Matter of Trust

by Penny Jordan

  ‘Not yet,’ Leigh said gently. ‘Let’s give her a little time on her own first, shall we?’

  ‘I liked that last outfit, and the bright colours look good for summer.’

  ‘And they might brighten me up mentally as well as visually, is that it?’ Debra suggested grimly to her stepsister.

  Leigh gave her a thoughtful, clear-eyed look. ‘Do you feel in need of mentally brightening up?’ she asked her gently, and then, putting aside the skirt she had been examining, she came over to where Debra was standing.

  ‘Look, love, I know how hard on you all this has been, and no one can blame you for feeling the way you do, but, well, don’t you think you’d feel better if you talked about it instead of bottling it all up inside you?’

  Debra shook her head.

  ‘No. No, I wouldn’t,’ she said shortly.

  They had come out this morning to restock her wardrobe. At first she had refused to buy herself any new clothes, wearing the old ones she had found in her wardrobe and in her old bedroom, using the excuse that she couldn’t afford to commit herself to that kind of purchase until after her insurance claim had been settled, and her family had allowed her to have her way, even though she had seen the concern in her mother’s eyes when she had come down for breakfast for the fourth morning running wearing the same old jeans and sweat-shirt.

  But she didn’t want to buy new clothes... pretty clothes. People... men seeing her wearing them would think that she wanted to attract their attention; that she wanted them to speculate sexually about her.

  Leigh hadn’t been as indulgent as their parents, though. She had arrived this morning, announcing that she had taken the day off work and that she and Debra were going shopping, and she didn’t allow Debra to refuse.

  ‘Well, you’re going to have to buy something,’ Leigh told her in exasperation when they had left the fifth shop without her making any purchases. ‘You can’t go back to work in those old jeans.’

  Debra turned her head away. She didn’t want to go back to work. Going back to work meant facing Marsh. She knew he had told her parents that she must have as much time off as she felt she needed.

  As much time as she needed. Like the rest of her life, and even that wouldn’t be long enough for her to forget what Kevin Riley had said to her.

  She woke up sometimes in the night, brought out of the deepest sleep by the echo of those words, only sometimes it wasn’t Kevin who was saying them, but Marsh.

  She couldn’t tell anyone about those dreams. Not anyone.

  She knew that her family were concerned about her. She was, when she had the energy, concerned about herself. She knew she couldn’t spend the rest of her life hiding away from Marsh...from reality, but she also knew that she wasn’t strong enough to face either of them as yet.

  ‘Look,’ she heard Leigh saying firmly to her, ‘either you choose something or I’ll choose it for you, Debra.’

  She knew that Leigh meant it, and so reluctantly in the next shop they went in she bought a suit and two plain shirts.

  ‘Grey?’ Leigh questioned in distaste as they left. ‘What on earth made you choose that? It’s so dull... so... so anonymous.’

  Debra made no reply, smiling grimly to herself. That was exactly why she had chosen it.

  Leigh paused to admire some shoes in a shop window, chuckling at the height of their heels. ‘Heavens, are they back in fashion?’ she commented. ‘I was wearing a pair of those the night I met Paul, and a skirt that was probably far too short. He told me afterwards that the moment he saw my legs it was instant lust.’

  She was laughing, but Debra wasn’t. Was that all there was to men’s dealings with women... lust... sex?

  Leigh was still studying the shoes, her mouth half curled as though some memory they had triggered still pleased her.

  ‘By the way, have you spoken to Marsh yet?’ Leigh asked her without looking at her. ‘I know he’s rung several times... He’s obviously very concerned about you.’

  Marsh... concerned about her? Debra turned on her heel and walked quickly away, ignoring Leigh as she called anxiously after her.

  ‘What on earth was all that about?’ Leigh asked her when she caught up with her. And then she saw the brilliance of Debra’s eyes and asked more gently, ‘What is it, Debs? What’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing,’ Debra told her tautly. ‘Nothing except that I was stupid enough to have sex with Marsh, and I wish to God that I hadn’t.’

