Dragon's Lair (3 page)

you at home. Mr Greer would like a word with you.'

Davina groaned inwardly. For a moment she toyed with the idea of

asking Jan to forget she had seen her while she made her escape,

but she soon abandoned it. Jan was a pleasant woman, but she was

simply not on those kind of terms with her. So instead she smiled

and murmured her thanks, promising she would be along presently.

When Jan vanished, she got up and walked the few paces to the

window. There was little to see but a patch of sky framed by other

people's roofs, and the odd pigeon or two, but when she had first

come there, she had spent a lot of time staring out at that limited

view until she felt she knew every slate and every Victorian

chimneypot.

Her fingers drummed restlessly on the white-painted sill. She knew

why Uncle Philip wanted to see her, of course. He knew precisely

where she had been that afternoon, and could presumably restrain

his curiosity no longer.

She supposed she could not blame him under the circumstances.

After all, the other party involved was one of his protégés, a writer

for whom he had confidently predicted great things. And he had

been right. Both Gethyn's novels had been runaway best-sellers,

here and in the States, and he promised to become a major force in

the poetic world as well. Since then—two years of silence.

Her uncle's voice sounded preoccupied as he called out 'Come in' in

reply to her brief tap on the door. He was dictating some letters into

a dictaphone as she entered and he signalled to her to take a seat

while he went on talking '... and shall look forward to seeing you on

the 21st. Yours.' He switched off the machine and smiled at her.

'Hello, my dear. How did it go? Did this tame lawyer your mother

found produce the goods?'

'Well,' Davina considered her polished fingernails, 'at least he's

produced Gethyn. He's back in Wales. Did you know?'

'No.' Was it her imagination, or had there been a slight pause before

the monosyllable? Davina glanced up quickly, but Philip Greer was

leaning back in his chair, his frowning gaze fixed musingly on a

ballpoint pen he was twirling in his fingers. 'But all the same I'm

pleased to hear it.'

'Why?'

'Because it might just mean he's ready to settle down and get some

work done—some real work.'

Davina bent her head. 'I see.'

Philip Greer gazed at her rather ironically. 'What did you expect me

to say? I haven't any other hopes where Gethyn's concerned any

more. I'm resigned to the fact that you're determined to put an end

to this marriage of yours.'

She looked up indignantly. 'Well, what do you expect?' she

demanded in turn. 'This marriage of mine, as you put it, hasn't

existed for two years. It barely existed before then.' She gave a

bitter laugh. 'If I'd ignored my upbringing and simply gone to bed

with Gethyn, it need never have taken place at all. Now there's an

irony for you!'

Philip Greer made an abrupt movement. 'If you're saying that the

basis for your marriage was no more than physical attraction, then I

should point out that a great many successful unions have started

out on little else.'

'I see,' she said again. 'Perhaps I pitched my own expectations too

high.'

He sighed. 'Now I've made you angry, my dear, and I didn't intend

that. I've always felt—responsible in some ways for what happened

between you and Gethyn, and I know your mother shares my

viewpoint,' he added wryly.

She flushed. 'I know. I've tried to tell her ...'

'My dear, no one will ever convince Vanessa about anything she

doesn't wish to hear. And I'm afraid she "took agin" Gethyn the first

time she saw him. And he didn't help, of course. He needn't have

made it quite so clear that he was indifferent to her and her opinion

of him. If he'd just pretended ...'

She gave a strained smile. 'Pretence was beyond him, I'm afraid.

He—he couldn't even pretend with me—pretend that I mattered, or

that he cared, even a little.'

'Are you so sure he didn't?'

'Uncle Philip,' Davina stared at him, 'how can you ask that? You

know what happened. He was in the States and I was here—in

hospital, losing his baby. I sent for him—I begged him to come

back and be with me. But he was far too busy with some television

chat show. He just didn't want to know. Every time the door opened

in that hospital room, I thought it was going to be him. Only it never

was. And even then, I swallowed my pride when it was all over and

telephoned him. Do you know the answer I got? He was resting and

couldn't be disturbed. Later that night I wrote to him and told him I

was leaving him. He never replied to my letter either, and I've never

heard from him from that day to this.' She forced a smile. 'I'm sorry

about the downbeat ending, but…'

'Don't be flip, my dear. It's unsuitable in this context.' Her uncle was

silent for a while. 'I can only say that I find his—lack of response

totally incredible. I can't help wondering if it would have made any

difference if you had gone to see him, instead of writing. Letters

can go astray, you know. Phone messages may not always be

passed on, and sometimes are distorted in the re-telling. Did it ever

occur to you that there might have been some—misunderstanding?'

'One, perhaps. Not three,' she said quietly. 'And I feel sure his

silence was—is—deliberate. He won't answer my solicitor's letters

either.'

Philip Greer raised his eyebrows. 'Indeed? So what's the next

move?'

'I'm not altogether sure.' She hesitated. 'Mr Bristow has suggested

that I should do—what you've just said—go and see Gethyn and try

and talk him into agreeing to a divorce.'

'And you said?'

'I didn't know what to say. Frankly, I was stunned.'

'But you didn't reject the idea out of hand?'

'No.' Davina paused bleakly. 'I wouldn't reject any idea that might

help me to be free of him.'

