Blind Man's Buff

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Blind Man's Buff Page 12

by Victoria Gordon


  ‘No, my poor old stomach wouldn’t stomach that,’ he replied with a mocking grin. ‘Don’t be hard to get along with, Rena. You know, and I know, and you know that I know, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, that you’re going to give in in the end, so why not try and be gracious for a change?’

  ‘Gracious? I’ll give you graciousl’ she snapped. ‘Right where it’ll do you the most good. And sideways, to boot!’

  ‘Temper ... temper,’ he cautioned. ‘What are you so upset about, anyway? The fact that I started to make love to you the other night and you enjoyed it, or the fact that my damned blind clumsiness caused us to be interrupted so you didn’t enjoy it enough?’

  ‘Maybe it was just the fact you did it so badly,’ she snarled. ‘Not that I’d expect that to occur to you, since you obviously think you’re the greatest thing since white sliced bread.’

  ‘Well, I certainly enjoyed it, up until the moment we were interrupted,’ he replied. Quietly, calmly, without any evidence of temper. Infuriating, hateful man!

  ‘I’m glad to see you make no attempt to defend yourself ... and your inadequacies,’ Rena cried. ‘Now if you don’t mind I’ve got to leave for work.’

  ‘And if I do mind?’ There was a change in his voice now; it was still resonant, but alive with a tension she hadn’t noticed before.

  ‘I don’t care whether you mind or not,’ she shrieked. ‘I think you’re positively hateful!’

  ‘And I,’ he said in tones so calm, so deliberate that she could have screamed, ‘think you’re beautiful.’

  ‘And how the hell would you know?’ She injected the retort with every ounce of sarcasm she could muster, ignoring the screams of protest from her conscience; How brave, her conscience protested, to bait a blind man. How noble, how childish, how ... wrong!

  And how fruitless. Ran merely shrugged. ‘I asked John; I reckon he’s a pretty fair judge of women.’

  ‘You what?’ Rena couldn’t believe her ears. Nor could she accept that Ran Logan would, blindly, accept someone else’s verdict on such a subject.

  ‘Hah! I thought that’d surprise you,’ he chuckled. ‘But it’s true. I asked him last Wednesday, when you so conveniently forgot to come to class. He gives you top marks, by the way, and from his description I can understand why.’

  ‘That’s despicable!’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Again that careless, casual shrug. Typical of Ran Logan; he could care less what anybody else thought.

  ‘And I don’t care what you think!’ Temper, still boiling, lent venom to her words.

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly, of course you do,’ he replied. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t have agreed to chauffeur me ... and to have dinner with me.’

  ‘I’ve done no such thing. You suggested it and now you seem to have blithely assumed I’d agreed. But I have promised nothing whatsoever.’ It sounded smarmy even in her own ears; she wasn’t surprised to see Ran’s grin disappear.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Which means I’ve been guilty of a grievous sin, that of taking a lady for granted. And I do honestly apologise.’ He made a slow, deliberate bow. ‘Please, Miss Everett, would you take pity on a poor blind chap and offer him a lift to and from tonight’s writing class?’

  ‘Yes.’ It wasn’t a gracious reply, but Rena felt herself so totally trapped she couldn’t be bothered being gracious. Damn the man anyway! He had her in a bind and he was obviously taking full advantage.

  ‘And please. Miss Everett, will you accept my humble invitation to join me for dinner before we attend this class?’ His voice was deliberately wheedling, deliberately calculated to annoy her. But behind those infernal reflective glasses she knew his eyes were laughing, blind or not.

  ‘Only if you promise to lay off the blind beggar act,’ she snapped. ‘It doesn’t become you at all.’

  ‘All right!’ he snapped, suddenly angry. ‘And in return you might try to stop blaming me for what somebody else did to you. I have been a proper bastard once or twice in my time and I probably will be again, but at the moment I’m sick and tired of copping the flak for somebody else’s nastiness!’

  Rena couldn’t reply; she was dumbstruck by the anger in him, by the sheer enormity of his rage.

