Camellia (41 page)

She could no longer persuade herself that he hadn't been interested in her. Magnus's words had confirmed all her instincts. She wasn't naive. She'd learned just about everything there was to know about men. Those tingles down her spine when she talked to him were due to dangerous mutual attraction.

'Mutual attraction with your half-brother,' she told herself, shuddering. 'You might've known something would put a spanner in the works. Now what are you going to do?'

Chapter Fifteen

'Mel!'

Mel ignored the shout from Nick and carried on walking up the drive as if she hadn't heard him above the wind in the trees.

'So you're deaf as well as impossibly snooty,' he joked breathlessly as he caught up with her. 'You've been lip-reading all this time and I didn't realise.'

'Did you call out?' she asked, hoping her cold tone would put him off. 'I was thinking, I didn't hear you.'

In the last few days Mel had become more than anxious about Nick. She was frightened.

He hadn't got the part at Bath Theatre Royal, and she knew only too well that his only reason for not returning to London was her. He'd been here now for four and a half days, and had gone out of his way to charm her at every possible opportunity.

It was working too. She wasn't just charmed, but bewitched. No other man had ever affected her quite so strongly as he did. In his company she felt light-headed and exhilarated, but once alone again, edgy and dejected. She kept telling herself she was overreacting and tried to put him out of her mind, but she couldn't. And he wouldn't stay away from her.

When she worked behind the bar, he was there helping. He was by her side clearing the breakfast tables; if she went to the kitchen, he would turn up there too, chatting, making her laugh, teasing and flirting.

Everyone at Oaklands was talking about them, already convinced this was to be the romance of the century. Mrs Downes kept telling her stories about how sweet Nick had been as a little boy. Magnus just beamed and on Sunday he offered her an extra night off so Nick could take her to the pictures.

Mel had turned Magnus's offer down, she'd said quite simply that though she liked Nick, she had no interest in a date with him. But Magnus just laughed and said she was playing hard to get.

She thought she had atoned for all her past mistakes and wrong doing, that her new-found happiness and pride in herself was permanent. Now it seemed as if Nick had been brought into her life as further punishment. She didn't know what to do.

A small voice inside her urged her to go to Magnus and tell him everything. She had no proof he really was her father and he might know something which would put an end to her speculation once and for all. But how could she admit now that she'd been under his roof for a whole year under false pretences? She would appear so sly and deceitful. And if he really was her father, what then? He would either ask her to leave, or feel compelled to publicly acknowledge her. Knowing Magnus as she did, he was too upright to choose the more cowardly way out. And that would cause his entire family deep distress.

The heavy rain had gone on ceaselessly until the previous night, adding to her sense of oppression. When she woke that morning to find a blue sky and sunshine, albeit weak, she'd decided a long walk in the afternoon would give her time alone to think and maybe bring back her equilibrium. It was still very windy and a carpet of fallen leaves concealed deep puddles, but she was well protected by Wellington boots, an oilskin coat and a warm scarf round her neck. She just didn't know how to protect herself from Nick.

She stopped short and turned to him. 'I'm just going for a walk. I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'd rather be alone,' she said bluntly.

His mouth drooped petulantly, making him look very young. As usual he wore jeans and his leather jacket. His only precaution against the weather was a tartan scarf tied loosely round his neck, reminding her of Rupert Bear. His suede desert boots were hardly suitable for walking in mud and puddles.

In the last few days she had tried to avoid studying him too closely, but she had lost the battle. His slim hips and tight rounded buttocks aroused her, his ever watchful dark blue eyes brought her out in a flush. There was a tiny scar above his right eyebrow and on several occasions she'd itched to reach out and touch it. But it was his lips that really got to her, they were so soft and full, reminding her poignantly how long it was since she kissed a man.

'We've got to talk properly,' he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 'I know you're hung up that I'm the boss's son, but that's silly. Dad hasn't any objections.'

Mel sneered, even though her heart felt as if it were melting. She knew she'd got to find some way of wounding him.

