Laura Possessed (12 page)

At nine-thirty that evening the telephone rang and Caroline, who happened to be passing, answered it.

‘Caroline? Lewis.'

Her hand tightened spasmodically on the receiver. ‘Yes?'

She heard him laugh. ‘Still on your high
horse?
Surely you agree it was better for us not to take too much notice of each other?'

Was that really all it had been, that engrossment with Laura? One gigantic playact to divert suspicion from his real interest in herself? The hard knot that had been inside her since lunchtime eased slightly.

‘How's your ankle?'

‘My what? Oh, that. Right as rain. Listen, officially I'm ringing like a dutiful guest to thank you for having me. What I really want to let you know is that I'll be at home all tomorrow afternoon. Any hope of you making it this time?'

Her heart began to slam against her ribs painfully. ‘I think I might. Richard and Gillian left this evening.'

‘Perhaps it will be third time lucky, then.'

‘Yes.' Her mouth was dry. He did want her; of course he did. How could she have doubted him?

‘As soon as you can,' he urged softly.

‘Yes,' she said again. ‘Good-bye, Lewis.'

Alone in the hall she spun a private little pirouette of sheer joy before moving sedately towards the sitting-room to join Edward in front of the television.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

Caroline was sleepy and warm and sublimely happy. The diamond-paned window was open and on the branch of a tree just outside, a wood-pigeon was clucking and cooing to itself in the drowsy heat of the summer afternoon. She turned contentedly on her side, spread eagling her hand on Lewis's chest.

‘I love you,' she murmured. ‘I love you, I love you!'

His hand came up to hers, tracing between each of her outstretched fingers. After a moment she opened her eyes and prompted gently, ‘Aren't you going to say you love me too?'

He smiled a little. ‘If you want me to.'

She stared at him for a moment and the first nebulous doubts stirred in her mind—doubts which flung back at her like a douche of cold water the sheer lunacy of her abandonment to him, let alone that last, unguarded admission.

She tried to keep her voice level. ‘But it wouldn't be true?'

He was still smiling. ‘Oh, come on, Caroline!'

‘No, Lewis, I want to know.' She propped herself up on one elbow, staring down into his face.

‘Then I put it to you,' he said quietly after a
moment,
‘that all this love business is largely euphemistic. If you feel that to say “I love you” makes it all more excusable and respectable, then okay, I'll say it. But let's be adult about it.'

‘I see.' She was profoundly hurt and seeming to sense this, he added more gently, ‘I enjoyed making love to you. I rather think you enjoyed it too. Isn't that enough?'

‘Apparently it has to be,' she said stiffly. Her humiliation burned in her throat and stung her eyes.

‘Don't spoil it all, honey. Lord knows, we've had to wait long enough for this. Can't we just enjoy it without getting embroiled in definitions of love?'

He studied her face, but she refused to meet his eyes. ‘You know, it was your unapproachability that attracted me in the first place. I set myself a time limit to get through to you!'

She stiffened furiously but his arm reached up and pulled her against him, holding her with the inflexibility of an iron band. ‘Easy, girl, that was supposed to be a compliment! There aren't many women I'm prepared to wait that long for, but I have to admit you were worth it!'

‘And did you land me within your time limit?' she enquired with icy sarcasm, and felt him smile.

‘Just!'

She
raised her head, her eyes stinging with furious tears. ‘You—you male chauvinist pig!'

He gave a brief laugh. ‘Look at it my way. You're a highly respectable and extremely attractive married woman with a good husband and a lovely home. But you're bored. Me, I'm an adequately successful journalist. I'm not married, but I'm bored too. If we can give each other a good time within the confines of our circumstances, well, who could ask for more? To my mind it's an ideal setup.'

‘Meaning I can't make any demands on you?' Her few tears had dried stiffly on her cheeks and she was fully in control again, listening with almost clinical detachment to his assessment of the situation which was so heart stoppingly different from her own. What a fool she'd been to expect otherwise.