  He began speaking again, this time in a voice so soft, so threateningly low, that she had to strain to hear him. ‘I don’t deny you’ve probably got a right to be bitter,’ he hissed. ‘And if you want to spend the rest of your life as a man hater that’s your business. But leave me out of it, because whatever else I’ve done … in this particular case I am not to blame!’

  ‘Oh yes, you are!’ Anger spewed out the statement before Rena could stop herself, and once it was said she could only stand there, mouth open and eyes wide with shock. She was at least as surprised by the words as Ran himself.

  He had started to turn away, but her words froze him in place like a gaunt statue. It seemed hours before he turned back to face her.

  ‘And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?’ His voice was still soft, but beneath the velvet was cold, rigid steel, the chill of an Arctic ice pack.

  ‘I... I ... She couldn’t get it out. Could not, dared not. Forget the anger, forget the hatred she had deliberately cultivated during the past two years. Here was Ran Logan, here before her as she had so often dreamed, but she couldn’t throw her gauntlet of betrayal into the face of a blind man.

  But she must say something. Only what? Her mind churned uselessly, revolving round words but unable to grasp even owe that could provide salvation. And Ran was waiting with the patience of a wild beast.

  Rena’s hands clenched and unclenched, her nails digging mine-shafts in her palms. Ran’s fists were also clenched, but they were as rigid as the rest of his posture, alive with anger, unmoving because of his iron control.

  ‘Well?’ The single word emerged from lips taut with anger, but he didn’t give her any chance to reply. ‘Oh, forget it,’ he sneered. ‘Forget everything! I’d a thousand times rather be blind my way than yours; at least there’s the vague hope that I’ll recover. So keep your man hating ways, Rena, and bloody well be welcome to them!’

  She was still standing, open-mouthed and speechless, as he turned on his heel and strode away. He had to fumble with outstretched hands to find the doorway into his flat, but once that was done he had no difficulty opening the door — and then slamming it behind him so loudly that the entire building seemed to shake.

  Rena, too, was shaking, trembling so badly she had to reach out and lean on her car for support. Her knees felt like spaghetti and the turmoil inside made her fear for an instant she was going to be sick.

  When, finally, she got into Matilda and drove slowly into the city to work, she found the highlights of their unbelievable conversation running over and over in her mind, like an endless, meaningless tape. Throughout the day she mulled it over, trying desperately to justify her own part in the scene, but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘But how can I justify being such a total bitch?’ she asked herself aloud on the way home, having left work a few minutes early so as to be sure and catch Ran before he left — if he left — for dinner without her. She would apologise; she must. And it wouldn’t, she realised, be easy.

  Nor was it, not least because it seemed to take a lifetime before he answered her knock at the door. And when he did, the face that confronted her was bleak, expressionless.

  ‘I’ve come to apologise for this morning,’ Rena blurted before she could lose her nerve entirely.

  ‘All right.’ The mirrored sunglasses hid too much of his face, but what could be seen held little promise of any real acceptance.

  ‘And ... and if your dinner invitation is still open, I’d ... like very much to come with you,’ she said, forcing out the words, angry now with herself and Ran as well. Damn him! He was as wrong as she, had been even more provocative ... why did he not apologise?

  ‘Shall we say half an hour, then?’ he said instead. ‘I’ll need that long to get chan
ged, and I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up after a day in the office.’

  ‘Half an hour will be fine," Rena agreed with a sigh. ‘I’ll see you then.’

  When she knocked on the door the second time, having changed into a light, casual dress, Ran was waiting for her and opened up without delay. But he said little until they were in the car and heading for town.

  ‘I suppose you’re waiting for me to apologise as well,’ he said then. ‘I probably should, since I imagine I had a hand in making you lose your temper, but I’m not going to, Rena.’

  ‘Nobody said you have to,’ she replied, her voice as cool as his. This was stupid, she thought. She’d apologised, he wouldn’t, and they were no better off than before except that he’d got his own way in the end.

