Point of No Return

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry, Megan, I was only doing it for the best.’

  ‘I know,’ she attempted a wan smile.

  ‘Don’t forget Wendy will be round tomorrow.’ He kissed her lightly on the forehead.

  Megan sat in the darkness once he had left, staring sightlessly at the fire, but its warmth did not reach her. Why didn’t they just leave her alone? She didn’t want to go back to work at the hospital, and she wanted to go back to The Towers even less. Jerome was there. Jerome, the man she still loved, despite his cruel rejection of her. He hadn’t given her a chance to defend herself, had condemned her out of hand.

  Again she stood up, the restlessness a part of her now, a need to escape to—heaven knew what! She didn’t give herself any more time to think, but grabbed up her coat and ran out into the night. In the darkness that protected her she didn’t have to question her actions, didn’t have to probe the deep wound Jerome had left in her heart.

  ‘Megan …’

  At the first sound of that husky voice she thought it was an extension of her tortuous thoughts, thought that Jerome had appeared before her at will. Then she felt the labrador jumping up her, barking joyously as she licked Megan’s face.

  ‘Honey!’ that voice rapped out authoritatively. ‘Heel, girl!’

  The dog instantly left Megan to run back to her master, her tail wagging excitedly. Megan’s face paled as she saw Jerome standing a few feet away from her. He was dressed in dark clothing, his face appearing ghostly in the gloom. With a startled cry Megan turned on her heel and walked away.

  Strong fingers stopped her, and Jerome’s grasp tightened about her arm as she struggled to be free. ‘Be still, Megan,’ he ordered gruffly.

  She obeyed, looking up at him with chilling eyes. ‘Let go of me,’ she requested coldly.

  ‘You won’t run?’ His brown gaze avidly searched her features.

  ‘No,’ she agreed huskily.

  He instantly set her free, his gaze intent on her averted face. ‘How are you?’ he asked finally.

  Her mouth twisted bitterly. ‘How do I look?’

  ‘Terrible,’ he admitted ruefully.

  ‘So do you.’ She had been aware of that much at least. His face was finely drawn, deep lines beside his nose and mouth, his eyes bleak. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to go to Roddy’s f-funeral,’ she faltered. ‘I—The doctor wouldn’t let me go.’

  ‘I understood. Megan—’

  ‘I think I should go now,’ she interrupted jerkily, still unable to look at him. ‘They don’t know I’m out at home, and they’ll worry.’

  ‘When are you coming back, Megan?’

  Now she did look at him, her heart contracting at the sorrow etched into every feature of his strong face. ‘Back where?’ she asked breathlessly, unable to look away now that she had once gazed at him.

  ‘To The Towers. I’ve had several telephone calls that only you can deal with, calls about the Christmas party.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’re still going ahead with that?’

  He sighed. ‘Children don’t understand things like death.’

  ‘No, I suppose not,’ she agreed dully. ‘I—I’m not coming back.’

  ‘Memories?’ Jerome asked sharply.

  ‘You could say that.’ And the need to keep as far away from him as possible!

  ‘They have to be faced, Megan.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  ‘Coward!’ he rasped.

  She blinked dazedly. ‘I—You—What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing goes away just because you choose to ignore it.’

  ‘I know that!’ The pain of loving him hadn’t gone away, no matter how she had ridiculed or denied it.

  ‘Then come back, face it all.’

  ‘I can’t! The hospital have offered me my job back,’ she told him in a rush.

  Jerome’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because they’ve decided I wasn’t in the wrong after all. Rod—The man in my room wasn’t there by invitation.’

  His hand grasped her arm once again. ‘You said Roddy,’ he reminded her hardly. ‘Was he the man?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Was he?’ Jerome shook her.

  ‘You already know he was in my room, he told you so himself,’ she snapped.

  ‘He was the only man?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘I should have known,’ he muttered grimly.

  ‘You don’t understand. Roddy—He was in love with me.’

  ‘I know,’ Jerome nodded.

  Megan’s look sharpened. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He told me, that last evening.’

