Читать книгу The Secret Mother - Lee Wilkinson, Lee Wilkinson - Страница 8
ОглавлениеCHAPTER TWO
CAROLINE finished tucking Caitlin and Barnaby into bed and said softly, ‘Goodnight and God bless.’
‘Is Daddy home yet?’
Matthew, who had been away on a business trip for almost two weeks, was due back tonight, just in time for Christmas.
‘No. he won’t be home until quite late. But if you go to sleep like a good girl, when he gets here I’ll ask him to come in and give you a kiss.’
‘Tell me the toad story?’ Caitlin pleaded. She was getting tired, and her long silky lashes kept drooping.
Heart melting with love, Caroline agreed. ‘All right, if you close your eyes while you listen.’
Obediently the child’s bright eyes closed, and a small thumb went into her mouth.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, in the pool of golden light cast by the bunny lamp, Caroline began the fairy story that during the last month had become Caitlin’s favourite.
‘Once upon a time there was a handsome prince...’
‘What was he called?’
‘He was called Matthew...’
This part had become a familiar routine, with the same question, the same answer, and the same giggles because, on the first occasion, when Caroline had asked, ‘What do you think he was called?’ Caitlin had unhesitatingly chosen the name Matthew.
‘Now, poor Matthew had been turned into a toad by a naughty witch, and the only way to break the spell was for a beautiful princess to kiss him. One fine morning, when he was hopping through the forest...’
The story was one from her own childhood, and Caroline knew it off by heart. The words were soothing, familiar, allowing her thoughts to wander...
It seemed incredible that it was only about a month ago since Matthew had insisted on driving her to Morningside Heights to pick up her things.
While he had talked to Lois Amesbury she had packed—her few clothes and possessions going into a single suitcase—and said goodbye to the twins. With the prospect of having Caitlin to take care of, leaving the family hadn’t proved to be the wrench it might have been.
Mrs Monaghan had been kindness itself, and Caroline had settled into the penthouse well. To her very great relief there had been no mention of Matthew’s former fiancée, and the days had been filled with the kind of happiness she had never expected to know again.
But, while she gave Caitlin all the love and attention the child needed, Caroline was trying not to make the little girl too dependent on her. Always, at the back of her mind, was the knowledge of how uncertain the future was.
It was a blessed relief—or so she’d told herself—that after the first few days she had seen very little of Matthew.
At first he had watched her as relentlessly as a cat watches its potential prey, then, observing that she had won the child’s trust and affection, he had left her to it and set about catching up on a huge backlog of work before heading for Hong Kong.
Without his dynamic presence the apartment had seemed curiously empty, devoid of life and warmth and excitement.
While she admitted that she ought to feel safer when he was away, part of her longed to see him, to hear his voice and know he was close at hand...
‘And the beautiful princess said, “Little toad with crooked leg, open quick the door I beg...”’
Seeing Caitlin had fallen asleep, Caroline stopped speaking and, rising softly to her feet, took the child’s hand from her mouth and tucked it beneath the duvet, before stooping to kiss the rosy cheek.
As she switched on the monitoring system and turned to the door the tender smile lingering on her lips gave way to a gasp of fright.
The tall, shadowy figure, lounging in the doorway straightened. ‘I’m sorry,’ Matthew murmured mockingly, ‘did I startle you?’
Wondering how long he’d been standing there listening, she stammered, ‘I...we...weren’t expecting you home so early.’
He was still wearing his dark business suit. His lean face looked a little strained, she thought, as though even his magnificent stamina had been tested by such an intensive trip.
She felt a rush of tenderness, a longing to open her arms to him and welcome him back.
But even as she wished she had that right she saw that his eyes held a glint, a dangerous sparkle that made warning bells ring.
As he moved into the room she attempted to slip unobtrusively past him, her heart thudding, when he caught her wrist. ‘Don’t go...’
Ignoring her sharp intake of breath, he stooped to touch his lips to Caitlin’s forehead before leading the way out of the nursery and into the playroom, where a single shaded night-lamp burnt. ‘We have some unfinished business.’
‘Unfinished business?’ Alarmed by his air of intent, the build-up of tension she could feel, Caroline made an attempt to free her wrist.
