by Kay Thorpe
`I contacted the airport yesterday,' Mark said without looking at her. 'The plane was due to land at eight-thirty. I left a message at his hotel for him to meet us here at twelve-forty-five. That shouldn't have put too much of a strain on him.'
Automatically Keely had glanced at her watch. It was already twelve-thirty. In fifteen minutes, perhaps less, Greg would be coming along that corridor from the foyer. She couldn't face him, she thought wildly. Not right out of the blue like this. She need time to prepare herself, time to steady her quivering nerves. He would smile that sardonic smile of his and she wouldn't be able to handle it. She knew she wouldn't. She had to get away now, before he arrived.
`I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for lunch,' she said, and knew she sounded odd. 'I—I meant to tell you as soon as I arrived. Something cropped up at the office and I told them I'd be right back as soon as I'd seen you. I'm sorry to mess up arrangements like this, Mark, but I was sure you'd understand.'
His regard was mild. 'I'd have understood a telephone
call a whole lot better. If this matter is so pressing I wonder you could afford the time to come right down here to tell me about it at all.'
`Well, naturally I wanted to see you. It's been several weeks, and we do have to get together over this T.V. affair.' She avoided his gaze, fingers twisting the stem of her glass with a jerky movement. 'Anyway, it's worked out well, hasn't it? You and Greg will be able to talk much better without me here.'
`Greg and I,' he came back patiently, 'will only be discussing matters which directly concern you, so I fail to see the point of your leaving us alone. You don't have another appointment, Keely, my dear. You just don't want to see him, for some reason. Am I right?'
She made a small attempt at protest, the words dying in her throat at the look on his face. 'You've known all along how I feel about him, haven't you?' she said huskily.
`Not all along. Shall we say from the time you recovered from your fever.' His smile warmed her. 'You lost a lot of your aggression towards Greg after that episode. Perhaps because you realised how much you owed him. You know, he barely left your side during those hours you were semiconscious. Without that attention even the Chloroquin mightn't have worked so well.'
`No!' There was desperation in the green eyes. But you must see why I can't meet him again without time to gather my resources together. You know him, Mark.'
`Yes,' he said, 'I do. And much better than you do, despite all you might feel about him. I'm willing to concede he's a hard man to get through to. That's something that's developed in him over the years of living the kind of life he prefers to live. I knew his father, and he had exactly the same kind of introversion, except that he didn't take it to extremes.' He caught her restless movement and put up a staying hand. 'You can risk another five minutes. I'm going
to tell you a few things Greg wouldn't thank me for, but that's by the way. If you still want to go after I've finished I won't stop you. Agreed?'
Keely subsided into her seat again, wanting to go, yet even more wanting to hear what Mark Colby had to say. 'All right.'
`Greg's mother was a very beautiful woman,' he said. `Still is, I expect. Her kind of bone structure lasts through a lifetime. It's a pity that beauty didn't extend itself inwards as well, but there you are. Given that kind of weapon some women lose all sight of little things like honour. And don't smile at that word. It may be old-fashioned, but it conveys everything worthwhile.' He paused. 'I could find a term to describe Gilda Stirling perfectly. However, suffice to say she found other men irresistible. Not just one or two either—her affairs were legend. From being a small boy, Greg was used to hearing himself described as an unfortunate accident. There was even a time, apparently, when she taunted both him and his father with the possibility that there was no blood tie between them. Not true, of course. One only had to see the two of them together to refute it. The resemblance was very noticeable. Anyway, to cut the story short, she finally ran off with a rich Greek. Greg's father was killed in a car crash going after them to try to persuade her to come back with him.'
Keely drew in a long slow breath, and let it go again on a sigh. 'And Greg has been taking it out on all other women ever since.'
`Not exactly. Let's just say he doesn't trust the good-looking ones, especially when they use those looks to get what they want. He lives the way he does because that way he's dependent only on himself. He's also out of reach of temptation. Gilda married his father for money, so he made sure he didn't make the same mistake by handing control of the family real estate business over to a couple of cousins.
