Читать книгу Cherish Collection January 2014 (Books 1-12) - Rebecca Winters - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

THE NEAREST AIRPORT was close to the French town of Nice, about ten miles away. From there they could get a flight to Cairo. When the tickets were booked she called Jackson back.

‘The first available seats are tomorrow afternoon. We’ll land at—’

When she’d given him all the details he said, ‘You’ll be met there, and a car will take you to Giza.’

‘Does Amos know we’re coming?’

‘Yes, but he thinks it’s just a family visit because you’re missing him.’

Freya went to help with the packing, concentrating everything on keeping her spirits up. She remembered asking Janine how she endured Amos, and her mother’s answer: ‘He needs me.’

That was love. Ignoring a man’s displeasing ways to see only the vulnerability beneath was the very heart of love. And it was a feeling she’d never known with Dan, who’d never seemed vulnerable.

On the journey to Nice airport the next day Freya held Janine’s hand, feeling that she was the mother now. The three hours of the flight seemed to stretch out interminably, filled with thoughts that she would rather avoid. As a distraction she buried herself in a book she’d bought about their destination.

She meant her physical destination. The other destination, the one gradually evolving inside herself, was a mystery as fathomless as ancient Egypt.

There were the pyramids, she thought, slowly turning the pages to see pictures of the great four-sided tombs that rose from huge bases to a high point.

The ancient pharaohs had ensured that the world would always remember them by creating extravagant burial temples, starting on the day they took the throne. The best known was Tutankhamun, the boy king who’d lived three and a half thousand years ago and died after a mere three-year reign aged only eighteen. His tomb was one of the smallest, but in the last century it had been excavated by explorers, and so made ‘King Tut’ the most famous pharaoh of them all.

Then there was the Sphinx, the huge statue of a lion with a human head, sometimes known as The Terrifying One.

Freya felt excitement growing in her at the thought of seeing this fascinating country.

At Cairo they went through the procedures of disembarking, collecting their luggage, going through Customs, searching the crowd.

‘Who did he say he was sending to collect us?’ Janine asked. ‘Because I can’t— Amos!’

She bounced up and down, waving frantically to someone. Now Freya recognised Amos, hurrying forward, gathering speed as he neared his wife until they flung themselves into each other’s arms.

Freya searched the crowd for Jackson, but she could see no sign of him.

He wasn’t there, she thought with a stab of disappointment. He hadn’t bothered to come and meet them.

But then she saw him, standing a few feet away, looking so changed that she barely recognised him. The hot sun had tanned him, and he looked thinner, like a man who worked long hours and neglected himself. Despite the distance she could sense his tension, and she guessed he was really worried about his father and had taken a lot of trouble for him—even to the extent of seeking the help of a woman with whom he was at odds.

He looked up and she caught the exact moment when he saw her. New life came into his face and he raised a hand in greeting.

‘Thank you,’ he said as they met. ‘It’s wonderful that you’re here. You can see how happy it makes Amos.’

The older couple were still hugging each other joyfully.

‘I’m glad for both their sakes,’ she said. ‘And how are you? I nearly didn’t recognise you.’

‘It’s been a little tiring, but I still love doing it.’ He turned to his stepmother. ‘Janine, lovely to see you.’

He enveloped her in a hug, then took their bags.

Freya had thought she too might have received a warm embrace from him, especially after the hug they’d shared when they parted. She thought perhaps she’d demanded that hug as a way of hinting that hostilities could now be over. She wasn’t sure.

But things were different now. He’d promised to keep his distance and clearly he intended to do so. It was foolish to feel disappointed, and she wouldn’t allow herself that much weakness.

Outside, a large, luxurious vehicle was awaiting them, with a chauffeur who took charge of their bags and assisted the ladies inside. With two rows of seats it was more like a bus than a car. Jackson guided the two women to sit together while he sat opposite, with his father.

‘It should only take about half an hour,’ he said. ‘We’re going to the Harbury Hotel in Pyramids Road.’