  She saw the way Leigh registered her words, the momentary shock darkening her eyes.

  ‘I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?’ she said flatly. ‘Well, not as much as I shocked myself. I’ve behaved like a.. .with a total lack of self-respect,’ she said harshly.

  ‘But Marsh...’ Leigh began uncertainly. ‘Marsh just wants to make sure that I know that what happened between us was nothing personal,’ she told Leigh curtly. ‘Well, there isn’t any need. I already know.’

  ‘I can’t believe that,’ Leigh protested unhappily. ‘He’s been so concerned about you...’ ‘Because he feels guilty... responsible in some way.’ Debra gave a brief shrug. ‘At least that’s what he said. But that’s his problem, Leigh. I’ve got enough of my own. Like trying to get back my self-respect. Leigh, I despise myself so much. Hate myself sometimes... more than I hate him, even.’

  ‘Him... you mean Marsh?’ Leigh questioned her.

  Debra shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t hate Marsh,’ she told her in a low voice. ‘I meant him... Kevin Riley.’

  She looked away from her sister, unaware of the frown that was darkening her eyes.

  Debra had said almost nothing about Kevin Riley to any of them, and yet it was obvious from the passion in her voice that she thought about him a great deal.

  Uneasily she touched her sister’s arm and said

  gently, ‘Debra... Kevin Riley—’

  ‘I hate myself so much sometimes, Leigh,’ Debra told her, ignoring her words.

  ‘Don’t we all at times?’ Leigh agreed wryly. ‘Remember how I felt when Paul first left me? I thought it must be me... that I was solely to blame... that if I had been different... better... prettier, cleverer, sexier, he wouldn’t have felt the need for anyone else.

  ‘It’s something we women excel at, taking all the blame. It was a long, long time before I was able to accept that Paul was unfaithful to me because he wanted to be. Because the need to indulge his own desires was more important to him than his responsibility to our marriage.

  ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, but you must stop blaming yourself. It’s a form of anger really, you know. You feel you can’t or shouldn’t express the anger you have every right to feel openly and outwardly, and so you turn it in on yourself.’

  Debra gave her a bitter, caustic look.

  ‘I thought you were a detective, not a psychoanalyst.’

  She didn’t need Leigh to explain to her why she felt the way she did, she told herself crossly as they walked back to Leigh’s car, but later, when she was alone, she found she couldn’t dismiss her sister’s words.

  But if her feelings were not directed at herself then who was their target? Kevin Riley? No, not him. It was Marsh... Marsh, with whom she had shared her most private ecstasy... Marsh, with whom she had let down every one of her barriers, allowing him to see her as no other human being ever had, stripped of the protective layers of restraint and civilisation, the deepest, most intimate heart of her revealed to him through her response to him, just as clearly and vulnerably as his hands had revealed the nakedness of her body.

  He had seen her at her most vulnerable, and she had given him a part of herself she could never, ever take back. She had given him her love... herself, and all he had wanted had been her body. And yes, she was angry.

  But why should that make her angry with him? Angry with herself, perhaps. After all, he hadn’t asked for her love... hadn’t wanted it.

  And all the time he had been touching her, arousing her, had there in his mind been those ugly, disgusting wo
rds that Kevin Riley had flung so tauntingly at her?

  She shuddered, dropping her head into her hands, rocking herself to and fro as she tried to ignore the painful demand of her own thoughts.

  Was this never going to end...this self-induced torture? Was she never going to be able to forgive herself and start living her life again?

  She tensed as she heard the phone ring again. What if it was Marsh again, wanting to speak to her?

  He probably just wants to know when I’m going back to work, she had told her mother yesterday after refusing to speak to him.

  What was he so afraid of? That she would tell the whole world what had happened between them? Did he realise that she was as anxious to ignore it as he was himself?

  She couldn’t go back to work, of course. She would have to find another job somewhere else. There was no way she wanted to come into daily contact with Marsh, and he wouldn’t want it either.

