Jack was intrigued. 'In what way?'
'I have plans for you, Jack,' Luke replied. 'Plans that will give you a free hand, and put you in good stead for the day you captain your own company.'
Jack was secretly delighted. 'You seem to have a lot of faith in me, if you don't mind me saying.'
'I have,' Luke confirmed, 'but only because you've earned it.'
With that he moved away. 'Best start closing up.' Glancing up at the clock he saw it was already ten minutes to six. 'It's been a long day. Happen tomorrow will be a bit easier.'
'Good night, Mr Hammond.'
'Good night, Jack.'
Having secured his own office, Luke made his way out to the car, leaving Jack to close up the factory.
'I hope she's in a better mood than when I left her this morning,' Luke said aloud, speeding his way home.
Lately he'd got into the habit of talking to himself, which wasn't surprising when he had no one else to confide in. Even Edna could never understand what was in his heart…all those futile hopes and dreams and broken ambitions, of raising a family arid growing old with the woman he had loved and married.
Now they were all gone. And there were times when he felt like the loneliest man in the world. Having drawn up to the house, for a minute he was tempted to turn the car round, drive away and never come back. For too long now, his life had been a roller-coaster ride. There were times when he could hardly bear to leave Sylvia behind in the mornings. Other times he wished himself a million miles away. Or at least in the cabin in the woods—starting a new life, more peaceful and possibly less lonely…
Knowing he had no alternative but to face the certain chaos Sylvia's mood this morning foretold, he nosed the car into the driveway and drew it to a halt. For a long, aching moment he folded his arms across the steering wheel and, resting his head on them, briefly closed his eyes. He was tired, drained, devoid of energy.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that tomorrow was Tuesday. Out there in the wilderness he could breathe, and smile, and feel the weight of his burden slip away.
He locked the car and went inside the house, his feet like lead, and his heart too.
He braced himself for what was coming. He had never shirked his responsibility, and he would not shirk it now.
'I'm glad you're home, sir.' On her knees, beginning to clear away the crumbs of an apple pie, Edna looked frazzled. 'She's been unsettled all day.'
He glanced around the kitchen. There was no sign of Sylvia, but the oven door was wide open and there were pieces of broken earthenware scattered from one end of the room to the other. He was very familiar with the results of Sylvia's rages.
'What happened, Edna?'
'It's all right,' she answered, 'I've managed to persuade her upstairs. She took her medication and I watched her until it was all gone. She's getting sly about it again—says it makes her too tired, and I suspect she's been pouring it away although she swears not. I've tucked her in. I expect she'll be sleeping like a babe when you go up.'
With an inward sigh of relief, he thanked her. 'You look all in, Edna. Go home and put your feet up. I'll take over now.'
Edna did not argue. It had been one of those days when she would be glad to get home.
'Thank you, sir,' she said. 'If you need me, you know where I am.' Sylvia was like a child to her and, weary or not, she would remain on call, any time, day or night. Then she was quickly gone, though not to 'put her feet up', as Luke had suggested. Instead she would cook the dinner and clear up behind her, before starting that enormous pile of ironing. By then her joints would be aching and her feet swollen like new-made bread.
Sylvia slept quietly throughout the night.
Occasionally checking that she was all right, Luke alternately paced the floor and slept fitfully.
On Tuesday morning, he couldn't wait to get out of the house. No factory, no noise or people, no fretting over Sylvia, just peace and quiet in the heart of God's creation, where he could think straight and not be disturbed.
That humble cabin in the heart of the woods was his only sanctuary. If he didn't have that, he believed he might go out of his mind.
At seven thirty, washed, shaved and looking every bit the businessman, he went down the landing to check on Sylvia; she was still fast asleep, hair across the pillow and arms akimbo—like a child, he thought.
Half an hour later, just as he was clearing away his breakfast things, Georgina arrived, looking stunning in a dark green, tight-fitting two-piece and her hair superbly groomed and shining.
'You should have waited,' she chided. 'I would have cooked your breakfast, you know that.'
'I know.' He poured her a cup of tea and placed it on the table. 'I've been up and checked Sylvia and she's still sleeping. Leave her be for now,' he suggested. 'She was unsettled yesterday and needs her rest.'
