by Dilys Xavier
‘Hello, Phillip, fancy seeing you here.’
Maria turned quickly, surprised to see the blonde who had admired her painting. She was more than surprised at Phillip's reaction. He stood stock still for several seconds, his eyes riveted on the glamorous blonde who was fast making her way straight towards him.
He looked decidedly awkward as he croaked to clear his throat. ‘Why, Davina, how nice to see you.’
There was a pregnant pause, then the blonde flashed a gleaming smile at them both. ‘It's Mother's birthday, darling,’ she said with a laugh, ‘and we've invited a few of her friends here for a meal. Would you both join us for a drink?’
Phillip coughed, obviously searching for an appropriate reply, but one glance at Maria's grim expression helped him to make up his mind. ‘Thanks, but no; it's most kind of you, but we've booked a table for eight-thirty, and we’re already late, and, er, hungry.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Please wish your mother happy birthday for me; I'll no doubt see you both some time soon.’
Still smiling, but looking a little puzzled at his lack of enthusiasm, Davina nodded effusively. ‘Yes, all right, I'll look forward to that, darling, but Mother will be upset if she spots you. I never expected to see you all the way over here. Lovely surprise, darling, but I’ll be over to Colacomby soon anyway.’
Maria’s lips had tightened at the woman’s familiar greeting, and that she was going to visit him soon. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as she witnessed the encounter between two people who obviously knew each other rather well. Moreover, she felt annoyed with herself for allowing the incident to make her feel somewhat possessive over Phillip. It was an alien feeling as far as he was concerned, but it was there, gnawing at her stomach.
Just as she and Phillip moved away, Davina made a quick grab at Phillip's arm and pulled him to one side for a confidential word.
Impatient at the persistence of the woman, and piqued because she felt it was pointedly something she was not to hear, Maria walked ahead.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, rushing after her, his face a shade deeper than normal. ‘It was business.’
‘You are not obliged to explain anything to me, but I can't help wondering if she’s one of those happy, friendly females who calls every man 'darling', or are you, indeed, her darling?’ Maria bit her tongue at having made the comment. She wondered why on earth she had bothered to comment, but it was done now. Why, in fact, should she have any feelings about the incident at all? One look at Maria's face would have shown anyone that something had annoyed her, and Phillip, obviously noticing it, made an effort to change her mood.
‘Come along,’ he fussed, doing his best to console her as he guided her to a cosy little table in the corner of the elegant room. ‘I especially asked for this one.’
And that doesn't help, Maria thought sullenly, glancing at the romantically candle-lit table, complete with its bouquet of fresh flowers. She wondered just how many times he had specially requested this particular table, and for whom.
It could easily have been Davina whom he dined and wined here.
‘I hope you like them,’ he said, pointing to the blooms.
‘Thank you,’ Maria said, accepting that she had no right to feel piqued in this way. She had rebuffed and rejected Phillip Carter sufficient to put any man off. On the other hand, some men liked a challenge, and maybe that is what is holding his attention, she mused. Confused by now, but realising it could spoil what could be an enjoyable evening, she thrust aside her doubts.
She had begun the meal with a distinct feeling of irritation, but the vintage Champagne that Phillip had poured quickly lifted her spirits. For the rest of the evening, she wallowed in the concentrated attention of the most handsome man in the room, who was doing everything possible to please her. It was impossible for her to ignore this fact, and she accepted she was being somewhat ungrateful. This was hardly the polite behaviour of an adult woman. She had to take it for what it was; an evening out, genuinely given, so putting aside all thoughts of revenge, she excluded everything and everyone except the man she was with. Time seemed to slip into a void, and when the evening came to a close it was a surprise.
‘Time for home,’ Phillip announced, looking at the old grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room. We must be going.’
Once in the Ferrari, Maria felt drowsy, and at peace with the world. The soft purr of the engine lulled her to sleep, and not until Phillip spoke did she jerk to life. ‘Colacomby,’ he announced breezily. You awake now?’