  ‘You’re going to have to get over this business of being a man hater,’ he said, quite ignoring her remark. ‘You’re a young woman with your whole life ahead, and that kind of blind bitterness is only destructive. Believe me, I know.’

  ‘Are you so good at taking your own advice, then?’ she asked hotly. ‘I’ve certainly got the impression you’re doing your best to take out your own bitterness on whatever woman happens to be handy.’

  ‘You think that because I kissed you, started to make love to you, I was merely using you? Lord, I knew you were bitter, but I hadn’t realised you were totally naive as well.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Well then, stop talking as if you are. I kissed you because I wanted to, and I’d have made love to you because we both wanted it. But I wasn’t using you to take out either my bitterness or any other frustrations you might imagine.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she sneered. ‘You’ve got plenty of women willing to help solve your frustrations, haven’t you?’

  ‘An infinite number,’ he replied — and then, surprisingly? grinned. ‘So let’s change the subject before we get the war going all over again. How’s your writing going?’

  ‘It isn’t; probably because arguing with you all the time has put me right off,’ she replied. And then, realising he couldn’t see that she was joking, she hastily added, ‘I shall very likely have to bring you an apple to class tonight, or you’ll have me doing extra homework or something.’

  ‘Just be happy they’ve outlawed the cane, that’s all I have to say,’ Ran replied with a chuckle. ‘Although the way this class is going, you might have to stand in line.’

  ‘You mean I’m not the worst? And here I’ve been trying so hard, too.’ Lightness in her voice; she would keep up this facade of bantering friendliness, Rena thought. It was better than fighting.

  ‘Hardly. You, at least, seem to be taking the thing relatively seriously, which is more than I can say for one or two others.’

  ‘But you’re not going to tell me who, are you?’ she teased. ‘Professional ethics and all that.’

  ‘Not a bit of it. And you’ll be able to see for yourself without being told, I have no doubt of that.’

  They arrived at the restaurant then, and the topic of discussion changed to food, a much less controversial subject and one where Rena felt considerably more comfortable.

  They dined on a variety of Oriental offerings, which Ran dealt with as skilfully as he had promised. During the meal they talked about many things, but none were personal or terribly controversial, and by the time they finally reached the college it seemed Ran’s mood was much improved.

  He handled the class in a singularly jovial fashion, mingling praise with criticism and seemingly quite unaffected by the fact that hardly anybody seemed to have done much writing since the week before.

  Old John greeted Rena with a warm smile of welcome and a knowing wink, Louise with a scowl and a series of petulant glances that made her opinion of Rena’s return to class abundantly obvious.

  The redhead seemed bent on monopolising Ran as much as she possibly could, while Ran himself seemed equally bent on frustrating her. He was never rude, never even so pointed in his remarks as to upset her, but he was keeping his distance, even if Louise couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take the hint.

  She immediately cornered him once the formal class was over, and Rena, not wanting to interrupt, had moved to the opposite corner of the room when John approached with a broad grin and blew her world apart in a single comment.

  ‘Just wanted to say how much I enjoyed your singing the other night, Rena.’ The words boomed like thunder in the small room as he promised to come and listen again the following Monday.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Rena felt the blood drain from her suddenly light head, saw the room dissolve into a kaleidoscope of flickering lights as a wave of some strange tingling sensation enveloped her body.

  She didn’t hear John’s next words, but she felt his hands as he gripped her upper arms and slowed her descent, guiding her so that she landed in the nearest seat.

  ‘Put your head between your knees,’ he ordered, hands still supporting her as she obeyed. And then did he whisper, ‘I’m sorry?’ Rena thought so, but his voice was crowned in the surf of the blood flowing back to her bewildered brain.

  Altogether, the performance couldn’t have lasted a minute, but it was the longest single minute in Rena’s life. She simply couldn’t believe her eyes when she looked around, finally, to see that Ran and Louise were only just starting to move across the room towards her.

  ‘Oh, what happened?’ cried Louise, the look on her face belying any real concern.

