The Tender Years (15 page)

‘I saw him here,’ she confessed. ‘He—he came to see me—er—after you had left.’

‘And how did he know I had left?’ For the first time ever his voice stung like the lash of a whip. ‘You phoned him and told him.’ It was a statement, not a question, but again he was awaiting her reply; but there was a long constrained pause before he received it.

‘Yes, Luke, I did phone him.’ Why was she so meek? Why couldn’t she tell him that she was free to do as she wished. But was she free? Without Luke’s having taken her in where would she be at this moment? Arthur had told Luke to take her away, had declared quite firmly that she was not sleeping at Cassia Lodge that night or ever again.

‘So you lied to me when I a$ked what you had been doing while I was away.’

‘Not altogether, Luke. I just—just—’ She stopped, misery flooding over her because this evening was being spoiled.

‘Just failed to mention Steve’s visit,’ he rasped. ‘Knowing very well that I’d not approve.’

‘I ought to be able to please myself.’

Luke’s tawny eyes glinted, hard as stone. ‘I happen to be responsible for you, Christine! I absolutely forbid you to see Steve while you’re staying with me. Do you understand?’ he added imperiously.

She threw him a stormy glance as anger and resentment plucked at her nerve ends to set the pulses throbbing in her temples. Never had she known a fury so strong. She forgot her dependence on Luke as she cried, ‘I shall please myself what I do! You’ve no right to dictate to me as if I were unable to think for myself! I love Steve and we intend to marry, so why shouldn’t we see one another? I—’

‘Lower your voice,’ he cut in. ‘I’m not being shown up in my own restaurant.’

She blushed hotly under the reproof and glanced around surreptitiously to see if she had attracted any attention. To her relief no one was looking this way. She apologised nevertheless, and added in a much subdued tone of voice that yet carried a certain degree of spirit, ‘We must talk, Luke. I want to be able to meet Steve—’

‘Is he still on Grand Bahama?’

She shook her head. ‘No, he only stayed two days.’ Her lip quivered. ‘It’s not a bit like an ordinary courtship.’

The hard eyes darkened with contempt, matching the scornful thrust to his voice as he said, ‘It’s hardly an ordinary courtship, is it? Steve’s not only a married man but he’s your sister’s husband.’

‘Greta isn’t my sister,’ she reminded him quiveringly.

‘Don’t you care about the talk that’s going to result if you and Steve are to have an affair?’

‘Affair?’ she repeated with a swift and angry frown.

‘Isn’t that inevitable if you and he keep on seeing one another?’

Was it imagination, wondered Christine, or was he having difficulty with this discussion? A sort of dejection seemed to be running through his anger.

‘I shan’t have an affair with Steve,’ she told him quietly. ‘He did suggest—’ Again she had let her tongue run away with her and she cursed herself when Luke, pouncing, asked grittingly just what Steve had suggested.

‘Tell me!’ he ordered when she remained silent. ‘What did he suggest?’

She felt the heat in her cheeks and automatically put her hands to them. Her eyes were misted as they met his across the table. ‘He said that two years was a long time to wait—if we did have to wait that time. . . .’ Why did she always have to obey these commands of Luke’s? Always she found herself being domineered over and doing nothing about it. ‘Steve thought, quite naturally, that we—he and I—that is—’

‘You’d live together?’ The smouldering look in his eyes, the taut set of that jaw, the compression of his mouth ... all compounded to put fear into Christine and she would have done anything to be able to run from him. But where would she run to? Steve? The idea was born, but for the present she was under this obligation to Luke, dependent on him wholly. It was a desolate situation to be in and suddenly she was blinking rapidly to hold back the tears.

Luke said unhurriedly, ‘Perhaps we should leave and dine at home.’

She swallowed hard and shook her head. ‘I’ll be all right.’ She quivered.

‘We’ll leave,’ he decided and beckoned a passing waiter. In a quiet voice he said they were leaving and a few minutes later they were in the car, speeding along a tree-lined road which led to the beautiful region known as Bahamia where many of the wealthy people of the island had their homes. The house was in total darkness except for one outside light which was always left on. Luke had given the maid leave to go and spend the evening with her sister over at West End.