'And what about you?' Georgina had already observed the hollow eyes and listless mannerisms as he wiped the flat of his palms across his face. 'You look shattered. Can't your Tuesday meetings wait till tomorrow?' She was angling for information again.
'No.' One word, but it was a firm, decisive word, and for a moment she was silenced.
The moment passed. 'But you look exhausted.' Coming closer, she gazed up into his dark eyes. 'Kept you awake, did she?'
Reaching for his jacket from the back of the chair, he gave a wry little smile. 'You could say that.' He recounted the previous evening's fiasco. 'It seems Edna made her an apple pie, which, as you know, was always Sylvia's favourite. Sylvia asked her to bake it for her, then insisted on helping and, of course, Edna agreed. But when it came to taking the pie out of the oven, she could see how worked up Sylvia had got so she refused to let her do it in case she burned herself.'
He put on his jacket and began to move away. 'You can guess the rest,' he remarked cynically. 'Sylvia threw one of her best tantrums. When I got home the pie was all over the floor. Edna had managed to get her upstairs and give her the medication.'
He then confided how concerned he was about Sylvia, and Edna's worries about her not taking her medicine. 'She's due to see the consultant in a fortnight,' he reminded Georgina. 'I've been wondering if I should bring the appointment forward.'
'Why?' Georgina was suddenly alert. 'You're not thinking of having her put away, are you?'
'Good God no!' Anger flooded Luke's face. 'What kind of man do you think I am?'
'A tired man,' she replied. 'A man who could be at the end of his tether. A man whose wife has some kind of brain damage, and now she's a burden to you…dangerous to herself and others.' She cunningly tested him. 'If you wanted her locked away, no one would blame you.'
Unable to suppress his anger, he took her by the shoulders. 'I don't want to hear you talking like that again.' The hardness of his fingers pressed into her flesh. 'Sylvia is my wife. I made my vows before God: "in sickness and in health". So you see, it's my duty to take care for her, and I will. As long as she needs me, I'll be here.'
'I believe you.' Feeling his hands on her body, however innocent, was a wonderful thing.
But she had to know what was on his mind. 'There must be times when you feel lonely.' Reaching up, she laid her hands over his. 'A man has a need,' she whispered huskily. 'I can fill that need…if only you'll let me?'
He gazed down into those deep, inviting eyes set in that porcelain-smooth face. Her scent was heady and very feminine, like lilies, and for a moment his resolve began to slip. She was right. He was more lonely than anyone could ever imagine. It wouldn't be so bad, would it, if he took her in his arms and satisfied that deep-down need that never seemed to go away?
He thought of Sylvia and of how it used to be: her soft nakedness merging with his flesh, the warmth of mingling bodies and that great exhausting passion that swept them along and took all their energy.
Sylvia was no longer part of him in that way. But here was Georgina, offering herself, so why shouldn't he take her? After all, he was only a man, with all a man's strengths and weaknesses.
Almost without him being conscious of it, he drew her to him, gently, tantalisingly, his mouth half open to hers, so close he could taste her sweet, warm breath, mingling with his.
Then suddenly he thrust her away.I'll check on Sylvia, then I'd best make tracks,' he said abruptly.
As though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, he pointed to the telephone table. 'You know where Edna's number is, though I don't think you'll need it. You know how Sylvia is: she has a bad time, then it goes away and leaves her drained for a while. I'll see you later.'
Georgina acknowledged with a nod. She knew he had cut that moment between them out of his mind, and it told her that he was either very cunning to have rejected her and was playing a long game, or he was genuinely still in love with his errant wife.
'Don't worry, Luke, I'll see to it,' she assured him. 'Mind how you go.' In a way she was glad things had not gone too far. There would be time when Sylvia was off the scene. In the meantime, Don Carson was satisfying her appetite with great energy, though she'd have no compunction in dropping him when she became bored with him.
A moment later, she could hear Luke running up the stairs and then the faint sound of a door squeaking open. Then he was running back down. The front door opened and closed, and he was gone.
She ran to the window where, engrossed in watching his car as it drove away, she almost leaped out of her skin when a voice whispered close to her ear, 'He's gone to see his sweetheart.'
