Читать книгу A Passionate Affair - Elizabeth Power - Страница 12

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUSAN’S large, faintly ostentatious house was gently baking in the morning sun as Marsha paid the taxi driver. As he drove off she turned, standing and looking at the building for a moment.

The small select estate of three-year-old executive style properties was all manicured green lawns, pristine flower borders with not a petal in the wrong place and pocket-size back gardens without a bird in sight. Windows gleamed, drives were immaculate and the odd silver birch tree—the only trees which had been planted by the builders in the middle of every other front lawn—were neatly trimmed and perfect. Marsha found it hard to imagine that real flesh and blood people lived in such uniform perfection.

She had telephoned Susan earlier that morning, and it was clear the other woman had been keeping an eye out for the taxi as the front door suddenly opened. ‘Marsha.’ Susan smiled at her. ‘How lovely to see you. Do come in.’

As Marsha reached her sister-in-law she was briefly enfolded in a cool perfumed embrace, and then she was in Susan’s elegant cream and biscuit hall—the same colour scheme being reflected throughout the five-bedroomed house.

‘Come through to the sitting room,’ Susan continued, leading the way into the large and expensively furnished room Marsha remembered from when she had still been living with Taylor. Brother and sister had had a few altercations over the price of several items, not least the three two-seater cream leather sofas, the cost of which had run into six figures. Dale’s salary—as Taylor’s general manager—should have been able to cover the mortgage and the cost of any necessary new furniture or appliances when they had moved from their more modest house just after Marsha and Taylor had wed, but neither Susan’s husband nor her brother had expected her to go on a spending spree as she had. When Susan had come crying to Taylor that she couldn’t keep up the repayments on various items he had taken the debts and paid them, but not before he had made it very clear he wasn’t happy with her wild squandering of what was essentially his money.

Susan had argued and cried and sulked, taking herself off for a weekend to a health farm at the height of the dispute, but with the debts all paid off and her new home furnished exactly the way she wanted she had soon been herself again—with Taylor, at least. With Dale she had seemed a little distant.

It was through this fracas that Marsha had seen Taylor’s relationship with his sister was more father to daughter than sibling to sibling. One night when the dust had settled he had explained to her that their father had been such a transitory figure in their lives, even before their mother had died, that he had taken on the responsibility of Susan from childhood. It had explained a lot. Susan’s adoration of her big brother and Taylor’s indulgent humouring of his sister’s sometimes excessive demands had fallen into place.

‘I’ve missed you.’ Susan placed a beringed hand on Marsha’s arm once they were sitting in air-conditioned comfort. Mrs Temple—Susan’s daily—bustled in a moment later with a tray of coffee.

Once the two women were alone again Susan leant forward, her light brown eyes—which were a washed-out version of Taylor’s deep tawny orbs—uncharacteristically warm as she said, ‘How are things, Marsha? What have you been doing with yourself?’

Marsha gave a brief description of her job and her home, to which Susan listened intently. Taylor’s sister had never aspired to further education and she had left school at sixteen, working for a few hours a day in a flower shop before her marriage to Dale, when she had been just over twenty-one. At that point she had given up work entirely.

‘And do you enjoy your job? Are you happy?’

There was something of an urgency to Susan’s tone, which surprised Marsha. She looked at her sister-in-law, her smile soft at the other woman’s concern as she said, ‘Yes, I love my work. It’s challenging and rewarding and every day is different.’

‘But are you happy?’

Marsha took a sip of her coffee to give herself time to think. She had never worn her heart on her sleeve and she wasn’t about to start now, but she couldn’t in all honesty say she was happy, not even before Taylor had burst into her life again and turned everything upside down. She was satisfied with the life she had carved out for herself of necessity, and with that satisfaction had come more self-respect than she had ever had before, along with a belief in her own strength and fortitude, but happy? Happiness was Taylor. Joy was Taylor.

She took a steadying breath as she placed the delicate one china cup on its fragile saucer. ‘Happiness is different things to different people,’ she prevaricated quietly, ‘but can I tell you why I came today?’

