'To be with you is happiness enough, Judith.' He stared sombrely into the dying fire.
'Thank you. At this moment I feel the same about you—but would that last? You might get bored with me. I don't have any music in my make-up at all, whereas for you it's been your whole life. Once the first heat of sexual attraction dies down a bit would there be enough common interest left to hold us together?'
Rafael rose slowly to his feet and stood looking down at her, his eyes dull and lifeless. 'If you have need to ask yourself such a question, Judith, it is unnecessary for me to answer. For yourself you know already.'
Judith hugged her knees in silence, looking up at him with troubled eyes. God, how she longed to throw herself into his arms, let the rest of the world go hang, ride off into the sunset and the world of happy ever after. But it was all too soon, too sudden. There was no insurance it would last, that her unadulterated company would be enough to satisfy this gifted, cultured man for life.
'Rafael,' she faltered, 'I …'
'Say nothing, Judith. I understand. I was presuming too much. Let us forget my—my proposal, turn back the clock to an hour ago.' Rafael knelt to rake the embers of the fire and turned to look at her. 'Shall I put another log on the fire, or shall we let it die out?'
The question sounded ominously symbolic. Judith managed a shaky smile and got up.
'It's late. Perhaps we should be going to bed.'
In silence they turned out the lights and climbed the stairs together, tension mounting in Judith as they reached the landing. Rafael hesitated a moment, then bent and kissed her forehead gently.
'Good night, Judith. Sleep well.'
'Good night.' Like an automaton she turned away to walk to her room, her back proudly straight, iron control keeping the tears at bay as she closed the curtains and undressed. It was only when she turned on the taps in the bathroom that she gave way, the sound of the water drowning her sobs as she wept like a lost child. For most of the night she lay with her head buried in the pillows, sobs shaking her spasmodically until from sheer weariness she finally dozed, only to wake again to the sound of throbbing outside. Stumbling hastily from bed she peered through a crack in the curtains, just able to make out the low, dark outline of the Lotus in the drive, its engine running as Rafael opened the gate. He drove the car through, returned to shut the gate, then drove off, the car disappearing down the lane out of sight—and out of her life, she thought drearily.
There seemed no point in returning to bed. Judith dressed, packed her case, tidied the room and stripped the bed. With a sigh she took the bedlinen downstairs and loaded it into the washing machine. As she was making herself some tea she caught sight of the envelope propped against the percolator and opened it with snaking fingers. The note inside was brief.
'Querida,' it began, 'it seems best to steal away in the night like a coward. Forgive me. If I had tried to say goodbye I would not have found the strength to leave you. And leave you it seems I must. I had no right to ask you to share my life now that it has no aim or purpose. My gratitude to you, Judith, for seeking me out and bringing me to what senses I possess. The memory of the lovely days, and nights, we spent together will remain in my heart forever. Adiós. Rafael.'
Judith stared at the note, her mouth trembling. Typical, she told herself angrily. Flowery, sentimental, mawkish, like one of his precious librettos; with each insult she tore the paper into smaller pieces and took them outside to hurl them in the dustbin, brushing her hands together afterwards. She paused for a moment to take in a gulp of fresh, cool air then went inside to make an attack on the house. She hung out the clean sheets on the line in the garden, careless of being seen now—there was no longer any point in hiding; no one was likely to be interested in her. Judith relaid the sitting-room fire, polished, vacuumed, swept and scrubbed until her hands were sore and her back ached in competition with her heart. She dismissed the latter fiercely, dinning into herself the fact that she had no cause for complaint—she had been the one who turned Rafael down, not the other way around.
But as she ironed duvet covers and sheets Judith faced the fact that troubled her most. It had never occurred to her that Rafael would simply remove himself, with never a word as to his destination, nor any hint of what he had in mind for the future; the most obvious place for him to make for was probably Granada, and Judith sighed bleakly, wondering if she had been right to refuse his unexpected proposal. She could have been on her way there with him now—no, she couldn't. The practical side of her remembered it was necessary to give in her notice at Hardwick Memorial if she decided to leave, and there was Honor, not to mention her parents, to consider, and in any case there was no use repining. The whole thing was academic now. She must put Rafael out of her mind, starting right now.