Maria jerked to life as he opened the car door and grasped her hand, sending that same electrifying thrill through her body despite her drowsiness. But there was no more; no grasp, no kiss, just a firm, helpful hand, caringly escorting her inside the ancient fortress.
‘Are you all right?’ Phillip asked.
Maria nodded, but she knew she was slightly unsteady from the effect of the liquor. The bonus was that it had removed all feelings of spite and malice for the time being.
‘Goodnight, Maria.’ Phillip said, in a friendly way, and watched as she ascended the spiral staircase.
On the turn of the stairs, Maria glanced over her shoulder and gave a faint smile at the tall figure silently looking up at her through the gloom of the hallway. She fell into bed confident that good food and wine had prepared her for a night of solid sleep. Tomorrow, hopefully, she would put the finishing touches to the final painting.
Chapter Seventeen
Sleep overtook Maria well before she finished her planning that night, and suddenly tomorrow arrived. She dressed quickly and sped downstairs for breakfast, intending to make an early start.
‘Morning, John,’ she breezed, ‘Where's Phillip?’
‘Gone to meet someone, Miss Cable.’
Maria wondered where, and with whom, but accepted it was none of her business where had or with whom. ‘I see,’ she said, thoughtfully. ‘The weather's holding. Fantastic for painting. And for hay-making,’ she added, wondering how Gary was getting along with the work. She dismissed her curiosity about Carter’s whereabouts. ‘It's early, and I've got the whole day to finish my work. I can add any necessary details at home, so I hope to leave around tea-time, John,’ she said, breezing out of the kitchen.
The paint flowed over the canvas like magic that morning. Maria felt happy; things seemed right for her today. Her concentration prevented her from noticing the observer until a shadow crossed her canvas. Startled, she looked up, brush poised, a question on her face at the interruption.
‘Sorry,’ Phillip said, ‘I shouldn't interfere when you're so engrossed, but I’m intrigued by the way you paint so deftly.’
‘No problem,’ she said with a smile. ‘I'm used to it by now. I've done well today so I'll soon be finished.’ She put down her brush and stretched her arms, shading her eyes against the bright sun as she looked up at Phillip. She noted he looked just as handsome in his working clothes as he had done the night before in his lounge suit.
‘Do you allow yourself time for coffee?’ He paused, then added, with a disarming smile, ‘In my office?’
Maria gave a glance at the painting, and made a thoughtful grimace. ‘Yes, I can pack it in, now. It's time I took a break and stretched my legs, even if it means coming back again.’
Phillip looked decidedly pleased. ‘Good. Come over when you're ready.’
Minutes later Maria sank down gratefully in the comfortable chair in front of Phillip's desk, relaxed now because she knew her work was nearing completion and presenting no problems. ‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the coffee from Phillip.
She had an intuitive feeling from the way he was looking at her that there was something he wanted to say. He was eyeing her steadily from across the room as he sipped at his coffee, and Maria was, at that moment, uncomfortably aware of the feelings he stirred within her.
She glanced away to avoid his gaze, and shifted her vision to the painting that hung on the wall behind him. Immediately, her eyes took
on a wistful expression. She was aware that Phillip was speaking, but what he was saying went unheard and unanswered, for her mind had suddenly become pre-occupied with the subject of the painting on the wall. My Chance. How she longed to be certain the money to save him was safe in the bank.
‘Well?’ he said, obviously waiting for an answer of some kind.
Her colour rose. ‘I'm sorry, but I didn't catch what you said.’
Phillip shifted uneasily in his chair, and cupped his chin in his hands, his elbows resting on the desk, as he spoke again.
‘I said,’ he took a deliberate sigh, ‘I have waited long and patiently, without bothering you over-much, but I repeat, I am serious about purchasing your colt. Naturally, I would like to know what the chances are.’ He leaned forward in the chair and rapped his fingers on the surface of his desk as he stared at Maria. ‘I've been open about it all, and I reckon I deserve a definitive answer now.’
Maria gulped, not sure what to say, the fear of losing Chance still twisting knots in the pit of her stomach. Pretty confident the money would come, she had yet to hold it in her hand before she could be certain of keeping him. That meant withholding any decision, for the time being.
