by Joy Wodhams
“And I haven't even touched the correspondence yet,” Gabriella sighed. “There are at least six letters and a contract that must go out today.” She pushed back her hair with a weary hand. “Why don't you get Amanda up here after lunch, Jenny, and get her started on those?”
“Amanda's at Sue's desk today.”
“Sue's desk. Where's Sue?”
Jenny didn't quite meet her gaze. “I don't know. Perhaps she's caught a cold or something.”
“Well ...” Gabriella carefully shuffled the letters she was holding into a neat stack. “Well, let's take a break now, Jenny. Go and have some lunch.”
When the girl had gone she remained standing at her desk. I hate him, I hate him, she said, over and over inside her head, and she squeezed her eyes tight against a sudden spasm of pain. She knew exactly where Sue was. Somewhere along the M4, on her way with Rod to one of those hotel bedrooms. And Jenny knew too.
On impulse she left her office and hurried along the corridor. She found Amanda sitting erect and self important at Sue Langdon's desk. Gabriella smiled at her, the effort to appear natural costing her another spasm of headache.
“I hear Sue's away. Is she sick?”
“Oh no, Miss Stevens, she's on a few days holiday.”
“Do you know when she'll be back?”
“Not till Monday.”Amanda beamed at Gabriella. “I'm in charge until then.”
“Good for you,” said Gabriella. Another wave of hate for Rod surged over her and she left the office quickly.
Somehow she got through the rest of the day, even staying late after most of the others had gone to finish her work. When at last she reached home she was drained of all energy and feeling. She had eaten nothing since breakfast so she poured a bowl of cereal, added milk and forced herself to eat a few spoonfuls. In ten minutes she would have to leave for the hospital. Just for once, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and pull the covers up over her head, she wished she could telephone and make an excuse not to go.
Driving out through the long shadows of the evening sun to the hospital she thought of Rod in his hotel room at Slough or Reading or Swindon. And what he was doing with Sue Langdon.
At intervals on Friday evening Gabriella tried Rod's home number but there was no reply. She called again on Saturday morning before she left for the hospital to bring her mother home and again without success at lunchtime and in the early evening. They're spending the weekend together as well, she thought bitterly, and wondered how she was going to face Sue on Monday morning and pretend she knew nothing.
Mrs Stevens was delighted to be home and free of pain. Gabriella had rearranged the furniture to leave pathways free for the Zimmer walker and Mrs Stevens practised relentlessly.
“Don't do too much too soon,” Gabriella warned.
“But I feel marvellous, darling. And I'm determined to walk down the aisle next Saturday.”
Saturday, Gabriella repeated to herself. Only seven days to her wedding.
On Sunday evening at eight she at last found Rod at home. “I want to see you tonight,” she said without preamble. “Are you alone?”
“Have you missed me so much?” he asked and she could sense the mockery over the telephone. “Yes, I'm alone. Come round as soon as you like.”
Gabriella's heart began to hammer as she neared Rod's apartment. Her hands trembled so much that she dropped her keys twice while locking her car door. Calm down, she ordered herself, and took several deep breaths. She had to keep herself under control tonight and state her terms firmly and clearly. If she let Rod get the upper hand again their life together would be impossible.
He answered the door in a short belted terry robe. His dark hair fell in a damp tangle across his forehead. “Sorry, I was in the shower. Come in.” He led the way into the sitting room and flung himself into a chair by the fire, beckoning her to the couch opposite.
She looked at the long brown legs and bare feet that protruded from the robe. “Are you going to dress?”
His mouth twitched in amusement. “I hadn't planned to. Why, does it bother you?”
“Not at all,”she lied.
“Well now, Gabriella, I'd like to say I'm pleased to see you, but actually I'm damned tired and I was looking forward to an early night. So let's keep it brief, shall we? What exactly do you want?”
“I want to know what you've been doing this week.”