Judith rang Honor and told her she would be in Hardwick much later that night, warning her sister not to wait up, then locked up the immaculate house, posted the keys through the letterbox and drove the Morris away from Morfa as fast as the elderly little car would allow. Her next holiday would be spent somewhere like Morocco or Iceland, or anywhere as different as possible from the solid house inside its secret grey walls, high above Cardigan Bay.
It was past midnight when Judith reached Hardwick and locked the Morris up in the coach house. Wearily she carried her case and collection of carrier bags down the lane to Chantry Cottage, glad to see a light showing in the sitting-room window. Honor must have waited up for her after all. While she was trying to free a hand to put her key in the lock the door opened, the light from the hall outlining two figures instead of one. For one blinding moment of joy she thought the man with Honor was Rafael, then Honor drew her inside and fussed over her, and she could see that it was only Martin.
Only Martin! Judith looked at Honor closely when all the greetings were over and her sister pushed her into the sitting-room. Honor wore a look of suppressed excitement and Martin had quite visibly lost the rather distant look he normally wore.
'Is there something I should know?' asked Judith, smiling.
Martin put his arm around Honor. 'I hope you'll be as happy as I am that your sister has consented to marry me,' he said proudly. 'Though I'm not sure that's possible. I must be the happiest chap in the world tonight.'
Judith seized Honor and kissed her fondly, then kissed Martin in turn.
'About time, too,' she said bluntly.
Honor laughed, blushing. 'Now then, Judith. Don't embarrass me, please—you'll have Martin believing I've been pursuing him. Let me get you something to eat—'
'Just a sandwich, or something, love. I'm not very hungry.'
Honor looked at her sharply. 'You must have something, Judith, after that long drive; you look worn out. I wasn't expecting you back for another day or two actually.'
'No. Things altered, so I came home.' Judith's face was white with fatigue and Honor said no more, hurrying off to make a snack.
'How did you like Morfa?' asked Martin when he and Judith were alone.
'Lovely little place—it must be beautiful when the weather's warmer. It turned blustery and a bit cold, unfortunately.'
Martin was too well bred to probe any further and followed Judith's lead when she reverted to the subject of the engagement. He was only too happy to talk about Honor anyway, surprising Judith with the news that the wedding was to be as soon as it could be arranged without resorting to a special licence, adding that her parents seemed very pleased by the news.
'Pleased!' exclaimed Judith. 'I bet Mother's feet haven't touched the ground since she heard.'
Martin grinned. 'Aunt Lavinia's rather chuffed, too. By the way Honor and I are going down to Abergavenny this weekend—would you care to come with us?'
'Lord, no! I mean, it's really very sweet of you, but no thanks. I need some time to relax before going back to the hospital.' Judith yawned wearily.
Honor appeared with a tray, casting a sharp look at Judith.
'You look worn out. Eat these sandwiches, and I'll pour co
ffee.'
'Shouldn't it be champagne?'
'We've already had some with Miss Gresham at a celebratory dinner,' said Honor happily. 'I wish you'd come home sooner; you could have joined us.'
And toasted absent friends, thought Judith dully, then blinked and smiled brightly at Honor. 'You kept very quiet about all this when I telephoned.'
'It hadn't happened then.' Honor and Martin exchanged mutual looks of pure happiness, and a spearthrust of envy pierced Judith. She abandoned the sandwiches half eaten.
'Sorry, love, I had a snack on the way back,' she lied. 'But I'd love more coffee.'
Honor refilled her cup, then said bluntly,
'Right then, Judith. We've observed all the preliminaries, and we already know you found Rafael. So tell us what happened.'
'But only if you really want to,' said Martin gently.
Judith smiled wearily and gave them the barest outline of the time spent at the cottage, omitting any mention of how fast and far the relationship between Rafael and herself had progressed, and glossing over the real reason for his departure.