  ‘I see,’ she bit her lip. ‘He didn’t mean to get me dismissed,’ it was suddenly imperative that she clear Roddy of all blame. ‘It just went wrong.’

  ‘Yes, very wrong. So when can I expect you back at The Towers?’ he asked briskly.

  ‘I told you, I—’

  ‘We have a bargain, Megan,’ he said harshly. ‘And I’ve kept to my side of it. Are you saying you want to back out?’

  There was a steely determination about him that warned her he would not let her go as easily as that. ‘I—I’m still signed off work,’ she excused.

  He nodded tersely. ‘When you get the okay to come back you know the way.’ He turned and walked away, a lone man followed obediently by the golden labrador.

  It was another two weeks before the doctor decided she was well enough to go back to work, and it had taken her that long to gain the courage to walk up the long drive of The Towers.

  There were only three weeks left to Christmas now, two weeks to the actual party, and it would take her all that time to complete the arrangements.

  ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you, love,’ Freda greeted her warmly. ‘Go over to the fire and warm yourself. I’ll make us a coffee, shall I?’

  It was exactly the balm she needed to her mood, the weather as bleak as she felt. Freda asked no pointed questions and after two cups of coffee Megan began to feel more normal, less the object of pity she had been since she had been discharged from the hospital.

  The telephone was ringing when she walked into the study, where Jerome was intent on some papers in front of him. ‘Answer that, will you?’ He didn’t even look up.

  It was a call about the supply of paper hats for the party, and she dealt with it quickly and efficiently, arranging for their delivery. When she put the telephone down it was to find Jerome looking at her in disbelief.

  ‘You’re here,’ he said breathlessly.

  Megan held her head proudly erect. ‘You told me I had to be.’

  ‘I expected you to let me know when you were coming back.’ He regained some of his composure, his eyes narrowed. ‘Not just walk in.’

  ‘I did try to get in touch with you over the weekend, but Mrs Reece said you were in London.’

  ‘I see,’ he said tightly.

  ‘If it isn’t convenient …’

  ‘Oh, it’s convenient,’ he gave a harsh laugh. ‘The estate correspondence is days behind. With your help I should be able to deal with most of that today.’

  Megan was exhausted by the end of the morning, the huge volume of work had come as a great shock after her inactivity of the last few weeks.

  ‘Have lunch with me,’ Jerome said as she moved to the door.

  She didn’t even turn. ‘No, thank you.’

  Her mother was waiting for her in the kitchen. ‘All right?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘Fine.’ Megan forced a bright smile to her lips. ‘The arrangements for the party are going very well.’ She chattered all the way home, putting her mother’s mind completely at rest.

  When she returned to The Towers after lunch it was to find Jerome in the kitchen, the faithful Honey at his heels. She knew he watched her as she hung up her coat, felt his eyes on the slenderness of her body, on the gauntness of her face.

  ‘Would you help me in the study again this afternoon?’ he asked her. ‘We could get
rid of most of the backlog that way.’

  Megan shrugged. ‘I have no objection.’ After all, it was his deal.

  His mouth tightened. ‘Good,’ he said tautly, picking up the tray of coffee from the table and walking through to the study. ‘Would you do the honours?’ He seated himself behind the desk, still watching her.

  She poured out his coffee as she knew he liked it, handing it to him silently. She sat down at her own desk, her hands in her lap as she waited for him to begin work.

  ‘Aren’t you having one?’ he indicated the second cup on the tray.

  ‘No, thank you,’ she replied primly.

  His cup landed in the saucer with a clatter. ‘We have to talk, Megan.’ He stood up and came round to the front of the desk. ‘Surely you can see that?’

  Megan eyed him coldly. ‘We have nothing to talk about.’ She picked up her notepad. ‘Now, could we get on with these letters?’

  ‘No, we damn well can’t!’ He took the notepad out of her hands and threw it down on the desk, pulling her to her feet. ‘Megan!’ he groaned, pulling her roughly against him. ‘Oh, Megan, love me. For God’s sake love me,’ he moaned, his face buried in her throat as his body shook against her.

  She had gone white, and now grey, rigid in his arms. ‘Take your hands off me!’ she told him hysterically.

