'Oh, hell,' he had muttered, seeing the wetness on her cheeks, 'Lindsay, you baby…'
There had been impatience, tenderness, exasperation in his voice, but he had put out an arm to gather her against him and his hand had pushed her head down on to his chest, his long fingers stroking her hair, ruffling it, rubbing her scalp as though she was a nervous animal he was trying to calm. Lindsay had burrowed into him, muffling a little sob, and he had put his face down on her hair.
'If I'm not careful I'm going to fell m love with you,' he had whispered, and she had closed her eyes, her body melting with happiness, hearing his heart beating beneath her cheek.
During one of their bitter rows later, she had turned on him and asked angrily: 'If you feel like that about me, why did you marry me?' and Daniel had said in barbed mockery: 'I couldn't see any other way of getting you into bed, you frigid little tease.'
It had been an admission she never forgot—if she hadn't refused to sleep with him from the start, he would never have married her, and it had taken him six months to make up his mind then, he had kept up the pressure mercilessly until he finally conceded defeat, and asked her to marry him. If Lindsay had planned the whole thing as a cool campaign she couldn't have been more successful, but she hadn't had any plan, she had merely been unable to break through that inhibition which her unconscious had had buried within it. When she first met him she hadn't even been aware of her own sexual inhibitions, she had never wanted to make love with anyone before, and if she did ever daydream about it, she had somehow pictured love as something which would happen naturally. Her imagination had not wandered beyond kisses and caresses, ending mistily, in delight, but a delight Lindsay had never looked at too closely.
She wasn't so innocent that she didn't know how men and women make love, but it was one thing to have a vague idea of the physical realities of the sexual act and quite another, she found, to bring yourself to the point of surrender that first time, and once she had said no to Daniel she found herself unable to say yes, the original inhibition had been joined by another, equally baffling to her. She had become too selfconscious about it, she was too nervous and she wanted him too much.
Looking back at herself across the years of her marriage and, divorce, the painful growing years when she discovered her own identity as a woman and shed the shy uncertainties of adolescence, she felt angry and resentful now, she was very sorry for that blushing girl who could neither bring herself to say yes nor find the courage to walk away from Daniel, until he had inflicted on her wounds that still hadn't fully healed.
She went softly into the spare bedroom next to the one used by the two children, hearing their regular breathing faintly as she paused to listen for it. There wasn't a sound from Alice's room, presumably she was fast asleep too. Lindsay sighed, closing her bedroom door. Where was Stephen? Why hadn't he rung, or at least sent a telegram to ease Alice's mind? Was Daniel right when he said that Stephen was a bad case of burn-out and wanted to make Alice suffer because she hadn't even been aware of his anxieties? Undressing and slipping into bed in her white nylon slip, she switched off the light and lay on her back, her arms crossed behind her head, staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about her brother for a long time until she finally fell asleep.
She slept so deeply that she didn't hear a sound when someone opened the door and came over to the bed. It wasn't until a finger stroked her cheek that her lids flickered upwards and her eyes blinked in the morning sunlight, staring straight into Daniel's grey eyes and coming awake with speed.
'I brought you some tea and toast,' he said, those dark brows raised in wry comment on her immediately wary expression.
She must have slept restlessly, she had flung off the bedclothes during the night, and she felt him look at her bare shoulders, the half-revealed breasts under the transparent nylon slip, the soft pink flesh only too visible to him. Hurriedly she dragged the sheet around her and sat up, wrapped in a sort of toga, to drink the tea and nibble the toast while Daniel lounged on the edge of the bed and watched her.
'No news yet?' she asked, and he shook his head.
'Your reporter friend sat outside all night in his car, I think. At any rate, he's there this morning, but he hasn't tried to get near the house with my men outside.'
'Have they been there all night?'
'All night,' he agreed. 'Two more will relieve them any minute, I gather.'
'I should think they could do with some tea and toast, too, after standing around all night.'
'They sat in their car on the drive, taking turns to stay awake and on watch,' Daniel told her. 'And they've had some tea. They had sandwiches with them—they're used to this sort of work, they came prepared.'
