pressing his hand hard down on the Cadillac’s horn to attract her attention. He saw her slow down at the gates and then ignoring his efforts to halt her, saw her turn left, quickly picking up speed.

  ‘Blast,’ he said beneath his breath, keeping her in sight, settling down to the task of trailing her all the way back to Pacific Heights.

  Lisette took the coast road, driving south through Half Moon Bay and Davenport, mentally checking how long it would be before she was back home again. Two hours for the drive down, half an hour to collect her belongings, fifteen minutes for the telephone call she had to put through to Luke at his London number, and then a two hour drive back home again. The speedometer flicked from sixty-five to seventy. She had never been so eager to arrive in Carmel, never more determined that she would never visit it again.