'Hm.' Her uncle gave her a narrow look. 'Well, if you do decide to

seek him out, I wouldn't be quite so frank. In fact, it's a pity that the

divorce has to be your sole motive for going to Wales. Now I

wonder ...' he relapsed into frowning silence. Then he glanced at

her. 'How would it be if this was ostensibly a business trip? After

all, Gethyn is still under contract to us, and we need another book

from him. Go and see him—but as my representative, not as his

estranged wife. Don't even mention Bristow's letters or the divorce,

unless he does.'

Davina shook her head. 'He wouldn't be taken in by that.'

'I'm not saying he would be, but at least he wouldn't be expecting it.

I also know Gethyn, my dear, and I'm sure an oblique approach

would work best. It's a pity we didn't think of it before your mother

involved Bristow, but it's too late to do anything about that now.

What I'm trying to say is that you won't get what you want by flying

off to Wales and quarrelling with Gethyn. That would only harden

his attitude, and that's the last thing you want to do.'

'Yes.' Davina was silent for a moment. 'I suppose it's worth a try. At

least it's better than doing nothing—than just waiting for Gethyn to

make the first move.'

Philip Greer tapped his upper lip thoughtfully with his forefinger.

'Tell him too that there could be another tour in the offing. Oh, it's

quite true,' he added hastily, meeting Davina's quizzical look. 'There

have been a number of overtures in the past few months. I've just

been waiting for the psychological moment to put it to Gethyn. I

had to sell the last one to him, as a matter of fact, but you probably

know that.'

Yes, Davina thought, as she walked slowly back to her own office.

She had known that. But not until afterwards— after she had agreed

to marry Gethyn. And then it had been altogether different because

the trip to America was going to be their honeymoon—not the

handful of nights in the suite of a luxury hotel which Uncle Philip

was giving them as a wedding present. She had been as excited as a

child at Christmas at the prospect, thrilled to the core as well

because Gethyn had told her that if she hadn't wanted to go with

him, he would have called the whole thing off. It gave her a

wonderful feeling of power, a feeling of being necessary. It had

been a delusion, of course, as she quickly found out, but for that

brief time she had never been happier. She had dreamed of the

places they would see together—New York, San Francisco, even

New Orleans.

'And Niagara Falls,' Gethyn had said, grinning. 'Isn't that where all

self-respecting honeymooners go?'

Only by the time he' had left for the States—alone—the honeymoon

was already over.

Davina closed her door behind her, and sank down in the chair

behind her desk, reaching automatically for the manuscript on top

of the pile in front of her. She began to read it, forcing herself

relentlessly to concentrate, but it was useless. It was the story of a

failed marriage, and even in the first chapter there were words,

phrases, scraps of dialogue which struck a painful chord in her own

memory. At last she pushed it almost desperately to one side and

buried her head in her folded arms on the desktop.

When had it all started to go wrong? she asked herself. Hadn't her

mother sown the first seeds of doubt, even before the wedding

ceremony had taken place? She had come into Davina's room on the

morning of the wedding and watched her as she packed a suitcase.

Davina had just been smoothing the folds of a filmy drift of

nightgown when she had caught sight of her mother's expression in

the dressing-table mirror, her eyes hooded, her lips thin with

distaste.

'Mother,' she had said, gently enough, 'please try to be happy for

me.'

'Happy?' Her mother's laugh had been almost shrill. 'Happy that

you're rushing headlong into marriage with a complete stranger?

You may think you know all you need to know, but you're a child.

What do you know of men—of what living with a man means? I

was fortunate. Your father was a kind man—considerate,

undemanding. But
he
won't be like that. You'd better enjoy your

innocence while you can. It won't be yours much longer. Wait until

you've been alone with him, tonight, and then talk to me about

happiness!'

She had turned then and gone from the room, leaving Davina

staring after her with startled eyes and parted lips. She had resumed

her packing, but the golden glow which surrounded her had

dissipated somewhat. It was the nearest her mother had come, or

ever would come, she realised, to discussing the sexual relationship

with her. She had always sensed instinctively that her parents'

marriage had been lacking in certain aspects. Widowhood, she had

often thought wryly, suited her mother far better than being a wife

had done. But this was the first time Mrs Greer had ever spoken

openly on the subject, and made her disgust plain.

And later when she arrived at Caxton Hall and saw Gethyn waiting

for her, tall and unfamiliar in his dark suit, her mother's words had

returned to her mind with paralysing force, freezing the smile on her

lips. Even while the registrar was marrying them, she could feel

Gethyn's eyes on her, questioningly. Afterwards Uncle Philip had

taken them to the Ritz and they had drunk champagne, and she had

found herself acting the part of the radiant bride, laughing that little

bit too much, smiling until her mouth ached.. And all the time

knowing that he was watching her, and not wanting to meet his eyes

in case she read in them a message she wasn't ready for yet. But she

had to be ready, that was the whole point. She was his wife now

and very soon now they would be alone and he would take her in

his arms and everything would be all right. She held on to that

thought with quiet desperation. She was just being stupid —bridal

nerves. That was all it was—it had to be.

After all, in the past weeks there had been times when she had

clung to Gethyn, glorying in his desire for her, but armoured at the

same time, she realised, by the iron self-control he seemed to be

able to exercise where she was concerned. Now there was no

longer any need for that control. She belonged to him.

She sat beside him in the taxi as they drove to the small flat he was