  She went downstairs and asked her mother for some notepaper. Back in her bedroom, she penned a brief, curt note, saying that she felt it best if she did not return to the company and that she would be grateful if her personal possessions could be sent on to her.

  She wasn’t going back to work, and she wasn’t going back to her house. Her mother had mentioned diffidently that her insurance company was having it cleaned up and redecorated, but Debra had refused to listen.

  She didn’t want to know. She wished passionately that there was some way she could simply wipe her memory clear of everything that had happened... including Marsh.

  Especially Marsh, she told herself shakily. Especially that.

  ‘Do you feel up to baby-sitting for me tomorrow night?’

  Debra looked across the table at her sister.

  Leigh had called round on her way to work, and Debra saw the way her mouth tensed a little as she saw that she was still wearing her old jeans. ‘I’m not an invalid,’ she told her sister.

  ‘No?’ Leigh queried grimly, making her flush and say defensively,

  ‘All right, I’ll baby-sit. Is it something special?’ ‘Jeff’s birthday. Oh, and by the way, I’ve brought you this.’

  She placed a large carrier-bag on the table. Now it was anger that stained Debra’s face with hot colour as she recognised the name of the clothes shop printed on the bag.

  ‘If I wanted new clothes I’m perfectly capable of buying my own,’ she told Leigh angrily.

  ‘Are you? Look, Debs, I understand how you must feel. We all do, but can’t you see? I know how hard it must be for you... but you can’t go on like this. The parents are worried sick about you.’

  ‘And wearing new clothes is going to stop them worrying, is it?’ Debra asked her sardonically.

  ‘No, but it might at least lift a little of the burden off them. Unless, of course, you don’t want it lifted.’

  The accusation made Debra flush and demand reproachfully, ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘I can say it because I love you and because I care about you,’ Leigh told her quietly. ‘Debs, can’t you see, by behaving like this you’re letting Kevin Riley and all those like him win? Is that really what you want?’

  Debra didn’t answer her, but later she forced herself to examine what Leigh had said and was forced to accept that she was right.

  She hadn’t realised before the trauma that being a victim could cause, the devastating loss of self-worth and self-respect; the fear that wouldn’t let her sleep, and the pain and the guilt.

  When she went to baby-sit for Leigh she refused her stepfather’s offer of a lift, saying that she would walk and that no doubt either Jeff or Leigh would give her a lift home.

  She also wore one of the new outfits Leigh had bought for her, the bright multicoloured cotton suit that Leigh had admired the day they had gone shopping.

  When she put it on the bright colours immediately highlighted her strained, colourless face. Grimacing at it, she reached for her make-up.

  When she went downstairs and saw the surprise and relief in her mother’s eyes she was guiltily aware of the truth of Leigh’s comments to her.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured them firmly as they both fussed over her.

  ‘Ring us when you get there,’ her mother insisted.

  It was broad daylight and only a fifteen-minute walk to Leigh’s house, but Debra was shakily aware of how vulnerable she felt and how glad she was to get there.

  ‘The girls are both in bed,’ Leigh told her, ‘and they’re to stay there,’ she added firmly.

  It was only after Jeff had arrived to pick her up and they were on the point of leaving that Leigh turned to her and hugged her, telling her fiercely, ‘It’s only because I care, you know.’

  Then she thought that Leigh was referring to the fact that she had bullied her into wearing her new clothes.

  There was nothing of any particular interest to her on television, but Leigh had rented a video for her, and Debra had started watching it before she realised that its theme was a love-story of great tenderness and finesse.

  The love-scenes in particular distressed her, but for some reason she couldn’t stop watching. Anguish and yearning burned through her as she saw the tender look in the male actor’s eyes as he touched his lover.

  When she heard the doorbell ring she jumped up in relief, hurrying to answer it.

  She opened the door without thinking, assuming the caller would be a friend of Leigh’s. The last person she expected to find standing outside was Marsh.