  ‘I can’t!’ He rained fevered kisses over her face, breathing heavily, his arms like steel bands about her. ‘I need you, Megan. Don’t be cold towards me, darling. I can’t stand it.’

  ‘And I can’t stand your hands on me!’ she said disgustedly. ‘I’m not interested, Jerome, not any more.’

  Now he was white too, lines of strain beside his nose and mouth. ‘Megan—’

  ‘Let go of me,’ she ordered through gritted teeth. ‘Your touch disgusts me!’

  At once his hands fell away from her. ‘You can’t mean that,’ he choked.

  ‘I can,’ she said coldly. ‘Your brother has been dead a month, and already you’re after me again. I’m leaving now, Mr Towers, and I won’t be coming back. You can please yourself what you do about the deal you have with Brian, I don’t care about it any more. I’ll explain to Brian that it was my fault.’

  Jerome turned away. ‘That won’t be necessary. The deal stands.’

  ‘Why should it?’

  ‘It stands,’ he said rigidly.

  ‘All right,’ she shrugged. ‘But I meant it about not coming back.’

  ‘I know. I’ll okay things with Brian. And I won’t come near you again.’

  ‘That’s all I ask,’ she told him quietly.

  She was alone at home when Brian came in, serving up his meal for him. ‘Mum’s just popped out to the shop,’ she told him.

  ‘What are you doing at home?’ He tucked hungrily into his meal.

  ‘Hasn’t Mr Towers spoken to you?’ she frowned.

  Brian watched her closely. ‘He has. But I wanted to hear your side of it.’

  ‘He made a pass at me and I walked out,’ she said dully.

  ‘Megan!’ he reprimanded.

  ‘Don’t you believe me?’

  ‘Quite frankly, no. I don’t think it can be called making a pass when both parties are attracted to each other,’ he told her bluntly.

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘Don’t, Megan,’ he said gently. ‘I may not be super-intelligent, but I’m not stupid either. I know that when you went to London you went solely to be with Jerome Towers.’

  ‘He told you that?’ she gasped.

  ‘No, of course he didn’t—I guessed. But you’re old enough to make your own decisions about these things.’ He shrugged. ‘Obviously it went wrong and you argued, and that’s the reason you were with Roddy when the accident happened. But whatever the argument was about Mr Towers seems to want to forget all about it. Why can’t you do the same?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ Megan choked.

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I—I couldn’t. I’m sorry, Brian.’ She ran out of the room and up to her bedroom.

  This was the first time she had cried since she had told Jerome to leave her alone after the accident. Up until now her feelings seemed to be locked inside her, her pain was too acute to be allowed release.

  Roddy had died for her, and given his life to save her. He had loved her, she loved Jerome, and Jerome loved—no one. It was all such a waste.

  What was to become of them all she didn’t know. The whole of her family were at the mercy of Jerome, and after the way she had rebuffed him today she didn’t think he would be in the mood to be charitable.

  She was wrong. Jerome had proved himself to be the fair man everyone said he was, had kept his promise to make Brian his estate manager, and Brian was even now working alongside Jeff learning the job.

  They had all sat down and discussed the situation logically. Brian had accepted that with two men working the land it just about paid for itself, but he had also accepted that without Jerome’s help there wouldn’t be two men, they certainly couldn’t ever afford to pay one themselves.

  So Brian had gone to Jerome and offered him the land. Megan found it all a relief in the end, and she knew her mother was glad it was over. Her mother was away for a few days at the moment, had gone to stay with her sister and ask her advice on Brian and Joyce’s wedding. Megan felt sorry for the young couple; all the arrangements seemed to have been taken out of their hands.

  Megan had seen nothing of Jerome, as he had promised she wouldn’t, although Brian often spoke about him. Brian told her that the dispute at Jerome’s factory had finally been settled amicably, although it had been delayed somewhat by Jerome’s bereavement.

  Megan now helped out at the local kindergarten, although she received no wages. It gave her something to do, and she found the children’s naturalness very refreshing.

