A Secret Rebellion

by Anne Mather

  She lifted her hand, which was still inclined to shake a little, and endeavoured to free herself from his unwelcome embrace. But the muscles in the arm that still circled her waist were disturbingly strong, and although he loosened his hold he didn’t let her go.

  ‘Oh, Beth!’ It was Linda who spoke first. ‘Are you all right? We thought you were going to faint. You look awfully pale. Hadn’t you better sit down?’

  ‘Not in here,’ said Alex Thiarchos flatly, and both women looked at him, with differing measures of resentment. ‘It’s too hot,’ he added, using his hold on Beth’s waist to propel her into the cooler shadows of the hall. ‘And if your mother’s got any brandy, Linda, I suggest you get Miss Haley a drink.’

  ‘I don’t drink brandy,’ protested Beth, but Linda was already brushing past them to do Alex’s bidding.

  ‘I’ll see what’s happening about the tea,’ she said, nodding, apparently having forgotten that five minutes ago she had been telling him to leave. ‘I won’t be a minute, Beth. Go into the front room, and put your feet up.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  As Linda disappeared through the door that led into the kitchen, Beth managed to detach herself from Alex Thiarchos’s hold, and stepped back from him. In the narrow hallway, he was frighteningly big and aggressive, and, although he hadn’t said anything—yet—to upset her, the way he was looking at her promised retribution.

  ‘How did you know?’ she whispered fiercely, as soon as the kitchen door closed behind Linda, and she saw his dark brows descend.

  ‘Know what?’ he asked politely, but she knew instinctively that he was playing with her.

  Like a cat with a mouse, she thought, disliking the analogy.

  And not just any cat, but a rather large predator—playing with a decidedly insignificant mouse.

  ‘How did you know who I was?’ she repeated, in the same sibilant tone. And then, realising that either Linda or her foster mother could emerge from the kitchen at any moment and find them there, she felt around behind her for the door into the parlour.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he responded, moving towards her, and she sucked in her breath in alarm. But all he did was lean past her and turn the handle she had been searching so inadequately to find.

  Beth stepped back quickly, and away from the disturbing heat of his hard, muscled frame. ‘You must have,’ she got out jerkily, glancing behind her to make sure she was in no danger of tripping over. The last thing she wanted was for him to have to put his arms around her again. The experience had been too fraught, too unsettling. And much too painfully familiar.

  ‘I didn’t,’ he assured her, allowing the door to close and resting back against it. ‘Linda just introduced us.’

  She didn’t believe him, but his position successfully prevented any escape. Her only relief came from knowing that Linda and Mrs Adams would be back soon. And before they did she had to get herself under control.

  She shook her head helplessly, running one hand under the weight of her hair and feeling the damp tendrils clinging to her neck. She couldn’t believe his arrival here was a coincidence. And why hadn’t she recognised him this afternoon, when he’d been standing only a few feet away?

  The answer was obvious, of course. The possibility that the man she had picked up at the party and Tony’s father being one and the same person had never even occurred to her. How could it? Tony had been twenty, going on twenty-one; he had been married, for heaven’s sake! Alex Thiarchos didn’t look old enough to have a son of Tony’s age. And although she knew he must be forty, at least, he had the compelling masculinity of a much younger man.

  It was the old adage that you saw what you expected to see. She had known that the dark-clad stranger she had glimpsed across the grave was Tony’s father, so she had gifted him with what she thought was an appropriate age and appearance. His head had been bent most of the time anyway, and she had had to rely on her imagination. It wasn’t her fault if she had pictured him with lined features and greying hair. Just as it wasn’t his fault that this had happened.

  She lifted her hands, linked her fingers together, and pressed them against her lips. ‘I—don’t know what to say.’

  And she didn’t. She was speechless; bereft of all rational thought. All she could think was that he was infinitely more attractive than she remembered, and that was something else she couldn’t cope with.

  ‘You could begin by telling me why you gave me a false name, a false address; and why you ran out on me?’ he suggested, his tone low and carefully controlled. ‘But not now. Not here. I don’t think you’d like Linda or her mother to know how you behave in your spare time.’

