Dark Awakening

by Sally Wentworth

  And she was still besotted by him. But now things were different. Now she knew that he had lied to her twice: about his financial backing and about Delia Nelson. And most of the things in that rotten letter seemed to be coming true. Minta went to the window and leaned her head against the pane. There was no sun today, the skies were overcast and grey, as wretched as her feelings. If she wasn't so crazy about him it would be easy, she could just face him with it and if she wasn't satisfied with his answers, walk out and leave him. But she still loved him, more now than ever, and the thought of even distrusting him, let alone leaving him, was completely unbearable.

  A wave of nausea filled her chest and throat and she had to sit down and take deep breaths, her child for the first time making its presence felt. Almost as if to remind her that she had that, too, to worry about. That her responsibilities were no longer only to herself.

  She had wept before when she had found out about Delia Nelson, but this time she was too miserable even to cry. Her mind and heart were tortured by uncertainty. There could be some explanation for Dane's not telling her about her father's backing, just as he had had an explanation for not telling her about Delia Nelson. And she'd accepted that, hadn't she? So why not give him a chance, listen to him again? Going upstairs to the drawer where she had hidden the letter, Minta took it out and read it through again, although she knew its contents almost off by heart now. The one phrase that would prevent her ever facing Dane with the letter leapt out at her: 'Once the child is born you'll be dispensable.' Would that, too, come to be the truth as the other accusations had? She shivered convulsively and groaned aloud. 'No, oh, please, no!' Her heart wrestled with her mind in an anguish of uncertainty, but then she could stand it no longer; picking up her bag, she hurried out into the street and took a taxi to the address on the letter.

  Delia Nelson's flat was in a new block built on one of the steep hillsides on the outskirts of the town because there was no flat land left to build on. Minta took the lift to the fourth floor and pressed the bell, hoping that the other girl would be at home. She was. She opened the door wearing a short-sleeved sweater and a straight skirt, as slim and sophisticated as ever. Her eyes widened a little when she saw Minta, but she merely said, 'I wondered when you'd show up,' and held the door open for her to go in.

  'What made you so sure I'd come?' Minta countered, as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  'You were sure to find out the truth about Dane's backer some time. And I figured that then you'd want to know the rest.' Delia had led the way into a small but compact kitchen where the ingredients for a salad were spread out on the worktop. 'I'm just making myself some lunch. Do you want some?'

  'No.' Minta sat down at the small table, not trusting her legs to hold her.

  'Morning sickness?' the other girl asked, looking at her shrewdly.

  Minta stared. 'How did you know?'

  'Dane told me, of course. You didn't really think he'd stopped seeing me, did you?'

  'Yes,' Minta answered slowly. 'He told me he'd never see you again.'

  'And you believed him? But then he could make any girl believe anything he wanted her to. I know, he tried it on me, too,' said Delia, her voice sounding bitter.

  'What do you mean?'

  Delia looked at her contemplatively for a moment, then shrugged and came to sit opposite her. 'I suppose I might as well tell you. Perhaps it'll help you to understand. Did you know that Dane needed a certain piece of land before he could go ahead with his time- share village?' Minta nodded. 'Well, he probably didn't tell you that I helped him to get it.'

  'Yes, he did. He said that you found out that it was bring sold and told him so that he could get in and buy it first. He said that was why he was grateful to you and gave you the earrings.'

  'My God, is that what he said?' The other girl laughed loudly. 'I told you he could make people believe anything he wanted them to! The truth is that he used me to find out about that land. The owner fancied me and Dane persuaded me that if I really loved him I'd go to bed with the owner, the price being letting Dane have first refusal of the land.' Seeing the look of horror on Minta's face, she said angrily, 'There's no need to look at me like that. I love him! More than you do, because you'd never give yourself to someone else for his sake. Do you think I enjoyed what I did? Do you think it doesn't make me sick every time I think about it?'

