by Pamela Pope
She was awakened just before dawn by a terrifying sound that turned her blood to ice. The unearthly high-pitched squeak came from all parts of the room, bombarding her senses like shock waves, and there was a sinister beating of wings close to her face. It was the most horrific nightmare she had ever had, and when she opened her eyes she was bathed in perspiration. But it was a living nightmare. The supernatural sound was real, striding her eardrums with the persistence of high-frequency torture, and as her eyes became accustomed to the dim light she saw the wings darting with rapid twists and turns in every direction. She had to find the lamp, but was paralysed with fear. It was like watching a horror movie, only ten times more spine chilling.
Slowly she eased herself up on her elbow, now fully awake, and within seconds of realising the intruder was a bat she was literally caught up in the most terrorising experience of her life. As she lifted her head from the pillow the bat swooped and she was convinced its radar-like powers were not coming into operation quickly enough to avoid her. It was going to tangle with her hair.
She screamed. Her body was rigid with fear, but somehow she managed to get to the window, tossing her head frantically, and her shrieks rang out. She was beside herself with fright, and the more she shook her head the more enmeshed she felt the creature becoming in the long strands of hair that were now caught painfully, pulling at her scalp. Thinking she could shake it off the thrashing of her head increased, but the tangle got worse and she was on the point of hysteria.
'Meredith!' Joss burst into the room, took one look at the nearly demented girl and covered the distance between them in a few strides. 'Whatever is the matter with you?'
He tried to drag her back from the window, but she screamed again in pain.
'There's a bat in my hair! Do something, Joss. For God's sake get it out!'
There was a sound behind him in the room and he turned, seeing the swift flight of a tiny creature seeking escape from the confined space it had mistaken for the hole under the eaves. He gave a wry smile and looked back at Meredith. A sympathetic hand gripped her shoulder.
'Stand still and stop being such an idiot,' he commanded. 'Your hair is tangled with the firethorn bush outside the window, and the poor little bat can't get out again while you're blocking its only exit.'
She was immediately still, but when she tried to stand up straight she was so caught up in the firethorn twigs it was impossible to move.
'I can't get away,' she said weakly, already ashamed of her stupidity.
He leaned over her to see what he could do, but the tangle was too great to unravel. 'You ought to have had enough sense to know that one thing bats never do is get in anyone's hair. It's just an old wives' tale. You'll have to stay where you are while I find some scissors.'
'You're not going to cut my hair!' she gasped.
'I'll have to, unless you want to become part of the fixtures.'
She heard him go over to the dressing-table and rummage through a couple of drawers until he found what he was looking for, then he came back to her.
'Please don't cut more than you have to,' she begged.
The blades clipped away at her hair, seeming to cut off an enormous quantity, and she was filled with misery. Except for occasionally having the ends tidied no scissors had ever been near it before.
'There!' said Joss at last. 'You can stand up now.' When she did so there were tears rolling down her face. 'It's all right, my girl, you're not bald. A bit of thinning out won't hurt that mop at all.'
'Oh, you're so cruel, Joss Hamblyn!'
'Am I?' He only grinned, recognising her reaction to fear. 'Come and sit at the dressing-table.'
He was speaking to her the way he did to the children and she obeyed him instinctively. She looked in the mirror, aghast at the mess her hair was in. The women in Hogarth's drawings were nowhere in it. A moment later there was a stir in the air as the bat winged away through the window, and she felt sick at the way she had made such a complete fool of herself.
She tried to draw a brush through her hair, but made no impression. 'I shall have to have it cut short!' she wailed.
Joss came up behind her and began massaging the tension spot at the nape of her neck until she drew in her breath and the hairbrush dropped to the floor.
'You have the most beautiful hair I've ever seen,' he murmured, lifting it away from her face and crushing it like silk in his palms. He picked up the brush and used it with deft strokes that soon restored the heavy mane to shining order. 'Don't ever cut an inch of it, or I'll want to know the reason why. It would be criminal.'
