Power of a Woman

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  “Good-bye, Pumpkins,” Tamara called, blowing kisses.

  They blew kisses to her in return, their small faces glowing with health and full of laughter.

  “Drive carefully, Nigel,” Tamara cautioned.

  “Don’t worry, I will. See you later, Tamsy.”

  23

  LEFT TO THEIR OWN DEVICES, TAMARA AND CHLOE had another cup of coffee and chatted to each other in front of the fire for a short while. Mostly they spoke about Gideon again, and his involvement with Lenore. Both women welcomed her entry into the family, and they couldn’t help speculating about the wedding.

  Once they had exhausted this subject, they wondered out loud about Miles and his romantic entanglements. “Has he taken anyone to Paris with him for Easter?” Tamara asked at one point, eyeing Chloe, knowing how close she was to Miles.

  Chloe shook her head. “I don’t know; he didn’t tell me on the way over from New York. But there was just the two of us on the plane. What I mean is, Allison wasn’t with us, and he didn’t make any reference to her. Actually, I have a feeling that’s over now.” Chloe shrugged and grinned. “Maybe he has a rendezvous in Paris. What do you think?”

  “Could be,” Tamara agreed, also chuckling.

  It was Chloe who finished her coffee and jumped up first, exclaiming, “This isn’t going to get anything done. I’m going to put the breakfast things away, then I’ll set the table for lunch. Where are we going to have it?”

  “Oh, in the kitchen as usual, don’t you think? It’s so cozy in here. Besides, without Mrs. Entwhistle to help, it’s such a chore to carry things in and out of the dining room.”

  “I agree.” Chloe set to work, moving swiftly around the kitchen.

  For her part, Tamara put the leftover food in plastic containers, stacked them in the refrigerator, then filled the dishwasher. When she had finished, she took off her apron, replaced it with a clean one, shaking her head as she did. She turned to Chloe and muttered, “I get more mess on myself when I’m cooking than the children do when they’re painting.”

  Chloe grinned. “I know what you mean; so do I. And I think I’d better have one of your aprons myself. This is a new tracksuit, and I don’t want to get it dirty.”

  The two women, who were used to working together at the farm, soon had the kitchen shipshape and ready for lunch. Once they had cleaned up and set the table, Tamara took all of the salad ingredients out of the pantry and asked Chloe to wash the lettuce and the watercress, then slice the tomatoes. She herself set about cooking the ground lamb for the shepherd’s pie.

  “So, do you think you’re pregnant yet?” Chloe asked at one moment, giving her sister-in-law a questioning look.

  “I don’t know, Chloe.” She laughed and her eyes sparkled as she added, “Maybe it’s happened this weekend. Certainly Nigel’s romantic enough.”

  “He was certainly very sweet and loving with you last night, and in a good mood in general,” Chloe commented. “I wish he hadn’t done that awful thing to Mom; it’s caused such a rift in the family.”

  “Yes, I know. But time heals everything; at least that’s what my mother always says. I think she’s right—” Tamara cut herself off, shook her head sadly. “I agree with the rest of you that it was foolish. I don’t understand him sometimes, Chloe. I’ve no idea what gets into him. It’s as if there’s a demon inside him telling him what to do. And he can be so cantankerous, almost like an old man.”

  “On the plane coming over Miles told me that Nigel came under Grandmother Jardine’s influence too much when he was about twelve or thirteen. Perhaps it’s all to do with that. That’s what Gideon thinks as well.”

  “Yes, perhaps they’re correct about that.” Tamara took a wooden spoon, pressed the meat into the pan, added a little water, and lowered the flame. Then she went into the walk-in pantry, looking for the condiments.

  Chloe, who was washing the lettuce at the sink, smiled to herself as she heard Tamara whistling. She couldn’t whistle at all, even though her brothers had tried to teach her many times when she was growing up.

  Suddenly Chloe jumped, startled by the sound of someone moving around in the front porch. She swung around to face the front door just as it opened. A man walked into the kitchen, a man she had never seen before.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, frowning, wondering who he was. Certainly he was not one of the locals from the village. She could tell that from his appearance, and from the clothes he wore. He could be French.

