by Dilys Xavier
Maria felt more comfortable on her second night, blissfully ignorant of the creaks and groans of the building as it cooled after yet another hot day. She woke only when the early sound of voices and movement outside nudged her out of her dreams. Fully refreshed, she was up bright and cheerful, eager to pack as much work as possible into the day. She walked calmly through the empty hallway, dismissing the memory of the unpleasant experience as though it had never happened. Now she was in full control of herself, come what may.
Chapter Eleven
For practically two days, she had seen nothing of Phillip, but as she walked into the room, his voice startled her. ‘Good morning, Maria.’ There was a hint of amusement in Phillip’s eyes as he looked up briefly from his breakfast when she appeared. ‘Did you sleep well?’ I haven't seen you for a couple of days.’
‘Thank you, yes, I slept surprisingly well, and as for not seeing me, well, I've been around for the past couple of days, but you haven’t,’ she answered coolly. As she sat down opposite him, she noticed how relaxed he looked with his long legs stretched out beneath the table, almost touching her own. Instinctively, she drew her feet back, and tucked them under her chair in order to avoid any kind of physical contact. She placed her napkin on her lap and idly smoothed it out as she spoke in a cool, polite voice. ‘Congratulations. I hear you had two winners yesterday.’
‘Thank you.’ His reply was brief, but his eyes engaged hers as he picked up his coffee and gazed at her over the cup with a hint of a smile.
Maria sensed a feeling of awkwardness as silence reigned, and gave a sigh of relief when John arrived with her breakfast. At least, now she had something on which to focus, and little or no reason to make polite conversation. Now, she was even more determined to avoid his company as much as possible.
‘I’m sorry I couldn't wait for you to join me for breakfast,’ Phillip apologised, as he glanced at his watch. ‘I'm afraid I have to dash now. I'm expecting one of my owners about now.’
‘Please don't be concerned about me,’ Maria said, her head lifted high, ‘I'll be at work myself in minutes. You go ahead.’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Phillip as an afterthought, ‘How’s the painting going?’ He stood, looking down at her now as he pushed the seat of his chair underneath the table.
‘Very well, thanks, but I may have to stay overnight again. I doubt I'll finish all the work from life today, much as I'd like to.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Phillip said briefly, as he turned to go. ‘Feel free to come and go as you please.’ He crossed the room to pick up his briefcase, and paused. ‘I hope you don’t feel ill at ease here on your own.’
‘Not at all. When I'm busy time flies. Anyway, I can't talk and paint at the same time. My work needs all my concentration, and company would distract me.’
‘So you don't mind being on your own, then?’
‘Not at all, although, I must say I was surprised to find there's no Mrs Carter I might have made friends with over a morning coffee.’ She almost saw her words floating on air across to Phillip. She wished she could withdraw them as soon as she had spoken, and felt angry with herself for having voiced her thoughts.
Phillip was moving quickly by now towards the door, but what she said suddenly halted him. He wheeled around. ‘You’re surprised?’ He looked thoughtful, his eyes sweeping across the ceiling before engaging hers.
‘Yes,’ Maria said, still annoyed about the way he had behaved the other night. ‘There must have been possibles’, she went on, making more of a statement than a question.
Phillip expelled a long breath, and then shot her a look, his eyes deadly serious as they held hers. ‘Yes, possibles, but that's all.’ He took a deep breath. ‘No probables, none what-so-ever. No one has ever answered all the necessary requirements,’ he clipped. There was a hard glint in his eyes as he spoke; one Maria had not witnessed before in those soft hazel eyes. ‘Never met anyone I could love in the total way I want to love. And who would love me likewise in return, of course.’ Phillip stayed silent while Maria absorbed what he had said.
She flashed him a look of cool disbelief. ‘Is that the best excuse you can come up with?’
He nodded. ‘The only one I'm giving, if it's of any interest to you.’ He slapped his thigh and stalked through the door without even glancing back. His footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway as he made a hurried exit, leaving Maria red-faced and chewing furiously on a mouthful of bacon as she admonished herself for voicing her thoughts.