Ecstatic shivers cascaded down her spine and she wanted his manipulation of the hairbrush to go on and on. And was she hearing right? Was he really saying such wonderful things in that husky, seductive voice? She glanced up at his reflection. He wore a green silk robe which was tied at the waist but hung open at the top to reveal a wide expanse of bronzed chest where brown hair curled and matted. The brush hovered over the crown of her head and was still. She looked up further and met his eyes, drawn by a force stronger than anything she had encountered before, and suddenly nothing mattered except the fusion of their separate identities in a melting pot of overwhelming awareness. Her lips parted. Her breath was a whisper of incomprehension. She was lost somewhere in the depths of those inscrutable eyes, as if he was holding her prisoner and there was no way she could escape. When she could stand it no longer she twisted round and buried her face against his chest, her arms twining round his neck.
'Oh, Joss!'
He held her against him, his fingers caressing the back of her head, and she felt his mouth touch her hair. They stood like that for several seconds, her body pressed to his, and neither moved. The contact filled her with an emotion too deep to understand and she couldn't be sure whether the clamouring heartbeats blocking out all other sounds were hers or his. He didn't attempt to kiss her, made no move to stimulate any physical desire, and she gradually relaxed in his arms, lost in the rare phenomenon of experiencing oneness with another being. She didn't want to think beyond this moment. But Joss didn't permit it to last. Too soon his arms slackened and he set her gently aside.
'Get back to bed,' he said roughly.
Then, without further word or glance, he turned and left the room.
She stood where he had left her, transfixed by the extraordinary events that had left her too weak and vulnerable to put up any defence. Was it her uncontrollable fear of the bat that had deluded her into finding comfort in Joss Hamblyn's arms? She must be getting paranoid!
Like someone drugged, she went and closed the window before climbing back into bed as he had ordered, and she slept through sheer exhaustion.
In the morning it was the sound of children laughing that awakened her and on the blissful edge of incomplete sleep she thought the night had been one of vivid dreams that lingered into the first drowsy minutes of a new day. But the voices were insistent and she sprang up with alacrity when she realised where she was, guiltily aware that she ought to be downstairs attending to breakfast for four hungry children. How long had they all been up? She looked at her watch and saw it was seven o'clock, got out of bed quickly, and wondered why her head felt sore. Then she remembered.
She couldn't bear to face Joss this morning. The way she had flung herself into his arms had been quite disgraceful, and quite unlike her. Whatever must he have thought? Her face flushed at the memory, and there was a sickly, churning feeling in her stomach. She hoped he would know that she would never, never have clung to him like 'that if she hadn't been so terrified.
How would he greet her? Would he think the unexpected sojourn to her bedroom in the middle of the night heralded a change in their relationship? Because it certainly didn't. Or was she deluding herself yet again? Something very special had passed between them in those dark hours which couldn't be shrugged off as unimportant. If he laughed at her this morning somehow it would be even worse.
But she needn't have worried. When she got downstair
s, attired in a cotton housecoat of Ellen's which she had found hanging on the bedroom door, she discovered Joss so engrossed in domesticity he hardly spared her a glance. The baby was happily kicking in the carry-cot which he would soon have outgrown, Kirsty was spooning cereal into her mouth, and the boys were being instructed in the art of frying bacon and eggs, the smell of which made Meredith feel unexpectedly hungry. It looked as if they had all been up for ages.
'You should have called me,' she said, after good mornings had been exchanged.
'We let you sleep on for a while,' said Joss magnanimously. 'I was going to bring you a cup of tea presently.'
He was dressed for work, except for his jacket, and a vinyl apron with a gravy advertisement on it covered the front of him. He looked as fresh as if he'd spent an undisturbed night and she couldn't help admiring the efficient way he had organised everything, as if it was second nature to him. In some ways he would make a perfect husband. She sat down at the table feeling superfluous, and watched him handle the children like a veteran, fascinated by the way they rallied round him, especially the two boys. This was not the man she detested; the arrogant, high-powered solicitor who clashed with her at every opportunity and angered her almost every time he opened his mouth. This was someone she didn't recognise, someone she wished very much to know better.