  Minta turned away, her hands gripping each other on the table. 'I'm sorry. It's just so difficult…' She was silent as she gathered her courage to ask the last, all- important question. 'In your letter, you said that after my baby was born I'd be dispensable. What—what did you mean?'

  Delia Nelson stared at her for a long moment, then got to her feet and turned away. 'Maybe I shouldn't have written that; I don't know. But I wanted to warn you. I only suspect… It isn't your fault you got caught up in this.' She swung round. 'Look, all I mean is— well, after the kid's born, I wouldn't advise you to go swimming with Dane. You're not a good swimmer, and people drown in these seas. And don't go walking in heavy traffic with him; there are lots of accidents to pedestrians in Las Palmas. And never…'

  'Stop it! Stop it, do you hear me?' Minta was on her feet and shouting at the other girl. 'It isn't true, any of it. You're just making it up. You just want him for yourself!'

  'Yes, of course I want him!' Delia yelled back. 'What woman wouldn't? But not that way. I don't want any harm to come to you; that's why I tried to warn you. 1 hoped you might even leave him when you found out about us, but I guessed he'd talk you round, that's why I left the note.'

  'I don't believe it. I can't believe it,' Minta moaned, her head in her hands.

  'Of course you do. Look at yourself in the mirror. Why on earth do you think he married you when he had me? What attraction had you for him other than your father's money?'

  'That isn't true. He loves me. We make love all the time,' Minta retorted desperately.

  'Oh, sure. Dane's a very highly sexed man. For the time being he can't have me every day, so you'll do; and anyway, he had a reason to—he wanted to make you pregnant to make sure of you in case your father told you that he'd backed him and you began to suspect the truth. And your father would hardly abandon his only grandchild, even if you weren't around any longer, now would he? But he comes here often and we make love. How else do you think I know all about you? He laughs about you; about the way you threw yourself at him in London. About your clumsiness in bed, the way he has to show you everything.'

  'Shut up! Shut up!' Her face chalk white, Minta stared at her tormentor, the cruel words beating into her brain. Delia's outline began to blur and swim in front of her eyes. Putting out an unsteady hand, she encountered the back of a chair and gripped it hard, trying desperately to fight off waves of blackness.

  Are you all right?' asked Delia, her voice sharp.

  Minta didn't answer but plunged towards the door, groping blindly for the handle and reeling down the hallway as if she was drunk, her hand against the wall to steady herself.

  'Wait! Where are you going? You can't leave in that state!'

  But Minta didn't even hear her. Somehow she got out of the flat and into the lift, sagging against the wall as it took her down to the ground floor. She began to walk along the street, bumping into people and things like a blind person. Once she tripped over a broken paving stone and fell headlong, grazing her knees and hurting her arm. Someone helped her to her feet and said something to her in Spanish, but she only muttered a thank-you and went unsteadily on. Eventually she came to a square with lots of tables outside a bodega. The tables were empty today, the weather too chilly to tempt the tourists to sit outside. Gratefully Minta collapsed into a chair; she felt sick and ill and someone seemed to be stabbing a knife repeatedly into her head. She had been sitting there for some time before a waiter noticed her and grudgingly left the warmth of the bar to ask her what she wanted.

  'Brandy. A large brandy,' she managed, then, seeing he didn't understand, 'Cognac. Granda,' demon
strating with her hands.

  When it came, she drank half of it at a gulp, choking a little as the fiery spirit went down. But it did her good. The world came back into focus again and she didn't feel so sick any more. At least, not physically. Mentally she just wanted to die. Even now, with so much evidence against him, she still couldn't entirely believe that Dane had deceived her. Surely no man could appear to be so loving and not mean it? Her hand shook on her glass, as she remembered their lovemaking. But then she recalled that last night it had been she and not Dane who had wanted to; he had been willing to just turn off the light and go to sleep. Because now that he'd made her pregnant he didn't have to make love to her any more? The thought came into her mind like death into life.