'You are even more arrogant than your brother Stephen,' she said cuttingly. 'I am not some little Victorian kitchen-maid. I have a mind of my own. As I said, I like you, but that's all. I'm not interested in men full stop. I wouldn't care if you were Paul Newman or Steve McQueen. I'd still say no. Can you get your head round that?'

She expected him to come back with an equally sharp retort. He was after all a man of the world and very eloquent, but instead he just looked at her, dark blue eyes full of reproach.

'I'm sorry, but I don't believe you,' he said in a quiet voice. 'Not because I'm an egotistical bastard who thinks all girls should fall at my feet, but because I can feel something between us. I know this might sound like the worst kind of cliché, but I felt it within moments of meeting you.'

Mel laughed at him. She'd heard from Mrs Downes that he was something of a playboy, a social butterfly who flitted through life with a different girl on his arm each week. 'I would have thought an actor could come up with something better,' she said.

'I'm good at clever chat-up lines when I don't mean it,' he said. 'But this isn't a joke, I'm telling you what's in my heart.'

His sincerity floored her.

'Look, Nick,' she said, finding it hard to meet his eyes. 'I don't know how much you know about me, but I've had a chequered past. I worked as a nightclub hostess, I'm a professional flirt. The way I was with you that night you came into the bar was just the way I am with everyone in there. If you read something more into it then I'm sorry. Now can I go on with my walk?'

'I'm coming with you,' he said taking her arm. 'I've got a great deal more to say to you.'

'I don't want to hear it,' she pleaded.

'I didn't mean I was going to harp on about us all afternoon,' he said. 'I just want to know more about you. I understand now why Dad thinks so much of you. Sophie and Stephen might think you've deliberately wormed your way into his affections, but for the record I know they're wrong.'

'Well I'm glad to hear it,' she said sarcastically, pushing his hand off her arm and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. 'For the record, as you say, I've grown very fond of your dad too. He gave me a job and a new start. I owe him a great deal. I shouldn't think your brother and sister know him at all well if they think just anyone can "worm" their way into his affections. He's about the most astute man I've ever met.'

'You frighten them,' Nick said. 'You are everything Sophie isn't, beautiful, fun, vivacious and clever. As for Stephen, well he just thinks a woman's place is at the sink, he hasn't even got the imagination to think of them in bed.'

Mel had to laugh. 'I can't help your brother and sister's hang-ups,' she said. 'You can report back to them I'm not after their dad, or you. Tell them I'm a dyke if you like.'

'Neither of them would know what that was,' he said, catching hold of her arm again and twisting her slightly so she was forced to look at him. 'Okay enough of all that, let's just walk and talk. Maybe I'll grow on you?'

'Like moss?' Mel raised one eyebrow quizzically. 'I'd like to be friends, Nick, but let's get it straight right now, that's all. Okay?'

'Okay,' he smiled, showing perfect white teeth. 'Whatever you say.'

They walked down to the bottom of Brass Knocker Hill where the river had burst its banks, flooding the fields either side. But the canal towpath, though muddy in places and thick with leaves, was passable and sheltered from the cold wind by thick bushes.

'I'm sorry you didn't get the part the other day,' Mel said. She was feeling a little easier now. Maybe they
could
have a platonic friendship. 'Have you any idea why you didn't get it?'

'Just pipped at the post by a better actor,' he admitted.

'Well, that's honest,' she said.

He shrugged. 'I had to learn to be both honest and humble.'

Mel felt she'd hit a raw note. 'You weren't always?'

'No. I was King Brat,' he sighed, but then laughed as if he wasn't used to making such frank confessions. 'You see I didn't go to RADA or any other stage school. I thought I was so great in school productions that I didn't need it. I did a bit of extra work, then I fell into a couple of adverts through someone I knew. I never realised I was just lucky, I assumed I was naturally talented.'

'And you got your comeuppance?' Magnus had said one or two things in the past which suggested something had gone badly wrong in Nick's life at one time. She hoped he might tell her about it.

