Robyn Donald – Iceberg (14 page)

she would like to. Not in front of the child.

So she muttered, 'That's not really anyone's business but mine.'

'And Bronwyn's.’

'And hers,' she agreed, pushing her" hair back from suddenly damp temples.

Sensitively attuned to her surroundings,-yet--unable to understand what was happening between her

companions, Sarah broke in peaceably, 'Do you think it will rain tomorrow, Daddy? If it does, will we be able

to stay here for another day?'

'If it rains, yes. Unless Linnet wants to get back immediately.'

The note of sarcasm was not lost-on Linnet/but she ; ignored it. 'It makes no odds to me,' she said .disdainfully.

'Of course it doesn't!' Sarah turned to her, father, enthusiastic and perhaps a little protective. 'Linnet loves it

here. She can swim like a -fish, Daddy, and she's shown me how to life-save a bit. And she can make a blade of

grass scream like a banshee.'

'Can she, indeed? A very worthwhile skill. I used to be able to do it myself.'

'Really and truly?' His daughter eyed him with respect and some wonder. 'Gosh, and you've never shown me

how to! Can you do anything else? Linnet can stick kef fingers in her mourn and whistle like a shepherd.'

He laughed at this, pulled a tendril of the fine soft hair. 'All of Linnet's tricks seem to be distinctly noisy. Has

she got any quiet ones?'

'Telling stories’—but you know that. And she can bend her thumbs back on to her wrists. Show Daddy, Linnet.'

The last thing she wanted to do was display her one physical trick to the mocking glance of the man beside her,

but it would be churlish to refuse Sarah's proud command. So, obediently, she bent her thumbs back until they

touched the narrow length of her wrists.

'Very flexible,' Justin told her, and took her hand in his, moving his thumb over the slender length of hers and

the soft width of her palm.

His touch seemed to scorch; she couldn't prevent the automatic jerk backward, but his reaction was totally

unexpected. His fingers clamped down on to hers, cruelly holding them in thrall, but his head remained bent as

though he found her hands unexpectedly fascinating.

Almost she cried out, but her self-control did not snap. And after a moment he lifted his head, looking her full in

the face, his expression bleak and shuttered, the features cold and hard as the ice statue he had been when they

first met.

Then he released her, and Sarah said something, and that moment
of—despair?-
—was gone:

But after dinner when he was reading to Sarah in her bedroom Linnet sat slumped in a deep, comfortable

armchair and wondered. Despair seemed an incongruous state of mind to link with Justin, so strong, so assured

and arrogantly certain of his path in life, but she had felt a wave of something very close fo it emanating from

him at that moment.

Justin despairing? Her mind rejected it. And yet why not? She did not know him very well, in spite of the fact

that Bronwyn intended to marry him. Their relationship was a peculiarly public one; be collected Bronwyn from

the flat two or three evenings each week and took her to dinner or to the theatre or whatever, delivering her back

at the appropriate time. Presumably they made love, but although Linnet had always been in bed when they ar_rived back, he never stayed long in the flat. And there was no possibility of them using the back seat of his car.

So perhaps they called in at the main house before they arrived at the flat.

A pain in her lip brought her the realisation that she was biting it. Stupid—
stupid
—to feel this hollow kind of

rage at the vision of her sister in Justin's arms. Only an idiot would allow him to become so important to her.

Her mind picked over the word, hesitating, rejecting. Important. Was that what he had become? Could he be

important, not as Sarah's father, not as Bronwyn's man, but as Justin Doyle?

Two fingers pushed the frown away from between her brows, an old habit she still had when worried. As they

smoothed the skin of her forehead, up and down, up and down, some of the tension engendered by the questions

she asked herself eased away, but she knew the relaxation was only temporary.

For the first time in her life she found herself trying to evade an issue. So important a subject must be thought

through in peace and quiet, she fold herself, springing to her feet just as Justin came back into the room.