‘I can't believe you'd want to. Oh, Caroline, I thought you were more worldly than this! Why do women always have to keep harping on love?'

She met his eyes at last. ‘Damn you!' she said softly. ‘Damn you to hell!'

‘That's better!'

She moved away from his restraining grasp and flung herself over on her back, staring up at the low ceiling. He sat up and reached for cigarettes from the table by the bed, lit one, and leant over to put it between her lips. She drew in deep lungfuls of the soothing, aromatic smoke and gradually a measure of
calm
came to her.

‘I used to think I was hard, but my God, you could teach me a thing or two!'

‘Perhaps you haven't had as many knocks as I have.'

‘Do you never consider anyone but yourself?'

‘Not if I can help it. Do you?'

She didn't reply directly. ‘Haven't you ever been in love yourself, if you'll pardon the expression?'

She thought he hadn't heard and turned her head to repeat the question when the expression on his face stopped her.

‘Once,' he said at last, and reached out to reclaim his cigarette.

‘What happened?'

‘She died.'

‘I'm sorry.' She could sense his rigidity. ‘You weren't married, were you?'

‘No, she was.'

‘I see.' She couldn't resist adding, out of her own hurt, ‘So although you were still playing by your own rules, that time you were hoist with your own petard!'

‘Shut up!'

She swung her head towards him, startled at the venom in his voice, but before she could speak, he flung back the sheet and walked rapidly over to the window, leaning on the sill and staring down into the sun-dappled lane.

She said awkwardly, ‘Lewis, I'm sorry. I
didn't
realize it still hurt so much.'

He was still staring out of the window. ‘It's these last months that have brought it all back. She used to love hearing all about Four Winds. “Tell me about the dining-room,” she'd say, or “Describe the hall again!” She wanted to build up a complete mental picture of it. I don't know why, perhaps because it was so much a part of me.'

‘But you never took her there?'

‘No. It wasn't—feasible.'

‘If she hadn't died, might you ever—?'

‘God knows!' he said harshly. The bleakness in his voice tore at her and she slipped off the bed and padded over to him. He turned towards her and they stood holding each other for some time. It was ironic, she thought, that she should be trying to comfort him on behalf of the unknown girl who had succeeded in gaining his love where she herself had so abysmally failed. The breeze from the open window playing on her bare shoulders began to chill her and she shivered a little. He held her out then at arm's length, and the banter was back in his eyes.

‘Lovely, wanton Caroline!'

‘I must go,' she said softly, ‘it's getting late.'

His lips moved over her hair. ‘Have I disappointed you, Caroline?'

Pride came to her rescue. ‘No, I hadn't formed any expectations, so I could hardly be disappointed, could I?'

‘All
the same, I fear my attitude may have left something to be desired. If so, I'm sorry, but there's little I can do about it. Am I forgiven?'

She smiled. ‘I suppose so.'

‘And you'll come again?'

‘If I'm asked!'

‘I promise you you will be!'

‘By the way, Laura said—'

His face clouded. ‘Oh, yes. Laura.'

She said quickly, ‘Lewis, if you've changed your mind, if you don't want her to write this infernal book, you've only to say so.'

He shook his head. ‘No, she has to do it, whether I like it or not.'

‘That's nonsense!' she said sharply, disturbed by the mindless acceptance implicit in his words.

He moved suddenly, releasing her, and lit another cigarette while she dressed. At the foot of the steep wooden staircase he kissed her lingeringly.

‘Good-bye, Lewis.' Her eyes went over his face.

‘Good-bye, sweet Caroline.'

She pulled the door to behind her and started briskly back down the lane that led to Brocklehurst High Street. Well, she'd done it. For the first time in her married life she had been unfaithful to Edward, and her only regret in the whole, magical interlude was the fact that she had tried to make Lewis tell her he
loved
her. She could only hope that her subsequent nonchalance had convinced him that she too had been using the word euphemistically. But had she? Was this throbbing, tearing urgency that possessed her at the very thought of him nothing more than sheer physical need? Even if it were not, she must make herself believe so.