Ten minutes later, and still smarting with indignation at his remark, Maria strode down to the stables with her painting gear, and set up ready for work. Phillip was in his office awaiting the expected owner, and out of a natural curiosity, Maria wondered who it would be. With the right mood eluding her, it took her longer than usual to get going, and it was an age before she was working in earnest. She had just gone into a good painting rhythm when she heard a voice at her side.
‘That's really beautiful.’
Maria looked up at Ginger, the head lad, who was gazing in admiration at her work. ‘Miss Cable, I don’t know anything about paintings, but to me this one is almost finished. It’s super.’
‘Thank you, Ginger, and yes, it’s almost done now.’ She leaned back to survey her work, and as Ginger quietly moved away she continued to paint, everything else forgotten until her concentration was interrupted by another unexpected voice behind her.
‘I say, that really is something.’
Maria looked around at a woman who had sidled up unobserved, her eyes focused intently on the painting. She threw back a fall of luxurious flaxen hair. ‘My compliments. It’s so lifelike. Obviously, you are a professional.’
Shading her eyes from the morning sun, Maria looked up at the owner of the cultured voice, whose wide blue eyes continued to focus on the canvas. The woman appeared to be in her late twenties, exceptionally tall, with a willowy figure dressed in an aubergine designer suit. Maria's eye, trained for observation, took in every detail at a glance, judging from the woman’s complexion that she had recently enjoyed an exotic holiday in the sun. As she stared, she envisaged Phillip enjoying the company of this ravishing blonde. She knew she should not let it, yet it bothered her.
The woman extended a perfectly manicured hand, touched brown by a tropical sun. ‘Davina Wright.’ She smiled broadly. ‘I've a horse in training here; he's running at the next Chepstow meeting, so I thought I'd come along to see how he's making out.’ She gave a brief nod towards the office. ‘Phillip's expecting me, so I'd better go now, but I simply had to stop and admire your work.’
‘Maria Cable,’ she said, grasping Davina Wright's proffered hand. It was good to hear words of appreciation, for Phillip’s attitude had successfully managed to shake her confidence. She looked up at the visitor, almost unable to take her eyes off the beauty standing beside her.
‘I'd love to stay and watch you paint, but I'm late. Maybe I'll see you again?’ She gave a friendly wave before making straight for Phillip's office.
Chapter Twelve
Maria stared after her, fascinated by the athletic swing of the woman’s stride. Swift and decisive, like a predator with a goal in mind, she suddenly disappeared into Phillip's office without as much as a polite tap on the door. Quite plainly, she was used to doing this. Her voice came clearly to Maria's ears.
‘So sorry to be late, darling, but, you see, I was…,’ Maria heard no more as the door closed behind her with a thud. She resumed work, trying in vain to recapture the painting mood she had been working with, but it was useless; her concentration was not the same since the arrival of the blonde.
Several minutes later, voices alerted her and she looked around to see Phillip, with his arm wrapped around Davina Wright's shoulders. He walked alongside her, totally absorbed in what she was saying. Close to Phillip's height, the blonde was eye level with him, and as Maria watched them stroll along the line of stables, she could not help but appreciate how graceful the woman’s move
ments were.
Through the corner of her eye, Maria saw Phillip link arms with his client as he talked in earnest. Lowering his voice, he brought his head close to hers, his face alight with pleasure as they approached the ancient doorway. The peals of hearty laughter that followed disturbed Maria, making her feel shut out, alone, unwanted. More irritatingly, she was annoyed with herself for allowing this to concern her at all. ‘That's it!’ she muttered, gathering up her things. ‘I'm not in the mood for painting any longer; I've had enough.’
Just then, the head lad passed, and turned to stare at the sound of Maria's grumbling. He hesitated, looked at her expectantly and politely touched his cap.
‘Ginger, when you see Mr Carter, would you please be good enough to tell him I’ve had to go home for a while?’ Maria gathered everything together and with Ginger’s help bundled it all into her car.
‘Certainly, Miss Cable. ‘I'll be sure to tell him,’ the lad assured her.