  Minta swallowed down the rest of the brandy and wondered what on earth she was going to do. More than anything else in the world she wanted to pretend that everything was the same, to just forget all the doubts and fears and go on as they had before. Because she loved and needed Dane so much. No matter what he'd done she would never be able to stop loving him. As well to ask the trees not to flower or the birds not to sing. Meeting Dane and falling in love with him was the most wonderful thing that had happened in her life, and nothing could change that. Not even the fact that he'd been lying to her all along. But loving him, knowing the truth, and going on living with him, were two different things. For the baby's sake, if not for her own, she couldn't go on living a lie. And as for him wanting to get rid of her—she would never believe that of him. He would have to hate her to want to do that. Surely he couldn't hate her—not after all the love they had shared. But if he could make Delia Nelson prostitute herself for him…

  The chill thought filled her mind so that she was again unsure and afraid. She rested her elbow on the table and her head on her hand, praying silently for guidance, for all this worry and fear to be taken away from her. It was too much, she couldn't cope with it. Not now. Not when there was the baby too. She needed someone to take care of her, to take all the responsibility off her shoulders and make everything all light again.

  That thought took her mind immediately to her father. All her life he had protected her and helped her make all the big decisions she had had to face. The only time she hadn't listened to him had been over Dane. And because of that he had washed his hands of her, wanted nothing more to do with her. Since her marriage he had made no attempt to get in touch with her, although he could quite easily have found out her address from one of her friends, or written to her care of Dane's company address. So going to him for help was out. Minta had too much of her father's own stubborn pride to go running back to him cap in hand, and there was also the fact that by going back home she would admit that Richard Tennant had been right and Dane didn't really love her. And she couldn't admit that even to herself.

  So she was on her own. For the first time in her life she would have to cope by herself, with no one to help her. And what she decided could alter the whole course of her life. Minta sat on at the table for a long time, gradually getting more and more chilled but unable to find the strength to get up and walk away. After an hour or so the waiter came out again and she ordered a coffee, but she hadn't finished drinking it before the skies blackened and it began to rain. Dragging herself to her feet, Minta went into the cafe to pay, the staff and a few customers looking at her as if she was mad. Her grazed knees had stiffened while she'd been sitting so still, and it hurt to move. There didn't seem to be any free taxis and she had to walk all the way back to the house in the rain, her hair sticking to her head. There was nowhere else to go, only there.

  When she got in, she went straight upstairs to the bedroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair, darkened by the rain, hung in rat's-tails about her head. There were dusty shadows around her eyes and her face looked dead, lifeless. Minta's heart filled with misery. She remembered Delia Nelson's tall, slim beauty and realised that the other girl had been right—how could Dane possibly prefer her? When he had made love to her had he closed his eyes, trying to pretend that she was Delia?

  Dragging off her clothes, Minta dropped them on to the floor and put on a nightdress, then climbed into bed, regardless of her wet hair. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, not even trying to sleep. She felt completely punchdrunk, as if someone had knocked her into a state of semi-consciousness and her brain wouldn't work. Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would decide what to do. Now all she wanted was just to lie there, numbly cocooned in the warm bedcovers like a chrysalis, not having to think or feel, to put off living until tomorrow.

  Dane came home at his usual time and came straight up to the bedroom when he didn't find her downstairs. 'Darling, what is it?' His face and voice were full of concern,

  Minta stared into his face, searching for some sign of the truth, a touch of coldness in his eyes or tone, however slight, that would tell her he was putting on an act. But there was only what you would expect to find in the face of a man who came home and found his wife apparently unwell.

  'It—it's nothing.' She turned her head away, unable to bear looking at him. 'I fell over, that's all. So I thought I'd rest for a while.'

  'You fell?' he exclaimed sharply. 'Did you hurt yourself? My God, you're not having a miscarriage?'