His grip merely tightened, until his fingers felt as though they might crush the delicate bones. Moving closer, he suggested silkily, ‘Surely we need the beautiful princess to kiss the poor toad?’
Finding she’d been backed into a corner, and trying not to panic, she said as lightly as possible, ‘It’s just a fairy story Caitlin’s taken to.’
‘Ah, but a fairy story has to have a happy ending, and as the leading character...’
His dark face was only inches away. She looked at his mouth, that austere yet sensual mouth, and remembered with stunning clarity what it felt like when it touched hers.
A treacherous wave of heat engulfing her, somehow she managed, ‘I really don’t think I’d rate as a beautiful princess.’
‘You may not rate as a princess, but you’re certainly beautiful enough.’ All at once he sounded angry, driven.
Terrified of what might happen if he touched her, she begged hoarsely, ‘Oh, please, Matthew...’
Ignoring the plea, he took her face between his hands and his mouth closed over hers.
All thought obliterated, her whole being melted instantly, completely, so that without the support of the wall she couldn’t have remained on her feet.
His touch, his kiss, was what her heart and mind and body had craved. When finally he lifted his head, it took her a few seconds to gather herself and register that he was breathing as though he’d been running hard.
Knowing he’d only kissed her because he was inexplicably angry, she felt a fierce satisfaction that he hadn’t remained totally unmoved.
‘Well, well, well...’ he drawled, and his voice had a harshness to it. ‘Who would have dreamt such a prim-looking nanny was capable of so much passion?’
Terrified that her uncontrolled response might have stirred memories in him that were best forgotten, she said raggedly, ‘Please let me go. You have no right to treat me like this.’
‘Can I plead provocation?’ He was laughing now, making fun of her. ‘Promise never to touch you again?’
‘I’d prefer it if you did, Mr Carran.’
‘Why so formal? A minute ago you called me Matthew.’
She felt a quick stab of fear. ‘I—I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to...I was upset.’
He was still holding her face between his palms, and his thumbs stroked backwards and forwards across her cheeks in a movement that was no caress but an expression of his anger.
‘Tell me, Miss Smith, if I find it impossible to keep my hands off you, what will you do?’
She wanted to say that she would go, but at the thought of being anywhere else her heart seemed to shrivel and die in her breast..
‘Will you leave?’
Somehow he must have guessed that she would never leave of her own accord, she thought agitatedly, and he was deliberately taunting her.
Her voice impeded, she pointed out, ‘I don’t think that would help Caitlin. She’s just got used to me, and a child of her age needs some stability.’
As though the mention of Caitlin had sobered him, Matthew let his hands drop to his sides and stepped back, his expression controlled and dispassionate now.
But, when Caroline would have hurried away to the safety of her own suite, he once again stopped her. ‘Don’t disappear,’ he said briskly. ‘I want to talk to you. Have you had your evening meal yet?’
‘No.’
‘Then we can eat together and talk at the same time.’
Desperate to be alone until she had regained her equilibrium, Caroline made the first excuse that she could think of. ‘Oh, but I usually eat in the kitchen with Mrs Monaghan. She might think it strange if I—’
‘Isn’t Friday her night off?’
It was. Earlier in the day the housekeeper had announced her intention of spending the evening with her married daughter.
His eyes on Caroline’s transparent face, Matthew said sardonically, ‘However, if you feel more at home in the kitchen, when I’ve showered and changed I’ll join you there.’
He appeared to be back to his cool, disciplined self, and, watching him walk away, she wondered shakily what had provoked that burning display of anger, that need to deride and dominate.
Surely not just the use of his name in a child’s fairy tale?
She felt a cold shiver run through her. He had never tried to disguise the fact that he didn’t like her, but for that short space of time he had appeared almost to hate her.
Yet he had kissed her like a man who was starving.
As she made her somewhat unsteady way to the kitchen the remembrance filled her with disturbing and conflicting emotions.
Just one kiss, nevertheless it had altered everything. It had destroyed her composure, banished any slight feeling of peace or security she had gained, and reinforced how perilous her being here was.
A meal had been left ready, and while she put the chicken casserole into the microwave and began to set the table she was beset by a different anxiety. What did Matthew want to talk to her about? Her month’s trial time was almost completed, so had he decided to get rid of her?
No, surely not. She tried to be practical. He knew Caitlin had accepted her, and he needed a nanny.