“Well, let's see now. I did pretty well in Slouth, got three good orders, one worth fifty grand. Not much in Swindon, but worth a visit for future business. Reading was a waste of time -”
“I'm not talking about orders, I'm talking about Sue.”
“Sue? What about Sue?”
“You took her with you. After all I've said, you still had the gall to take her away with you. And – and everyone knows about it!”
“Who exactly knows? Everyone at Englands?”
“Yes – no Well, Jenny knows!”
“Jenny told you Sue was on a trip with me?”
“Not exactly, but she was very evasive when I asked where Sue was. It was obvious she knew a lot more than she was telling – and if Jenny knows, probably lots of others know too.”
“All that's obvious is that you've been putting two and two together again and making -”
“I don't need to be a brilliant mathematician to work out the score, Rod. Not when I've already seen you wrapped around each other in your office – and when Sue just happens to be away for exactly the same period of time as you. My God, you even had to stay away for the weekend! You really made a meal of it, didn't you?”
Rod lunged forward and she found her two wrists grabbed painfully in one of his large hands. The other hand caught her head by a clump of hair and pulled her face to within an inch of his.
“You can believe what you like about me, Gabriella, I don't give a damn, but I will do what I like and if that includes bedding Sue Langdon – before and after our marriage, there's not a damn thing you can do about it!”
“If you don't stop seeing her, then I won't marry you!”
“Really?” he sneered. “But you gave your word, didn't you? 'Whatever happens,' you said. Anyway, you won't back out now. You've too much at stake yourself, and you don't want to lose it.”
She opened her mouth to argue. But he was right, she couldn't stop the marriage now. He had won again.
For a moment longer he held her, then with a low exclamation of contempt he pushed her away from him.
CHAPTER NINE
The dress, ivory satin as her mother had suggested, inset with panels of lace studded with tiny pearls, gave her a fragile other-worldly air and her pallor did nothing to contradict the impression.
She rummaged amongst the cosmetics Rachel and Jenny had left on the dressing table and found a pot of blusher. That was better. Just a touch to her cheeks and the point of her chin. Too much. She looked like a clown. Pagliacci, masking his grief to amuse his audience. She wiped off a little of the colour and smiled at her reflection.
Oh, you'll have to do better than that, Gabriella. Brides are supposed to look radiant.
Downstairs Uncle Richard, her mother's elder brother, coaxed from early retirement in the North of Scotland to give her away, waited patiently. The others had already gone, her mother a bubbling mixture of tears and happiness, resplendent in pale mint green with a matching ribbon bow tied jauntily to the walking stick which had replaced the Zimmer, and the bridesmaids, Jenny and Rachel, gliding with a new dignity in their long full-skirted dresses.
The house was quiet now. Through the open window of her bedroom she could hear two neighbours chatting as they waited to see her depart for the church. She crossed to the window and looked down into the narrow street. With its neat little hedges and the laburnums in bloom it was bright and cheerful in the sunshine. They had sold the house. By the time she and Rod returned from their honeymoon her mother, with the help of Mrs Priddy, would be installed at White Gables. At least she had that to look forward to, Gab
riella told herself. White Gables.
But had any marriage ever begun so badly. She and Rod had scarcely spoken to each other all week. When they were forced to meet, the air between them crackled with hostility. Neither spoke of Sue Langdon – perhaps it would have been better if they had – but she was there between them nevertheless, and the girl's appearance, pale and shadowed when she came back to Englands, only added fuel to Gabriella's bitterness. Holiday indeed!
She smoothed the folds of her veil beneath the circlet of pearls and tiny cream rosebuds, struck by the falseness of the occasion. She felt more like a sacrificial virgin than a bride. How could she get through this dreadful wedding? Through the honeymoon, which she could hardly bear to contemplate? Through the five long years before they could be free of each other? One day at a time, Gabriella, one day at a time. And with a smile on your face, so that no one else will ever know.