  There was real worry in his voice now, genuine fear; but not for her, only for his plans, she thought bitterly. Slowly she turned to look up at him. 'You wouldn't like that, would you?' she asked tonelessly.

  'Like it? What the hell kind of a question is that?' His lace went white. 'Are you trying to tell me…'

  His hands went to the covers to jerk them back, but Minta shouted, 'No!' and grabbed the duvet. 'No, I'm not. Please, Dane, I just want to rest.'

  He stared at her and put a hand on her head. 'Your hair is soaking! For God's sake, Minta, tell me what happened. Did you hurt yourself or not?'

  'No, only my knees. I tripped over a broken paving stone, that's all,' she answered fretfully, wishing he would leave her alone.

  'Show me.' This time he had his way and pulled back the covers, then lifted her nightdress so that he could see her knees. 'You haven't even cleaned them up! Why, darling? Please tell me what's the matter.' He sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand, looking at her with worried, anxious eyes.

  Minta felt as if her heart was being torn out. If only she could believe that he really cared, that the worry was really for her alone. She wanted to reach out to him, beg him to hold her, tell him of all her doubts and fears and hear him laugh them away as figments of her imagination, or as the jealous spite of a rejected lover. Hut she only said, 'I felt dizzy after I fell over. I couldn't get a taxi and it started to rain.'

  'Oh, my poor love!' His hand gripped hers as if trying to give her some of his strength, then he got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a bowl of warm water. His touch incredibly gentle, he cleaned up her knees and then dried her hair with a towel, afterwards brushing it gently smooth again. Minta was too choked up to speak, too near to tears. If only this was true, if his concern were real! He was being so loving, so wonderful. For several minutes he held her in his arms, her head against his shoulder, gently stroking her hair. 'Are you hungry? Shall I get you something to eat?' he asked, but Minta only moved her head in refusal. 'Okay. Just lie down and I'll go and make you a hot drink.' He laid her gently back against the pillows, then bent to kiss her cold lips. Minta closed her eyes, willing herself not to respond, unable to trust her own instinct any more.

  Dane straightened up and she heard him leave and go downstairs. She kept her eyes closed, trying to forget the worry in his face and the way he was looking after her, but knowing that she would remember it all her life. About ten minutes later he came back with a beaker of hot milk that tasted as if he'd added something stronger. He helped her to sit up, treating her like a child, talking to her reassuringly but not expecting an answer. He would make a wonderful father—the thought came unbidden into her mind and made Minta choke over her drink.

  'Darling, are yo
u all right?'

  'Yes,' she nodded. 'It just—went down the wrong way.' She looked away, afraid he would see the wretchedness in her eyes.

  Before she had finished the milk the doorbell rang and Dane went to answer it, coming back with a short, plump Spaniard whom he introduced as a doctor. It seemed that Dane had sent for him while he was making her drink. The doctor examined her carefully, asking questions in his heavily-accented English. Sometimes she didn't perfectly understand and Dane had to translate. Minta wished he wasn't there; she didn't want to answer questions about her body when he could hear. Not now. At last the doctor finished and the two men left her alone. She could hear them talking outside on the landing, and felt a burning resentment that the doctor could discuss her with Dane as if she had no rights over her own body. But maybe they still regarded a wife as just another of the man's possessions in the Canary Islands.

  'He thinks you're fine,' Dane assured her when he rejoined her a few minutes later. 'But you're to take it easy for a couple of days and then go and see him again Nome time after Christmas.' He grinned, 'And he thinks you'll have a very beautiful baby—and wishes us lots, lots more. A man after my own heart!'

  'I'm tired,' Minta turned her head away abruptly. 'I'd like to go to sleep now.'

  'Of course.' She felt him looking down at her, then his lips touched her cheek, rested there for a moment. 'Goodnight, my love.'

  Minta's hands clenched together under the covers and she had to bite her tongue to stop herself crying out in anguish. But then he was gone and she was alone with her unhappiness at last.