'Like the Boy Scouts,' Lindsay remarked, finishing her toast. 'Is Alice up?'
He shook his head. 'I gave the children their breakfast at seven o'clock—they wake up early. I heard them squeaking and went in there, they seemed surprised to see a strange man, but luckily they didn't make much noise.'
Lindsay was taken aback. 'You fed them and got them up? All by yourself?'
He gave her a derisive look. 'It wasn't that difficult—women make too much fuss about looking after kids. The boy told me where to find their clothes, he dressed himself more or less while I dressed his sister, then I carried her downstairs and he told me they both wanted rusks in warm milk. They seemed quite happy with them.'
'Where are they now?' Lindsay had visions of Matt electrocuting himself by sticking his finger into the wall points, or Vicky eating one of her shoes, something Alice was always worrying about. Vicky had a habit of putting everything into her mouth, and Alice permanently fretted in case her baby died a sudden death by accident. Children, she often said to Lindsay, seem to be fascinated by fatal objects, you have to watch them twenty-four hours a day.
'I belted them both into high-chairs in the sitting-room and left them staring at the test card on the TV.' Daniel seemed pleased with his achievements as a baby-sitter, he grinned at her in self-congratulation.
'That must be exciting for them,' commented Lindsay, on the point of getting out of the bed to go and rescue the poor children when she realised she was practically naked under her sheet.
Flushing, she said: 'I want to get dressed—would you mind?''
'Not at all.' Daniel said smoothly, settling himself more comfortably on the bed. 'Carry on, don't worry about me.'
Eyeing him with distaste, she said: 'Oh, but I do worry about you—I'm not getting dressed in front of you, so go away.'
'You know your problem?' Daniel asked slowly uncoiling himself with reluctance.
'Yes, it's standing in front of me and it's six foot tall.'
'Apart from me,' he said, moving to the door. 'Your trouble is, you're no fun any more. You've lost your sense of humour.'
'I didn't lose it, I still laugh at you,' she assured him from behind her veil of sheeting. 'All the time, believe me.'
He gave her a look which was not amused and went out. Lindsay waited until she heard him going down the stairs, then she slid out of the bed and picked up her clothes. Opening the door, she risked a quick dash to the bathroom, showered rapidly and got dressed. When she had brushed her hair and applied a little make-up she went downstairs to say hallo to Matt and Vicky, who were, as Daniel had told her, deeply engrossed in the test card, but were also playing with some toys arranged on the trays of their high-chairs. At the sight of her, Vicky threw a yellow wooden brick at her, beaming, and Matt gravely offered her one of his miniature cars.
Lindsay gave them both a kiss. 'Having a good time?'
'Mumma get up,' said Vicky, hurling some more bricks at her while she displayed all her pearly teeth in a wide grin. 'Up, up, Mumma get up, bad Mumma.'
'We had rusks,' Matt announced. 'And blackcurrant juice and banana, and Vicky ate mine, she ate my banana.' He looked at Lindsay with his father's eyes and she kissed his nose.
'Too bad, darling, I'll get you another banana.'
'I don't like bananas,' he said. 'Vicky ate mine.'
'Oh, I see, it was a friendly arrangement, was it?'
He looked vague. 'Vicky ate my banana.'
'Don't let it weigh on your mind,' Lindsay advised. 'If you don't like bananas, that's okay by me.'
Daniel came in and grinned at her. 'I'm relieved to discover other people have the same inconsequential conversations with them that I had—I thought it was me, I just wasn't on their wavelength.'
'Vicky ate my banana,' Matt told him.
'He's obsessed with that damned banana,' Daniel said to her. 'I offered him another one and he refused.'
'He doesn't like them, but he feels guilty about it,' Lindsay explained, deciphering Matt's Worried expression.
'Why on earth should he?'
'I expect Alice feels he ought to like them, she does tend to do things by the book, and babies sure supposed to like bananas.'
Daniel studied Matt, who was pushing one of his toys cars backwards and forwards. 'If she isn't careful, he'll grow up with a banana phobia.'