‘It’s something to do with Taylor, isn’t it?’ It was more a statement than a question.

‘He’s told you he came to see me?’ Marsha found she was faintly surprised. Susan and Taylor were very close, but somehow she had imagined he would keep the last few days quiet until they had sorted things out one way or the other.

Susan nodded, her eyes fixed on Marsha’s face. ‘He… he said you’re still determined not to go back to him. Is that true?’

Again Marsha prevaricated. ‘Susan, I just need to check a few things with you. Some of what he said—’ She stopped abruptly. She really didn’t know how to put this. ‘He’s adamant he never slept with Tanya or anyone else, not then and not since we’ve been separated. Could you have got it wrong?’

Susan continued to stare at her before bringing her lids down over her eyes as she reached for her own cup.

‘You phoned the hotel yourself,’ she said flatly.

‘I know.’ Marsha’s stomach lurched. She had been banking on a ray of hope; she realised that now. ‘Taylor said the booking was made in error—the double room for him and Tanya, I mean. He said he took the only other available bed in the place and shared a twin with another man at the conference. He maintains he wrote me a letter explaining everything—’

‘Marsha, what do you want me to say?’ Susan had set her cup down and now her face was tight as she raised her head again. ‘You made the decision to leave him at the time and I don’t see what’s changed.’

Marsha returned her gaze for a long moment, then sank back against the sofa, putting a hand to her forehead. She had been clutching at straws; she saw that now. Susan was trying to be kind by not rubbing it in, but it was clear the other woman had no doubts about Taylor’s infidelity. ‘I… I want to believe him, I suppose,’ she said throatily, tears welling up despite all her efforts to control herself.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Marsha, really.’ Suddenly Susan was beside her, hugging her. ‘But you’ve just told me what a great life you’ve made for yourself without him. You’ll be all right. You will. You’re so brainy and beautiful and… and nice.’

As her sister-in-law’s voice broke and Susan began to cry with her, Marsha knew she had to get her equilibrium back. She should never have come here today. It could serve no useful purpose—simply opening the old wound until it was raw and bleeding.

She drew back a little from Susan with as much aplomb as she could muster, her voice still husky with tears as she said, ‘It’s me that’s sorry, Sue. I’ve come here and upset you, and after all you did for me. It must have been hard, loving Taylor as you do, to tell me about Tanya and everything. Look, I ought to go.’

‘No, no, don’t.’ Susan sounded almost desperate. ‘Stay for a bit, please. Here, have some more coffee; you’ll feel better.’

She couldn’t feel any worse. Marsha dredged up a smile from somewhere as she nodded.

‘I have missed you, Marsha, so much. I mean it.’ Susan pushed back her hair from her damp face.

‘Not with your busy social life, surely?’ Marsha attempted to bring things back to normal, her voice brighter. Susan and Dale lived in a social whirl that would have made her giddy. She and Taylor had liked to go out quite often, dancing the night away at nightclubs, having and going to dinner parties or to the theatre, but they had also enjoyed quiet romantic dinners at home together, or weekends when they saw no one. Susan and Dale, on the other hand, rarely had an evening at home, and when they did it was usually because they were throwing a dinner party.

Susan shrugged now. ‘Quantity of friends doesn’t necessarily mean the quality is right,’ she said, so bitterly that Marsha was shocked out of her own misery.

‘Is anything wrong?’ She placed a hand on Susan’s arm.

‘Lots. But then no one’s life is perfect, is it?’ Susan’s smile was brittle now, and she made a show of pouring two more cups of coffee, removing herself back to her own seat as she did so.

The conversation was a little stilted from that point on, with Marsha telling Susan more about the TV company and the way things worked, and Susan responding by talking about the latest drama or film she’d seen.