'He was much better by the time he left,' she wound up, 'which was gratifying. He was a bit low when I first arrived.'
Martin was deeply affected by the news that the glorious voice was never to be heard again except on recordings.
'God what a tragedy! Poor old Raf. I was afraid of something like this, of course, but one keeps on hoping for the best.' He looked at Judith unhappily. 'Has he decided what he's going to do—where was he headed for when he left?'
'He wasn't sure; Granada, possibly,' she said vaguely. 'I don't think he'd made up his mind about how he was going to occupy himself.'
'Are you going to see him again?' asked Honor quietly.
'No. I'm not.' Suddenly Judith could take no more and jumped to her feet, her eyes overbright. 'I'm just going to have to love you and leave you, my dears, I'm dead on my feet. Good night, and congratulations again. I'm so very pleased, it couldn't have happened to two nicer people.'
'See you in the morning, love,' said Honor quickly, aware that her young sister had reached the end of her tether. 'Sleep well.'
Fat chance of that, thought Judith miserably as she hefted her suitcase up the stairs. Tired out though she was it was far more likely the night would be spent in cursing herself for being stupid enough to turn Rafael down. And she was right.
CHAPTER TEN
It was afternoon before Judith saw Honor next day. Her sister had spent the morning at the library, and came home at lunch time with one of the daily tabloids in her hand. Her face was troubled as she handed it to Judith.
'I confiscated it,' she said. 'I thought you ought to see it. Look at page five.'
Judith's eyes widened as she saw a blurred picture of herself hanging out washing in the garden of Brynmorfa. The photographer had only managed a back view, and the long, blowing hair and dark jeans could have belonged to any tall, long-legged girl, but the photograph was a shock just the same. 'Mystery girl in Welsh lovenest,' ran the caption. 'Rumour has it that super-warbler Rafael David has been recuperating at the Welsh hideout of fellow singer Brynmor Tudor. Always a favourite of the ladies, Rafael's convalescence has been helped along by the anonymous lovely above. A Welsh au pair?' There was more, but Judith threw the paper down in disgust.
'How did he manage that shot, I wonder! Must have been the zoom lens to end all zoom lenses. Ugh!'
Honor's expression was deeply compassionate as she put an arm round Judith.
'Things go wrong, darling?'
Judith gave her a sad little smile. 'Things went very right for a while, but it's entirely my fault they turned sour again, not Rafael's. And now he's vanished and I don't know where he is, and I'm back to square one again. Only this time it's ten times worse, Honor.'
'Why?'
'Because I rather think I've made the biggest mistake of my life, and I have no one to blame but myself.' Judith had no tears left. She leaned against Honor dry-eyed. 'Sorry, love, I'm spoiling all your glow. Let's forget about me—it's over and done with. So tell me when the wedding is.'
Although yearning to give comfort Honor was wise enough to realise there was nothing she could say or do to help, and followed Judith's lead, plunging into wedding arrangements as a diversion.
'You'll be wanting to sell Chantry Cottage, too,' said Judith practically. 'Don't worry about me, Honor, I'll soon find digs somewhere else.'
'Martin suggested you move into Gresham House with us, but I couldn't see that appealing to you, somehow.'
'How right you are. Intrude on two newly-weds!' Judith grinned cheekily. 'I'll share a flat with someone, or…'
'You don't have to. I won't sell the cottage until— well, not for the time being, anyway. You can pay me rent if you like—even have someone to go halves, only preferably female or Mrs Dean will never stand the excitement!'
'Are you sure, Honor? Don't you need the money? I'd like that better than anything, of course, but I hope you're not doing it just for me.'
'Martin's well off, which is common knowledge, so I'm not likely to want for pin-money.' She gave Judith a hug. 'Besides, I'd like to think of you here for a bit, at least until you've, well—'
'Got my act together a bit better,' said Judith ruefully. Thank you, big sister, I appreciate it very much.'
Judith was to be maid of honour at the wedding, which was to be very quiet and to take place at the church near the Russells' home. Kate Russell came to stay with the two girls beforehand and went on a mad whirl of spending, buying a spectacular plumed hat for the occasion.