Then what? Had he somehow discovered who she was?
No, if he had he would have turned her out immediately. She remembered only too clearly the look of loathing on his face that awful night as, white-lipped, he’d said with a fury no less devastating for being quiet, ‘I want you out of my house first thing in the morning. I never want to have to set eyes on you again.’
Shivering, she made an attempt to push the painful memory away. It had happened a long time ago, and was part of the past she tried so hard not to think about.
In a way, coming to work here had been madness, but she couldn’t regret taking the chance fate had offered her. Yet it left her open to even more heartache, she thought despairingly, if her brief happiness was about to come to an end.
The click of the latch made her jump.
Though she had thought herself prepared, her heart turned over at the sight of him. He had changed into an olive-green polo-necked shirt and casual trousers, and looked both dangerously attractive and formidable.
He had a way of moving, an arrogant tilt to his dark head, an almost feline grace and symmetry that, combined with his extraordinary eyes, had always put her in mind of a black panther. She felt her mouth go dry.
While she removed the casserole from the oven he took a bottle of white wine from the fridge, and, having opened it, he asked, ‘Why only one glass?’
‘I don’t usually drink,’ she answered simply.
His eyes clouding with anger, or impatience, he went to get a second glass. ‘I know that’s what you told me, but just this once I won’t hold it against you.’
As he filled the glasses she put a bowl of fluffy rice and a tossed green salad on the table, and took the chair opposite his.
With easy authority, he served both her and himself before picking up his fork.
For a while they ate without speaking, until, needing to break the silence, striving for normality, she asked, ‘Have you had a good trip?’
The chiselled lips twisted. ‘You sound for all the world like a dutiful wife.’
‘I’m sorry. I was just trying to be pleasant.’
‘While I’m being anything but?’
Then, with that sudden change of direction which seemed designed to fluster her, he said, ‘The day I gave you the job, I mentioned that Caitlin was my stepbrother’s child.’
Though it was more a statement than a question, he was clearly waiting for an answer, and she nodded.
‘You didn’t ask what had become of him.’ Watching the colour drain out of her face, leaving it ashen, he added, ‘I wonder why?’
Her voice sounding hollow, echoing inside her own head, she said, ‘I didn’t consider it was any of my business.’
‘I’ll tell you all the same. It’s three years today since he was killed in an accident. That’s why I’m in such a black mood...’
As she stared at him transfixed, unable to move or speak, like someone mortally wounded, he added, ‘So perhaps you’ll forgive me?’
It seemed an age before she was able to say through bloodless lips, ‘Of course...I’m sorry.’
He reached to refill the glasses. ‘I take it you’ve had no worries over Caitlin while I’ve been away?’
Gathering herself, Caroline said, ‘No, she’s been fine. She’s missed you, of course, and asked about you every day.’
‘She calls me Daddy?’
‘Yes.’
‘I haven’t discouraged her, as I’m hoping to legally adopt her.’ Then with no change of tone, he asked, ‘Have you made any special plans for tomorrow?’
‘Special plans?’
‘It’s Caitlin’s birthday.’
He watched Caroline catch her breath while she absorbed the shock.
‘I—I didn’t realise... No one mentioned it...’ Seeing his face harden with unaccountable anger, she stammered, ‘W-was that what you wanted to talk to me about?’
‘Amongst other things. But we’ll deal with that first.’
Her stunned mind trying to cope with the possibilities, Caroline suggested, ‘When I take her to playschool tomorrow morning, I’ll talk to the mothers of her special friends and see if I can fix an afternoon party, with a cake and—’
‘That won’t be necessary. Before I went away I arranged a party at McDonalds which includes a cake and a magician and all the trimmings. About a dozen of Caitlin’s friends will be there.’
Feeling as though she’d been slapped, Caroline swallowed hard. ‘I’m sorry you didn’t think to mention it sooner... I haven’t even got a birthday present for her.’
‘There’s really no need for you to give her anything.’
‘I’d like to.’
‘Very well. If you want to choose something, have tomorrow morning off. I’ll be home all day.’
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. Then, trying to sound as if it didn’t matter, ‘Will you be taking her to the party?’
‘Yes, I’d planned to take her. Why? Do you want the whole day off?’
‘No. I—I just wondered.’