  One poor little soul was still left waiting for his mother this morning, and Megan watched as he waited impatiently for his mother to arrive.

  Finally Davy’s bottom lip began to tremble. ‘I’m going to miss the party,’ he choked, looking up at her with tears in his eyes.

  Megan put her arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m sure she’ll be here soon,’ she comforted.

  ‘But I’ll miss the party!’

  ‘What party, Davy?’

  ‘The Christmas party.’ Tears started to fall in earnest. ‘I’ll miss Father Christmas!’ he wailed.

  Megan bit her lip, having expected it to be a birthday party of something like that. ‘You were going up to The Towers?’

  ‘Yes,’ he hiccupped. ‘Mummy was taking me. She—’ he broke off as the telephone began to ring. ‘I bet that’s my mummy!’

  It was indeed his mummy. There had been a minor crisis with the baby of the house, and she pleaded with Megan to take Davy up to the party for her.

  One look at Davy’s tear-stained face was enough to tell her she couldn’t refuse. ‘Very well, Mrs Cooper,’ she agreed rigidly. ‘But you’ll have to make sure Davy is picked up from there, I won’t be staying.’ The young mother assured her Davy would be collected, so Megan was left with one little boy eager to join in the festivities and meet Father Christmas.

  She didn’t have time to think of the fact that she hadn’t been near The Towers in the four weeks since she had walked out of its doors, didn’t have time to think of the fact that she might accidentally catch a glimpse of Jerome.

  Davy hopped and skipped all the way, his smile one of complete happiness. How nice to be this young, to have an innocence to the harsh blows life could unexpectedly deal you.

  Megan could hear the noise as soon as she reached the door. The house sounded as if it had been taken over by a group of shrieking banshees. No one came to answer her knock, so she let herself in, and the reason no one had come to the door soon became obvious. The whole place was in uproar, Mrs Reece and the rest of the staff failing to get any sort of order. There were children everywhere, and Megan feared for some of Jerome’s china pieces, although he didn’t
seem to be in evidence to protect them. He was probably in London, well away from all this, and Megan couldn’t blame him; chaos reigned here.

  It was left to her to try and bring some order to the proceedings. ‘How about a game?’ she shouted above the noise.

  A few of the children stopped to listen. ‘What sort of game?’ one of them asked.

  ‘How about—Pass the Parcel?’ She looked at them hopefully. They seemed undecided. ‘I want you all in the lounge,’ she told them in a brisk voice. ‘All of you!’ she said firmly.

  Surprisingly they did as they were told, and she soon had a box of chocolates with layer upon layer of wrapping to be passed from child to child. One of the older children volunteered to play the piano, so Megan left them to it.

  ‘Thank goodness you’ve arrived!’ Mrs Reece gave a weary sigh. ‘I think they’ve all turned into little demons since last year. Mr Towers would insist on giving them the run of the house.’

  Megan frowned. ‘Even the old Squire didn’t go that far. Everywhere looks lovely, anyway.’ The rooms were decorated with balloons and paper-chains, a huge decorated tree stood in one corner of the lounge, the little fairy lights twinkling warmly. The food had all been laid out on a trestle table, just waiting for the little monsters to devour it.

  She arranged a couple more games, but finally she could tell the children were getting restless. ‘What do we do now?’ she whispered to Mrs Reece, quite forgetting she had wanted to leave after delivering Davy.

  ‘Mr Towers should be coming in any moment, he was delayed in London,’ the housekeeper whispered back.

  ‘You mean he’s here?’ Megan squeaked.

  ‘Of course. Here he comes now,’ Mrs Reece sighed her relief.

  Megan felt sure that the housekeeper knew what she was talking about, and that Jerome really was inside that Father Christmas costume somewhere, but it was hard to tell under all that padding. He had certainly dressed the part, despite his earlier reluctance, and the heavy sack on his back attracted a great deal of attention.

  She felt a lump gather in her throat as the children crowded around him, ducking behind a tree as he seemed to search the room. Each child went up to receive a gift, all of them with the child’s name on, each stopping to whisper in ‘Santa’s’ ear what they would like from him on Christmas Day.