Swinging round, she saw Sylvia. Still dressed in her flimsy nightgown, and with her hair wild about her shoulders, she looked like a mad woman.
'For 'God's sake, Sylvia…you'll catch pneumonia, running about like that.'
Wrapping her arms round her sister's shoulders, Georgina led her gently back upstairs. 'First we'll get you dressed, then I'll make you a hot breakfast…egg and bacon with tomatoes and toast,' she suggested tenderly. 'Would you like that?'
Sylvia nodded. 'Then what?'
'Well, if you feel like it, we'll think about going out. We could buy you a new fur hat if you want, or a pair of boots to keep you warm.'
'Oh, yes, I'd like that.'
Perfectly lucid now, Sylvia chatted eagerly. 'Remember the last time we went shopping?' she asked with a grin. 'I saw this beautiful blue scarf in Hatton's window. I might go back and buy it.'
They talked about the scarf and other items of clothing that Sylvia might fancy, and as they walked into the bedroom, the two of them were laughing and joking, just as they had done when they were young and fancy-free, on the days when Georgina suppressed her jealousy and insecurity and sisterly love was allowed to flourish.
T need to visit the bathroom.' Sylvia turned back towards the door. As she went she called out, 'Why don't we have breakfast in town? There's that lovely restaurant down from the church.'
'Whatever you want,' Georgina replied. 'As long as we leave enough time for shopping afterwards.'
Relieved that all was normal again, and hopeful that it would turn out to be a good day for them both, Georgina softly sang as she busied herself, tidying the room.
'Honestly, Sylvia,' she called out, 'you really are a sloppy devil! You've always been the same. I remember when Mother used to blame me for the mess, and it was you all along, but you never did own up —'
She might have finished the sentence if at that moment some sound behind her hadn't made her whip round. Sylvia was standing in the doorway and the look on her face was of pure hatred.
'It was you who used to make a mess, you who spilled things and broke things on purpose to try to get me into trouble.'
'Come on now, Sylvia, you know that wouldn't have worked. You were always our mother's favourite,' said Georgina, trying to jolly her along.
'You lied,' insisted Sylvia, working herself into a frenzy. 'You lied and you cheated. You stole my clothes and my pearl necklace. You even tried to steal my boyfriends, but they wouldn't have you. You're no better now than you were then. You told tales, and they weren't true—horrible lies you told to Mother. You even lied about me to her when she was dying.' Sylvia launched herself at her sister like a wild animal.
'YOU BASTARD!' Lashing out with her fists, she caught Georgina a hard blow on the side of her face. 'You always told tales on me, even when I asked you not to. Tell-tale tit, that's what you are!'
Screaming like a banshee she let up with the blows, only long enough to grab the curtain cord. Yanking it down, she threw it round Georgina's neck. She began to pull tighter and tighter, all the while laughing like a crazy woman. 'I said I'd pay you back,' she hissed softly, 'and now it's time.'
Terrified for her life, Georgina fought hard. The cord was rough and scorching her neck, and Sylvia was strong in her wild rage. After a desperate struggle Georgina managed to loosen her sister's hold on her. She threw aside the cord at the same time as twisting Sylvia's arm nearly out of its socket. Sylvia screamed and leaped back, the spitting Fury transformed to an injured animal in a moment.
'I'm sorry…I'm sorry!' Sobbing uncontrollably, Sylvia cowered away. 'I didn't mean to hurt you…please, Georgina, don't tell on me, will you? Please don't tell Mother.'
Georgina couldn't speak; her throat felt as though it were on fire. Backing away from her sister, she ran to the bathroom where she locked the door and for a moment stood with her back to it, terrified in case Sylvia followed her.
'She's mad!' The words issued in a harsh, broken whisper. 'Stark, staring mad!'
Emblazoned on her mind was the unbelievable. Her own sister had tried to kill her!
In the mirror she saw her neck was marked by the cord. Still trembling, she splashed cool water over her face and neck; she scooped it into her hands and drank it, every gulp feeling red-hot in her throat.