'I must have something to impress the neighbours,' she stated, examining herself in the hat when they got back to the cottage. 'Because I write thrillers people expect me to be eccentric'
'You are eccentric,' said Judith promptly.
'Nonsense. Outspoken perhaps. Which is more than can be said for you, my cherub; you haven't said a word about your holiday in Wales.'
'It was very quiet,' said Judith, avoiding Honor's anguished eye. 'Not a tremendous amount to do in a place like Morfa.'
'Then why go there?' demanded her mother.
'Martin suggested it,' said Honor cleverly, which silenced Mrs Russell very effectively. Martin could do no wrong.
Just the same Judith wished she never had gone to Morfa as the time before the wedding dragged slowly past. Thoughts of Rafael haunted her, making life a torment it was difficult to conceal. Never a sufferer from insomnia previously Judith took to playing squash every evening on top of a full day's work with the idea of getting to bed so exhausted sleep would blot out her melancholy for a brief respite. With determination she immersed herself in her job, threw herself into the wedding plans, but without much success. Honor, loving and sensitive as always, was troubled.
'You're wearing yourself to a frazzle, Judith,' she said at last. 'To be blunt you'll look like nothing on earth at the wedding if you carry on like this.'
'The spectre at the feast, you mean?' Judith grinned remorsefully, and yawned. 'I'm sorry, Honor. I know I'm being a pain—but I promise I'll get it out of my system before the big day.'
Honor hesitated, then came out with what was worrying her. 'I know you prefer to keep off the subject, darling, but just how deeply did you get involved with Rafael?'
Judith looked her sister straight in the eye. if you mean did we sleep together, yes, we did, though that's a ridiculous euphemism really. It has nothing to do with what actually happens in bed between a man and woman before they actually sleep)—if and when they do.' She smiled in apology as Honor's cheeks went bright pink. 'Sorry—I didn't mean to shock you, just make it clear that I don't regret anything. I'd do it all over again, even knowing how it would end. We had a perfect few days together. I'll remember them for the rest of my life.' She smiled bleakly. 'Just listen to me! I sound like one of Rafael's operatic heroines—it must have rubbed off.'
Honor sighed. 'I was so afraid you'd get hurt, Judith.'
'And I di
d. But it was worth it. One can't always choose the soft option.' Judith squeezed Honor's hand. 'I'm sorry. I really will try to be better from now on, I promise. You're the bride, and I don't want to spoil anything for you. I'll be fine, you'll see.'
It was one thing to make verbal promises. Carrying them out was another matter. Judith found the constant wedding talk almost unbearable at times, agonisingly aware that she could have been arranging her own if she had been less chicken-hearted. It no longer mattered what Rafael wanted to do with his life. As the days passed Judith knew with more and more certainty that wherever Rafael was and whatever he was doing she wanted to be with him, sharing that life for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, for ever and ever, amen. Determined that neither Honor nor anyone else should suspect the depth of her unhappiness, Judith spent the whole of one sleepless night sorting herself out. The blame for her misery lay squarely at her own door, and there was no way of finding Rafael this time, however much she wanted to put things right between them. And even if she could there was enough of the hidalgo in Rafael's make-up to make it fairly certain he would hardly take kindly to rejection, of any kind. In short, she had made her own bed, and now she had no choice but to lie in it. Alone.
From that night on Judith threw herself wholeheartedly into preparations for the wedding, determined to block Rafael from her mind. She went with Honor to choose her wedding dress, and at the same time found just the thing she wanted herself, a demure little brown suit with swinging pleated skirt and brass-buttoned collarless jacket, plus a wildly expensive beige silk shirt with an outsize velvet bow under its white collar. She even bought a dashing, trilby-style brown velvet hat to wear low over her eyes, though hats were normally not an item in her wardrobe. It was only when she and Honor were actually in the car on their way to Abergavenny two days before the wedding that Judith thought to ask who was acting as best man.
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