Getting to her feet, doing her best to hide her disappointment, Caroline cleared away the first course and, when he shook his head at the chocolate tart, reached for the pot of coffee.
As she filled both their cups he asked idly, ‘Have you any plans for the festive season?’
‘No.’
‘Good. I’m intending to spend Christmas away from home...’
Though she knew it was unwise, to say the least, Caroline had hoped to see at least something of Matthew over the holiday. Now, despite the pleasure being with the child would bring, disappointment made her voice a little flat as she said, ‘So you want me to stay here with Caitlin?’
‘No, I want you both to come upstate with me. I own a country club and health spa on Clear Lake.’
Caroline went icy cold with shock, as though every drop of warm blood had drained from her body.
‘Have you ever been to a health spa?’
‘No... I—I know nothing about such places.’
‘Then it’s high time you did. Can you swim?’
Panic-stricken, she lied, ‘No.’
‘Then this will be an ideal opportunity to have some expert tuition.’
But the idea of going back to Clear Lake, where she’d once been so rapturously happy, filled her with a bleak anguish.
He picked it up instantly. ‘You don’t seem to like the idea?’
She voiced the only protest she could think of. ‘But you’re paying me to look after Caitlin, not learn how to swim.’
‘By next year Caitlin should be swimming well herself, and it will be useful if you’re already experienced and can accompany her.’
He was talking about next year as if he expected her to still be here. Caroline warmed herself with the thought, before objecting, ‘But someone would have to look after her while I—’
“‘Someone” will. The spa is family orientated. As well as a highly trained staff we have a number of experienced nursemaids and a babysitting service. Last year we started to run a special nursery and a toddler’s activity centre. It keeps the younger children engaged and happy and allows parents to give their nannies a holiday—’ he gave her a mocking glance ‘—white they do their own thing.
‘The scheme was my suggestion, and I’d like to try it out first-hand.’ Smoothly sarcastic, he added, ‘That is, unless you have any objections?’
The very last thing she wanted to do was accompany Matthew to Clear Lake, but he employed her, and she could hardly refuse to go.
After watching the changing expressions flit across her face, he queried, ‘Well?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t any objections.’
‘Good, then that’s settled. Can you be ready to go straight after the party tomorrow? Caitlin is at an age where sitting in a car can be boring, but if we travel up during the evening, she’ll probably sleep most of the way.’
When, late afternoon the following day, they left New York City, fresh snow had been falling for almost an hour. White and clean and crisp, it covered the sidewalks, clung to lampposts and buildings, and formed pointed caps on each set of red and green traffic lights.
But the main routes upstate were clear, and their journey, north through the snowy evening in the big four-wheel drive that Matthew had taken in place of his usual Jaguar was trouble-free and comfortable.
As he had foreseen, Caitlin, who had been bathed and changed and tucked into a cosy sleeping-bag, slept soundly, and for the first few miles only the shush of the tyres and the swish of the wiper blades broke the silence.
Caroline watched the swirling flakes without really seeing them, her thoughts on that afternoon’s birthday party.
She had dressed Caitlin in the special party frock and matching ribbons she herself had bought that morning, and when Matthew, who had come through to collect the child, had said merely, ‘My, don’t you look pretty,’ she had experienced a surge of relief.
‘Can Caro come with us?’ Caitlin asked.
His head came up and, sounding annoyed, he asked, ‘Why does she call you Caro?’
‘I suggested it,’ Caroline admitted.
‘Wouldn’t Nanny have been more appropriate?’
Caroline swallowed. ‘I thought she might have called her grandmother that...some children do...’
‘Can she come, Daddy?’ Caitlin persisted.
‘Would you like her to?’
The child nodded vigorously.
His green gaze on Caroline’s face, Matthew queried. ‘Have you anything better to do?’
‘No, I’d love to come,’ she said eagerly.
Too eagerly, she’d realised later, but she had been so delighted to get the chance to go, she had forgotten to be cautious.
The party had proved a great success. Though if Caroline had known how often Matthew’s gaze had remained fixed on her rather than on Caitlin, she would have been alarmed.
But she was so taken up with watching the child, her heart in her eyes, that for her the only flaw had been the awful moment when one of the staff had referred to her as ‘Mrs Carran’, and she had seen the frozen look on Matthew’s face.