  He was inside the house before she could do or say anything, and her body trembled in a mixture of trauma and outrage as she acknowledged edged how impossible it would have been for her to physically prevent him from coming in.

  It was only after she had mastered her initial shock that she realised that he must have known that she would be here on her own and that only one person could have given him that information.

  Leigh. Debra smarted as she remembered her stepsister’s Judas kiss as she’d left.

  ‘I suppose you and Leigh arranged this between you, did you?’ she challenged him bitterly.

  ‘Only because you made it necessary,’ Marsh retorted tautly.

  Leigh had been reluctant at first to accede to his plea that she help him to see Debra, but when he explained to her that Debra had written, resigning from her job, she had been so shocked that she had given way.

  Of his private feelings for Debra he had said nothing, nor of his growing burden of guilt and despair that he had not been with her when she’d needed him.

  He hadn’t come here this evening looking for absolution, he reminded himself grimly. His guilt was his burden and he must not give in to the temptation to plead with Debra for understanding. Or to beg her for her love?

  His mouth clamped in a hard line, and Debra, witnessing the hardness of his expression, felt a flutter of apprehension.

  What had he come here for? He must have realised by now that she fully understood the nature of his desire for her.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about this,’ he told her harshly.

  Dry-mouthed, Debra watched as he produced her letter of resignation, her eyes wide and uncomprehending. Surely she had made it clear enough what she intended?

  ‘What is there to talk about?’ she asked him tensely. ‘I want to leave the firm. I—’

  ‘You state in your letter that you’re giving us a month’s notice,’ Marsh told her tersely.

  Debra blinked at him.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed uncertainly. ‘But of course I’m quite prepared to leave immediately. In fact, I’m sure we both feel that that would be best.’

  ‘What we both do or don’t feel doesn’t come into it,’ Marsh told her grimly, and then demanded grittily, ‘Did you read the new contracts you were given when our two firms amalgamated?’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘If you did,’ he interrupted her, ‘you must have known that it calls for a minimum period of three months’ notice.’

  Debra swayed dizzily,
clutching the door-jamb for support.

  Of course... of course. How could she have forgotten? They had all been so pleased about that clause as well, taking it as a sign of intent on the part of the larger firm that their jobs were secure.

  ‘Look, I think we’d better go and sit down,’ Marsh told her roughly.

  Numbly Debra did as he suggested, dropping unsteadily on to the smaller of Leigh’s two cotton-covered settees. Marsh sat opposite her on the other.

  ‘You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you, Debra? You have to give the firm three months’ notice and not one.’

  For a moment irritation burned away her shock. It flashed in her eyes, giving her face an animation that reminded him painfully of the girl she had been before.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ she told him acidly. ‘Of course I understand,’ but then she winced and bit on her bottom lip as she realised that her statement contradicted her actions. Why on earth hadn’t she remembered that three-month clause?

  ‘There must be some way round it,’ she queried now. ‘Some loophole.’

  ‘Perhaps there should be, but there isn’t,’ Marsh told her, shaking his head in denial. ‘I’ve had a word with head office, and I’m afraid they won’t budge. You see, to them you’re a very valuable asset. You have a knowledge of your clients and their finances which could not be absorbed overnight by someone else.’

  The tension in his voice had changed. He was looking away from her as though there was something, some piece of information he was concealing from her.

  Her heart started to race. Could head office be threatening to sue her if she broke her contract?

  Nervously she asked him.

  He looked rather shocked, surprised, no doubt, that she had guessed he was concealing something from her, she suspected. There was a small pause before he replied slowly, ‘Well, of course it’s a possibility.’

  That meant that they would, Debra reflected.

  ‘I can’t come back,’ she told him wildly. ‘If necessary I’ll just have to take three months’ sick leave...’

  But she knew she couldn’t. Her doctor was already making noises about her returning to work, suggesting gently but firmly that too much time on her hands to dwell on what had happened was not healthy.