'You look poised for flight,' he commented.

Immediately she felt foolish. 'I was going to look out of the window,’ she answered, her voice defensive.

'Go ahead, although you won't be, able to see much.'

He was right, of course, A glance at her watch revealed that the sun had probably just set, but the heavy clouds

and the rain had made it dark much earlier than usual.

All she could see through the wet panes was me reflection of the room behind her. And Justin Doyle,

motionless in the doorway, so still that he reminded her of her fantasy of him as a beast of prey.

A bubble of tension filled her throat. Nervously she pat out a hand to draw the curtains across; the storm outside

forced the realisation of her-isolation upon her, but after a moment she turned away without touching the

draperies. It would be even more intimate to be cocooned within their warmth with him, hidden from the

blackness outside.

'Are you nervous?'

She shrugged, keeping her head turned away.

'Not really; we do have storms in Australia, you know.'

Perhaps he caught the barely repressed note of tension in her tones, for he nodded, saying without emphasis.

‘Yes, I know Infinitely more dramatic than anything over here. I've been through a hurricane there.'

It seemed a safe enough subject. 'Where?' she asked.

'At Darwin.'

This did surprise her.
'The
big one?'

'Yes.' He had sat down in the modern leather chair which should have been a stark intruder in the comfortable

room, but somehow blended perfectly. 'Sit down, Linnet. I'm not going to eat you.'

A faint flush touched her cheeks at this recognition of her fears, but she obeyed, choosing-a chair on the very

edge of the pool of light cast by the single lamp. In the semi-darkness he was still, the arrogant lines of his

features clear cut against the, darkness of the leather. He wore a black shirt and black trousers; on most men it

would have been an overly dramatic colour scheme, but he had enough bravura to carry it off.

He pleases the eye, she thought suddenly, feeling her flush deepen as somewhere in the pit of her stomach

something twisted, a sensation not entirely pleasurable.

Hastily, in a voice artificially brisk, she asked, 'What was it like?'

'The hurricane?' At her nod he resumed drily, 'Unpleasant. I was staying with friends. We spent the night in

their bathroom which was built of concrete and therefore the strongest room in the house. Rosalie had just come

home with a new baby. It was a long night.'

Linnet nodded again. 'I can imagine. What happened next day?'

'Oddly enough, I quite enjoyed that. We came through unscathed, although the house was a shambles. After

we'd settled Rosalie and the child we found ourselves in the thick of reorganisation.' He smiled. 'If you'd been

there then your opinion of me would have been reinforced. I had to be aggressive, rude, ruthless—all the things

you've called me.'

'I haven't!' She was appalled, and bewildered. This was a new Justin, subtly teasing, without that chilling mask

she had always sensed before.

'Perhaps sot,' he said almost indulgently, pale eyes tantalising, 'but you've thought them all. Admit it.'

'Not without reason,' she protested, unsure of herself as she had never been before.

‘I’ll grant you that.'

There didn't seem to be any sort of reply to that. After a moment she asked, 'Would you like some coffee?'

He laughed, 'Yes, thank you.'

At last she escaped from the room, but as she set the tray she found her heart was beating erratically and there

wasn't anything she could do about it. Telling herself not to be stupid made no difference, nor did her fierce

injunctions to think of Bronwyn. Bronwyn seemed someone known in another world, as distant in time and

space as the outermost stars of the galaxy. The only reality was this house, warm and bidden by the encircling

storm, and the man who sat in the chair in the living room.

When she returned he set aside his book and accepted the cup from her with a smile which was both mocking

and indulgent. They talked for a time about Sarah, Linnet-forgetting her self-consciousness as she told him of

his daughter's behaviour, revealing her own growing affection for the child in every word, every expression

which touched her sensitive features.

'She certainly seems fitter,' he commented, Can I not persuade you to give up the idea of becoming a librarian

and be Sarah's companion?'