'That came later,' he said with a smirk. 'What really turned my head was getting the lead in a TV series. I was only twenty then. I got loads of advance publicity claiming I was a successor to James Dean, the lad likely to go to the top, and I believed every word of it. It was one of those gritty kitchen-sink type dramas, set on a South London housing estate. I played the Jack-the-Lad character, just back from a spell in Borstal.'

'Not
Hunnicroft Estate?'
she asked.

'Good God, someone remembers it!' he said dryly. 'Did you like it?'

Mel was too embarrassed to admit that she and Bee watched the first few minutes of the first episode, then turned it off. From what she remembered it was all swearing and young lads hitting each other with motorcycle chains. 'It wasn't quite my scene,' she said. 'But in those days I hardly ever watched TV.'

'It wasn't anyone's scene as it turned out,' he laughed again. 'The timing was all wrong, it was too hard hitting. People phoned up the television company and complained about the foul language and the violence. After the initial six weeks it was dropped like a stone.'

'And then?'

'Nothing more for me,' he said ruefully, kicking a stone along in front of him. 'I was type cast as a lout, all my dreams were down the pan and I didn't have the savvy to just lie low for awhile and wait for a second chance.'

Mel pondered on this for a moment. He must've been a pretty good actor to play a convincing lout. He certainly didn't look or sound like one in the flesh. 'So what did you do?'

'I acted the part of the big star. I went out clubbing it night after night, Annabel's, the Speak Easy, the Scotch of St James's. As long as there were a few dolly birds that recognised me, I'd stay till I was too drunk to walk. The money I'd earned was soon gone. All I had left after my five minutes of fame was a few glossy photographs and a couple of sharp suits.'

Mel was touched by his honesty. She'd been to all those clubs and met plenty of men just like that during her time in Chelsea. But then she'd been one of those dolly birds prepared to drink and dance the night away with them, bolstering their egos with flattery, just as long as they were paying. It was tempting to admit this, but some things were better left buried.

'You sound a bit ashamed,' she said instead. 'I know the feeling, there are bits of my life I'd rather forget.'

He gave her a sideways look, as if to gauge whether he could take his confession further. 'I was a real prat,' he said with a faint humourless smirk. 'I used people until they dropped me, and I went down so far I thought I'd never climb up again. Fortunately I met someone who cared enough to offer a helping hand. She let me stay at her place while I got my head together again, insisted I got a job as a barman to support myself, and encouraged me to take some acting classes.'

'Is that the reason you haven't visited your father for so long?'

'Yes, I suppose so.' He looked a little ashamed. 'Dad's not a demanding type that expects me down every month or so. But I guess I couldn't face him until I knew I'd got myself together. But we've talked enough about me, tell me about yourself.'

Mel had a feeling he wasn't in the habit of talking like this, and that the whole story was probably as sleazy and painful to him as hers was. She felt such honesty deserved some reciprocal openness.

'I was just an empty-headed raver who thought she could burn the candle at both ends for ever,' she admitted with a sheepish grin. 'It was all pretty squalid. It's funny how you can delude yourself for so long that you're doing okay. Then one day you wake up and find it's all turned sour.'

She told him about Bee. But the same edited version she'd given Magnus, leaving out the pornography.

'I'm so sorry,' he said, and his blue eyes held the same compassion she often saw in his father's. 'I couldn't make out why you were so happy to be cloistered in Oaklands, I understand now.'

'It's the purity of life here that I like,' she said, turning to look back. Oaklands was hidden now by trees, but the rolling hills, the patchwork of fields, and the autumn colours in the valley were all so beautiful. 'I know that some of the guests aren't everything they seem, that perhaps I'm cocooned away from real life, but when I look out my bedroom window I feel renewed and at peace. That's why I'm so grateful to your father, Nick. He's been like your friend that helped you. He took me in hand, threw out all the hippie claptrap I used to believe in. I like working hard now, and it's good to feel part of things here.'

Perhaps this wasn't entirely true, but she certainly believed Magnus had been the best and most formative influence in her life.

Nick sat by his father's bedroom window later that afternoon. It was already almost dark. This room was on the first floor, directly under Mel's with the same view of the valley, but larger windows. Next door was Magnus's private sitting room.