Bitter Enchantment

by Yvonne Whittal

'But you still want me,' she replied with an audacity that surprised even herself.

  Jason laughed softly and slid his hand possessively over the flat of her stomach. 'You're damn right, I still want you.'

  'The question is, for how long?'

  'Who knows?' he sighed. 'A few months, maybe a year, but you'll have to be something exceptional to last longer than that.'

  He kissed her briefly on the lips and rolled away from her, but the insensitivity of his remark had been like the thrust of a sword, and she fought against the tears as she lay staring into the darkness. She glanced at his dark shape beside her in the bed and longed to touch him, but he had erected that invisible barrier between them which robbed her of the freedom to succumb to the desire.

  'Jason…?'

  'Mm…?'

  'Have you never loved anyone?'

  He was quiet for such a long time that she was beginning to think he had not heard her, then he switched on his bedside light and turned over, leaning on his elbow , as he stared down at her.

  'What makes you ask that?'

  'I just wondered,' she replied with forced casualness as she narrowed her eyes against the brightness of the light. 'Have you?'

  'I believe I've come close to it, but love has no place in my life.' He smiled derisively as her eyes widened in surprise. 'Does that shock your romantic little heart?'

  'Yes,' she said tritely, veiling her eyes with her gold-tipped lashes. 'I believe that everyone needs to love and be loved at some time or another, and if that makes me a romantic at heart, then I don't deny it.'

  'I prefer to look at life realistically,' he argued coldly. 'Desire is a very down-to-earth emotion which most people can understand. To desire someone is one of the basic human needs.'

  'Desire is like a log fire,' she added softly, loving his nearness and longing for the strength of his arms about her. 'When the fire has burnt out there's nothing left but ashes. It can't last for ever.'

  'Nothing lasts for ever,' he said harshly, turning on to his side once more and switching off the light.

  'Jason…?'

  'Go to sleep!' he ordered sharply, and Melanie lapsed into silence, unable to do as she was told, but not daring to say another word.

  The sound of his regular breathing eventually told her that he had followed his own advice, but it was only when, some time later, he rolled over in his sleep and flung an arm across her waist that she went to sleep herself.

  Jason announced without warning the. following morning that he was flying down to Cape Town on business.

  'When will you be back?' she asked as she stood aside miserably and watched him pack a small suitcase.

  'I should be back on the early morning flight tomorrow, but I'll be going straight to the office,' he said abruptly, fastening the catches of his suitcase before turning to raise her face to his. 'I won't see you again before tomorrow evening.'

  He kissed her lightly on the lips, then he was gone, leaving her with the most frightful sensation that he had just walked out of her life for good.

  The silence in the penthouse was oppressive and, making up her mind hastily, she packed an overnight bag and drove out to Greystone Manor.

  Flora's dark face beamed as she let Melanie in, delighted at the news that she would be staying the night, but in Granny Bridget's room Melanie found a worried Sister Wilson hovering beside her grandmother's bed. She assured Melanie that there was nothing to worry about, but later in the day Dr Forbes had to be called in, and Melanie knew, somehow, that the end was very near for her beloved grandmother.

  Dr Forbes, who had been their doctor for so many years, shrugged helplessly when Melanie confronted him.

  'I've done everything I possibly can,' he said quietly, and Melanie nodded silently as she accompanied him to the door. 'I would stay the night, if I were you, Melanie,' he added almost as an afterthought. 'Sister Wilson may need your help.'

  'I brought an overnight bag with me,' she told him, and he nodded approvingly as he turned and walked towards his car.

  Melanie had never felt so desolate before in her life. There was nothing more to be done now, except wait, and the long vigil beside Granny Bridget's bed began.

  Granny Bridget opened her eyes again late that afternoon and looked directly at Melanie seated beside her. For a moment her expression looked blank, then it cleared partially, and her lips moved as though she were trying to say something. Melanie leaned closer, placing her ear almost against her grandmother's lips in order to catch the words.