'As soon as Mrs Burns arrives I'll, drive you home so that you can get ready for work,' he was saying, transferring bacon from the pan to the plate for Shaun who had beaten Gary for the first helping. 'Gary, wait your turn and don't be so greedy.'
'But I'm hungry,' grumbled Gary.
'So is everybody else. It's time you started thinking of other people instead of yourself all the time. Practise it at school today.'
'Yes,' said Gary. Then his face creased into an impish grin as Joss gave him the second plate. 'Would you like this one?'
Joss laughed. 'Good boy! No, I'll cook some more for myself, but you can ask Meredith and if she doesn't want it I guess it'll be okay for you to dig in.'
'Thanks anyway,' said Meredith, 'but I don't eat a cooked breakfast. Can I do some toast?'
'Sure, help yourself.'
It was the happiest, homeliest breakfast Meredith had ever had, the kitchen soon ringing with family laughter, and when they were all sitting round the table it felt good to b^ part of this large temporary family. The sun shone in through an open window where a faint breeze billowed the curtains, and she found herself dreaming fondly of the future, a picture of herself in almost identical surroundings with only the faces of the children looking different. The fact that Joss was in the picture, too, was not of great significance. She was merely substituting him until the right man came along.
'I guess the baby must have been fed first,' she said, 'or he wouldn't be lying there so quietly.'
'Uncle Joss did it,' said Kirsty. 'Will Mummy come back today?'
'Not for quite a lot of days, I'm afraid,' said Joss. 'Will you mind very much?'
The little girl thought about it a moment. 'Not if you and Meredith are here,' she said, drinking up her milk.
There was a ring at the doorbell, and Meredith got up. 'Well, it's Mrs Burns this morning, poppet. That'll be her now. I'll go and let her in.'
She tied the belt tighter round the housecoat and went into the hall. Once Mrs Burns was in charge there would be no need for Meredith to stay, and she hoped Joss would be able to persuade her to move in permanently until Ellen returned. That would solve most of the problems. She opened the door wide, preparing an amusing explanation to cover her presence at Eden Farm first thing in the morning, but the Words froze on her lips. The very beautiful girl standing on the step was a far cry from the motherly Mrs Burns.
It was Corinne Loring.
The two girls looked at each other a moment in blank amazement, then Corinne's finely plucked eyebrows lifted expressively.
'Well, well, well!' she said. 'I never thought I'd live to see the day our impeccable Miss Paxton would answer the door looking as if she'd just fallen out of bed. I hope Ellen is getting breakfast. I've just flown in from Tokyo and I'm hungry and exhausted.'
'Ellen is away,' said Meredith, finding her voice. 'But Joss is here.'
Realising it was someone other than Mrs Burns at the door, Joss came out into the hall. Corinne looked at him, bewilderment obvious even beneath the imperious frigidity. Then her glance returned to Meredith, incredibly hostile as the apparent situation dawned on her.
'You bitch!' she hissed, as she swept indoors.
CHAPTER SIX
'Joss darling!' Corinne exclaimed, lifting her face to be kissed. 'It's so wonderful to see you. Obviously you didn't expect me back so soon.'
Meredith hurried past them and shooed the children back to the kitchen table to finish their breakfasts. Joss would hardly want the reunion with his beloved Corinne played in front of an audience, and she certainly didn't want to watch it herself. She wished she could close her eyes, murmur a magic word and find herself transported to some other place, anywhere but here. Or better still, have Corinne removed before she had a chance to make her presence felt, because she couldn't have arrived at a more inopportune moment. Too late. She was already standing on the threshold of the kitchen, surveying the scene disdainfully.
'What a cosy little domestic picture,' she said, her high, ringing tone more affected than usual. 'Joss darling, whatever mess have you got yourself into? It's a good job I was able to leave Tokyo earlier than I expected.'
