Cruel Legacy (51 page)

'Philippa, what is it? What's wrong?'

'I heard from the bank this morning,' Philippa told her. 'They aren't prepared to let me stay on in the house and apparently they've instructed the agents and asked them to look for a quick sale.'

'Oh... oh... I'm so sorry...'

Susie's quick sympathy made her eyes sting with tears.

'Well, it isn't all bad news,' Philippa told her. 'Believe it or not I have actually been offered a job...'

She stopped speaking abruptly. What on earth had made her say that? She hadn't intended to discuss Blake's visit, nor his job offer, with anyone. What was the point, when she had already decided not to take it?

It was that stupid pride of hers again, she recognised grimly, over-reacting against the sympathetic pity she had heard in Susie's voice,

'A job... The little girl?' Susie guessed excitedly. 'Tell me all about it,' Philippa sketched the details. 'It sounds marvellous,' Susie enthused. 'When do you start?'

'I don't. There's a problem,' Philippa told her.

'A problem. What kind of problem, minor, major or mega?'

'That,' Philippa told her, 'depends on how vou look at it.'

Quietly she went on to explain.

'Mmm—curiouser and curiouser,' was Susie's only comment, but when Philippa pressed her to explain what she meant she refused to do so.

'But if you don't feel attracted to him any more '

'I don't,' Philippa interrupted her sharply.

"Then there isn't really a problem, is there?' Susie pointed out gently. 'He obviously isn't concerned about what happened in the past; if he were he wouldn't be so keen to employ you, would he? And from your own point of view there's obviously nothing to fear, since you don't lust after him any more. Which brings us to another point.

'I don't want to sound preachy, but there are other reasons why it might be a good idea for you to take this job, apart from the more obvious commercial ones, that is—or don't you agree?'

Philippa sighed. She knew what Susie meant.

'You mean Joel,' she acknowledged wryly.

'If that's his name, then yes. You said yourself that it couldn't go anywhere; that he was married and that the last thing you wanted was to be responsible for another woman's potential unhappiness,' Susie reminded her.

'Yes. I know...'

'So, here's your chance to end it—after all, if you're living with another man..,'

'As his employee...' Philippa reminded her quickly.

'Well, yes, of course, but you've got to admit it wouldn't be as easy to entertain a lover under someone else's roof as it would under your own.'

'Yes, you're right,' Philippa acknowledged. 'Everything you say makes sense, I know, but...'

'Have you thought that it might not be your fear that Blake might think you still have a crush on him that's holding you back, but your change of status...?' Susie suggested gently.

'No...no, of course it isn't,' Philippa denied indignantly.

'Then take the job,' Susie counselled her. 'After all,' she added cheerfully, 'you can always leave if it doesn't work out.'

'No...that's the one thing I
can't
do,' Philippa contradicted her. 'Not once I've made a commitment to Anya. She's been through so much already, lost so much... I don't know why Blake is so keen to employ
me
she burst out. 'I mean, there must be dozens of other women far better qualified for the job than I am.'

'It depends what you mean by better qualified,' Susie told her. 'I imagine he wants you for the same reason that Elizabeth Humphries recommended you for the job in the first place. And that's quite simply because he knows that to you it won't just be a job. Take it, Pip,' Susie advised her firmly. 'After all, what other real option do you actually have?'

'None,' Philippa admitted tiredly.

The letter from the bank was still on the kitchen table, her promise to Rory very much to the forefront of her mind.

Susie was right. What real option did she have?

'Ring him now and tell him that you've thought it over and that you've decided to take the job,' Susie urged her.

Numbly, Philippa stared at the telephone.

It was pointless trying to put off what she knew had to be done.

She picked up the receiver and slowly punched out Blake's number.

The answering machine was on again. She waited for the tone before leaving her message.

There, it was done. There was no going back now, unless Anya took a dislike to her.

The phone rang as she stood there, her stomach still churning with reaction to what she had done.

'Philippa?'

'Blake.' She hadn't expected him to ring back so quickly.

'I was working at home,' he told her. 'But you rang off before I could reach the phone. I'm glad you changed your mind.' He paused. 'I'm due to collect Anya from the foster mother who has been looking after her tomorrow. If you're free it might be a good idea if you come with me.'

'Wouldn't you prefer to get Anya settled first, let her find her feet a little...?' Philippa protested.

'Philippa, I might be a psychiatrist, but I'm also a man; what I know about pre-teenagers and their problems might fill half a dozen textbooks in theory, but theory is exactly what it is. The thought of applying that theory to good old-fashioned hands-on reality terrifies me and so do the thoughts I can almost see running through the mind of the Social Services people.

'What Anya needs more than anything right now is a bit of human warmth and comfort. I can't give her that. She might be my god-daughter, but she's also a stranger to me. I've seen her once since Lisa and Miguel were killed...until all this happened, I hadn't seen her since she was christened...'

Philippa could hear the exasperation in his voice. It made him seem more human.

'Pfn not asking you to come with me as some kind of Macchiavellian psychological test,' he told her drily. 'I'm asking you to come because Anya needs you and so do I.'

It was the last admission she had expected him to make, and hearing it shocked her into complete silence.

'Philippa... Pippa... Are you still there?'

'Yes. Yes... I'm still here.'