  'Jason will take care of you,' she heard her grandmother whisper tiredly. 'You must love him well.' Melanie replied unsteadily in the affirmative, and her grandmother sighed contentedly. The cold hand of fear clutched at Melanie's heart as she glanced anxiously at Sister Wilson. 'Is she—?'

  'She's resting again,' Sister Wilson assured Melanie quietly, but Granny Bridget never opened her eyes again. '

  As the hours dragged by, Melanie's body began to ache with weariness as a result of sitting so quietly in the straight-backed chair beside the bed with her grandmother's hand in her own. She arched her back carefully, trying not to draw attention to herself, but Sister Wilson's shrewd eyes noticed her discomfort.

  'Why don't you get some rest, Melanie? I'll call you if there should be a change in her condition.'

  Melanie shook her head adamantly. 'Thank you, but I would prefer to remain where I am.'

  The older woman shrugged and hovered over Granny Bridget for a moment while she checked her pulse, then she resumed her seat and the vigil continued.

  It was a night Melanie knew she would never forget for as long as she lived. During the long hours there was plenty of time to think, but her thoughts were incoherent and too painful to linger on. She stared at the sunken eyes and cheeks of the old woman lying on the high bed, and found it almost incredible to believe that this was her grandmother, the woman who had been like a mother to her for so many years. A film of tears clouded her vision, but she blinked them away hastily and arched her aching back once more.

  Just before dawn the following morning, Granny Bridget sighed heavily, and then there was a deathly silence in the room.

  'She's gone, my dear,' Sister Wilson said calmly after a brief examination, confirming Melanie's worst fears. She raised the sheet over Granny Bridget's peaceful features and touched Melanie's arm, 'Come downstairs with me, I must let Dr Forbes know.'

  Melanie allowed herself to be led away from the room and was thankful for the blessed numbness which seemed to strip her of every vestige of emotion at that moment.

  Left alone in the living-room, she drew aside the curtains and watched the sky gradually change from a velvety black to grey. The sun would rise on another day, she thought distractedly, but in her heart there was a dark void; an emptiness that she hardly dared think about. Now that Granny Bridget had gone, she had no one except Jason, and soon he would not want her either.

  'Love him well,' she recalled her grandmother's words, and the recollection sent a searing pain through her bruised heart.

  'Dear God,' she whispered, clutching at the heavy drapes as the watery sun rose above the tree tops. 'The trouble is, I love him too well.'

  At the sound of approaching footsteps she made an effort to pull herself together, succeeding only partially as she felt the room sway about her.

  'Dr Forbes will be here any minute now,' Sister Wilson informed her.

  'What's the use?' she choked on the rush of tears. 'She's dead.'

  'He's coming all the same.' Sister Wilson glanced at her sharply and stepped forward to take Melanie's arm. 'Sit down, my dear, you look dreadfully pale.'

  'I'm fine, I—' The room tilted dangerously, and she clutched wildly at the hands that tried to steady her as a blanket of darkness threatened to descend upon her. 'I think I'm—going to faint,' she whispered incredulously, and then the darkness enveloped her completely. The living-room was bathed in sunlight when she opened her eyes again and tried to focus on the anxious faces of Dr F
orbes and Sister Wilson.

  'What—what happened?' she demanded, trying to struggle into a sitting position, but Sister Wilson pushed her back against the cushions on the sofa.

  'You fainted, remember?'

  'Oh… oh, yes.' Melanie passed a tired hand over her eyes as she recalled clutching at Sister Wilson moments before she had blacked out, and she was suddenly consumed with embarrassment. 'That was silly of me. I'm sorry.'

  'It often happens in the early stages of pregnancy,' Dr Forbes smiled at her reassuringly over the rim of his spectacles as he closed his medical bag.

  'In the—what?' Melanie asked faintly, praying frantically that she must have heard him incorrectly.

  'Didn't you know?' he asked a little incredulously.

  'I—I had no idea. I—' She broke off suddenly, realising foolishly that the signs had been there, but she had been too preoccupied to give it much thought. Now, as the implications of her dilemma hit her with a shattering force, she almost wished herself back into oblivion as she buried her face in her hands and moaned, 'Oh, no, no!'