A ribbon-bedecked limousine was turning into the street. She closed the window, picked up her bouquet, pinned on the first smile and went down the stairs to where Uncle Richard waited for her.
****
Rod turned to watch as she moved slowly down the aisle. He looked at her, she thought, as if he had never seen her before. And Rod, so handsome, so elegant in his pale grey morning coat, could have been a stranger too. Briefly as she reached him his eyes held hers and she wondered what thoughts lay behind that sombre gaze. Then the vicar began the ceremony.
When it was all over the trembling that had started when she entered the church and that had been most pronounced when Rod was slipping the ring on to her finger subsided. They were married now, there was nothing she could do to change anything. And when they arrived at the hotel for the reception a strange gaiety overcame her, which she welcomed and helped along liberally with glasses of champagne. There may have been an element of hysteria in it but she didn't care, as long as it got her through the rest of the day.
Across the hotel lounge Rod was talking to his mother and sister, who had travelled from London that morning. He beckoned her over.
“My dear,” said Mrs Nicholson, “I wish so much for you both. I'm just so sorry we haven't had an opportunity to meet before. Roderic should have brought you to see us.”
Gabriella had to look up to the older woman, who was as darkly elegant as Rod and only a few inches shorter. She smiled, liking the woman. “I wish we had, too, but it's been a busy time for both of us.”
“And this is my little sister,” said Rod, linking arms with the equally tall Claire. “Micro mouse.”
“Monster,” rejoined Claire affectionately. “Welcome to the family, Gabriella, and take no notice of our insults. We like each other really. Gosh, you're a tiny little thing, aren't you? I think you're even smaller than -” She stopped.
Than what? Than whom?
“Let's go and talk to Helen,” said Rod, gathering the three of them before him and ushering them across the room. “I think she needs rescuing from the Vicar, and she can't exactly make a run for it.”
Watching as she greeted Mrs Nicholson and Claire, Gabriella was struck by how much her mother had changed. She had forgotten how vivacious she could be, how she could draw a group into shared laughter, hold the centre of attention. It was the freedom from pain, the knowledge that she was part of the world again that had brought about the change.
So some good had come of it all. Whenever things became too unbearable she would remember her mother, as she had been and how she was now.
Later in the afternoon Rod appeared at her side. “We should go,” he said. “We have to be at the airport by five o'clock.”
“Am I allowed to know yet where we're going?”
He hesitated. “You may think it's a hackneyed choice -”
Rod apologetic? I waited.
“Actually, it's Madeira. Sorry if you're disappointed, but with only a week -” He shrugged.
“Well, as I've hardly been anywhere in the last eight years, and as it's hardly a honeymoon, I don't really care,” she said.
Madeira. Island of flowers. Quite a romantic choice for a honeymoon – but there would be nothing romantic about this honeymoon.
When she had changed into a light linen suit and laid her tissue-wrapped bridal gown back in its box they said their goodbyes.
Once again Mrs Stevens was tearful but she dashed the tears away and beamed at them both. “Have a wonderful, wonderful honeymoon! It's the happiest time of your lives!”
Hugging her, Gabriella wished fervently that she could stay and let Rod go on honeymoon alone. It seemed to her that in the laughing group of friends and relatives that were gathered together, the only unhappy people were the bride and groom.
“A kiss for the bride!” Jamie Wright, Rod's best man, was approaching her, arms extended, cravat askew and sandy hair standing on end. He had clearly had more than sufficient to drink and she looked round for Rod but he was saying goodbye to Mrs Nicholson and Claire.
Swinging her off the ground in a bear hug, Jamie planted a smacking kiss on her cheek and gazed at her owlishly. “You're a lovely girl, Gab – Gab – Gab whatever. Long live both of you.” He sighed. “Never thought I'd be best man again for Rod, not after the lovely Caroline. Just shows to go – goes to show – never know what's in the future, eh? Red!” He flapped his arm as Rod joined them. “Just exercising my pre – pre whatsit as best man, want to wish you all the best.”