'He worries,' said Lindsay, and frowned, reminded of Stephen—yes, Matt was just like his father; why had she never seen it so clearly before? There was that little nervous frown, the sober anxious look of the eyes, the smile which was too eager to please, the awareness of what was expected of him and the desire to be approved of by everyone, 'Poor Stephen,' she said, mostly to herself, and Daniel looked at her sharply.
'I thought his name was Matt.'
'It is,' said Lindsay, stiffening as she heard movements on the stairs. The door was pushed open and Alice came in, smiling as the two children leapt about and shouted to her. She looked much better, Lindsay thought, watching as she kissed them both. This morning she had more colour, some of the drawn tension had left her small face and she was wearing a very pretty coral linen, dress which flattered her slender figure. The curly red-brown hair had been brushed until it gleamed and she was wearing make-up, Lindsay noted. A woman who is very depressed forgets to look at herself in mirrors, she doesn't bother to do her hair or make-up, she no longer cares what she looks like. Alice was obviously feeling less miserable after her long sleep.
'Any news?' she asked Lindsay a second later, and in her brown eyes Lindsay saw anxiety. Shaking her head, Lindsay admitted there was none.
'Daniel talked to Mr Datchet last night, though,' she said before Alice's spirits could sink too low. 'Stephen owes the bank a lot of money, it seems, and Mr Datchet said he was very worried about it. -Daniel thinks maybe Stephen has gone off to try to raise a loan from somewhere.'
Alice sat down with Vicky on her lap. 'Oh,' was all she could say.
'So you see it was money, after all.' At least it wasn't another woman, Lindsay thought, but carefully did not put into words. Alice could do her own thinking, and, from the look Of heir, that was just what she was doing, both arms clasped around the little girl's wriggling body in the vivid green dungarees and striped T-shirt, which made her look like an elf. Alice was holding Vicky far too tightly as though she needed the comfort of that small, plump, warm body, and Vicky was squawking in protest.
Daniel had leaned there, listening and watching but saying nothing. He wasn't wearing a jacket or tie, his white shirt was open at the collar; he looked casually and maddeningly good-looking, and as Lindsay irritably glanced his way he winked at her, which made her prickle with resentment.
'Mr Datchet is coming over here at ten,' he intervened a second later. 'He's bringing the firm's account books. I thought they might give us a clearer picture of what's wrong. I may be able to help Stephen, he should have contacted me long ago.'
Alice looked round, sighing. 'He's much too proud, you're the last person he would ask for help.' She flushed at Daniel's expression and hurriedly added: 'Don't be offended, I didn't mean… it's just that Stephen would feel that— the divorce, I mean, Lindsay isn't your wife any more and it would be embarrassing for both of you. Stephen wouldn't have wanted to put you in an awkward position by asking for a favour.'
'I could always have said no,' Daniel said drily.
'He was perfectly well aware of that,' snapped Lindsay, glaring at him. 'That's obvious, but it would still have been embarrassing to have to ask—Stephen isn't the type to trade on family loyalty, he would much rather ask a bank. If they said no, neither side need feel embarrassed, it would just be business, but if he had asked you and you had said no, Stephen would have felt two feet high.'
Alice nodded. 'Lindsay's right.'
'Well, that's a first,' Daniel drawled, and got a dagger-bright smile from Lindsay.
Before she could say what was hovering on the tip of her tongue, the doorbell went, and Daniel straightened.
'I'll go, it may be Mr Datchet,' he said, going out.
'Perhaps Stephen will ring today,' said Alice, putting Vicky back into her high-chair. 'If he's only worried about money…'
'I told you it wasn't another woman—Stephen loves you,' Lindsay said in a low voice. 'He's probably worried sick about telling you about the bank loan.' ,
'How could he be so stupid?' Alice broke off as the door opened again and Daniel walked into the room, bringing with him a distinctly dangerous air of menace and Aston Hill wearing a grey suit, a pale blue shirt and a wryly amused expression.
'Your boy-friend,' Daniel said acidly, hurling the words at Lindsay as if he hoped they would knock her head off with the force of their arrival.