'No.' She shook her head firmly. 'And it's not playing fair to try emotional blackmail, Justin. Sarah doesn't really

need a companion.’

'No. She needs a mother.'

From beneath her lashes she darted a swift glance across the pool of tight. Her heart contracted with compassion

as she saw he looked tired as he stared into his coffee cup, the long, strong fingers clenched around the handle.

Then he looked up and smiled with irony. 'Don't look so upset, Linnet. Why should you worry about Sarah?

Until a few weeks ago you didn't even know she existed.'

She felt as though he had taken her feelings and slapped her with them, the rebuff was so plain. All of her old

antagonism came flooding back.

'True. But I know now, and thanks to you. I've seen enough of her to become concerned.’

'Oh, lord, I'm not blaming you. After all, the maternal instinct is supposed-to be strong in most women, isn't it?'

There was something so savagely, sarcastic in his voice that she pressed herself back against the firm .back of

her chair, aware that somehow the conversation had managed to stray into a minefield.

'Isn't it?' he asked again, setting the cup and saucer down on the low table beside him.

Striving desperately for lightness, a way to ease the tension, she answered, 'How should I know? Between

psychologists and radicals, we women don't know what we are. Ask me in forty years' time. I might be able to

give you the benefit of my experience. Until then, I won't answer.'

'On the grounds that yon might incriminate yourself?' His smile was without humour, a flash of white in the

darker shadow of his face. 'You're an enigma, Linnet. You look like Botticelli redheaded dream of sensuous

spring, yet you treat your sister with a hard practicality more like a modern businessman. You're obviously fond

of Sarah, but you won't put yourself out for her at all.'

'Put myself out!' The words almost sputtered from her lips, so angry was she. ‘What you want me to do-is give

up my future for her. I won't——'

'Don't shout,' he interposed smoothly, coldly. 'If you fell in love and decided to marry, would you still keep on

with this decision?'

'Of course I would. Marriage doesn't------' For the second time she was interrupted but this time by the ominous

flickering of the light before it went out with a finality which made her gasp and jump to her feet.

Just like the entrance of the Demon King, she thought, as lightning lashed, followed by an enormous roll of

thunder which echoed around the sky. Across the room she heard Justin swear, then he said crisply, 'The power

is off. Wait where you are and I'll switch the generator on.’

Outside all hell seemed to be breaking loose. In the intermittent flare of lightning Linnet saw that he was gone.

After what seemed far longer than necessary a light flicked on in the kitchen. Only one, however, and when she

tried a switch in the living room nothing happened.

'It's AC, not DC,' said Justin as he came in through the door. "There's one switch in each room wired to DC. The

generator is really a relic of the days when the power supply to the island was very erratic, but it comes in

useful on occasions such as this, so we keep it in working order.'

'Do Cherry and Rob live here during the winter?'

He nodded. 'Rob is a potter, as I suppose .you know. He's very good, but still getting established. Perhaps one

day he'll want to go, but I hope not. The place won't be the same without them.'

'Has he always lived here?'

'His parents tried to farm here, but it was too hard, and when my father built this place they moved into the

cottage, I can remember when Rob was born. His parents were almost middle-aged, and they were thrilled. I

was five or six, and he was the first baby I'd ever had anything to do with,' he smiled somewhat sardonically.

'My memories of him are mainly of a kid with a mop of curls, trailing me around, determined to do everything I

did.'

'He must have been a nuisance.' Just why she said that Linnet couldn't fathom, except that she -simply couldn't

imagine Justin acting nursemaid for a child.

'Oh, he was he returned coolly. 'But I admired his determination.'

Which meant that he must have accepted the responsibility; probably the reason for the easy friendship between

the two men now. Linnet leaned back in her chair, trying to visualise the Justin Rob had followed. He would

have been a handsome boy; had he always worn that mask of chilling reserve, or could that be laid at the door

of his experience with Alison? Somehow it had become important to know what Alison was like. Stewart had