‘We should have stayed,’ said Christine tearfully as Luke unlocked the front door. ‘There’s no dinner for us.’ Not that she felt like eating, she thought, but Luke must be hungry.

‘We’ll scrape something up from the fridge.’ He closed the door, switched on a light and turned to her. ‘Thursday’s your birthday, Christine, and you’ll be nineteen. Isn’t it time you began acting your age?’

‘I’m in love—’

‘You are not!’ he broke in wrathfully and it did seem that he was
willing
her to believe him. ‘Steve is not for you, so the sooner you forget him the better. It’s a damnable thing that his marriage is breaking up at this particular time—before you’ve managed to get over your infatuation for him.’ He strode away into the kitchen and she followed slowly, an ache in her heart. Life was becoming unbearable! It seemed to hold nothing bright at all. And soon it would be her birthday. Luke was going to take her to a dinner dance at the Captain’s Charthouse but of course he would not do so now.

‘Are you going to help me?’ she heard him say.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I decided to leave the restaurant because it seemed you were about to burst into tears.’ His tone was cutting as he threw the words over his shoulder. ‘I shall make it my business to see Steve tomorrow.’

‘You mean—you’re going over to Pirates’ Cay?’

‘That’s exactly what I mean.’ He was taking a cold chicken from the fridge.

‘What time will you be back?’

‘Tomorrow? I might not be back tomorrow.’

‘Oh . . .’ She did shed a tear then, but brushed it from her face with an angry gesture. He was not going to see just how much he could hurt her!

‘There’s some salad material here. Do something with it while I carve the bird.’

Mechanically she washed the lettuce and tomatoes and put them in a bowl. There were peppers and cucumber but she had no heart for going to the trouble of making a salad. She laid the table instead and they sat down to a silent meal.

Afterwards he said, watching her intently, ‘What was your reaction to Steve’s suggestion?’

‘I told him I couldn’t live with him until we’re married.’

He seemed to wince as she mentioned marriage but recovered so swiftly that she felt sure she was imagining things.

‘And he accepted that?’

‘He said I would get used to the idea with time.’ Again she was doing what he
wished
and not keeping quiet as she would have preferred to do. This compulsion, this ability to coerce her . . .

‘I want to get a job,’ she declared suddenly. ‘You can’t stop me, Luke!’

‘I happen to have promised Arthur I’d take care of you, Christine, and that is what I intend to do. I don’t make promises and then break them.’

‘Arthur made you promise?’

‘He phoned me very late on the night I took you to my home on Pirates’ Cay. He was contrite but still unable to forgive you—’

‘There was nothing to forgive!’

‘He believed there was,’ returned Luke quietly. ‘I made the promise and, as I have said, I intend to keep it.’

‘So Arthur does care something about me,’ she murmured, for the moment diverted.

‘Don’t judge him too hard, Christine—’

‘Oh, for goodness sake stop calling me Christine! You know that whatever anyone else calls me you always call me Chris!’ She started to cry but there was no shoulder for her now.

‘Is it so important that I use Chris?’ he enquired softly, and she nodded her head, gulping back a sob. ‘You—kn-know it is.’

A sigh escaped him. His anger had long since evaporated, which was customary. It did not matter how angry he might be, he was always calm again within a very short space of time. But now he seemed to have difficulty in keeping his patience. ‘Stop crying,’ he said sharply. ‘All this misery’s of your own doing.’ Christine said nothing and he reverted to what he was saying before she interrupted him. ‘Don’t judge Arthur too hard. He’s going through a very bitter period in his life at present. No man enjoys humiliation. Loreen’s escapade has hurt him because he loves her, but it has also humiliated him as well, and I suspect that this latter’s more punishing to a man like him than the pain of losing his wife. He’s sensible enough to know he’ll get over Loreen, but the humiliation will be there for the rest of his life.’

‘How could she treat him like that?’

‘She obviously believes she’s in love with someone else.’ Luke’s voice was harsh. ‘He’s better off without her, but now isn’t the time to try to convince him of it.’

‘So much happening.’ She sighed. ‘Everything going wrong for all of us.’

