Season of Desire: Complete Edition (18 page)

‘Was it that bad?’ Dad asks tenderly. ‘I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through.’

Well, that’s a relief . . .

‘So,’ he continues, ‘start at the beginning. You were supposed to be getting a flight to LA, right?’

I see myself in the back seat of the Mercedes as I was that day. It’s as though I’m looking at a different person as I remember how I ignored Miles or treated him with utter disdain. I can picture the back of his dark head and broad shoulders, his huge hands on the steering wheel, as I rapped out my orders.

God, I was awful.
I can hardly repress a shudder as I think of it.
What did he think of me? He must have held me in complete contempt.

I open my mouth to start the story, suddenly realising that I’m desperate to tell it, but just then the door opens and the nurse bustles in, so I close it again. I’ve learned to keep quiet when strangers are about, unless I want to see details of my life appearing in gossip columns. However, this nurse is exactly the kind of efficient, discreet person I’d expect to find in a Swiss private hospital. She comes over and examines the monitor by my bedside, just as the sleeve around my arm judders into life again and starts squeezing me. As it releases its hold, she looks at my blood pressure reading and nods.

‘How is she, nurse?’ asks my father.

‘She’s going to be fine,’ the nurse replies in faintly accented English. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, all signs are normal.’ She turns to me and smiles. ‘Considering you’ve just spent two days in freezing temperatures, you couldn’t be better. You were obviously well looked after.’

I smile back at her, longing to tell her all about Miles and how amazing he is: how he rescued me, found me shelter and made sure I was safe. But I don’t want to say anything in front of my father. It seems really important to keep all that to myself for now.

The nurse turns back to him. ‘There is the bruising, of course, but it doesn’t seem to have caused any serious damage.’

Dad frowns. ‘Bruising?’

‘Across your daughter’s chest. The cause appears to be the seatbelt of the car. The doctor has examined her thoroughly and is confident that she will heal quickly.’

‘Oh, honey.’ Dad turns back to me, his eyes moistening. ‘You were hurt! I can’t bear to think about it . . .’

‘I’m fine,’ I say reassuringly. ‘And things could have been a lot worse than that. I was lucky to get out of there with just a bruise.’

As the nurse makes her exit, my father’s face darkens and he says, ‘Believe me, I’ve thought very hard about how things might have turned out. I can’t believe that I came so close to losing you. There are questions to ask about how this happened, you can be damn sure about that.’

His belligerent expression frightens me: it tells me that Dad intends to make someone pay for this episode. Any hint of danger to me, or my sisters, brings out the worst in my father.

Oh God, there’s only one person he’s going to blame for it – and it isn’t going to be me . . .

I push myself up on an elbow in my desire to start explaining that the accident was entirely my fault, when the door to my room opens again and I see a sight that completely takes my mind off the urgent need to defend Miles.

There she is: slender with knockout curves emphasised by one of her trademark bandage dresses. She stands precariously balanced on huge heels, her toffee-coloured hair spilling over her shoulders in glossy waves, false eyelashes framing her wide green eyes. She pouts and says, ‘Hi, Freya. How are you?’ before wiggling into my room and sitting down in the chair next to my father’s, right next to my bed.

I’m speechless with fury. What the hell is she doing here – in
my
hospital room?

Dad turns to look at her with that stupid cow-like expression he has whenever Estella is anywhere near him. ‘Baby, that’s so sweet of you. Freya’s going to be fine, aren’t you?’

I nod, not looking at her. I know my expression must have become sullen because my father says, ‘Estella wanted to come and see how you were herself. She’s been worried sick, haven’t you, baby?’