'Hallo, darling,' said Aston, just as deliberately, with the smile of one determined to enjoy a difficult situation just for the hell of it.
Vicky decided she liked the look of Aston, and held out her arms to him lovingly. 'Uncle,' she said, and Lindsay could have killed her. She had such a small vocabulary, why couldn't she have chosen one of her other words?
Playing up to her, Aston advanced and gave her a kiss on her cheek. 'Hallo, sweetheart, you look gorgeous as usual.' He had only set eyes on Vicky once or twice before, he was being difficult, but Daniel deserved it, acting as though Aston was an interloper.
'I came round right away,' Aston said. 'I gather Stephen hasn't got in touch with you yet?'
Alice tried to smile, it was not a success, her lips trembled too much. 'No.'
'Then I've got news for you,' Aston told her. 'He rang me an hour ago, he's quite safe, so you can stop worrying.'
CHAPTER FOUR
'He rang you?' Alice's voice went up several octaves and she flushed angrily. 'Stephen rang you, not me? Why? What did he say to you?'
'He wasn't very coherent,' Aston explained. 'He was upset…'
'Upset? He's upset? What does he think I am? He vanishes without a word of explanation, stays away for hours and then rings a perfect stranger?' She looked at Aston, shrugging. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude, but he hardly knows you. I'm his wife, how can he do this to me? Where is he?'
'He's staying at a country pub, he didn't Say where. It seems he couldn't face coming home, so he drove and drove until he was tired, then he stopped at this pub for a drink and ended up staying the night.'
'Why didn't he come home next day?' Alice was walking about the room restlessly, her hands clenched, spots of burning colour in her cheeks.
'He woke up with a hangover, a blinding headache. He felt sick, so he stayed in bed all morning. By the time he had got over that, he didn't know what to say to you. He tried to ring Lindsay last night, but she wasn't answering her phone, of course, she was here. So he rang me this morning.'
Alice faced him belligerently, chin up. 'And why hasn't he rung me? He could talk to you but not to me—how am I supposed to feel about that?'
Lindsay glanced at the children, who were very quiet, studiously playing with their toys and hoping not to be noticed, 'What we need is some coffee,' she said brightly. 'I'll make some. Matt can help me—come on. Matt.' She scooped up Vicky under one arm and headed for the door; this conversation was not one which the two children should hear. They might not entirely understand what was being
said, but they would be picking up far too much from their mother's angry excitement and the way she talked about their father.
Alice didn't even seem to notice, she was too distressed. 'If he's in trouble I'm the one he should be talking to, not a stranger,' she protested to Aston, who made conciliating noises.
'I'm sure he'll ring you any minute…'
Lindsay closed the door on the rest of that sentence and went into the kitchen with the children. Before she made the coffee she got them dressed in their identical little knitted jackets and put them both into the garden to play in their sandpit. It was a warm morning, the sky was blue and cloudless, there was a slight breeze blowing through the trees; Lindsay stood for a moment, watching Matt digging with a plastic spade while Vicky sat on the sand and picked up handfuls that trickled through her plump pink fingers in a silvery shower. Stephen had built the sandpit for them. Lindsay sighed and went back into the house.
She found Daniel in the kitchen, spooning ground coffee into the percolater. He looked up. 'Will they be okay out there on their own?'
'Of course.' She took the percolater from him and plugged it into the wall point, pretending not to be aware of his narrow-eyed stare.
'Odd that Stephen should ring Hill and nobody else,' Daniel observed. 'Are they close friends?'
'They get on well.' Lindsay got out the cups. The sun was streaming through the window, giving the small room a much happier look this morning, or was that merely because she saw it with different eyes now that she knew her brother was safe?
'Is Hill in the same business?' Daniel asked, leaning back against a formica-topped cabinet, his arms folded across his chest.
'He has some shops; he sells electrical equipment, so I suppose in a sense he is in the same business as Stephen.'
'So he might be in a position to help Stephen out of trouble?'
She looked round at him. 'How should I know? You'd have to ask them, I'm not involved in Stephen's business.'
The Sex War Page 5