‘I’ve just said that your misery’s caused by yourself alone.’ Luke’s voice was terse but not too unkind. She had the impression that she was trying his patience to the utmost but yet he was endeavouring to make excuses for her. Undoubtedly he thought he understood her, truly believed that all she felt for Steve was infatuation. She remembered thinking of the possibility that he loved her and of her own unhappiness at the idea of causing him the kind of pain she herself had suffered when the man she loved had married another girl.

She said again, ‘I want to get a job, Luke.’

‘So as to be independent of me?’ They were on the pool patio drinking coffee, and Luke was drinking Napolean brandy with his.

‘I’m old enough to be independent,’ she pointed out reasonably. ‘If I hadn’t been adopted I’d have been working for two years or more by now.’

He looked at her and seemed undecided. Something stirred in her, then tingled along her nerve ends. It seemed to be an important interlude, as if something momentous was about to happen. She averted her face, heard him expel a breath of impatience, and when she glanced up at last he was sipping his brandy and looking out over the pool to where the light from the bungalow roof picked out the massive bush of magenta bougainvillaea. Fireflies darted about, sending forth tiny points of light to give an added mystery to the intriguing darkness of the garden.

‘I can’t allow you to get a job yet.’ Luke’s voice at last and it brought a swift frown to Christine’s brow.

‘Allow?’ she challenged tartly. ‘You can’t talk like that to me, Luke.’

He gazed steadily at her.

‘I can and I will,’ he said firmly. ‘Leave it for the time being, Chris, just until Arthur makes up his mind what he’s going to do.’

‘He’s retiring; you heard him say so. I can’t even go back to Cassia Lodge anyway. And I’m not intending to sponge on you much longer.’

‘Sponge!’ Sudden fury brought threads of crimson colour creeping along the sides of his mouth. How forbidding he was! ‘You’re not sponging and you know it. Don’t you dare use that word again!’

‘You’re so touchy this evening,’ she complained.

‘I have need to be!’

‘It’s I who should be angry,’ she said. ‘I’m being dictated to again.’

‘Don’t try me too far,’ he warned softly. ‘At this moment I could spank you so hard you’d not sit down for a month!’

She blinked at his vehemence. He really meant it, she thought, and swiftly changed the subject. ‘Tomorrow—what shall I do on my own?’ It was a question that had hovered on her tongue for some time and she had been waiting for a propitious moment in which to voice it. Now was scarcely a propitious time but she must divert his thoughts into some less dangerous channel.

‘Read a book,’ he answered briefly.

‘I meant in the evening.’ Her voice held an unconscious note of pleading and all at once he softened. The change was miraculous! But it brought a lovely warmth flowing along her veins. She smiled winsomely in response to the slow curve of his mouth and she said in a low tone, ‘You’ll come back in time for dinner, won’t you, Luke?’

A long silence followed as Christine anxiously stared into his inscrutable countenance. The waiting became almost unbearable; she was puzzled at first and then she knew with absolute certainty that his hesitation was deliberate. He was punishing her by keeping her in suspense. But instead of being angry or piqued she found herself in sympathy with his mood. For she was honest enough to own that she had indeed tried his patience. He disliked her friendship with Steve, genuinely believing it was bad for her to be associating with him because he was still Greta’s husband. Yes, mused Christine understanding, Luke had cause to be treating her like this.

At last he broke the silence, but there was nothing in the mask of his face to reflect his innermost thoughts. ‘You’d like me to take you out?’

‘Oh, Luke,’ she cried impulsively, ‘you know very well I
want
you to take me out!’

He smiled faintly but shook his head, as if to clear it. She thought of how easily they always resolved their differences and felt that if all married couples could do the same there would never be any of the heartache and upset of divorce.

‘Do you think you deserve that I should alter my plans in order to pander to your wishes?’

She hung her head. ‘I’ve been a little trying—’

‘A
little
trying did you say?’

She swallowed uncomfortably. ‘Very trying, then,’ she amended. ‘But I’m sorry and want to be with you in the evening. . . .’ She glanced up and he saw the tears glistening on her lashes. He stood up and held out both hands towards her.

‘Come here, Chris,’ he invited softly. ‘My dear, there really isn’t anything to cry for.’