by Jillian Dagg
Tanya spent a lonely afternoon. She tried to read a book, but the words blurred before her eyes. She prepared a cold chicken supper. Richard joined her. Sunset should have been a moment of sharing, but the silence between them was so tense that Tanya kept making excuses to go to the kitchen.
When Richard settled himself in front of the television, she crept to bed. She wondered if he would come to her. Later she heard his steps on the ladderlike stairs.
The next day dawned hot and sultry. Richard had left a note saying that he would not be back until evening. She threw it away. What difference did it make? She was trapped here anyway. She had no car. Not that she could drive the Ferrari. Richard had taken her out a few times and tried to teach her, but the car was powerful and temperamental and she had never learned to control it. Like its owner, she thought, wandering about the house listless and teary. What a mess she had made of her life! She saw no future at all.
She put on Richard's white terry robe and walked down the rocky steps, perspiration dripping from her body. When she got to the lake, she took off the robe and plunged off the dock. The cool water hit her naked flesh with the force of a slap. She gasped, but taking a deep breath, she stretched out across the water. Soon she was swimming strongly out toward the center. She turned on her back and looked up at the floating clouds. It had only been a few days ago, but it seemed an eternity, since she and Richard had swum out here together, side by side, she trying to match her irregular stroke to his even crawl. She swam back to the dock, hauled herself up, and reached for her robe. Wandering slowly up the steep slope, she kicked aimlessly at the pebbles, oblivious of the pain to her bare feet.
As she approached the house, she could hear the phone ringing. She quickened her step and picked up the receiver with trembling hands.
"Hi," the voice was casual, "how're you doing?"
"Fine." Her tone was even. Why should he know the agony he was causing?
"Look. Will you be okay there alone tonight? I want to do some more driving tomorrow and I figure it'll be easier if I stay at John's."
"Great," she said, knowing if she tried to say more she'd give way.
"Make sure you lock everything up tight. Are you sure you don't mind?"
"No," she told him and hung up. She knew there would be no more tears tonight, only a searing pain as she thought of Richard making love to Dianna.
At ten she took a shower and lay naked beneath the sheets, trying to force herself to sleep, but it was no good.
She put on her robe and sat huddled in a corner of the couch watching an old late movie without even bothering with the sound. She was still there when she woke up the next morning, feeling headachy and groggy. She got up and went to the window. It was pouring rain. There was no Ferrari outside.
She had to leave. There was no way she could spend another day and night alone here. She didn't even want to face Richard again. She dressed in jeans tucked into a pair of rubber boots, put on a raincoat and trudged her way to the highway.
The road was muddy but the rain had eased slightly. She knew that Richard would probably come home today, and she didn't want to be here when he arrived. The fresh air had made her feel better by the time she reached the grocery store, where they picked up their mail. Tanya knew Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, the owners, well. They'd been friendly with Richard and seemed to think a lot of him.
"Terrible day to be out," Mrs. Thomas said as she got Tanya the mail. "How's your husband?"
"He's much better thank you," Tanya replied politely. "But I'm having family problems. I had a call from a relative in England who is sick. I was wondering if there's a bus that could take me to the airport? My husband's away for a few days and I've got no transportation."
"Have you booked a flight?" the woman asked.
"Yes," Tanya lied,"The bus already came through for today, but Harry and I are going into Toronto tonight to visit my sister; we could drop you off if you would like us to?"
"Would you really?" Tanya could hardly believe her luck.
"If you come up here at half-past six, we'll be leaving then."
"Oh thank you; you are kind." Tanya gave the woman a wide-eyed smile.
"You're welcome, dear."
The rain had stopped when she left the shop. It was getting hot again. Tanya took off the raincoat and carried it.
She felt a little better. When she got back to England, she could begin a new life as she should have done months ago.
She wished that she had never met Richard. Before meeting him she'd been relatively contented. But no more. Who'd have thought that love could be so painful? She'd always imagined it to be something that generated happiness, not this aching void. Had Richard felt this way when Dianna had left him after his accident? He must not have cared for a while whether he lived or died.
When she got back to the house, she made herself some coffee and sat down at the breakfast nook to open their mail.
There were a number of bills and a personal letter for Richard. Also, a letter addressed to them both from England.
It was from Cheryle. She was marrying Jonathan and they were moving into the house together. She invited them to stay anytime they were in England and reiterated several times how happy she was. Tanya put the letter aside. She didn't really care if she saw Cheryle or the old house in England again, but she was glad someone was happy.
She phoned the airport and managed to get a booking to London for nine o'clock that evening. She hoped that Richard wouldn't come home before she left.