  ‘Just a dizzy spell,’ John replied with an amazingly calm voice and a steady glance to help cover up his lie.

  ‘Yes, it’s all right now,’ Rena added in a lie of her own. ‘I think perhaps I must have over-eaten at dinner or something.’

  Ran said nothing and the face behind the sunglasses was impassive. But he knew! He’d heard! He must have.

  And yet when he did speak, after what seemed an awfully long time to Rena, his voice betrayed no hint that her secret was out, that he couldn’t possibly now ignore that one coincidence too many between the girl he had known in Sydney and the one who now played chauffeur under a different name.

  ‘You’re sure that’s all it is, Rena?’ he asked. And he sounded genuinely concerned. So genuinely concerned that Louise, an expert herself in attention-getting manoeuvres, shot Rena a look of pure malevolence.

  ‘I’m fine, really I am. Now why don’t you two go back to whatever you were discussing? I’m just going to sit a moment and then perhaps I’ll join you,’ Rena said.

  Louise needed no encouragement. Tugging possessively at Ran’s arm, she steered him back to the far corner of the room, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something neither Rena nor John could hear.

  ‘You are all right, I hope?’ John asked quietly.

  ‘For the moment,’ she replied with a rueful attempt at a grin. ‘I’m really sorry to have ... fainted, but you gave me a terrible shock.’

  ‘And from such an innocuous comment, too,’ he grinned. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing, young Rena, but I really do think you’re out of your depth. And I warned you about that, too, remember?’

  ‘How could I forget? And it doesn’t matter any more, I suspect. If it ever did.’

  ‘Humph! Of course it does,’ he retorted. ‘Your problem is that you have too little faith. Anyhow, sorry if I queered your pitch. I shall have to try keeping my big mouth firmly shut from now on.’

  Rena wanted to reassure him; he looked even more concerned about the whole thing than she was herself. But before she could reply, her glance caught Ran and Louise approaching once again, so she had to content herself with only a forgiving smile for dear John.

  ‘I think it’s time we were off, Rena, if you feel fit enough to make the journey,’ Ran said without preamble. ‘And if you don’t, for goodness’ sake say so. We can always arrange a cab or something.’

  He should never know, she thought, how much that idea appealed. The presence of another person would have to at least delay the confrontation she knew w
ould begin as soon as they were alone together in her car. But ... what sense? There was no sense, could be no sense!

  ‘I’m fine, honestly,’ she replied. ‘Unless, of course, you feel unsafe about riding back with me. A woman driver is one thing, but one who has dizzy spells ...’

  The attempt at humour was wasted. Even John didn’t smile. And a few minutes later Rena was where she least wanted to be, behind the wheel of her car, with Ran. Alone!

  Now, she told herself. Surely he’ll hit me with it now, not wait until we’re out in the traffic. Not after knowing how shaken up I was.

  But he didn’t. And if Rena was a trembling bundle of anticipatory nerves during the drive home, Ran was, if anything, the complete opposite — implacable, quiet, withdrawn. Not, she was surprised to notice, angry or sullen or intense, as she might have expected. Merely remote, as if he were lost in a thought world of his own.

  When they arrived back at the house, he emerged only long enough to thank her for her company at dinner, her effort in providing transportation, and to bid her a courteous but definite goodnight.

  ‘I hope you don’t suffer any more problems with dizziness,’ he concluded. ‘Not that I’d be much help, but if you do have a problem just thump on the floor or something.’

  It was his only even remotely personal comment since dinner, and hardly sufficient to soothe Rena’s throbbing, over-excited nerves.

  She climbed the stairs to her own flat in a total quandary. Had he missed John’s remark? It didn’t seem possible, but surely he must have. Not even Ran Logan could have failed to put two and two together after hearing such a comment.

  She lay down, but couldn’t sleep. Guilt was a tangible presence in her bedroom, and the fact that she could find no resolution to her guilt didn’t help at all.

  At one stage she even considered going down and having it out with Ran, confessing everything. But she didn’t, and knew deep inside that she wouldn’t. Not while he was blind.

 

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