All he kept for himself was enough of an income to see him through patches when he couldn't fend for himself. So far there don't seem to have been any. He's very much in demand by people such as myself who need a reliable guide to the less traversed places. In twelve years he's been just about everywhere.'
`Including Colombia?' she asked on impulse.
`I wouldn't be a bit surprised.' His glance was curious. `Any special reason for asking?'
`Just that there's a zoology team due to make an expedition out there soon. I thought perhaps that was why he was coming over here.'
`Possible, of course, but rather unlikely. I can't see any reason why he should have to make an expensive double journey just to finalise details when his job is simply to guide the party to where they want to go.' He laughed. `Simply? That has to be the understatement of the year ! Without him we'd never have got anywhere near the Fire Flower, much less back again. If the seeds germinate I'll owe him far more than anyone could ever repay.' There was a brief pause before he looked across at her again quizzically. 'Still intent on leaving?'
She shook her head. 'I don't see what difference it's going to make in the long run my knowing his background, but at least I can understand him a little better now.'
`That's half the battle. The other half is making allowances.' His glance had gone beyond her to the bar entrance. `Here he is now. Bear up, child. He looks almost human.'
Keely felt her whole body taut as a spring as Mark got to his feet to greet the newcomer, yet the upward tilt of her head was creditably composed.
`Hello, Greg,' she said. 'This is quite a surprise.'
`To both of us.' The mockery was there as she had anticipated, but somehow not directed at her alone. 'Mark forgot to mention we'd be three to lunch.' He sat down, crossing one dark blue trousered leg over the other and leaning back in the chair to regard her with enigmatic appraisal. 'You've lost colour, and I'd say you still had some weight to make up too,' he announced judiciously. 'This damned awful climate doesn't help.' For a moment something sparked in the grey eyes. 'You were more at home in the sun.'
`Aren't we all?' Mark summoned a waiter and ordered a whisky and soda without bothering to ask for a preference. `We've time for one drink before we go in to eat. Good journey?'
`So-so. One plane is much the same as another.' He was still looking at Keely as if refreshing his memory of her, but without revealing his findings. 'No more assignments come up yet? I'd have thought they wouldn't be able to wait to use you again.'
`You won't have seen her present effort yet,' Mark put in, indicating the magazine still lying on the table. 'It's certainly ...'
`I've seen it.' The tone was flat. 'I bought a copy at the airport this morning.' He took out cigarettes, offered them to Keely and lit one for himself when she refused. 'A real professional job,' he commented as though there had been no break in conversation. 'Romanticised maybe, but close enough to the real thing for those never likely to get there themselves.'
Green eyes sparkled. 'It's all in the eye of the beholder, isn't it? I just saw it differently.'
`You saw it the way you wanted to see it,' he came back. `You didn't attempt to get beneath the surface.'
`I didn't get the chance.' She'd forgotten Mark for the moment, forgotten everything but the seeming ambiguity of his latter statement. 'You made sure of that.'
`Must you two be daggers drawn fr
om the moment you meet up again?' Mark sounded tolerantly amused, but there was a hint of condemnation in the look he gave Keely.
`We're to be interviewed on T.V. in a couple of days' time, Greg. It might be considered a good idea if you joined us. Jason, unfortunately, can't make it. He's down with 'flu.'
`He's better off. No, thanks, I'll stay clear too. It's your party.'
The conversation stayed general after that. Keely made every effort to concentrate on what was being said, but found the personal memories constantly intruding. Greg was here, facing her across the table, and he might still be thousands of miles away. Better if he had been. Now she had to start again from scratch in getting over him.
Lunch created a welcome break in giving her something else to think about, although she could not afterwards have said what she had eaten. It was over coffee that Sir Mark dropped his bombshell by announcing another appointment in a short time.
`I hope you won't mind my rushing off like this,' he said, 'but I don't get up to town all that often and I've so many people to see. I'll pick you up at your flat at four-thirty on Thursday, Keely, to go out to the studios. They want us there good and early. How long do you plan on staying over, Greg?'