‘Pyramids Road?’ Janine echoed. ‘Does that mean you can see pyramids from there?’

‘I’ll say it does,’ Jackson agreed. ‘You can hardly look in any direction without seeing pyramids. It’s marvellous.’

They saw what he meant as soon as they reached the city. Tall buildings rose to the sky, but behind them, dominating the world, were the pointed shapes of the pyramids.

Soon they drew up outside the hotel—an immense, luxurious building. Porters took charge of their bags while Jackson escorted them to the desk to sign in.

‘The whole television crew is staying here,’ he said. ‘They’re out doing background shots at the moment, but they’ll be here soon.’

Once upstairs, Amos showed Janine to his own room, which she would now share.

‘Yours is just down here,’ Jackson told Freya, leading the way. ‘Next door to mine, so I’m on hand if you need help.’

The room was stunning, with a floor-to-ceiling window that opened out onto a balcony from which a huge pyramid could be seen. Holding her breath, Freya went out to stand there, trying to believe that so much beauty and magnificence was so close.

Turning back, she saw Jackson waiting patiently.

‘Amos looks well,’ she said. ‘I hadn’t expected to see him so vigorous.’

‘He changes from moment to moment. Mostly he seems well, but then he’ll go dizzy, or breathless. I make him rest when I can, but you know what it’s like trying to get him to take advice.’

‘You should know that better than anyone,’ she pointed out. ‘He’s your father.’

‘Yes, but I’ve never had to try to make him see sense before—not like this. You’re the expert. If you knew what a relief it is to me to have you here.’

‘You know I’ll do my best to look after him.’

‘That’s very sweet and generous of you after everything that happened.’

‘I’m not being sweet and generous,’ she said at once. ‘I’m being professional. Amos is my patient, even if he doesn’t know it.’ With a slight edge to her voice she said, ‘Feelings have nothing to do with it.’

‘Of course. I only meant— I don’t want you to think— Well, anyway, I’m grateful.’

He stopped abruptly. The air seemed to ring with his confusion and suddenly she too was confused. It wasn’t like Jackson to be lost for words.

‘I’ll leave you to get on with your unpacking,’ he said at last. ‘Tonight you’ll meet the rest of the crew. It should be a cheerful party.’

‘How have they felt about Amos being out here?’

‘They love him. When he started talking about the falcon god I saw Larry’s face light up. That’s Larry Lowton—the producer of the series. He’s a terrific producer and he’s treated Dad well. When we get to Edfu I think he’s going to find a way of including him in the show.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’m always there, talking to the camera.’

‘But you’re a Falcon too. Doesn’t he want to make use of that?’

‘You’re surely not suggesting that anyone could mistake me for a god, are you, Freya?’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Issuing edicts? Laying down the law? Nah! I’d be sure to make a mess of it, wouldn’t I?’ He regarded her with wry amusement. ‘That’s one thing I guess we can agree on.’

Here was dangerous territory. But she coped with ease, simply saying lightly, ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so. Right, I’ll be going now. I’ll collect you in an hour.’

‘How do you dress for dinner here?’

‘Usually it’s pretty casual, but not tonight. Everyone’s poshing up in your honour. If you need me I’m just next door.’

He departed without waiting for a reply. Freya gave a small sigh of relief. So far it hadn’t gone too badly. Humour was a good way to deal with things.

It was a little disconcerting to know that he was next door, and when she went out onto the balcony she glanced at his window, ready to retreat if he appeared. But he didn’t, and she was able to breathe in the magical atmosphere undisturbed.

She’d brought a couple of elegant cocktail dresses with her. For dinner she chose one in blue silk that fitted her figure neatly without too much emphasis. Like Jackson, she was keeping her distance.

There had been that troublesome moment at the airport, when she’d feared that he had not come. But her feelings were easily explained, she assured herself. They needed him as a guide. No more. Nothing about him could bother her now. Not even the fact that he was in the next room.

After an hour he presented himself, dressed in an evening jacket.