She packed a small bag and set it aside by the door, but she still had the entire afternoon to get through. She got out some of Richard's music and played an album she hadn't heard before. They were sad, haunting folk songs. She sat cross-legged on the floor and let the melody touch her heart realizing that she was giving in to self-indulgence. It would be the last time she sat in Richard's house.
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas were waiting in their big station wagon when she appeared outside the shop at half-past six.
She sat in the back seat listening to the couple's easy chatter wondering if it would ever have been like that between her and Richard. They let her off in front of the terminal with many good wishes for her trip and her relative's recovery. She felt guilty in the face of their open generosity.
The plane was delayed for an hour and Tanya sat in the terminal nervously watching the door, wondering if Richard had either phoned or arrived home. She had a horrible premonition that he'd know exactly where she would run to.
Then finally the flight was called and she was able to pass through security and walk to the plane. She took an inside seat. She couldn't bear to look down and see the same view that she'd shared with Richard with such anticipation those few short months ago.
There was no excitement in returning to England. After passing through customs and standing in the midst of the crush of people, she was overcome with loneliness. She knew no one and had nowhere to go. She tried not to think of the house by the lake. Even if Richard were not a loving husband, it had been her only home.
Chapter Twelve
Tanya closed the door behind her and entered the small dark hallway of the house where she, was staying. It was Saturday and she'd worked all day as a waitress in a restaurant on Kensington High Street. Not the kind of job for a woman expecting a baby, but the only work she could get, as she'd found out when she'd scoured the streets searching for employment. Not having office skills had been a considerable disadvantage. Even the manager at the restaurant had been dubious about taking on someone without any previous experience. Putting a weary hand on the old wooden banister, she had just started to climb the stairs, when her landlady, Mrs. Green, looked out of her sitting room. She had often invited Tanya in to watch television on weekends, and she now came out to ask her again. Her husband had died a few years ago and she seemed lonely. It was obvious that Tanya was lonely too.
"I'll just go and get changed," Tanya told her with a smile.
"Won't be a minute."<
br />
"That's fine, love," Mrs. Green said and went back to the television. She always had it turned up twice as loud as necessary.
Tanya's room was a bed-sitter, modestly furnished with a narrow bed, a table and chair and a hot plate. Tanya had purchased a new bedspread and some colorful cushions, but although it helped a little, it would never be horne. She had no initiative to do anything else. She changed into a comfortable pair of jeans that she could open at the waist and fasten with a safety pin, as her waist had thickened. She put on a loose shirt blouse and went downstairs to join Mrs.
Green.
Mrs. Green's sitting romn was as dark and dull as the rest of the house. The curtains were brown and always pulled across the little bay window. The furniture was heavy and Victorian, much too large for the little room. But the rented color television set was modern, and it took Mrs. Green into a world of make-believe that she obviously needed.
Tanya sat down beside her on the couch.
"Have a hard day, love?"
Tanya nodded.
"Why don't you help yourself to a cup of tea?"
"Thank you." Tanya leaned over and poured herself a cup and stirred in milk. She'd eaten her dinner at the restaurant; it was part of her benefits of being a waitress. Not that she usually fancied much. She'd just managed to squeeze down a salad and a crusty roll and cheese. Since she'd left Richard there had been this painful ache at the pit of her stomach.
Mrs. Green knew she was pregnant and Tanya had never lied about her name or her status. Maybe secretly she hoped that one day Richard might come looking for her and if she still had his name, she would be easier to trace.
Mrs. Green was watching a variety show and Tanya turned her attention to the frivolity because Mrs. Green liked to comment on all the performers and their clothes. Then when the news came on, Tanya wondered if she should go up to bed. She was almost asleep, nestled back on the soft couch, when she heard the newsman say, "Today was a successful day in motor racing. At Silverstone this afternoon, driver Dick Wicklow made a comeback after almost two years off the racing scene. After trailing second for most of the race, Wicklow went on to overtake Swedish driver Nicolas Stoor near the end of the race and then remained in the lead to the finish. We'll have film of that win plus an interview with the driver himself immediately after the news."
Tanya twisted her wedding ring around on her finger, her breath coming unevenly. Richard was in England! She felt an intense physical desire to see him and have him hold her in his arms. It seemed an eternity while the news continued, showing pictures of bombs exploding, political leaders and then the Royal Family abroad, but at last an interviewer came on to the screen.
"Good evening," he said and smiled. "Tonight on Sports Spot we have an interview with Dick Wicklow, who made an amazing comeback at Silverstone this afternoon. You'll all remember that almost two years ago Dick suffered considerable and almost fatal injuries while racing in the Indianapolis 500. We'll show film of that crash now."