  ‘That’s not—not how I—normally behave in my spare time,’ Beth choked defensively. Good God, what did he think she was? He knew he had been the first man to…to…

  ‘And I’m supposed to believe that, am I?’

  He straightened away from the door, his broad shoulders flexing beneath the fine cloth of his suit. He was angry, she could see that now, and her nerves tightened at the thought of what he could do to her. And not just to her character, she thought anxiously. To her career…

  ‘It’s the truth!’ she exclaimed, gazing at him imploringly. ‘You have to believe me.’

  His brows lifted in bitter scepticism, just as the door was propelled inwards behind him. He moved out of the way to let Mrs Adams, followed closely by Linda, come into the room, and they both stood in silence as the older woman set down the tray she was carrying on a low coffee-table.

  ‘You should be sitting down, Beth,’ Kathie Adams declared, gesturing towards the sofa, and, although what she most wanted to do was run, Beth complied. ‘Here,’ went on her hostess, handing her a glass, ‘it’s not brandy, it’s whisky, but it’s better than nothing. Don’t you think so, Mr Thiarchos?’

  Alex inclined his head. ‘So long as—Miss Haley can swallow it,’ he conceded, pushing his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket. ‘I think she’s feeling a bit better, aren’t you, Miss Haley? It was very hot in the conservatory.’

  Beth made a positive movement of her head, trying desperately to swallow the fiery liquid. But her uncertain stomach was rejecting it with equal determination, and when the tea was poured she surreptitiously substituted the cup for the glass.

  Linda watched her for a few minutes, and then, as if assured that Beth hadn’t suffered any ill effects from her near-faint, she turned to Alex. ‘Thanks,’ she said, and Beth knew what it must be costing her to thank this man for anything. ‘For being there when you were needed,’ Linda went on, lifting her shoulders in a reluctantly grateful gesture. ‘But I think it might be best if you left now.’

  ‘Linda!’ That was Mrs Adams, ever the peace-maker, and Beth expelled her breath a little wearily as Linda’s foster mother chided her daughter for behaving so outrageously. ‘Mr Thiarchos is welcome to stay and have tea with us!’ she exclaimed. ‘Please sit down, Mr Thiarchos. I don’t know what’s come over Linda. She’s not usually so impolite.’

  Alex withdrew his hands from his pockets. ‘Thank you,’ he said, and Beth’s spirits sank even lower, ‘but I hope you’ll forgive me if I decline your invitation, after all. It’s obvious that this isn’t the proper time to discuss what we have to discuss, and I suggest I come back at a more suitable moment.’ He glanced at Beth. ‘For all of us.’

  Mrs Adams pressed her hands together. ‘Well—if you’re sure—’

  ‘You heard him, Kathie,’ declared Linda tersely. ‘And perhaps you’d ring first,’ she added, looking at Alex with cold defiance. ‘Just in case we’re busy. The number’s in the book.’

  Alex inclined his head, and as he did so a lock of his dark hair slid forward on to his forehead. His hair was very dark, Beth noticed unwillingly, and overlong at the back. But it suited him, thick and smooth and silky. And she knew from personal experience that it felt as clean as it looked.

  She wondered suddenly if her baby would be dark, too. Like him. Like its father. It was st
range to think that it would have Greek blood in its veins, as well as English. Though just a quarter, she conceded, remembering Linda had told her that Tony’s father was only half-Greek.

  And then the enormity of what had happened hit her. Until now, she had been too busy fending off his questions to think of it, but suddenly the significance of her circumstances swept over her. She wasn’t just expecting any baby. She was expecting Alex Thiarchos’s baby. And he had just lost his only son. What would he do if he found out? Could he take her baby away from her?

  He lifted his hand now, pushing long tanned fingers through his hair, restoring it to its former position. The action parted the two sides of his jacket, exposing a wedge of grey silk. It also exposed buttons, strained by his movements, and between the buttons taut flesh, and a glimpse of body hair. That shadow of dark hair tormented her eyes, reminding her of things she wanted to forget. She knew where that arrow of hair was leading, where it thickened. She had to force herself to look away, and not follow it to its source.

  She might have to tell him, she fretted, her thoughts returning to her earlier worries. How could she keep such a thing from him, when obviously, at a time like this, it could mean so much? He might resent her for what she’d done. He might not even believe the child was his. But some might say he deserved to be given the choice. Could she live with such a secret?