Why was it that she only had to hear anxiety in someone's voice, sense their need, and she was hooked? Blake might claim that he was not manipulating her, but she wasn't so sure.

'Well... what do you say? Will you come with me?'

Philippa took a deep breath.

'Yes..she told him quietly. 'Yes, I'll come...'

After she had put the phone down she reminded herself very firmly that there was nothing for her to fear. Not any more; after all, she was hardly likely to be stupid enough to fall in love with him a second time, was she?

'Mark
. .. Please come in.'

Mark smiled and then turned to follow the immaculately dressed dark-haired woman as she led the way through the house to her office.

She had good legs, he thought—like Deborah. His body tensed against the thought... against his memories.

It was almost two months now, during which he had slowly started to rebuild his crumbling self-respect.

He had hesitated at first when the agency had offered him this long-term temporary work in a small market town practice, but he liked the work, and the people. It was a single-partner practice with William Harcourt, the partner, close to retirement and anxious to get on top of the backlog of work caused by a recent illness before he put the practice up for sale.

He and Mark had jelled straight away and it had been William who'd suggested that Mark take over full responsibility for the accountancy affairs of the firm's biggest client.

'I never thought when she first started that it would turn out to be so successful. None of us did... There's even been talk of making the company public, but I doubt that Stephanie would ever agree. She enjoys being in charge too much for that.'

Stephanie Pargeter had intrigued Mark before he had even met her. She was a millionairess several times over; she owned and ran her own highly successful business which she had built up from nothing, and she was also an attractive woman.. .extremely attractive, Mark noted as he followed the elegant sway of her body down the hallway to her office.

'I'm sorry to drag you out here on a Saturday morning,' she apologised to Mark as she showed him into the elegant, book-lined room, 'but there were one or two points I needed to go over with you on the takeover.'

'No problem,' Mark assured her. 'I was only going to play golf with William...'

'Don't,' Stephanie advised him, laughing. 'He's a terrible cheat...'

Her smile robbed the words of any criticism. For a woman in her early forties she had an oddly youthful face, the look in her eyes often mischievous and teasing.

She didn't look like the stereotyped image of a successful woman; the clothes she normally wore were soft and fluid, her hair fell just short of her shoulders in an unfussy silky bob, the only jewellery she wore was her wedding-ring and a watch... but successful she most certainly was.

'Tea or coffee?' she asked Mark now as she invited him to sit down.

'Coffee, please...'

While she went to get it, Mark studied the room. It was decorated in a soft, pretty shade of lemon that made the room feel sunny and warm. Clever touches of dark blue broke up its softness and the desk in the corner was a large, solid, no-nonsense piece of furniture.

He was looking towards the desk when Stephanie came back with their coffee.

'Hideous things, aren't they?' she commented, wrinkling her nose with disgust as she looked at the computer. 'Hideous but necessary... like far too many things in life,' she added wryly.

'Including men?' Mark asked slyly as he took his coffee from her.

They had developed a very good working relationship in the month he had been here and he knew his comment would not cause her any offence. It was no secret locally that, after her husband had left her, taking with him her twenty-two-year-old PA and a large portion of her fortune, she had announced that that was the first and last time that any man would make such a fool of her.

'Some of them,' she agreed, mischief darkening her eyes as she looked directly at him and added softly, 'Although I do
sometimes
make an exception... in certain cases...'

Mark held her gaze. He wasn't quite sure if she was actually coming on to him, or if she was just playing a game with him, testing him... but either way she was a very, very attractive woman; older than he was, but still extremely desirable.

She was, he recognised on a sudden sharp spear of pain, exactly what Deborah would be in fifteen years' time.

'Odd, isn't it?' Stephanie commented drily. 'You think that by running away from something you're escaping but still somehow it manages to come after you.

'What is it exactly
you're
running from, Mark... or is it a
someone
rather than a something?'

'Both,' Mark admitted.

'Ah... And you don't want to talk about either it or her? Weil, why should you?' she asked drily. 'After all none of us likes admitting to a failure..

A failure... Mark frowned. What was she implying? How could she know...?

'If you're running from a woman, a relationship, there has to have been a failure,' she told him, apparently reading his mind. 'A failure of communication...understanding... sharing... loving...' She gave a small shrug. 'That's something we women tend to forget far too easily—that when we embrace a lover we're also embracing the risk of failure and of loss.'

'You make it sound as though women are always the victims in relationships.'

'Most of the time they are,' she told him succinctly. 'We bring it upon ourselves, of course... take on far too willingly the responsibility for making it work, for being the one to nourish and sustain...' She stopped and shook her head.

'I'm sorry. I'm getting too maudlin... Now, where are those balance sheets?'

She went over to her desk, picked up a file and came and sat down opposite him.

'On the face of it the purchase of this company will be a good asset for us. They have a good distribution network for the flowers they grow, selling into the areas where we don't as yet have much penetration, but I have a feeling, an instinct, if you like, that they're hiding something from us. If the figures ate as good as they seem, why are they so anxious to sell?'

'It's a family business, with no one to take it over,' Mark reminded her.

'Not true.' Stephanie shook her head. "There's a grandson, born illegitimately to the daughter...and besides ... bear with me, Mark; I have a gut feeling about this one... it's too perfect... too tempting.'

'Without a few more acquisitions you could be very vulnerable to takeover yourself,' Mark warned her.