Rod smiled and shook his hand, managing to draw him towards a chair into which he fell in a heap. “Thanks, Jamie, thanks for everything. I should have a little snooze and some black coffee if I were you. And I'll be in touch when we're back.” He turned to Gabriella and smiled. “Ready?”
For the sake of those watching she smiled back. “Ready.”
It was not until they were on the plane that she asked him about Caroline.
He closed his eyes for a moment before he answered. His voice was bored, clipped. “We were married for two years. Then we got divorced and went our separate ways.”
“Why did she divorce you?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why do you assume she divorced me?”
“Because I can't imagine any woman wanting to stay married to you.” She could see a muscle twitching in his cheek and knew she should stop but she couldn't. “Why didn't you tell me you'd been married before?”
“I didn't think it was any of your business.”
“Of course it's my business. I'm your wife now, however much I might wish not to be.”
He turned to her then and his voice was a harsh whisper. “If I loved you, Gabriella – and if you loved me – I would have told you long ago. But as things are, I don't think it's in the least relevant and it's a subject that I find particularly boring. So will you please shut up and read a magazine or something!”
She opened her mouth to argue but Rod had turned away from her and was unfolding his newspaper with a savagery that almost ripped the pages apart. She had no option but to drop the subject. Pulling the airline magazine from the seat pocket she stared at an article about New England in the Fall. The words could have been Chinese for all the sense they made but she stared at them anyway. At her side Rod appeared to be concentrating on the back page of the Telegraph. She sensed that he wasn't reading either.
It was a relief when the stewards began to serve dinner. Opening the various containers and nibbling at the contents gave her something to do, although she had little appetite and the food was bland. She drank the wine quickly, hoping it would anaesthetise her against the hard knot of pain that lay somewhere between her heart and her stomach.
Why should it hurt so much? At thirty two it wasn't unnatural that he should have collected a wife along the way. Caroline. She tested the name, trying to picture her. Small, according to Claire. And Jamie had described her as lovely. Did Rod still think of her, did she still mean something to him. And what if she did? It was none of Gabriella's business, as Rod had been quick to point out.
If he'd loved her, he said, he would hav
e told her. And he hadn't told her. And that's what hurt. That he hadn't cared enough to mention something that all his friends and family knew, that even Jenny, she realised now, and possibly everyone else at Englands already knew. Oh, by the way, thought you might like to know I've got an ex-wife – just in case anyone brings it up at the wedding!
A stewardess returned with a pot of coffee. Attractive, well groomed, smiling, carefree. Gabriella envied her although commonsense told her that other people's lives were not always what they seemed. Struggling up and down narrow gangways with trolleys of duty-frees, booze and packaged meals was not everyone's idea of a glamorous job and for all Gabriella knew the girl might be suffering from unrequited love for the pilot.
Love. Be thankful that you don't love Rod, that you couldn't possibly, ever, love Rod. Because if you did he would break your heart.
She turned to the window and stared hard at the pink tinged carpet of cloud below the plane.
Silently he passed her a handkerchief.
“Thank you.” She blew her nose.
He heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look, I'm sorry. Is there anything else you want to know about me?”
Yes. Everything. What does she mean to you now? And Sue Langdon. How important is she to you? And when you make love together do you talk about me? And me, Rod, did you feel anything at all for me when you kissed me, when you comforted me? She stopped, appalled at the direction her thoughts were taking. She was acting like a lovesick idiot. She didn't love Rod. And yet. He mattered. And deep down, if she were completely honest with herself, she had to admit that he had always mattered, right from the beginning, right from the day when Ben had introduced them and he had taken her hand in his large one and smiled down at her. There had been a warm impudence in his dark eyes, a lazy awareness in his smile that had drawn her with such strength that she had wanted to step back, like someone fearful of heights who stood too close to a cliff edge, and she had known that this was a man she couldn't afford to like.