It was as Marsha stood up to go that Taylor’s sister reached out her hands again, taking Marsha’s in her own as she said, ‘You haven’t told Taylor it was me? I mean, you haven’t let anything slip that might give him an idea? He’s so…’

As her voice faded away, Marsha acknowledged that she knew what Susan was trying to say. Her smile was crooked as she shook the other woman’s hands gently. ‘Of course I haven’t. I gave you my word, but I wouldn’t do that to you anyway,’ she reassured her softly. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? More than friends—family.’ For a little while longer, at least, until the divorce was finalised.

Susan’s eyes flickered and then filled with tears, and for the umpteenth time since Marsha had come to the house the other woman surprised her by hugging her tight. Susan had never been physically demonstrative in all the time Marsha had known her, not even with Dale. The only person she had ever seen Susan hug of her own volition was Taylor, and even then it would be brief.

Marsha frowned over the other woman’s head. There was definitely something wrong, and it was serious; she could sense it. She tried one last time. ‘Sue, are you feeling all right? You don’t seem yourself.’

Susan drew back immediately, brushing her face with the back of her hand. ‘Thanks, but I’m fine,’ she said, smiling now. ‘It’s just so nice to see you, that’s all.’

She couldn’t force a confidence if Susan didn’t want to discuss it. Marsha smiled back, bringing a teasing note to her voice when she said, ‘You just miss those shopping trips you used to drag me on, that’s all.’

‘We had fun, didn’t we?’ Susan said wistfully.

‘Lots of it.’ For the first time Marsha noticed that Susan’s slimness bordered on the extreme. Taylor’s sister had always been a fitness addict, spending hours at a local gym she belonged to, but now she appeared positively scrawny.

Marsha had phoned for a taxi some minutes earlier, and when the two women opened the front door it was just pulling up outside. ‘Good timing.’ Marsha smiled at her sister-in-law, determined to leave on a brighter note. ‘It was good to see you again. Take care of yourself, won’t you?’

Susan nodded. ‘You too. I wish you would let me drive you back.’

‘No need.’ To be truthful, she needed to be by herself. ‘And if I talk to Taylor I won’t mention I called today. Okay?’

Susan nodded. ‘Goodbye, Marsha.’

She had just sat down in the taxi and was leaning forward to shut the door when Susan was at her elbow again. ‘Could we meet occasionally?’ she asked, with the urgency Marsha had noticed once or twice before. ‘Have lunch, that sort of thing?’

Marsha didn’t know what to say. This meeting had torn her heart out by its roots all over again, but it was clear that their relationship was important to Susan.

The only way she had been able to cope when she had first left Taylor was to cut herself off from her old life completely, and she was feeling like that once more. The pain was raw, but if Susan needed her…

She reached out her hand and took Susan’s cool fingers in hers. ‘In a little while, okay?’ she said quietly. ‘I need to make Taylor understand we can never get together again, that it is really over once and for all. Once the divorce is through I’ll feel… easier about everything. But we will meet then, if that’s what you want.’

She had tried to prevent it, but her eyes had filled up again as she spoke, and now Susan’s face was distraught as she murmured, ‘I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘Of course you should.’ Marsha squeezed the other woman’s hand one last time before settling back into the taxi. ‘We’re friends, and friends are always there for each other, whatever’s happened.’

Susan shut the taxi door without saying anything more. As the vehicle drew away Marsha waved, but the other woman barely responded, although just as they turned the corner out of sight Taylor’s sister was still standing at the bottom of the drive, staring after the car.

Marsha shut her eyes, letting out her breath in a deep sigh. So much for hope. She had been stupid to think Susan would say anything other than what she had eighteen months before. She didn’t know why she had come now. As she’d told Nicki, Susan was Taylor’s sister and she loved her brother devotedly. It must have been a real battle of divided loyalties for her.

She had to accept that it was really over, that there weren’t any Prince Charmings left in the world who would ride in on their valiant steeds and rescue the fair maiden from whatever assailed her. Real life was different; people were different. People like her mother, her best friend. People like Taylor.

But she had thought he was special. It was the cry of a child in her heart. He had made her believe in happy ever after and that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She had thought they would create their own family—not straight away, but in time. A family that would be a secure unit, strong, and who would do anything for each other. She didn’t want to be alone the rest of her life.