‘You look fine,’ he said politely. ‘Let’s go and collect our parents.’

Both Amos and Janine were smartly dressed for the evening, and Freya was glad to see that the atmosphere between them was warm. Amos seemed to be enjoying himself.

Seven people were waiting for them.

‘This is Larry, the boss,’ Jackson said lightly. ‘He gives his orders and we all jump.’

‘That’s Jackson’s idea of a joke,’ Larry said. ‘I don’t think he’s ever taken an order in his life.’

Freya took to Larry from the start. In his early forties, he was moderately handsome, if slightly on the plump side, and he seemed to live permanently on the edge of laughter. He introduced her to Tommy, his second-in-command, a lively, feverish young man who sent her an admiring message with his eyes and started blurting out incoherent words—which Larry firmly silenced.

‘He’s a good lad,’ he told Freya under his breath, ‘but he can be exhausting.’

Jackson joined them and introduced the rest of the team, finishing with a dazzlingly pretty young woman who greeted him with a peck on the cheek.

‘This is Debra—Larry’s excellent secretary,’ Jackson explained. ‘And sometimes she deigns to act as my secretary too.’

That wasn’t her only role in his life, Freya thought; not if her teasing manner towards him was anything to go by. She watched as he sat next to Debra, giving her his full attention, laughing at something she said, meeting her eyes.

When the introductions were finished Larry led Freya to a chair and pulled it out.

‘Sit next to me,’ he said. ‘I want to know all about Jackson.’

‘Surely you know plenty about him by now?’ she said.

‘Only the trivial things. But every time we argue he wins. That’s got to stop. I want you to tell me about his weaknesses, so that I’ll have him at a disadvantage instead of the other way around.’

He spoke in a loud voice, inviting everyone to share the joke.

Jackson grinned. ‘He’s been trying to catch me on the hop since the day we met,’ he announced. ‘No success so far.’

‘But I can live in hope,’ Larry declared. ‘If this charming lady will be my co-conspirator?’

‘Nothing would give me more pleasure,’ Freya assured him. ‘I could always tell you about the time three years ago when— Well, let’s leave that until later.’

The mention of three years ago was a message to Jackson. This was a jokey conversation in which the recent past played no part. Tonight was simply for pleasure. His nod told her that he understood and agreed.

Larry was an entertaining companion, with a gift for telling anecdotes. One in particular reduced her to such a fit of laughter that everyone else at the table stared.

‘I’m sorry,’ she choked, bringing herself under control. ‘It’s the way you tell the story—were you ever an actor, by any chance?’

‘Yes, I was,’ he said. ‘I started as an actor and gave it up to become a director. And you saw through me. Boy, you’re really clever!’ He took both her hands in his, gazing deeply into her eyes. ‘Some time soon we must get together and you must tell me all about yourself.’

She wasn’t fooled. This wasn’t real flirting but a bit of harmless fun. And he expected her to understand it that way. His teasing glint made that clear. She had no problem in chuckling and saying with mock fervour, ‘I can’t wait.’

There was a cheer from the rest of the table, and cries of, ‘Watch out for him, Freya. He’s a dodgy character.’

‘Well, I can see that,’ she said. ‘There’s the fun.’

Tommy raised his glass, declaring, ‘I’m a dodgy character too. Don’t forget me.’

‘You’ll have to wait,’ she said. ‘I only have time for one dodgy character at a time.’

The evening was a big success. Freya would gladly have stayed later, but she could see Amos trying to suppress a yawn and not succeeding. When Janine squeezed his hand he rose to follow her without protest.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Freya said. ‘Goodnight, everyone.’

‘Goodnight,’ Jackson said. ‘Sleep well. We’ve got a heavy day tomorrow.’

Debra, sitting beside him, giggled and clutched his arm. Freya turned quickly away.

Upstairs, she and Janine worked at making Amos comfortable, to which he responded with the comment, ‘Stop fussing, you two. I’m all right.’