'An emergency cropped up yesterday,' Joss explained. Yesterday! Was it really only that short time ago? He told her about Ian and how Ellen had had to fly off immediately. 'Meredith rose to the occasion splendidly. I don't know what we should have done without her.'
'Well, I'm here now, so all your troubles are over. I shall just adore looking after Kirsty and that peach of a baby. I've brought them such a lot of presents.' She stopped, noting the two boys who gazed at her wide-eyed. 'Who are these?'
Joss spoke to them more sharply than usual. 'Gary, Shaun, where are your manners? Stand up politely and say hello to Mrs Loring.'
They didn't smile. After a murmured greeting they hurriedly sat down again and returned to their breakfast.
'But who are they? Where do they come from?' asked Corinne, distaste registered in every inflection.
Meredith went round the table and pressed the boys' shoulders reassuringly.
'These are Ellen's foster-children,' she said. 'They're super kids, and if it was possible to adopt them we probably would.'
'Hey, now wait a minute....' Joss protested.
She couldn't have said anything more ridiculous, and the moment the words were out she wanted to recall them. The boys lifted their heads in surprise. Corinne stared in undisguised contempt.
'We?' she queried, picking up the most controversial word. 'My, my, things must have progressed further than I feared!'
Joss was quick to put things right. 'I imagine Meredith was referring to her own family. Her mother and Ellen have great plans for starting a holiday centre for deprived children, but they wouldn't like to part with these two.'
'A holiday centre? Where, for goodness' sake?'
'We'll probably convert our stables,' said Meredith, without thinking. 'Unless Joss thinks this house too big to live in alone.'
His eyes narrowed dangerously, warning her she was going too far, but she felt slightly hysterical, as if she wanted to say something really outrageous.
'I shall not be living here alone,' he said, the depth of the look he gave her quite disconcerting. It ought to have been directed at Corinne. 'Don't you think it's time you got ready to leave, Meredith? I seem to recall we have a busy schedule this morning.'
He wanted her out of the way. The curt tone told her quite plainly that she was an embarrassment.
She went upstairs, brushed the dried mud off her white pants and put them on. The sweat-shirt was not much cleaner, but she had nothing else to wear until she got home, and no one would see her i
f she slipped through the wooded footpaths away from the road, because on no account would she remind Joss that he had promised her a lift. She sat down on the edge of the bed to brush her hair and was instantly reminded of last night when he had done it for her. Apart from a few flyaway ends there was no visible evidence of the trauma she had gone through, and she had to make sure her emotions were equally well hidden. She had come very close to making an utter fool of herself.
All at once she realised there were tears rolling down her cheeks and she couldn't check them. She suddenly felt inexplicably desolate. The only time she could remember feeling any misery comparable to it was the day Piers had been killed, and then she had sat on the edge of a bed like this, refusing to believe it had happened. There hadn't been any close friends to comfort her. She had been more or less alone in that numb state of shock, except for Mac. Mac had been a pillar of strength, in spite of his own grief, and she didn't know what she would have done without him. It had been the thought of never seeing Piers again, never to laugh or squabble with him, never to touch him or know the intimacy of sharing her life with the man she had loved so much, that she couldn't believe. But why was she feeling almost the same way now?
She heard Mrs Burns arrive and she didn't want to be involved in another discussion as to why she had had to spend the night at Eden Farm, so she slipped silently down the stairs again while the children were providing a noisy distraction. But before leaving unnoticed she paused by the lounge door long enough to see Corinne in Joss's arms, both too engrossed in the joy of reunion to concern themselves with anything else, and the sight of them did nothing to restore Meredith's spirits.
She was late getting to the office, and when she arrived it was no consolation to find Joss's first client, the formidable Mrs Galmain, installed on an upright chair in the main office where no one could miss her.
'I have been waiting ... half an hour ... for Mr Hamblyn,' she said, in her imperious, stilted manner, '... and I don't like it.'