  The man, who appeared to be in his early thirties, was good-looking in a dark, swarthy way, and extremely well dressed, very much in the continental manner. If he wasn’t French, perhaps he was Spanish. He stared at Chloe without speaking.

  Again Chloe asked, “How can I help you? Who are you?”

  The man remained silent.

  Tamara, hearing Chloe’s voice, hurried out of the pantry holding the pepper mill, and stopped in her tracks. She gaped at the man speechlessly. Finally recovering herself, she exclaimed shrilly, “My God! Alexis! What are you doing here?”

  The man called Alexis still did not speak. He continued to stand there as if frozen to the spot.

  Tamara asked again: “Alexis, why are you here?”

  “I’ve come for you,” he said, finding his voice at last. “I’ve been looking all over for you, my Tamara. I’ve come to get you.”

  Chloe detected a distinct accent, and her startled eyes flew from Tamara to the man, and back again to Tamara. Her sister-in-law’s face had turned sheet white, and there was a terrified look in her eyes. It was obvious to her that Tamara, usually so cool, contained, and fearless, was actually frightened of this man. Oh, my God, it’s her ex-husband, Alexis Dumachev, Chloe thought, and immediately stepped forward protectively.

  Moving closer to him, not in the least afraid, Chloe said in the firmest voice she could summon, “I think you’d better go. My brother’s going to be angry if he finds you here. Please leave.”

  Ignoring her, rudely pushing past her, Alexis Dumachev walked across the kitchen and grabbed hold of Tamara’s arm. Instantly, she dropped the wooden pepper mill.

  He exclaimed angrily, “You’re mine. You belong to me. And you’re coming with me. Now.”

  Tamara tried to shake off his hand, struggling with him. But his grip was tenacious; his fingers bit into her arm, and she winced in pain. Swinging her head to face him, she said as evenly as possible, “Please let go of me, Alexis. This is silly; you’re being silly. I’m—”

  “Silly,” he yelled, his eyes bulging as he cut her short. “Silly because I worship you. My God, you are my life.” He began to scream at her in Russian; Tamara shrank back, whilst still trying to break free of his hold.

  Chloe ran across the floor and tugged at his coat, then his arm. “Leave her alone.”

  “Get away from me, you stupid little girl!” he yelled, turning to Chloe, pushing her violently.

  Chloe staggered, but instantly steadied herself against the kitchen table. She lunged at him once more, tearing at his body, wanting to free her sister-in-law.

  In an effort to fight Chloe off, Dumachev loosened his grip on Tamara. It was the opportunity she had been waiting for, and she struggled free at last. She leapt away from him, running to the far end of the kitchen.

  Chloe dropped back, ducked him, and ran to join Tamara; shaking and scared, the two women huddled together behind one of the armchairs. “What are we going to do?” Chloe whispered, trying to catch her breath. “I wish Gideon would get here.”

  “I’ll try to reason with him,” Tamara muttered grimly, and took a few steps forward. In a conciliatory voice, she said, “Alexis, please be reasonable. You know I’ve been married to Nigel for five years, almost six. You and I were divorced so long ago. It’s over between us, and it was over years ago, long before I met Nigel.”

  “You’re mine! You’ll always be mine,” he cried, his handsome face contorting into an ugly mask. “And I am yours. You know you don’t love him. I am the onl
y man you love.”

  “No, no, that’s not so,” Tamara exclaimed. “You’re wrong, Alexis. Please, leave me alone. Go back to Paris. Please, Alexis.”

  “If you will come with me, yes, I will go,” he said in a most reasonable voice, suddenly, irrationally smiling at her.

  “No, I can’t. It’s Nigel I love, and I belong here with him.”

  “No, no, you don’t. I won’t let you stay here. He’s keeping you from me. Where is he? I’ll kill him. I’ll kill his children.”

  Tamara began to shake uncontrollably, and the fear rushed through her; it was more potent than before. Filling with dread, she gripped Chloe’s hand and whispered, “He’s not himself. I think he’s gone crazy. We’ve got to get away from him, get out of here. Or we’ve got to get to the phone. Whichever’s easier. Come on.”