‘Of course you are,’ Freya said. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

She kissed her mother and departed. Now she badly wanted to be alone and it was a relief to escape to her room. Once inside she didn’t put on the light, but opened the glass door onto the balcony and went out into the night air.

A soft light still gleamed on the pyramids, making them glow faintly. Entranced, she stood watching, enjoying the feeling that she was witnessing a mystery that stretched back centuries. It was a sweet, magical feeling that seemed to take her back to another time, when the world itself had seemed imbued by magic.

But what folly that had been. And how quickly, how brutally it had ended.

She was swept by a strange mood; deep inside her there was a kind of anguish—not for Dan himself, but for what he had seemed to represent: hope, wonder, a belief that life could be beautiful.

For a while after the disaster of her wedding she’d been able to continue believing. Jackson had reached out to her, and while she’d been able to cling to him the world had still been a good place. The discovery of his betrayal had been a blow over the heart that had affected her as much as Dan’s. Perhaps even more.

Now the comfort that Jackson had seemed to offer was gone. Gone for ever. For how could she ever believe in anyone again?

She dropped her head, covering her eyes with her hand, seeking escape, forgetfulness, while her body trembled with sobs.

‘No,’ she told herself sharply. ‘I said I wasn’t going to give in to this again. And I’m not. I’m going to have a new world that I’ll build myself, without anyone’s help.’

But somehow strength and resolution were no help to her now. She gazed yearningly at the pyramid, looming high and peaceful as it had done for thousands of years—as it would do for thousands more. How petty seemed human problems against that monument and the ancient wisdom it represented. How many humans had stood before its magnificence feeling their own triviality?

‘If only I knew what I—’ she whispered. ‘If only I could tell—’

But there was only silence and the awesome, unyielding beauty that seemed to come from another universe.

At last she turned away and moved inside, where she went to bed and lay sleepless for several hours.

* * *

For several minutes after Freya went inside, the man standing on the next balcony stayed silent and motionless, relieved that she hadn’t discovered him.

Jackson wasn’t proud of himself for watching Freya while she hadn’t known he was there, but her entrance had taken him by surprise. He remembered that day several weeks ago, when she’d discovered his innocent deception about Dan and attacked him furiously. A few hours later he’d spotted his father standing outside the door, secretly listening to Freya and her mother talking inside. Without being able to make out the words, Jackson had guessed what was being said.

Seeing his son, Amos had placed a finger over his lips and shaken his head. When Jackson had tried to make him leave he’d refused. Nor would he discuss what he’d heard.

‘And don’t you tell them that you saw me,’ he’d demanded. ‘There are things a man should keep to himself.’

Jackson had agreed, though reluctantly. Having concealed the truth from Freya once, it hurt him to deceive her by concealment a second time. It had been a relief to leave for Egypt soon afterwards. Now a malevolent fate had tricked him into spying on her. Leaving the balcony had been impossible. The door to his bedroom was too noisy to risk. He’d had no choice but to stay and see things his conscience told him he had no right to see.

Like father, like son, he thought bitterly. He always said he wasn’t like Amos, but then something like this happened and—oh, hell!

The quarrel with Freya had hurt him. When he’d first tried to help her through the misery of her cancelled wedding it had been partly from kindness, partly from guilt. Gradually he’d come to enjoy their relationship. The sense that he could bring her comfort had made him feel good about himself in a way that had been new to him.

Which just went to show how conceited he could be, he told himself wryly.

The pleasure of protecting her had been real, and her fury when she’d discovered the truth had been a blow to his heart. Then she’d seen him off at the airport and demanded a hug, giving him a moment of hope. He’d dared to think next time they met the past would be forgiven, their friendship restored.

But then had come his call to England about Amos’s health, and the things he’d said to Freya thinking he was speaking to Janine. He’d said nothing that could offend her, but he’d adopted a pleading tone that now embarrassed him. How foolish he must have sounded.

When they’d met again earlier that day she’d been coolly affable, full of calm good sense. No sign of hostility, but no pleasure either. It was as though the old, friendly Freya no longer existed.