As though reading her thoughts, he broke the silence to ask a shade ironically, ‘So, did you enjoy the party?’
Warning herself to be careful this time, she answered casually, ‘Oh, yes. I’ve always liked children’s parties. Watching their expressions, the way they react, can be quite fascinating.’
‘I thought with so many youngsters to keep an eye on you might be sorry you went?’
‘Oh, no, I was happy to be there.’
‘Though perhaps you should have worn a uniform after all.’ There was a sudden bite to his voice. ‘The staff thought you were Caitlin’s mother.’
Feeling as though she’d been pierced through the heart, Caroline sat still and silent, gripped by a kind of dread, a fear of some impending blow.
But with a swift change of subject, he queried, ‘Have you ever been to Clear Lake before?’
Taking a deep breath, she lied, ‘No.’
‘It’s a wonderfully scenic area of woods and mountains and hot springs that’s very popular with New Yorkers. That’s why I decided to build a health spa there.’
With a touch of derision, he went on, ‘It allows the jaded city-dwellers—or at least the ones who can afford it—to relax and be pampered in picturesque surroundings.’
‘You sound a little...disdainful...’
‘Though I love the lake, I’ve always found the club atmosphere somewhat cloying—not to say claustrophobic. A couple of months ago, when an old house that I liked in that area came on to the market I decided to buy it. That way, when the renovations are completed, I’ll have somewhere that’s really my own to go to when I feel the need to get away from the city...’
Caroline was just starting to relax and breathe freely again when he added, ‘My stepbrother liked to get away from the city, too, but he usually stayed in a hotel north of the lake. He was having a break up there when he met the woman who became his wife. I gather they bumped into each other in the hotel lobby. It seems to have been love at first sight, at least as far as he was concerned... He fairly doted on her...’
Why was Matthew telling her all this? Caroline wondered painfully. It was almost as if he was deliberately tormenting her.
‘Though I imagine he had no idea what she was really like...’
There was anger and bitterness in Matthew’s voice now, as he added, ‘I’m sorry to say Caitlin’s mother had neither scruples nor morals.’
Caroline shivered. It was quite plain that, even after all this time, Matthew still hated his stepsister-in-law.
Signalling the end of the conversation, he pressed a button on the dashboard stereo and the plaintive sound of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ filled the car.
Feeling drained, emotionally exhausted, Caroline put her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
She must have slept for some time, because when she opened heavy lids they were pulling into the grounds of the luxury spa complex that she had first seen almost four years ago.
Then there had been blizzard conditions. Now the scene was serenely beautiful. Snow covered everything in a soft white blanket and odd flakes were still drifting down—a light scattering from what seemed to be an almost clear sky.
Well-lit roadways spread from the central area, where a tall Christmas tree hung with sparkling baubles stood in front of the main entrance. Light spilled from the long windows and lay in pools of gold across the snowy expanse.
Caroline was surprised when, instead of drawing up in front of the steps, Matthew took a road to the left and stopped outside a single-storey chalet-type house, set apart from the rest.
Catching her look of surprise, he asked curtly, ‘Something wrong?’
‘No... I just presumed that we’d be staying in your apartment in the main building.’
‘How do you know I have an apartment in the main building?’ The question was quiet but lethal.
‘Well, I—I don’t, of course... I—I just thought...’ Stammering helplessly, she broke off.
‘Well, as it happens, you’re quite right. I do have a suite of rooms kept for my own use, but there are only two bedrooms—which would have meant you sharing with Caitlin. Or me.’
Watching the burning colour pour into Caroline’s pale face, he added sardonically, ‘I didn’t care for the first option, and I thought you might not care for the second.’
Opening the car door, he got out, his feet crunching on the fresh snow. Alarmed and disturbed by his black mood and her own stupid blunder, she followed him.
Strapped into the car seat she shared with Bamaby, Caitlin was still sleeping soundly. Lifting her out with care, Matthew carried the child and bear into the chalet and through to a small, cosy room fitted out as a nursery. Then, while Caroline tucked the pair into bed, he went outside again to deal with the baggage.
When she had switched on the monitoring system and turned the nightlight down low, Caroline kissed the little girl’s sleep-flushed cheek before going back to the attractive open-plan living area.