Estella pouts again and nods, fluttering her ridiculous lashes. It makes me want to grind my teeth in fury. How can my father not see through this pathetic act? It’s like the vamp ABC, a childish idea of what a sexpot is – all cartoon curves and breathy voice and vacant expression. Estella was not like this when she was assistant to my sisters and me; then, she was a smart cookie who had an obvious sharpness about her. That was before she sensed that my father was lonely and vulnerable and might be susceptible to her if she drew a bit more attention to herself. Suddenly, she changed: her skin became a dark golden brown with as much of it on display as possible, from pumped-up décolletage to long gleaming legs. She gained caramel highlights and hair extensions, whiter teeth and long varnished nails. She layered on make-up, and her usual low-key wardrobe was ditched in favour of figure-hugging dresses and sky-high heels. Sure enough, Dad couldn’t help but notice the change as she made a special point of leaning towards him, touching his arm and giggling girlishly whenever he was about. I was furious he couldn’t see through her obvious game, but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to warn him against her, and tell him that she was only after him for his money but by the time it was evident that Estella’s tricks were working, my father was already enchanted and would not have listened to a word against her. Besides, he seemed to think that she was really in love with him. How could I tell him that she was faking it? Surely he could work that out for himself? I mean, I love my dad but he’s a short, stocky man in his late fifties with thinning hair and a thickening middle. He’s not exactly love’s young dream, and if he weren’t rich, a woman like Estella would not look at him twice.

But here she is, insinuated into my father’s affections. And if he’s bringing her to my bedside in the hospital, then I have to contemplate the likelihood that Estella might be a permanent fixture.

Possibly even my future stepmother?

I want to shudder at the thought.

‘I’m so glad to see that you’re okay,’ Estella says in her breathy voice. ‘We’ve been so worried about you!’ Her big green eyes stare at me, wide and seemingly innocent.

‘Thanks,’ I say through clenched teeth. I can’t bear seeing her here.

This is hardly appropriate, for crying out loud! I’m in hospital, recovering from a frightening ordeal. The last person I want here is Estella.

I look pointedly away from her and say to Dad, ‘Where are Flora and Summer?’

‘They’re at home,’ he replies. ‘Flora was in Paris but she flew back today. Summer never left, first because of the weather and then because you were missing. She’s been by the phone the entire time, desperate for news about you. She wanted to come here, of course, but I told her it would be better to wait until you had a chance to recover. The doctor says he expects you’ll be out soon.’

I nod. I didn’t expect to be in the hospital for long. I’m perfectly fine, for one thing. But they were determined to check me out thoroughly, no doubt to justify the enormous bill. ‘Dad . . .’ I say hesitantly. I wish Estella weren’t here. Despite her village-idiot act, she’s no fool. But I can’t hold out any longer, I have to ask. ‘Where’s Miles? Is he okay?’

That hard look comes into my father’s eyes again. ‘He’s fine. He’s back at the house.’

‘What is it?’ I say quickly. ‘Is something wrong? Was Miles checked out by a doctor?’

‘Oh yes. He’s got a clean bill of health. He’s perfectly able to answer the questions Pierre and I will be putting to him.’

‘Dad, you mustn’t blame Miles for this. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine.’ I gaze at him beseechingly. ‘I made him drive me to the airport even though he told me that the weather conditions were unsafe. I even told him to go faster. He was obeying my orders.’

‘Maybe,’ my father says, his tone harsh. ‘But he’s the expert. He should have used his judgement and refused. That’s what I pay him for. He put your life in danger, honey. That’s hard to forgive.’

I sit up even straighter. ‘No, he didn’t! He saved me. I mean it – I wouldn’t take no for an answer, you know what I’m like. And once the car began to skid . . . well, you should have seen him. He was magnificent. He couldn’t stop it going over the edge but he saved our lives by limiting the fall as much as he could, and then he rescued me from the car before it toppled further down the mountain. Because of him we found shelter and made it through the hours until we were found. Without him, I’d be dead!’

My father shakes his head. ‘Without him, you’d have been safely at home! Not setting off on some fool’s errand to get to the airport. No – believe me, Miles Murray will be answering some hard questions right now. Pierre is going to question him thoroughly about what happened.’

I’m filled with anxiety. My father’s head of security is one tough nut. Just the sight of him makes me fearful, and I’m the last person who should be frightened of him considering that he’s paid a great deal to make sure that no one harms me. I hate the idea of Pierre, with his rugged face, meaty body stuffed into a tight jacket, and that salt-and-pepper shaved head of his, sitting in front of Miles.

But Miles can handle him. He can handle anyone.

The thought is comforting but nevertheless, I’m still anxious. What if my father decides that Miles’s services are no longer required? Not only would it be incredibly unfair after what Miles has just done for me, but my heart goes cold at the idea. I’m desperate to see him again even though it’s only a few hours since we were separated.