  She had to, she told herself fiercely, as his sombre gaze met hers. She had worked so hard to make this happen. She couldn’t throw it all away, just because of a—a—a what? An accident, she finished doggedly, refusing to feel any remorse. It wasn’t her fault she had mistaken him for one of Nick’s friends. It wasn’t her fault that Tony Thiarchos had died.

  Linda was escorting him to the door now, and Beth kept her eyes lowered. He was leaving, but she had no doubt he would be back tomorrow. He was not the kind of man to forget what happened. For some reason, he resented what she’d done. And he wasn’t going to forgive her.

  * * *

  ‘So what happened? Did you meet any of the Thiarchos family? What were they like?’

  Justine poured herself another cup of coffee and joined Beth at the pine table. They were at the Sawyers’ house, sitting in Justine’s kitchen, sharing a mid-morning break, after spending an hour at the supermarket.

  Beth shrugged, circling the top of her cup with an absent thumb. ‘I—met—Alex Thiarchos, when he came to the house to see Linda,’ she said at last, deciding there was no point in prevaricating about something that could easily be found out. ‘He seemed—all right. I—didn’t really have much to do with him.’

  Justine arched her carefully plucked eyebrows, and gave her friend a curious look. ‘Do I detect a note of caution? I gather you didn’t like him?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’ Beth’s denial was just a shade too vehement, and she hurriedly tempered it with a rueful smile. ‘Really, I don’t have an opinion about him,’ she lied. ‘But I don’t envy Linda, having to deal with that family.’

  ‘Why not?’ Justine checked her knot of amber-coloured hair, and, apparently finding it satisfactory, idly played with the gold chain that circled her neck. ‘I’d have thought she’s damn lucky to have that marriage certificate. It must entitle her to some compensation, financial or otherwise.’

  Beth bent her head. ‘She says she doesn’t want anything from them.’

  ‘When did she say that?’

  ‘Several times, actually. I think she means it. She loved Tony. Really loved him, I mean. But now he’s dead—well, I think she’s just trying to get on with her life.’

  ‘How touching!’ Justine grimaced. ‘Well, I’ll reserve judgement, if you don’t mind. With all the gossip there’s been since the boy died, she may decide they owe her more than a few kind words.’

  Beth frowned. ‘What gossip?’

  ‘Haven’t you heard?’ Justine stared at her impatiently. ‘Honestly, Beth, I sometimes think you go around with your eyes and ears closed. You’ve heard the rumours, surely? That Tony Thiarchos was on drugs when he ran the Porsche into a tree?’

  ‘No!’

  Beth gazed at her, aghast. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. Linda had never given her any inkling that she and Tony had been having problems of that sort. And she had confided in Beth quite a lot. Not least, the anger she felt towards Tony’s father for continuing to treat him like a child. Surely, she would have said something, if that had been on her conscience.

  ‘Yes,’ Justine contradicted her now, her eyes bright with malicious intent. ‘Don’t be naïve, Beth. You know drugs are freely available on campus. How some of the kids can afford them goodness knows, but they do. And for someone like Tony Thiarchos that wouldn’t have been an obstacle.’

  Her meaning was obvious, but Beth didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to think about Alex’s grief, if such a thing should come to light, she admitted unwillingly. It must have been hard enough for him, facing the horror of knowing that it might not have been an accident. How much worse would it be if it was revealed that Tony had been high on heroin or cocaine at the time?

  ‘It can’t be true,’ she burst out suddenly, remembering the autopsy. ‘They’d have found out. When—when they did the post-mortem. The coroner returned a verdict of accidental death. There was no mention of any probable cause or complication.’

  Justine just looked smug. ‘Money closes a lot of mouths,’ she remarked, crossing one slim leg over the other. ‘In any case, Beth, what’s it to you? You only went to the funeral with the girl because she asked you to. It’s no skin off your nose if her husband was a junkie!’

  Beth’s lips tightened. She didn’t like it when Justine adopted that supercilious attitude. ‘I just don’t think you should go around repeating stories that have no basis in fact,’ she retorted edgily. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t you think they’ve suffered enough?’