The middle of the room was sunken, and a couch piled with soft cushions queened it in front of a copper-canopied central fireplace, where a log fire blazed merrily. To one side was an all-mod-cons kitchenette, its fridge well stocked with food.
Caroline took off her coat and hung it behind one of the sliding doors in the hallway, her thoughts still in a turmoil. She had expected to be in a hotel atmosphere, surrounded by people, and the idea of being alone here with Matthew was both wonderful and disturbing.
Not to mention dangerous. Since he’d returned from his trip his mood had been so strange and intense. So quietly explosive.
She remembered his, ‘...if I find it impossible to keep my hands off you...’ and shivered. He would only have to kiss her, touch her, and she would be lost...
When they’d first met, though she’d been already half involved with another man, she had looked at him and loved him.
He had fulfilled some deep, primitive need in her, and as she recalled her overwhelming and ecstatic response to his lovemaking perspiration dewed her forehead and made her palms grow clammy.
That depth and intensity of feeling had seemed to be mutual. But, while sweeping her off her feet with a passionate urgency, he’d been kind and caring and heartbreakingly tender.
In the intervening years, however, he seemed to have developed a streak of cruelty, and she didn’t doubt that if she gave him the slightest opportunity in his present frame of mind he was capable of tearing her apart...emotionally speaking...
The door swung open and Matthew was back, loaded with luggage, snowflakes melting on his dark hair. He put her case in the bedroom next to the nursery, then went to dispose of Caitlin’s things and his own.
It had been a long drive, and, knowing he must be ready for a drink, Caroline filled the kettle and put it on to boil.
She was spooning coffee into the pot when she heard his footsteps returning, and, glancing up incautiously, she met his eyes. For a long moment they looked at one another in silence.
A drop of melted snow ran off his hair and trickled down his lean cheek. She wanted to lift her hand and wipe it away. Instead she asked jerkily, ‘Can I make you some supper?’
‘I don’t expect you to look after me as well as Caitlin.’ His voice was brusque.
Flushing a little, she said, ‘It’s no trouble, really.’
‘In that case, thank you.’
While she made a plateful of cheese and ham sandwiches he sat on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, gazing into the flames. His dark face wore a sombre, brooding look that boded ill for the holiday.
Caroline put the coffee pot and sandwiches on a tray and carried them over to a small table nearby. As she turned away he demanded, ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m a bit tired,’ she answered awkwardly. ‘I thought I’d go to bed.’
‘Sit down and have a cup of coffee and a sandwich.’
‘She shook her head. ’I’m not hungry, and coffee this late will keep me awake.’
‘Then stay and talk to me.’ It was an order.
Biting her lip, she took a seat on the other end of the couch and asked as levelly as possible, ‘What would you like to talk about?’
‘You. I’d like to know why you’re calling yourself Miss Smith.’
Shock made Caroline catch her breath. Somehow she answered, ‘Because it’s my name.’
‘Miss—when you’ve been married?’
Every drop of blood drained from her face. ‘What makes you think I’ve been married?’ Her voice sounded high and strained.
‘Remember the day I took you to pick up your belongings? While you were packing Mrs Amesbury showed me a snapshot of you and the twins, taken when you’d only been there a short time. Perhaps you recall the one I mean? You were sitting with them on your knee, an arm around each of them...’
When she merely stared at him, her aquamarine eyes grown dark with apprehension, he went on, ‘Facially it’s not particularly good—you have on those heavy spectacles and your head’s bent—but your hands are in focus, and quite clearly you’re wearing a wedding ring.’
She’d taken it off and put it away for good shortly afterwards.
‘So tell me about your marriage,’ he pursued.
‘There’s really not much to tell.’ Her voice was brittle as ice. ‘We were both young, and it didn’t last long.’
‘Where is your husband now?’
About to lie, to pretend he’d left her, Caroline hesitated. Suppose Lois Amesbury had told Matthew what little she knew?
Her lips so stiff they would hardly frame the words, Caroline admitted, ‘My husband died.’
‘So why does a respectable widow need to call herself Miss Smith?’
‘I decided to leave the past behind me and revert to my maiden name. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really am tired.’
Before he could make any further move to detain her, she jumped to her feet and hurried away.
If her precipitate departure was unwise, she couldn’t help it. She had come to the end of her emotional resources and could stand no more.