  Sister Wilson's arm was about her shoulders instantly. 'I think we should telephone your husband and ask him to come over.'

  'No!' She sat up quickly, fighting against a renewed bout of dizziness as she glanced up at the two people staring down at her. 'Jason was in Cape Town yesterday, and most probably won't be back yet. I'll be perfectly all right, and—I must ask you both not to mention a word of this. I—I don't want Jason to—to know about—about the baby yet.'

  'If that's what you want, Melanie, you can count on our silence,' Sister Wilson assured her hastily, glancing at Dr Forbes. 'Not so, doctor?'

  'Certainly,' he nodded, looking as though he was not quite sure what he was agreeing to, but, if it made Melanie happy, then that was all that mattered.

  Dr Forbes departed soon afterwards, but not before issuing instructions that Melanie. was not to drive her car until her dizziness had departed. Flora diffidently served breakfast in the dining-room, shaking her head and clicking her tongue in sympathy and distress at the death of her mistress, but Melanie merely toyed with her food, and ate nothing.

  Her sleepless night had left dark smudges beneath her eyes, and an uncommon tightness about her usually soft mouth. Her grief was too great to allow her to shed tears at that moment, and her thoughts were in too much of a chaotic state to make any rational decisions. She struggled with a deep sense of loss, as well as the certain knowledge that Jason would be horrified if he should learn about the child she was carrying.

  'Haven't you eaten your breakfast yet?' Sister Wilson asked as she returned to the dining-room after making a few telephone calls.

  'I'm not hungry,' Melanie whispered, pushing her plate aside. 'Have you—?'

  'I've made all the necessary arrangements,' Sister Wilson assured her hastily, then she frowned. 'When are you going to let your husband know… about your grandmother, I mean?'

  Melanie pushed her fingers through her untidy hair and sighed. 'I'll go home first to wash and change, then I'll take a drive down to his office and—and break the news to him.'

  Sister Wilson stared at her thoughtfully. 'He came to see your grandmother quite a few times during the past weeks. Did you know that?'

  'No, I didn't.' Melanie was too tired to be surprised. Besides, nothing Jason did surprised her any more. She gestured vaguely and asked, 'What are you going to do now?'

  'Oh, I'll take a short holiday, and then start looking for another job,' the older woman told her almost casually, but Melanie glimpsed an expression in her eyes that told her Sister Wilson was not as unaffected by Granny Bridget's death as she pretended to be, and a little bit of warmth stole into her cold heart.

  'Will you stay on here until we've made the necessary arrangements with regard to the servants and the house?'

  'Of course, my dear,' Sister Wilson smiled a little sadly. 'They'll be heartbroken at the thought of leaving. They've been here so long.'

  'I know.'

  'Now that there's a baby on the way, you must think of making a home for it, and the penthouse isn't exactly the most suitable place for a child.' She observed Melanie closely. 'Do you think you and your husband might come and live here at Greystone Manor?'

  'I… don't think so.' Melanie looked away uncomfortably, then back again at the woman seated opposite her. 'Sister Wilson, I—I would like to thank you for everything you did for Granny Bridget.'

  'Don't thank me, my dear.' She reached across the table and clasped Melanie's hand briefly. 'It was a pleasure to have been a part of your family for so long.'

  Melanie collected her overnight bag and her coat from the hall closet, and, taking her leave of Sister Wilson, she drove carefully back to the penthouse and took a refreshing bath to alleviate her tiredness.

  She selected a plain russet-coloured woollen dress and zipped herself into it, then sat down in front of the dressing-table mirror and tried to do something about her appearance. She brushed her hair vigorously, bringing it back to its natural silky sheen, but no amount of make-up would conceal the deep shadows beneath her eyes. She stared hard at herself, but it felt as though she were looking at a stranger. Her face was pale and pinched, but it was the unnoticeable change in her that distressed her most.

  Without being conscious of her actions, she placed her hands against her flat stomach. She was going to have Jason's child, and suddenly she no longer dreaded the thought. When Jason had no further need of her, she would have his child to fill the lonely void.