She turned left into the High Street as the hourly bus lumbered past. Five o'clock already. Peter would be home from school before long. By then, she knew, her everyday life would have taken hold of her again and these last precious hours with Lewis would seem like a dream.

* * *

The next morning, shortly before nine o'clock, Caroline was startled to find Lewis himself on the doorstep.

‘I brought these books round for Laura,' he told her. ‘There are a few notes, photographs, and so on. If she can find time to browse through them during the day, it'll be something to go on this evening.'

She stared at him uncomprehendingly and the corner of his mouth lifted. ‘I—er—didn't seem to find time to mention it yesterday, but Edward and I discussed the pros and cons of this book of hers on Sunday. He doesn't seem to like the thought of her coming to the
cottage,
for which, in the circumstances, I can hardly blame him, so it's been arranged that we should spend a couple of hours here each evening until she has the framework clear. She'll tape the relevant bits and then write up her own notes the next day.'

‘You're—coming here every evening?'

‘Will it disturb you?'

‘Infinitely!'

‘Good,' he said softly. ‘It will disturb me too but there would appear to be no way round the problem. We'll do our best not to inconvenience you, ma'am!' He glanced past her into the hall, leant forward swiftly and kissed her mouth. ‘Till this evening, then!' He thrust the bundle of papers into her hands and got back into his car, turned it, and, after waiting a few minutes as the rush-hour traffic sped by, inched his way out of the gates with a wave of his hand.

Behind her Laura said eagerly, ‘Was that Lewis? Are those for me?' She flicked quickly through them and extracted a plain-backed scrapbook, dropping the other papers onto the monk's bench. Caroline watched her curiously as she rapidly turned the pages until, with an exclamation, she stopped at a blank page. In the middle of it was a splotch of ancient glue that had apparently once held something in position.

‘He's taken it out!' Laura's voice rang with disappointment. ‘I wonder why ever he did
that!'

‘Taken what out?'

‘Her photograph. It was here when I looked through the book at the cottage.'

‘Whose photograph, for heaven's sake?'

Laura looked up, as though aware for the first time that she had been speaking aloud, and a guarded look came over her face. ‘It doesn't matter,' she said in a low voice.

Caroline looked at her helplessly. It seemed very likely that the photograph which had been removed from the album was of the girl Lewis had loved. Jealously, she wondered what Laura knew about her, but it was impossible to ask. She could only watch as, humming to herself, Laura gathered up the papers, flashed her an absent-minded smile, and retreated with them up the stairs to her room. Slowly Caroline returned to the vase of flowers she had been arranging.

The next two weeks were a time of increasing strain for Caroline. Her days were a prolonged waiting for Lewis's visits, but when he did come, she hardly saw him. He and Laura formed the habit of taking deck chairs across the garden by the fruit trees, where they were able to get the benefit of the last of the evening sunshine. From her usual chair in the sitting-room, Caroline could see them quite clearly, and many a time her eyes slipped sideways from the television screen to that other picture framed by the window of the
man
and girl laughing together under the tree. And there was a lot of laughter, she thought resentfully. She had never known either of them as relaxed as they seemed to be in each other's company now that the strangeness had gone.

‘I thought you and Richard had decided Lewis wasn't good for Laura,' she burst out angrily one evening. Edward turned to her in surprise.

‘Well, you heard her reaction when he suggested she should go back with them.'

‘It might have been wiser not to allow her the choice,' she replied in a clipped tone.

‘Come, come, she's over twenty-one!'

‘But apparently not old enough to know what's good for her. However, Laura wants to see him and that's good enough for you and Richard. She must always have what she wants.'

Edward folded his paper resignedly. ‘Are we going to go through all that again?'

‘You must admit it's not healthy for her to be so immersed in Lewis! You said yourself he must be at least twenty years older than she is. She's not seen anything of that Denver boy for weeks.'

‘That, at least, should please you,' Edward remarked caustically.