I’m about to protest and tell my father that he must not, on any account, sack Miles or punish him in any way, when I notice Estella’s eyes fixed on me, interest sparking in their sea-green depths. Immediately I bite my tongue. She’s sharp and no doubt has noted my eagerness to defend Miles. Her cogs will be whirring and I don’t want to give her any hint of what’s happened between Miles and me. I sense that she’ll always be on the lookout to turn any situation to her advantage. So I say airily, ‘Oh, well . . . I’m sure Miles will give a good account of himself. Maybe you’re right – he should have talked me out of the journey to the airport.’

Estella listens carefully. I hope it’s enough to put her off the scent. Just then the door to my room opens and in comes one of the consultants who examined me so carefully this morning.

‘Doctor Schulmann,’ my father says, standing up and looking a little anxious. ‘Is everything all right?’

The doctor, white-haired and wearing gold-rimmed spectacles, smiles and says, ‘Of course, Mr Hammond. I just came to present you the hospital’s compliments and to tell you that Miss Hammond is free to leave whenever she wishes.’

‘Are you sure, Doctor? Shouldn’t she stay in for the night to be observed? I’ve just heard about this bruise she’s sustained—’

‘Hello!’ I say loudly. ‘I am here! You can talk to me, you know.’

The doctor turns to me with that friendly smile and chuckles. ‘Ah, Miss Hammond, you are quite right. Now if you wish, you can of course stay the night—’

‘I don’t wish,’ I interrupt. ‘I want to go home.’

‘But, as I was saying, you are in very good health and there is no reason at all not to allow you home.’ The doctor continues to smile with his best bedside manner.

My father looks doubtful. ‘I’m not sure . . . I’d feel happier if you were being observed for a little while longer, sweetheart. This bruise they mentioned . . .’

‘Dad, I’m fine. Please! I want to go home. I want to sleep in my own bed.’ To my surprise, I’m telling the truth. I never thought I might consider that mountain eyrie to be my home, but now I’m longing to return. Perhaps it’s not entirely unrelated to the fact that Miles is there.

‘Well, honey, if it’s what you want . . .’

‘It is.’

The doctor gives a little bow. ‘I shall inform the staff you are ready to leave,’ he says, and goes out.

‘All right, then. Jane-Elizabeth is downstairs. I’ll tell her to organise a car.’ Dad stands up. Estella totters to her feet as well.

‘Aren’t you going to wait for me?’ I ask. I imagined I’d go home with my father.

He turns to Estella with a smile and chucks her cheek as if she were a little girl. ‘I can’t, honey. I promised my angel I’d take her shopping this morning. She’s been my rock over the last few days and she’s going to get a little reward.’ He turns to me and bends down to kiss my cheek again. ‘I’ll see you at home later. We’ll all have a nice family dinner together, okay? You, me, the girls and Estella.’ He beams, obviously unable to imagine anything nicer.

I don’t look at Estella but I can sense her triumphant expression even if I can’t see it. She’s delighted with the way things are shaping up and she knows there’s not a thing I can do about it.

‘Bye,’ my father says, slipping his arm around Estella’s slender waist. He looks at me a little dewy eyed. ‘I’m so happy to have you back, Freya. I can’t believe I nearly lost you.’

‘I’m still here,’ I say, mustering up a smile even though I feel miserable inside, then I watch as he and Estella go out together.

As soon as I’m alone again, I fall back on my pillows and gaze out towards the window with its view over white rooftops towards snowy mountains beyond. I yearn for Miles. It feels like so long since we were parted. For the whole time we were lost, I wanted only to be rescued but as soon as I heard the thwacking blades of the approaching helicopter I realised what it would mean: Miles and I were going to be separated. We were together for the last time for the flight back in, but we weren’t able to speak over the sound system, not when everyone else in the aircraft could listen in. As we landed, I looked over at him and our gazes locked. The look in his blue eyes made me shake inside with excitement and desire, but there was something in his face that filled me with apprehension. It was as though, somehow, he was saying goodbye, and the thought filled me with a panicked horror.