‘Why do you want him that badly?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Surely there are other horses from which you can take your pick. So why My Chance?’
‘I think I could make my name with that horse.’ Phillip said it slowly and seriously, and looked straight at Maria as he spoke. ‘It's just a hunch. ‘His bloodline is fashionable, he's doing well as a two year old, and I'd take a chance on him for the Derby.’
Maria could hardly believe what she heard. This was what Dad always wanted, but to part with her colt to this man, and for the same reason that her father had intended was out of the question. Her senses reeled. She heard Phillip’s voice drone on, but it was as though he was far away.
‘My ultimate ambition is to find a horse whose track record will be so dazzling that he'll hit the jackpot. My Chance could be that horse.’ He paused to see the effect of his words on Maria. ‘And I'm talking in millions,’ he added quietly, his brow raised.
‘Millions?’ The word hit her like a shot in the arm. She gulped, her hands trembling at the thought as her blood coursed furiously through her veins. She got up and paced the room. ‘I can't tell you,’ she said, pausing for a deep breath to calm her thumping heart. ‘Truly, I can't, not yet. I need a little more time.’ Her voice rose high so frantic were her feelings for an escape route as she made for the door.
Phillip made a quick movement, reaching her in seconds. He grabbed her wrist tightly. ‘Listen to me,’ he exploded. ‘Don't you know a good deal when it's offered? You’d never do with that colt what I can do. Can't you see it? Are you blind to reality?’ His face was flushed and his eyes clouded with anger.
‘I can see,’ she said, wrenching herself free of his grip. ‘I can see everything now. I see a man who always wants his own way, whatever the consequences; one who is unable to take no for an answer to anything.’ Maria made a frantic grab at the door knob, turning to fling a final word at him. ‘I can see why you've wined and dined me, charmed me, whispered sweet nothings in my ear. That sort of treatment doesn't always work, you know. This is one time when you'll find you won't get your own way.’ She swung her lithe body out through the doorway and flew towards the house and headed for her bedroom.
‘I'll never understand you, damn it. Never,’ Phillip called out angrily.
‘No,’ she shouted back as she ran, her breath coming in quick, short gasps, tears streaming down her cheeks, ‘you won't, because you don't know the full reason I need to keep My Chance. And I don’t have to explain it to you.’
Behind the privacy of her bedroom door, Maria cried out her anguish until there were no more tears left. She washed, and crept quietly downstairs, thankful to see only John in the kitchen. The healing tears had calmed her sufficiently to sort things out in her mind, and she felt better now. But there would be no more painting today; she was not in the mood. She packed her belongings ready to go home.
‘I'm leaving now, John. I need to prepare for my exhibition.’
‘Ah, yes, of course. Mr Carter told me about the exhibition, and I wish you every success, Miss Cable.’
‘He did?’ Maria could not avoid showing surprise that Phillip was sufficiently interested to talk about it to John. She shrugged. ‘Well, goodbye, and thank you for looking after me so well.’
‘My pleasure, but surely, we'll be seeing you again, Miss Cable?’
‘Maybe yes, but at the moment, I doubt it.’ In no time at all, Maria was on her way to Manor Farm, but she had a strange feeling she could scarcely explain; she felt part of her was being left behind at Colacomby.
Gary’s happy face was the first she saw on pulling into the drive. He beamed at the sight of her.
‘Oh, Gary,’ she gasped, as he hurried forward to help her with her case, ‘it's so good to see you.’ Tears sprang to her eyes, blotting out her vision and causing her to stumble.
Concerned, Gary grabbed her to steady her. ‘Maria, are you okay?’
‘No, I’m not,’ she sniffled, throwing her arms around her dear friend and hugging him tight. ‘That man Carter keeps pestering me about My Chance. I'm confused, and sick with worry in case I lose my colt. I'll only feel better when I've got that money in my hand. Then Carter can go to hell.’
‘Have you finished work at the stables?’ Gary enquired gently.