`Depends how long it takes me to complete my business,' was the non-committal reply. His eyes found Keely's for a moment. 'What's on your agenda from here?'
`I'm going home.' She said it with faint aggression to emphasise his lack of obligation towards her further entertainment.
`Where's home?'
`Hampstead,' she told him after a slight pause, and he nodded.
`I'm going out that way myself. I'll drop you off.'
`Ah good, then that's settled.' Mark Colby rose to his feet. 'I'll phone you in the morning, Greg, at the hotel. Why don't you have some more coffee?'
Keely waited until he had gone before voicing the protest trembling on her lips. 'There's absolutely no reason why I shouldn't go home on my own. You don't have to feel obligated because Mark had to leave us.'
`I already told you I was going out that way,' he responded without change of expression.
`Where?' she demanded.
`That's none of your business.' He gave her a speculative look. 'The Savoy restaurant is hardly the place to start a fight.'
`You mean you're influenced by surroundings !'
`No,' he returned equably. 'But you are. It would embarrass you greatly to be hoisted out of here dragging your heels, so I wouldn't advise you to keep up the present line.'
Keely thought there might well be a limit to the lengths he was prepared to go himself in a place like this, but wasn't willing to risk finding out.
`Supposing I decide to go back to the office instead?' she said.
`They don't want you in the office. I was on the phone to your editor just before I came on here. He told me he's given you the rest of the week off.'
Her eyes widened. 'You spoke to Ben?'
`Sure. Why not?' His smile was satirical. 'Where do you think he got his information from in the first place?'
`But ...' she paused in bewilderment, trying to sort out the implications `... you refused to take me with you.'
`It hadn't occurred to me that Ben might have somebody out there already ... especially a girl. I was simply setting up the scene for Mark when he got back with the orchid.'
`You mean you knew Ben Reynolds before you went to South America?'
`Let's say we were acquainted. I knew he'd be interested in this story, so I sent him a cable telling him when we were
leaving and giving enough of a hint to rouse his curiosity. The result was you.'
`How inconvenient !'
`Yes,' he said, 'it was. Do you want some more coffee or shall we go?'
Somehow Keely found herself walking with him from the restaurant, responding to the solicitous farewells of the maitre d'hotel with surprising calm. It wasn't until they were outside the hotel and in the taxi secured for them that she could start thinking clearly again.
`So, in effect I stole your thunder,' she said. 'You planned to sell the story to Ben yourself. That was why you didn't want me along.'
Greg turned his head to look at her sitting there so stiff and straight at his side. 'If I'd thought that far ahead I'd have taken some kind of camera with me, wouldn't I? I've already told you why I dropped him the hint. I wanted him ready and waiting when we got back with the plant.'
`You were that confident it was the one Inman saw?'
`Yes. It couldn't be any other. I'm no aspiring journalist, honey, so get that idea right out of your head.' His tone was suddenly clipped. 'Ben tells me you're considering the Colombian expedition. That's wild country.'
Her chin lifted. 'I daresay. I suppose you'd refuse to take me on that too.'
`It won't be in my hands. I turned it down.'
`I see.' There seemed nothing more to say for the moment. She was still no nearer to ascertaining the real purpose behind his coming to England—apart from one she dared not let herself think about.
Her flat was on the second floor of one of the big old houses overlooking the Heath. It wasn't over-large, but Keely had always found it adequate for one. She made no protest when Greg paid off the taxi. She had known he wasn't going anywhere but here right now. What remained to be seen was why : impulse or design?
Predictably he dwarfed her tiny lobby. Keely took him through to the living room with its old iron balcony that was really the landing of the fire escape outside the satisfyingly large window. She liked to sit out there on summer evenings and look out over the trees. At this time of the year the branches were stark and bare, the sky slate grey in colour, casting a cold light into the room. She went across quickly to switch on the gas fire.
