Читать книгу Hidden - Barbara Taylor Bradford - Страница 7

Claire knew Mark was watching: checking her mood, searching her eyes for secrets, judging each sentence that passed her lips.

He had taken his time with the dinner she had hurriedly prepared after Sasha left. ‘Are you sure you won’t have another glass of wine? It’s really excellent.’

‘I don’t think so, Mark.’

But he was already pouring. She dutifully thanked him and took a tiny sip. ‘What time do you leave for Egypt tomorrow?’

‘Early. You know, if you weren’t married to that job of yours, you could come with me. See the world.’

Claire managed a small laugh. ‘See the inside of a hotel room, you mean. You work night and day on these trips.’

‘And what do you do when I’m away?’

Claire knew she needed to be careful. She was silent.

‘Do you think you spend too much time with that gang of yours?’ he asked.

‘Mark, they are my friends; that’s all.’

‘You see them every day on the train. You’d think that would be enough. But then Saturday too. The unmissable Saturday lunches. What on earth do you find to talk about?’

‘You know. The kids, work.’

‘Do you tell them about me? What a monster I am?’

‘Of course I don’t.’

‘The roses look nice. Do you like them?’

It was all Claire could do to keep from screaming. ‘Very much,’ she answered quietly, holding herself still.

‘I’m sorry about last night. I feel terrible. But it’s almost as if you enjoy pushing my buttons.’ He stared at her intently.

Claire remained stock still, looking back at him, trying to keep her face blank. ‘If you had any idea how much pressure I’m under, how important my work is to the country, maybe you wouldn’t push me. Do you think I like hurting you?’

‘No. I don’t think that.’ Carefully, very carefully Claire pushed her chair back, keeping her tone light. ‘Are you about finished with dinner? It’s late in London, and I want to reach Deborah before she goes to bed.’

‘You know college kids. It’s her birthday. She’ll be up all night drinking shots with her friends.’

‘Mark, she won’t. She has to play for the college tomorrow, and she’ll want to be in top form. It’s the Royal Academy of Music, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Plenty of musicians party. Can’t she have a little fun?’ He turned his boyish grin on Claire. ‘You’re only twenty-one once.’

‘You’re right, of course.’ Her smile was cautious. His love for Deborah always touched her and maybe he really was just being sweet tonight. She needed to stop expecting another explosion. She so wanted to believe it wouldn’t happen again. ‘I suppose just because our daughter is studying to be a concert pianist doesn’t mean she can’t be a good-looking party animal like her father.’

‘Was he?’ Mark was staring into his wine, swirling it around and around, staring into the glass.

‘Oh, you still are quite the party boy.’ She took another sip. The wine was calming her. ‘Good looking, too.’ She touched his hand.

‘I was talking about her real father.’

He smiled at her again, but this time a chill began climbing her spine. She carefully removed her hand from his, knowing she must tread carefully now, and not contradict him. Mark was at his most dangerous when he was being charming. ‘You are the only father she has ever known,’ Claire finally said.

‘You didn’t answer my question,’ he shot back, his voice suddenly hard.

Claire got up and started clearing the table.

Mark continued to study his wine. ‘I know nothing about your great love. Was he tall? Skinny? Fat? Did he like music? Is that where Deborah’s talent comes from?’

Claire took the dishes into the kitchen without a word, trying to push back her emotions.

Mark followed her.

‘All I know about Deborah’s long-gone daddy is that he walked out on you before she was born. And never looked back. So I don’t understand why his memory is so sacred that you refuse to speak of him, won’t even tell me his name. Or maybe it’s because he’s not really gone.’

‘When you asked me to marry you, over twenty years ago, when you asked if you could adopt Deborah and raise her as your own, we made an agreement!’ Claire’s turquoise eyes were blazing now, her fear of him forgotten for a moment. ‘I would never tell Deborah you were not her birth father, and you would never ask me about the man who was. I have kept my end of the bargain! All these years, not a word to her, not a hint! You, on the other hand, have been at me constantly in the past few years! What did he look like? Why did he disappear? Does he know he has a daughter?’

‘Does he? Do you talk to him sometimes, tell him about her? About me? Is that why you love your job so much? So you can travel all over to be with him?’

‘Stop it, Mark.’

He grabbed her wrist roughly, and instinctively she let out a cry of pain. She was already bruised from last night. ‘Do you two laugh about how afraid I am that one day Deborah will find him, and won’t want anything to do with me?’ he hissed in her face.

‘You know better than that! What is wrong with you, Mark? I have not seen nor heard from him in over twenty years.’ She wrenched her arm from his grasp. ‘And if I had, he would not ask about Deborah, because he doesn’t know she exists!’

Tears of anger and frustration were streaking her cheeks now. ‘Hear me, Mark! This is the last time I will ever, ever discuss this subject with you. I’m going to bed.’

‘Don’t walk out while I’m talking to you!’ He lunged for her, but she sidestepped him and raced, still limping, into the bedroom, slammed the door shut and locked it.

Mark was after her in a flash, kicking at the oak door, hitting it with his shoulder. ‘You open this door! Claire, open it or I swear I’ll knock it down.’

‘If you do that I will call the police.’ Claire was trembling but her voice was calm. ‘They would probably be curious about how I got the bruises all over my body. Did I mention that you cracked a rib this time?’

Mark continued to batter on the door.

‘I’m not bluffing, Mark. I’ll do it. I’m sure the Washington Post would have a field day with the story: President’s special envoy to the Middle East arrested at his home.’

‘You wouldn’t dare.’ But he stopped his attempt to break open the door. ‘Too much is at stake.’

‘Don’t test me.’

Mark and Claire stood on either side of the bedroom door, both breathing hard. Finally, Mark took a step away, his face distorted in frustration and rage.

‘Don’t sleep too soundly tonight.’ He spoke softly, almost in a whisper, but every word came through the thick wood. ‘This isn’t over, Claire. Not by a long shot.’

And Claire knew that he spoke the truth.