Maria moved off down the drive, while Ginger, still wearing a look of curiosity, gazed after her. For the whole journey home, Maria’s thoughts centred on Phillip, Davina, and finally, but not least, on her beloved horse. And of course, there were the Chepstow Races to consider.
Gramps looked up from the newspaper in amazement when Maria walked into the kitchen. ‘Why, my dear, what a lovely surprise. I didn't expect to see you today. Have you finished your assignments?’ Charles Cable took off his spectacles and discarded his paper.
‘Yes, for today,’ she retorted, flinging down an armful of belongings. ‘I'll go back when I'm in a more creative mood. For the time being, I need to be in my own place doing my own thing.’
‘Nothing’s gone wrong, has it? Carter hasn’t upset you or anything?’
‘No. I've brought something home to finish here, so don't worry, and I’m back ready for the Chepstow meeting.’ She wound her arms around his shoulders. ‘I want a cup of tea now, so come on, get that kettle singing.’
‘Of course, my dear.’ Gramps suddenly looked more cheerful as he filled the kettle. ‘Carter said you could come and go as you please, didn't he?’
‘He did, and that's what I'm doing. I've had enough of Phillip Carter and his spooky house for a while; I can only take him in small doses.’
‘All right, I understand.’
Maria swung round to face him, a deep frown creasing her forehead. ‘Do you Gramps? Do you really understand?’ Maria's voice was raised, for she doubted his ability to appreciate her particular attachment to an animal. ‘Cattle, sheep, horses, whatever, to you,’ she waved a hand impatiently, ‘are commodities for trading. I can't expect you to truly understand what I feel for Chance, can I? You wouldn’t even begin to understand. After all, he's only a horse, isn't he? Something to sell, something to make a profit.’
As though at the end of her patience, Maria slumped dejectedly into the kitchen chair, looking totally worried. ‘And that Phillip Carter has an incredible knack of getting on the wrong side of me.’ She got to her feet and paced the kitchen floor. ‘I don't know why this should be, but the more I see of him, the less I like him. The sooner my work at his place is finished, the better.’
‘Now lass, don't be ungrateful to the man. I think you're misjudging him.’ Gramps placed a hand gently under Maria's chin and lifted her face. ‘Come on, look a bit happier for my sake, please. He's given you a wonderful opportunity to paint and you never know where that could lead.’
The old man flopped onto a dining chair. ‘Look, I must explain; Carter thinks we’re looking for a buyer for My Chance, and it’s my fault. It's also my fault he came here in the first place. He has no idea that our financial situation makes the sale necessary.’ He shook his head, ‘Your misery is my fault as well, and I’m sorry I’m unable to find a way to put it right.’ Then he paused, the fine-lined skin drawn taut over his face. He looked at Maria with eyes full of guilt. ‘I know you think I don't understand you, but I do, and I know the reason you dislike Phillip Carter is because he wants My Chance.’
‘Yes, that along with other reasons,’ Maria grumbled, getting up to go to her studio. She paused at the door. ‘I know the man a little better than you do now, Gramps. He's hard as nails. He’ll walk over anyone to get what he wants.’ As she spoke, she was thinking of the late night incident in the hall, and a shudder traced down her spine. ‘I don’t want to go back there until after the Chepstow races,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps not in a hurry even then!’
Having given voice to her feelings, Maria slammed the door behind her, and once in the quiet of her studio she relaxed in the only comfortable chair in the room. Her eyes misted as she bit hard on her lip. ‘Why did you leave me, Dad? None of this would have happened if you were here. I miss you.’ She rested her head on the wing of the chair and tried to release the tension that had tightened every muscle in her body. It seemed that she had closed her eyes for only a few minutes when she was brought to wakeful thinking by the urgent call of Gramps' voice. She rose to her feet in a hurry, her heart thudding. ‘Coming,’ she called, and found him waiting at the foot of the stairs, his bright blue eyes wide with apprehension.
‘The phone,’ he said excitedly, wagging his finger with impatience.
‘Quickly, you're wanted on the phone.’
‘All right, Gramps, calm down. Who is it?’ she whispered, puzzled by his behaviour.
‘Phillip Carter.’