Greg had taken one comprehensive glance around the room on entering and was now seated in the more comfortable of the two old hide chairs close to the fire, holding out his hands to the flame like a man starved of warmth.
`Nice place,' he said. 'I expected something modern and functional from a career girl, like you.'
`The furniture came with the flat,' she returned. 'It suits the high ceilings. All I did was paint the walls white and put up some new curtains. My landlord is one of those who believes in keeping his property in good order.' She was talking for the sake of talking, she realised that. But she couldn't seem to stop. Greg seemed so totally out of place here. He belonged back where they had been so many weeks ago, chest bared to the sun, wits pitted against the odds. Difficult now to believe all the things he had said and done during their time together. Or was it? The glint in his eyes as he looked up at her was exactly the same. She made a hasty movement in the direction of the kitchenette.
'I'll make some coffee.'
`We had coffee.' He came to his feet as she turned irresolutely back into the room, holding out a hand to her. 'Come here.'
Everything in her wanted to obey that peremptory summons, but she didn't move. 'This is my territory,' she said thickly, 'England, Greg. The land of the civilised. You can't make me do anything anymore.'
`No?' The glint became a gleam, mocking and dangerous. `You're trying to tell me you've changed now you're home?'
`Not changed so much as regained my independence.' Her head was up, her chin jutting a little. 'You got me through a bad time and I was grateful. I still am. But I'm no longer reliant on you.'
`You'll always be reliant on me,' he said flatly. see to
that. You need me just as much as I need you.'
`Need?' Her voice sounded cracked. 'Isn't that the wrong word for what you're talking about? It's over. It was weeks ago. Why can't you just let it go?'
`Not unless you can convince me I don't mean a thing to you.' He was quiet but adamant. 'And there's only one way to do that.'
`To see if I can stop myself responding to you physically, I suppose you mean.' She shook her head, mouth contemptuous. 'You still don't know the difference, do you? I'm quite sure you probably could make me respond if you really got to work on
it. You know all the tricks.'
His eyes narrowed suddenly and warningly. 'Still the same reckless streak. Hit out first and think about the consequences later. Don't run away with the idea that this suit makes me feel like acting the gentleman. I've enough of the savage left in me to disregard trappings !'
The bedroom door was closest. Keely reached it seconds before he reached her, slamming it between them and looking for the key. Only it was no longer in the lock. It was on the floor where the force of her entry had flung it. Before she had a chance of reaching it, Greg was in the room, face set in lines she had no difficulty in recognising, eyes blazing with a devilish light. She wasted no time on words, recognising the futility. Pure instinct closed her fingers about the nearest small object and sent it hurtling at him, the same instinct sending her hand up in horror to her mouth as the little crystal tray whipped past his hastily jerked head to smash to smithereens against the wall behind him.
He didn't even bother to turn his head to look at the mess. A smile on his lips, he took off his jacket and flung it carelessly down across a cane chair. 'That dandy little number you're wearing doesn't do much for your nature either,' he said.
`Go to the devil !' she whipped back furiously, and struck out at him as he swung her off the floor and into his arms. Put me down, Greg ! You're not in any jungle now!'
`What's in a name?' He took a couple of steps and dropped her on to the bed, held her flat until she stopped struggling, then brought his head down to claim her mouth, parting her lips in relentless demand until she could no longer withstand the need to answer, her arms stealing up around his neck to draw him closer, her mind blanking off the knowledge of her own incapabilities.
`Damn you, Greg,' she whispered hopelessly sometime later. 'Why didn't you leave me alone !'
`Because I couldn't,' he said against her breast. 'Think I didn't try?' He lifted his head to look at her, eyes dark and glowing with some deep inner light. 'I went back up river to Paul's place and stayed there for a couple of weeks in the hope I'd get over wanting you so desperately, but it didn't work. I've him to thank that I'm here right now. He threw me out in the end—told me to either write you off or come and get you. I sold the Dorita to raise the wherewithal.' He paused before adding, 'Think you could stand being married to a wanderer? I could promise to try putting down some roots, but it probably wouldn't last.'