  Chloe nodded, and the two of them slowly edged their way in the direction of the long countertop where the telephone sat.

  Alexis was watching the two women like a hawk. He said finally, in a quieter tone, “You don’t understand, do you, my Tamara? There is nothing for me without you. I have no life. No reason to live. I am going to kill myself.” As he spoke, he pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and waved it in the air. “Look, I have a gun! I will shoot myself.”

  “Please, Alexis, calm down,” Tamara said softly, placatingly, even though terror was rampant in her now. “And put that gun away before someone gets hurt. This is not necessary.”

  “I love you” was his only response.

  After a second, he did as she asked, and put the gun back in his pocket.

  Tamara let out a breath of relief, inched her way toward the phone; Chloe stayed close to her. As Tamara picked up the receiver, Alexis jumped her, throwing both his arms around her in a bear hug, pulling her down to the floor with him. They struggled, grappling with each other, but he was the stronger.

  Chloe flew across the room to help Tamara. As her sister-in-law strove to fight off her ex-husband, Chloe grabbed at Dumachev, pulled and pummeled him. Finally, Tamara was able to struggle free of his hold. But he was tenacious, and he still gripped the end of her apron. Then, unexpectedly, he let go of it and slumped, breathing hard.

  Tamara stumbled, as she pulled herself upright, and hit the leg of the table. She regained her balance immediately and fled with Chloe, circling the table, trying to escape.

  Dumachev was instantly on his feet, and he made it to the front door before they did. “If I can’t have you, neither can he!” Dumachev screamed. The gun was in his hand and he pulled the trigger, firing wildly, then aiming at the women. He was a good marksman. He did not miss.

  Tamara and Chloe were both struck by bullets. They fell instantly. Blood spurted from Tamara’s chest and from Chloe’s head. They sprawled near the sofa, only inches from the door.

  Dumachev looked down at them, frowning; his glazed eyes suddenly registered puzzlement, as if he did not understand what he had done. Kneeling down, bending over Tamara’s body, he began to sob, the tears pouring down his face. After only a moment he lay down next to her, put the revolver in his mouth, and pulled the trigger one last time.

  He blew off the back of his head, his blood splashing onto the white kitchen walls and countertop, spilling onto Tamara, to mingle with her own blood.

  Now all was quiet in the kitchen.

  The only sounds were the sizzling of meat in the pan, the running of water in the sink, the crackling of logs in the fireplace.

  In the background, the radio played softly…a love song.

  24

  AS THEY DROVE THROUGH THE PRETTY DALES VILLAGE of West Scrafton, Gideon glanced at Lenore from the corner of his eye, and said, “After we’re married, I’d like us to have our own house in Yorkshire. I don’t really want to share Aysgarth End with Tamara and Nigel.”

  Lenore nodded, understanding how he felt. “We could use Lindenhill at weekends. Tony wouldn’t mind. After all, the place is so big. Anyway, he’s never up here much these days.”

  “I know, but—” Gideon paused momentarily, and then finished, “Let’s think about it. I still might want to have our own place for the weekends, darling.”

  Lenore smiled and said, “By the way, talking of my darling brother, he wants to give the wedding. And he’d like us to be married in the church in Lindenhill, and have the reception at the house.”

  “How very nice of him, and it’s a great idea.” He laughed wickedly. “That’s where I fell in love with you, after all.”

  “Me too, you, dearest one.” Lenore also laughed, murmured in her sexiest voice, “And it’s there that you taught me all sorts of naughty things, you bad little boy.”

  “You taught me, you beautiful wretch,” he shot back.

  Still chuckling, Gideon drove on through the village, past the tiny village green and the huddle of ancient gray stone houses, pushing up toward the moors, and the road that would take them to Aysgarth End.

  At one moment he said, “By the way, Chloe would love to be bridesmaid. When we were driving up from London yesterday she asked me to ask you if she could be.”

  “What a lovely idea, Gid, and I’d like that. However, I don’t think we should have too grand a wedding, under the circumstances. That wouldn’t be appropriate, because of my divorce.” She sighed. “Whenever I get it, that is.”