‘So?’ she hissed indignantly.
‘Well, it could be something important.’ He thrust the receiver into her hand, and hovered, curious to know what the call was about, while Maria, not particularly wanting to converse with Phillip while Gramps was witness to what she was saying, felt reluctant to speak at all. She stared at the instrument for several seconds before putting it to her ear.
‘Yes?’ she said curtly, wishing it were anyone but Phillip Carter.
‘Hello, Maria.’ The sound of his voice gripped her strangely, bringing an unwanted flush to her face. ‘I had a garbled message about your having to go home suddenly. Nothing wrong is there?’ he asked, sounding anxious. ‘Are you okay? I've been worried, so I had to phone to know if everything’s all right.’
‘There's nothing wrong,’ Maria replied briefly, frowning, and nursing a feeling of guilt at having left so abruptly.
‘Then why did you leave in such a hurry without saying anything to me?’
She hesitated, and thought before answering, aware that her grandfather was standing nearby, listening. ‘You were busy.’ There was a long silence the other end of the phone. ‘You were occupied with Miss Wright,’ she added coldly, ‘and I wouldn't dream of interrupting you. Anyway, I didn't think you’d want to be bothered about my movements, so I left a message for you.’ Maria tapped her foot impatiently while she waited for his answer.
There was an audible sigh from Phillip. Unable to guess what he was thinking, Maria felt irritable, and continued with tightened lips. ‘I’m terribly busy, and I’m sorry if I upset you, but I'll get back to my work as soon as I can, if that's all you want to know. There’s nothing wrong. It’s just that the final preparation for my exhibition has priority now. And Chepstow, of course.’
After a second or two of silence, the cultured voice at the other end came to life, speaking softly now. ‘I see. I thought you’d gone because we haven't seen much of each other since the, er…, the night we went out. Look, I want to apologise for the way I behaved when we got back home.’
Maria's mouth tightened. Now it was her turn to be silent, for she preferred not to be reminded of something she was trying to forget.
‘I'm sorry I laughed. It was remiss of me. Only later did I realise how rude it must have appeared, so please forgive me.’ He paused once more before going on. ‘You see, anyone would have to admit it looked funny at the time, to see you running as though the very devil himself were after you. Please, accept my apologies,’ he pleaded. ‘I really am sorry.’
‘Don't let it bother you,’ Maria said flippantly. ‘As far a
s I'm concerned, the incident is forgotten.’ Changing the subject, she added, ‘I can't say exactly when I’ll be back, but I’ll let you know beforehand. I have to go now.’ She had clipped the words quickly, and without giving Phillip a chance to continue the conversation, she replaced the receiver, her lips quivering with emotion.
‘I'll be back,’ she muttered, looking angrily at the instrument as though Phillip were inside it, ‘when it suits me.’ Without wanting to admit it, Maria was secretly quite pleased her sudden disappearance had made him feel concerned enough to phone. With a smug twist to her mouth, she went back to her room. ‘You'll be sorry for the anguish you're causing me, Phillip Carter. It hurts a lot, and I hope you'll find out what it's like to hurt like this one day’.
More in the mood for work now that things were beginning to go in her favour, Maria settled down to put the finishing touches to the last of her paintings for the exhibition. Her brush flew fast and free over the canvas with a freshness and spontaneity that was typical of her work. Finally her painting emerged, completed despite everything. Maria felt pleased. ‘Two down, one to go,’ she said, a smile spreading over her face as she placed what she had done aside for drying.
It was early evening before Gary popped his cheery face around the kitchen door, and when he saw Maria, his eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘Hi! Great to see you back.’ He closed the door behind him and a happy grin spread across his face. ‘It's been deathly quiet here without you.’ He put his head on the side and winked. ‘All ready for Chepstow tomorrow?’ At the thought, he smiled, and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. ‘It can't come fast enough for me.’
‘I'm ready,’ Maria said with enthusiasm. ‘Is everything okay, Gary? He's in good shape, Lucy's Lad I mean?’
He nodded and winked. ‘Never been better, but keep that to yourself. I'll be going early, but I'll look out for you at the parade ring before I mount.’