But she’d returned tonight at the dinner table. Chatting with Larry, she’d burst into delighted laughter, then indulged in a bout of teasing backchat with him.

Debra, sitting beside himself, trying to lure his attention away from Freya, had murmured, ‘Those two are really on each other’s wavelength, aren’t they?’

‘Are they?’ he’d responded with a fairly convincing display of indifference.

‘No doubt of it. He took to her from the first moment. You’ve got to admit she’s a looker.’

‘Is she?’ Freya’s personality had always appealed to him more than her looks. Studying her at that moment, he’d had to admit she was at her best—much as she had been on her wedding day.

‘Oh, come on!’ Debra had exclaimed. ‘She’s really pretty, but Larry likes them best when they laugh with him.’

‘Would you like some more wine?’ he’d asked with a fixed smile.

He would have offered her anything to shut her up.

Now there was no doubt. The Freya he’d once known hadn’t disappeared after all. She was reappearing, as lively, jokey and fun-loving as always.

But for Larry. Not for himself.

He’d promised to keep his distance, and for his father’s sake that promise had to be kept. So he’d given her only the attention that courtesy demanded. Then he’d hidden behind the shield Debra offered, flirting with her, seeming riveted by her company, to conceal the fact that his real attention was for Freya. He’d tried to be glad that she was getting on so well with Larry, but somehow he just hadn’t been able to manage it.

When the meal was over he’d seen Debra to her door and bade her a courteous goodnight, pretending not to see the invitation in her eyes, or her bafflement when he ignored it. Then he’d returned to his own room.

There had been no light under Freya’s door, suggesting that she hadn’t returned. Where was she? he’d wondered. Alone? Or had her joke about dodgy characters being fun actually held some meaning? Was she exploring that meaning? With Larry?

No, not Freya. Not after one brief meeting.

Surely not.

But then where was she?

He’d gone out to look at the pyramid, looming in the darkness, and had still been standing there when she’d arrived next door. Straining his ears, he’d heard no voices and realised, with relief, that she was alone. Next moment she’d appeared on her balcony.

He’d moved forward, meaning to speak to her, then stopped. Something about her as she’d stood there, gazing up into the night, had made him pause, enjoying the air of rapture that seemed to permeate her being. But it had passed suddenly, replaced by a sigh.

He’d watched as her shoulders had sagged, hoping to see her pleasure return. Instead she’d dropped her head in her hands and he’d been able to hear her weeping.

He’d clenched his hands, longing to reveal himself and comfort her but knowing that he didn’t dare. She would never forgive him.

He’d seen the sobs convulse her, possessing her whole body with a nameless grief. Frantically he had sought for the answer. Was it the sight of himself that had hurt her after so long? Or did the pain of that terrible day still torment her, reducing everything else to nothing?

In the aftermath of her wrecked wedding, how often had he heard her declare defiantly that she wasn’t going to cry? She hadn’t always managed to fight back the tears, but her courage and defiance had seldom faltered. He’d known her confident, efficient at her job, ready to confront life on equal terms. But until now he hadn’t known her defeated.

The sight of her yielding to despair had made him long to reach out and console her. It would have been easy to climb the low wall that separated his balcony from hers and take her in his arms, lavish her with warmth and comfort. For a moment he’d been fiercely tempted, knowing that only he could comfort her because only he knew the full extent of her hurt.

He had reached out his hand to the wall.

But then he’d stopped himself and drawn back in alarm. Once he could have consoled her as a brother, but those days were over. The physical attraction that had flickered between them might have been brief, but its memory was searing. Neither of them could forget it, and it would destroy everything he tried to do for her. Now she was alone as never before.

The sight of her tears had seemed to bring a treacherous stinging to his own eyes, and bitterly he’d cursed the malign fate that made him helpless when she needed him so much.

At last Freya had turned away and stumbled inside, leaving him distraught and asking himself for the thousandth time, What have I done?