No snivelling.

The voice in her head brought her up sharp, and she answered it by sitting up straight.

‘All right, love?’

She became aware of the taxi driver’s eyes on her in his mirror and she nodded quickly. ‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Only you look a bit under the weather, if you don’t mind me saying so.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Course, there’s a lot of this flu about, you know. The wife went down with it a couple of weeks ago, and two of the kids are off school now. Mind, I reckon the little ’un is playing the wag. Don’t like school, the little ’un.’

Marsha nodded, trying to be polite but wishing he would just drive the cab.

He must have got the message, because thankfully the rest of the journey progressed in silence.

She had rung Jeff at home first thing that morning, explaining that something unexpected had come up and she would like to take a day’s holiday, if that was possible. ‘Problems?’ he had asked, and when she’d merely replied that they were personal ones he’d told her there was no need to use up any holiday time but, depending on how long it took to get things sorted, he would appreciate even an hour or two at the end of the day if she were able.

She found she was glad of this now. Her job was hectic and demanding, but that was exactly what she needed. The thought of going home to the empty bedsit filled her with dread. She would get to the office just before lunchtime and make sure she did not leave until she was too exhausted to do another minute. That way she might be able to sleep when she got home. Tomorrow was another day and she would think about everything then. For now it was enough to get through with her emotions so lacerated.

She had been an idiot when Taylor had called this morning. She had underestimated her own strength to resist him, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Her hands bunched together as she remembered their embraces, her cheeks flushing with humiliation at how easily he had beguiled her. From now on he could threaten to wake the whole street and she would not let him in. But it wouldn’t come to that anyway. Tomorrow she would arrange to meet him somewhere anonymous, a wine bar or something similar, and she would make it abundantly clear the divorce was going through come hell or high water.

She caught her breath as her heart twisted. Behind her closed eyelids she could picture him on the screen of her mind. His long lean tanned body as it had looked that morning, the broad muscled chest, flat stomach and hard powerful thighs, his hands—brown and long-fingered—and his mouth. Oh, his mouth… Sensuous, coaxing, possessing the power to send her delirious with desire. How was she going to manage without him? How would she ever get through the rest of her life, knowing he was in the world—walking, eating, breathing, loving—but not with her?

Stop it. She opened her eyes with a snap, furious at herself. She had got by the last eighteen months and she would do so again. Taylor Kane was not the be all and end all; she had to remember that. He might be fascinating and sexy and tender and magnetic, but he was also ruthless and arrogant and hard when it suited him. The same qualities that drew her to him drew other women, and she wasn’t about to live her life ruled by jealousy, eaten up by it. This had to be a clean sharp cut which severed any fragile links still hanging between them.

She turned her head to gaze unseeing out of the window. Of course she would always love him, always carry a thousand regrets for what might have been, but she mustn’t let him know that. She had thought she would grow old with him, loving him and being loved in return, but it wasn’t to be. There would be no babies, no little Taylors with dark hair and tawny eyes…

Again she jerked herself out of her thoughts by sheer will-power. She must not let her mind stray for one moment. She had to keep absolute control over herself or she would end up a gibbering idiot! She had made the only decision she could eighteen months ago and nothing had changed. She couldn’t spend her life wondering when he would tire of her completely, when one of his other women would capture his heart, mind and soul. Living alone for the rest of her life would be preferable to that.

The thought mocked her, especially because, having seen him again, she wasn’t sure if it was true. If she thought there was a chance she might hold him she would take it.

But not at the cost of your own soul. She sat up straighter, her mouth setting in a grim line. And that was what it boiled down to. She wouldn’t let herself become a victim, the sort of woman who put up with intolerable indignities in the name of love.

‘Here we are, miss.’

As the taxi drew up outside the TV building Marsha scrambled out, giving the man a handsome tip to make up for being such an uncommunicative passenger.

She had made a life for herself and it was a good one. It was. It would have to be enough.