‘Almost, but I got so frustrated I just had to come home. I may have to go back again, but not for long.’ She shook her hair free and breathed in the fresh air. ‘It's good to be home, Gary. How is Gramps, and is the haymaking coming on okay?’ She chattered away, glad to have something different to say and think about.
Inside, Charles Cable was in the kitchen preparing a meal. ‘Hello, Maria,’ he said cheerfully, his blue eyes wide and visibly delighted to see her again. ‘What a nice surprise. Hey you look a bit done in. All right, are you?’
‘Only tired, Gramps, but a nice cup of tea will soon bring me back to normal.’
‘Put the kettle on, Gary.’ Charles Cable instructed, fussing about straight away. ‘We'll all have something to eat straight away. There's some of that good stew with dumplings your mother made for us; it’s already heating up.’
Maria moved across the room and quickly sifted through the bundle of letters that had been neatly stacked on the old dresser. Then she went through them all again.
‘Looking for something in particular, Maria?’ Charles Cable peered from beneath his brows, pausing as he observed her anxiety and the way her trembling fingers flicked over the mail for the second time. ‘I'm afraid those are only bills, as usual,’ he sighed, shaking his head, ‘there's nothing of interest.’ He paused again. ‘Are you expecting something?’
‘Not particularly, Gramps,’ she said, crossing her fingers for being untruthful, but her expression was enough to tell Gary that the letter of importance was not in the bundle.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Come and help me carry in my paintings, Gary,’ Maria said, anxious for an opportunity to have a word with him in private. As soon as they got outside, Gary's curiosity got the better of him. ‘Have you said anything at all to Phillip Carter about your win?’
‘Nothing. How could I? The cheque must be in my hand before I do that. How long is it going to take to come?’
Gary shrugged and spread his hands. ‘No telling, really. They'll send it as soon as it's checked, and then it's up to the postman. Shouldn't take long now.’
Maria nodded. ‘Then it's no good fretting. I'd better get an early night, because there's a lot of work ahead. I'd appreciate it if you’d help me load the rest of my paintings into the car tomorrow, Gary. There are quite a lot already at the gallery, but with these extra ten, thirty five altogether.’
‘I'll do that now,’ Gary said eagerly.
‘Please yourself,’ Maria said. ‘They're in my studio, near the doo
r.’
Maria stood silently sipping her tea as she looked out of the window at the careful way Gary fitted the paintings into the car. He was always so thoughtful.
Charles Cable sidled up to her, and gave a little jerk of his head. ‘A good lad, Gary,’ he said, absently gazing out through the window. ‘Capable, reliable, salt of the earth kind.’
‘Undoubtedly, Gramps. They don't come any better,’ she said, without really thinking, for she had other things on her mind right now.
Charles Cable continued with a grin. ‘Good pals, you and Gary, eh?’
Maria nodded again, with a broad smile. ’We always have been.’
‘Any chance,’ he gave an artificial cough and went on. ‘Any chance of you and Gary, I mean … ,’ Charles Cable looked decidedly awkward. ‘I'm trying to say he’ll make a wonderful partner for someone one day.’
‘I can guess what you're trying to say, Gramps’. Maria had suddenly come to life at Charles Cable's suggestion. ‘You’re talking about Gary being the ideal partner. As a partner on this farm?’ Then she winked teasingly. ‘Or for me?’
‘Well, yes, but I wasn't thinking only of that. I was thinking,’ Charles Cable took a deep breath before going on to say the rest of his little speech, ‘I was thinking that he'd make a good husband, Maria. I’ve seen how you well you get on and nothing would please me more...,’ He paused for a moment and looked away.
‘Say no more, Gramps!’ Maria's voice sounded more amused than annoyed. ‘I know you might have noticed things, but please don't jump to any conclusions. Don’t force the issue, and please don't try to do any match-making. For starters you’d scare the living daylight out of Gary if he heard what you’re saying.’ She wagged a finger under his nose. ‘There's plenty of time for that; I'm too busy these days to be concerned about any kind of partner. Don't you worry, for when the time is right, I'll take my pick. I’ll choose the best, and you'll be the first to know. Will that suit you?’