Tanya forced herself to watch the screen as the commentator noted that Richard's car was number eight. She tried unsuccessfully to recognize him as the camera panned the track. Suddenly the man was yelling incoherently into the microphone as number eight turned a full circle on the track before hitting the wall. The picture went into slow motion as, with stunned horror, Tanya watched Richard's car flip through the air, then cartwheel in a spray of dust and pieces and slide toward the inside of the track.
Tanya leaped to her feet. On the screen she could dimly make out scurrying figures amid a cloud of billowing smoke.
An ambulance wheeled onto the track. Two men jumped out of the rear, but the screen footage faded before she could see the stretcher or who was on it.
The interviewer came back on the screen, his expression grim. Luckily there was a happy ending," he said. "Dick survived that experience and now we'll see some film of this afternoon's win."
Tanya was still standing as they showed a car coming in first under the checkered flag. Then Richard, in his racing gear, jumped up onto a platform. Hair plastered to his forehead, he was grinning triumphantly beneath the sweat and grime. A blonde girl was hugging him on one side, John Laughton on the other. Then the film faded, and they were back in the studio. Richard's face came on, dear and familiar.
Trembling, Tanya sat down. She still loved him. She always would. Racing was his life and she would have to accept it. She loved him too much not to be with him. She wanted to wipe the silly smirk off the blonde's face. It was she, Tanya, who should have been up there on the platform, sharing his triumph, not some silly little fly-by-night girl friend. Or was the girl someone Richard really cared about?
Since she had run away, had he found someone who had been more willing to share his racing life? She wrenched her attention back to the screen.
"At one time it must have seemed that you would never make it back on the track?" the interviewer asked Richard.
"I always knew I'd be back," Richard replied. "And I had two great people helping me. My friend, John Laughton, whom you all know as a champion driver in his own right, and my wife Tanya who stood by me when I'd almost lost faith."
"Is your wife here in England to share your victory?" the interviewer asked.
Richard looked directly into the camera. "Yes, she is."
Time was up. The interviewer thanked Richard for coming over to the studio. The credentials flowed over the screen, but Tanya could not see them through the blur of tears.
"Is something wrong, dear?" Mrs. Green asked solicitously.
She put an arm around the girl's shaking shoulders.
"That's my husband," Tanya said between sobs.
"Your husband? But he's a famous man!"
"He can still be my husband. If you'll excuse me—"
She ran from the room and up the stairs, sinking down onto the hard little bed. Richard had mentioned her name on a national television program and declared publicly that she was his wife!
Would he be staying down in Surrey at Cheryle's? If not, surely Cheryle would know where he was. Her heart lurched.
Maybe he would stay in London to celebrate his win with the blonde he'd been hugging? Well, she wouldn't think about that now. She would take a chance and go down to the old house. There was a wild hope that he needed her as much as she needed him. After all, he had spoken of her on television for all the world to hear. She would have to find out. And how about her baby? Their baby. she corrected herself. She'd had such a lonely, desolate childhood herself, she didn't want her own child to have the same. If she had only known that she had been pregnant, she never would have left Canada. She would have owed it to her child to stay. Richard might have treated her in a shabby way, but he was responsible—and he was honest. He'd never once deceived her by pretending he felt any more for her than physical compatibility and a sense of responsibility.
She went downstairs and knocked on Mrs. Green's door.
"I'm going out," she said. "If I don't come back, don't worry."
"Are you going to your husband?"Mrs. Green asked.
Tanya nodded, "Yes."
"Good luck, dear."
"I'll need it all."
"I want to go down to Surrey," she told the taxi driver before she climbed into the car.
"That's a long way, Miss," the man said.
"Please take me there," Tanya persisted in spite of his obvious reluctance of having to drive so far so late at night.
It seemed an interminable time before the old house came into view. When she saw the red Ferrari parked outside the front step behind Jonathan's Aston Martin, her heart seemed to leap up into her chest and she wondered if she should have come. With trembling fingers she paid the driver and ran up the steps.
"Tanya!" Louise looked astonished.
"Is Richard here?"
"Yes, he is. He just got back. Come in dear, you look quite done in. I'll get Miss Cheryle."
Tanya walked uncertainly into the hall. Now that she had finally arriv
ed, her courage was failing. What if he had that woman here?
The lounge door opened and Cheryle came out and saw Tanya. "Hello," she said, "how are you?"
"I'm not bad," Tanya told her. "Is it possible for me to see Richard?"