  ‘Who? His family?’ Justine gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Come on, Beth. People like that don’t suffer. It’s probably their fault he turned to drugs in the first place.’

  ‘You don’t know he did,’ protested Beth, wide-eyed. Then, realising she was getting too worked up about something that really had nothing to do with her, she determinedly changed the subject. ‘Um—when did you say you and Mike were going away?’

  Justine now looked as if she knew exactly why Beth had asked that question, but she evidently decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. ‘The second Thursday in July,’ she supplied, good-humouredly. ‘You must be getting old, Beth. I distinctly remember telling you that less than a week ago. We drive down to Southampton that day, and get the ferry the day after.’

  ‘Of course.’ Beth looked suitably chastened. ‘You must be looking forward to it. How long did you say you expected to be away?’

  ‘It’s still three weeks,’ replied Justine, pulling a face. ‘I’d like to stay away longer, but Mike wants to spend some time researching that paper he’s preparing on differential calculus.’ She grimaced. ‘Dull, dull, dull! But I don’t suppose you’d agree. You’re doing the same, aren’t you?’

  ‘Well—not differential calculus,’ said Beth, managing to swallow a mouthful of coffee without gagging. But the smell was nearly her undoing, and, realising it would be hard to explain why she suddenly had such an aversion to a drink she had always enjoyed, she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. ‘I’d better be going.’

  ‘Oh, must you?’ Justine frowned, tilting her head to look up at her. ‘You know, you’re looking awfully pale, Beth. Are you sure you’re feeling OK? Don’t let this business with Linda Daniels get you down. She’s leaving at the end of this term, isn’t she? Let her worry about the Thiarchoses. Personally, I think they’ll make a financial settlement on her. It’s the simplest way. Unless she’s pregnant, of course.’

  ‘Pregnant!’ Beth caught her breath. That thought hadn’t even occurred to her. ‘Do you think she is?’

  ‘Well, it’s possible, isn’t it? And if she is I’m sure
they’ll want access to it. After all, as you say, losing your only son must be pretty traumatic, even for someone like—what did you say his name was? Alex Thiarchos?’

  Beth nodded, her mouth drying unpleasantly. ‘Alex Thiarchos, yes,’ she agreed, through tight lips, as the implications of what Justine had suggested ran wildly through her head. If Linda were pregnant, it would certainly take the pressure off her. Or would it? Wasn’t the whole idea of her pregnancy getting more and more bizarre?

  ‘Anyway, I think you ought to make some plans to go away yourself,’ declared Justine firmly. ‘You need a holiday. We all do. I’d ask you to come with Mike and me, but the trailer only sleeps two, and the sanitary arrangements are fairly basic—’

  ‘Oh, really—no.’

  The last thing Beth wanted was for Justine to start feeling responsible for her. She still hadn’t told her that she was pregnant, and her only consolation came from knowing she was going to have at least three weeks to think of an explanation.

  She had toyed with the idea of going away completely; of finding some place—in East Anglia perhaps—where she could rent a house or an apartment, and put down roots until the baby was born. Then she could even pretend she had adopted the baby; that it wasn’t hers at all. She could invent some imaginary cousin, who had found herself in difficulties, and had been only too willing to shift the burden on to Beth’s shoulders.

  But that was the coward’s way out, she knew. And, in other circumstances, she’d never have countenanced it. But knowing who her baby’s father was had changed things, and she was afraid that if Justine questioned her too closely she might say something indiscreet. And if Linda should be pregnant, too…

  ‘Well, you think about what I’ve said,’ said Justine seriously, getting to her feet, and Beth realised that once again she had won a reprieve. Not only that, Justine was giving her the perfect opportunity to leave Sullem Cross, and she might be a fool not to take it.

  * * *

  To her surprise, Linda was waiting for her when she got back to her house in Albert Terrace. The girl was sitting on the low wall that surrounded the tiny front garden, watching anxiously for her return. Beth parked the Renault at the kerb, feeling a sickly fluttering in her stomach. She couldn’t imagine why Linda might want to see her. Not here, anyway. And as their only real association, outside of college, had been through the Thiarchos family, she couldn’t help feeling anxious.