'Georgina!' Sylvia's quiet, pleading voice sounded close to the keyhole. 'Please come out. I won't hurt you any more. I never meant to do it. Please, Georgina…I'm so sorry.'
Georgina ran the tap faster and faster so it might drown out her sister's voice. Time and again she scooped up the water and drank it down, groaning with each mouthful yet determined to ease the fire inside.
'Please, come out, Georgina. I'm really frightened…"
Georgina turned the tap full on. She sat on the floor with her back to the door and listened to her sister pleading. Shocked rigid by the incident, she made no attempt to open the door, or to reply. Instead she kept very quiet, hardly daring to breathe.
Presently the pleading stopped and there was no sound from the other side of the door.
Now the tables had turned again. 'Sylvia?' Georgina's voice issued in a harsh, rasping sound. 'Are you there, Sylvia?'
No answer.
'Sylvia?'
Still no answer.
Clambering up, Georgina turned off the tap and put her ear to the door.
The silence was eerie.
Softly now, she inched open the door and looked up and down the corridor. Sylvia was nowhere to be seen.
Quickly and soft-padded as a cat, she made her way downstairs to the sitting room.
'Sylvia?' The soft sound of crying sent her towards the sofa. 'Where are you, Sylvia?'
It took but a moment to find her. Crouched down behind the sofa, Sylvia was crying like a bairn, arms folded across her face, and her hands tugging so viciously at her hair, it was likely to come out by the roots.
On seeing Georgina she looked up, her eyes red and swollen, and her mouth quivering. 'I'm insane, aren't I?' she asked. They'll lock me away now, won't they?'
Going gently forward, Georgina slid to the floor beside her. All her fear had evaporated when she found the pathetic weeping wreck of her sister. 'No one's going to lock you away,' she whispered, her heart softened—at least for now. 'I won't let them!'
'When you tell Mother what I did,' wide, confused eyes stared up, 'she'll make them lock me away.'
'I won't tell,' Georgina promised. 'I can't.'
'Why can't you?'
'You know why.'
; Reality was never far away, and somewhere in the darkest corner of her mind, Sylvia remembered. 'Mother isn't here any more, is she?'
Georgina shook her head. 'No
'She's with Daddy, isn't she?'
'Yes.'
Sylvia was quiet for a time, before declaring sadly, 'They can't come back, can they? They're never coming back?' The sadness flickered and was quickly replaced with a half-smile. 'So, you can't tell on me, can you?'
Georgina slid her arm round those trembling shoulders. 'Are you all right, Sylvia?' she asked. 'Has the anger left you now?'
Sylvia nodded. 'I know what I did, but I couldn't stop. I'm sorry. Really sorry.'
'It's all right now, Sylvia. It's over.' She feigned a bright smile. 'Maybe a little sleep would do you good?'
Sylvia returned her smile. 'Yes…I'm tired.'
Georgina nodded. 'Come on then. I'll help you upstairs.'
As they climbed the stairs, Sylvia began to speak at length about Luke. 'One minute I'm convinced he's got another woman, and the next I'm ashamed even to think it. He does love me, I know that.' Her voice trembled. 'I wish I didn't make life so difficult for him.'
'You can't help the things you do,' Georgina assured her. 'You've been very ill.' Leading her into the bedroom, she settled her on the bed, and sat beside her.
'I know that,' Sylvia admitted, 'but it's my own fault. I cheated on Luke and now I'm being punished.'
Leaning sideways, she laid her head on Georgina's shoulder. 'I thought Arnie was exciting, but he was just violent.' Hatred marbled her voice. 'I'm glad he's in gaol. He should rot there!'
The look on her face bespoke the loathing she had for Arnold Stratton.I'll never forgive him for what he did to me!'
'Hatred is a bad thing.' Holding her tight, Georgina could feel the rage in her sister. 'You need to rest now.' Gently laying her back against the pillow, she told her,I'll come up later and see how you are. Sleep now.'
'I will.' Letting herself be covered over with the eiderdown, Sylvia slid deep into the bed until she was comfortable. 'Just for a minute or two,' she said. 'Then I'll be ready to go shopping.' She smiled dreamily. 'I do love him so. I hope they haven't sold that scarf. I so much want Luke to see me in it.'
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