  Glancing at her swiftly, bringing his eyes back to the road, he murmured, “Everything’s going to be all right, Lenore.” Suddenly coming to a stop, he waited as several sheep meandered across the road and went into a field; he then drove on up the hill.

  “Do try not to worry. Malcolm’s going to come around eventually,” he reassured her.

  “I hope so.”

  “As for the wedding, I agree it can’t be grand. On the other hand, there’s nothing very grand about one bridesmaid, is there?”

  “No, of course not. And I want Chloe to be my bridesmaid. I also think we should invite Tamara to be matron of honor.”

  “She’d adore that, Lenore.”

  The two of them fell silent as they continued along the moorland road, lost in thoughts of their marriage which they both prayed would be soon. Just before they reached the side lane that branched off to the farm, Lenore said, “Oh, do let’s stop for a moment near the big rocks. The view from there is spectacular. It’s as if I’m standing on the roof of the world when I’m up here on the moors. I feel as if I have only to stand on my tiptoes to touch the sky, and grab a handful of cloud.”

  “I know.” Gideon slowed down, then braked and turned off the ignition; the two of them alighted, linked arms, and walked over to the rocks. It was a sheltered spot, and they sat down on a flat rock, stared out toward the great Whernside fells soaring above the valley below. The view of the Dales from this vantage point was magnificent, and particularly so on this clear, sunny day. It was picture perfect and breathtaking.

  “Look how the Nidd wends its way along the valley floor,” Gideon said. “I remember the first time my mother pointed it out to me. It is so special here, just as you said. I feel as if we can see forever, don’t you?”

  Lenore nodded, pulled her Barbour closer to her body, shivering in the wind. “I’m so glad your mother found the farmhouse when she did, Gideon, and that you came to live here when you were little. Just imagine if you hadn’t. We would never have met.”

  “Oh, yes, we would. I know that for a certainty. We were meant to be, you and I, Lenore. Fate would have found a way to bring us together.”

  Putting his arm around her, Gideon turned her to face him. Lenore was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. That morning her blond hair was pulled back from her heart-shaped face and fell down her back in a plait, but there were fronds of hair and little wispy curls around her forehead and cheeks, and these softened the rather severe hairdo. Her fine complexion was scrubbed clean; she wore no makeup on her face today, and she looked like a young girl.

  Gideon leaned closer, kissed her lightly on the lips, and then pulled away again
, gazing into her misty gray eyes. They were large, luminous, and filled with intelligence. “You do believe it, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “That we were meant to be.”

  “Absolutely.” She paused, glanced at him, said softly, “You are more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are the same.”

  “Stolen from Wuthering Heights!”

  “Just paraphrasing Emily Brontë’s words. I’d never steal from her, Gid. One of the great geniuses of English literature.”

  He smiled at her.

  She smiled back.

  And they drew closer together under the rocks, their arms wrapped around each other.

  After a short while, he loosened his grip on her and jumped up, exclaiming, “Come on, darling, we can’t sit here daydreaming forever. We’d better go. I told Tamara and Chloe that we’d be at the farm in plenty of time to help them prepare lunch.”

  Within minutes, Gideon was guiding the Land Rover down the narrow road to Aysgarth End, and as they went through the gate, he said, “There’s a car here; we must have a visitor. But I can’t imagine who that would be on Good Friday.”

  “Maybe it’s someone from the village.”

  “I doubt it, and I know Mrs. Entwhistle isn’t coming today. Something about her grandson arriving from Portsmouth.”

  Gideon parked the Land Rover in front of the house and the two of them went into the porch.

  As Lenore struggled out of her Barbour and hung it up, she said, “Something’s burning. I think Tamara must have left a pot on the stove.”

  Shaking her head and laughing, thinking that Tamara was as careless as she was when it came to cooking, Lenore pushed open the front door and stepped into the kitchen.

  Instantly, she gasped, and the laughter fled her face when she saw Tamara and Chloe sprawled on the floor covered in blood.

  She cried out in shock and fear. “Oh, my God! Oh, God, Gideon, there’s blood everywhere! They’ve been hurt. Oh, my God! We’ve got to get help. They’ve been shot. Look, there’s a gun over there next to that man.” Shuddering violently, Lenore turned away.