  He must never know, she decided, picking up her handbag and taking a last critical look at herself in the mirror. Jason must never know! The last thing she wanted was that he should feel under an obligation to continue with their marriage. She could not bear to have him on any such terms.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The tall building which housed the offices of Cyma Engineering stood etched against the clear wintry sky, and Melanie stared up at it for a moment, recalling the first time she had entered through those sliding glass doors. She had had no idea then of the enchantment and bitterness which lay before her, just as she had no idea at that moment how Jason would receive the news she to impart to him.

  'Melanie!' A hand touched her arm lightly, and she found herself looking up into Barnaby's laughing eyes. 'This is a surprise, having the boss' wife pay us a visit.'

  'It's good to see you again, Barnaby,' she said with a tight smile, avoiding the penetrating curiosity of his glance. 'Is Jason in?'

  'Sure,' he said abruptly, accompanying her to the lift he had just emerged from and pressing the button to open the doors. 'Go on up.'

  The lift glided upwards with well remembered speed, and Melanie clutched at the side railing to steady herself. Jason's secretary was not at her desk, but his door stood slightly ajar and, knocking briefly, she pushed it open further and stepped inside.

  Delia was there, her slender body pressed close to Jason's, and her arms wrapped about his neck. Melanie's heart gave a sickening jolt, and then she froze, fighting against the rising nausea.

  'Melanie!'

  Jason frowned and disengaged himself hastily, but he remained where he was as their eyes met and held across the room. It was as if everything ground to a sudden halt inside of her, and the only clear thought that kept revolving through her mind was, 'I must not faint, or be sick. Not here—not now!'

  'Darling, you look positively haggard,' Delia remarked caustically, draping her fur about her shoulders as if nothing unusual had happened. 'You really must do something about your appearance, my dear, if you don't want your husband's eyes to roam.'

  'That's enough, Delia. Will you please leave us,' Jason said harshly without taking his eyes off Melanie's pale, thin face.

  'But what about our luncheon appointment?'

  'Some other time,' he snapped.

  'Please don't let me interrupt your arrangements,' Melanie remarked coldly, recovering sufficiently to speak. 'What I have to say can wait.'

  'N
o, it can't!' Jason moved with lightning speed as she turned to leave, and gripped her arm, forcing her to remain at his side. 'Close the door behind you, Delia.'

  'But, darling—!' Delia pouted, her eyes flashing hatred at Melanie who stood silent and helpless beside Jason.

  'We'll talk some other time, but right now I want to be alone with my wife,' he insisted harshly, indicating the door, and Melanie almost felt sorry for Delia when she saw the dull red colour surging into her cheeks.

  'Oh, very well,' Delia agreed angrily and, picking up her purse, she swept out of the office and closed the door behind her with unnecessary violence.

  Melanie flinched, her taut nerves reacting to the noise as Jason turned her to face him.

  'You wouldn't have come here if it wasn't something important,' he said slowly, his eyes searching her face intently. 'Is it your grandmother?'

  Melanie nodded, and her voice sounded cold and lifeless when she spoke. 'She died early this morning.'

  'Did Sister Wilson let you know?'

  Shaking her head, she disengaged herself and sat down in the nearest chair before her trembling legs gave way beneath her.

  'I didn't fancy spending the night alone, so I drove out to Greystone Manor yesterday morning after you left for the airport. My grandmother was ill when I arrived, and Dr Forbes was called in.' She drew a shuddering breath as the incidents of the previous evening flashed vividly across her mind. 'Sister Wilson and I spent the night beside her bed.'

  Jason's eyes flickered strangely. 'You were with her when she died?'

  'Yes.'

  'Why didn't you telephone me instead of driving out here when you must be half asleep on your feet?'

  If only she had telephoned, Melanie thought despairingly, then she would not have seen…! She pulled herself together and shrugged. 'I—I wanted to see you— to tell you personally, and not on the telephone.'

  She stared at the tips of his polished leather shoes, refusing to meet his eyes, then he turned away and she heard him pouring something into a glass.

  'Drink this,' he said calmly, bringing a glass of amber-coloured liquid into her line of focus.