CHAPTER SEVEN
THE previous evening, Lucie had spent as much time as possible with Sam. She had played with him upstairs in his room until Seton had called up that dinner was ready. Afraid that his mother might still be there, Lucie had come down only reluctantly, but then breathed a sigh of relief when she'd seen that they were just the three of them. During their marriage she had come to love her parents-in-law, but couldn't face any recriminations from them now, not even silent looks of reproach.
But his mother had gone and it was Seton who had fixed the meal. Sam, still excited at having her back, was allowed to monopolise the conversation. Seton sat almost silently, his face dark and brooding, only pretending to eat, white Lucie kept her attention on her son and tried to avoid meeting Seton's eyes. After the meal she washed up and found things to do in the kitchen—not that there really was anything; the fridge and cupboards were well stocked and the place was clean; Seton's poor mother had looked after them well. When she could find no excuse to linger any longer, she went into the sitting-room, where Seton sat in his favourite armchair, his fingers drumming a constant tattoo on the arm, and Sam watched one of his video films. This had always been a good time when Seton was home, this hour after dinner before Sam went to bed, but now Seton shot her a scathing look, knowingthat she'd been hiding away in the kitchen, and the air was sharp with tension. At eight-thirty Seton said, 'Time for bed now, Sam.'
Obediently he switched off his video and came to Lucie. 'You'll come up with me, won't you?'
'Yes, of course.'
She went up to bath him and put him to bed, then stretched out beside him as she had always done to read him a story. But tonight he didn't seem interested although he listened politely, and when she went to leave him he clung to her hand. 'Promise you won't go away again, Mummy. Please promise.' There was such entreaty in his voice, such worry in his little face that her heart filled with dismay. Helplessly, and in deep distress, she said, 'It's very difficult to make a promise like that, Sam.'
He began to cry and she went to gather him to her but he pushed her away. From behind her Seton gave an exclamation and strode into the room, picking Sam up and holding him close. 'Don't worry, old son. I'm here. Don't worry.'
It was, Luck saw with distress, a scene that must have taken place on the nights while she'd been gone. Getting to her feet, she went to stroke Sam's hair, to kiss him, but he shouted, 'No! Go away!' at her, and buried his head in Seton's neck.
Leaving them together, she went to go into her own bedroom, but realised that she would no longer be welcome there so went into the spare room instead and just sat on the bed. It was some time before Seton came out of Sam's room. Immediately he came to look for her, going first to the bedroom they had shared. He opened the door of the guest-room hurriedly, and visibly relaxed when he saw her there.
'What ate you doing in here?'
She raised strained eyes to meet his. 'I'll sleep here.'
He hesitated, then shrugged. 'As you wish. But we have to talk.'
'Not tonight, please. I'm so tired.'
He looked exhausted himself, his face drawn, and thankfully he didn't push it. Lucie undressed and went to bed, but couldn't sleep. The memory of Sam's rejection haunted her, was the greatest mental anguish she had ever known. She heard Seton go to his room, his step heavy, and wondered if the misery he was going through was anything like her own. A couple of hours later Lucie slipped quietly out of bed and went across the landing to Sam's room. The night-light was on and she saw that he was asleep, still clutching a favourite toy that she thought he'd outgrown ages ago. How insecure the child must have felt to go back to it. There was a movement behind her and she saw that Seton had followed her. He stood hi the doorway, his face set like granite, then said as if the words were torn from him, 'How could you do this to him?'
To both of them, she realised, but Lucie could only shake her head and say, Tm sorry.'
She went back to her room and somehow got through the night, getting up early the next morning. She expected Seton to go to his chambers, but he came down in jeans with a sweater over his shirt. Luck looked at him uncertainly. 'Aren't you going to work?'
'No. I've taken some leave.'
He didn't make a big thing of it but Lucie knew that it must have been hard for him; he was very conscientious in his work and would hate letting his clients or his partners down.
'Would you like some breakfast?' she asked stiltedly.
‘I’ll get my own.'
'Oh, no, I'll—' She swung round towards the fridge and they collided. Seton automatically put out a hand to steady her and for a moment they were close, then-bodies touching. She saw a blaze of emotion in his eyes at the same moment as a tremor of aching need ran through her. The fed of him, the scent of his freshly applied aftershave filled her with almost uncontrollable desire. She wanted him, needed him so much.
'Lucie?' She raised heavy eyelids to find him staring at her and knew that he'd seen and understood. Quickly she moved away. 'Sorry.' But he caught her arm, his eyes eager with questions as he searched her face. 'Let go of me.' Her voice filled with tension, became abrupt as she tried to recover from her mistake. But Seton wasn't the kind of man who would let a slip like that pass, and his eyes sharpened. It was Sam who saved her, running into the kitchen to make sure she was still there.
Eating breakfast together was such a normal activity that it got to LUCK and her hands began to shake. She hid it as best she could but knew that Seton was watching her closely. Sam was still in his pyjamas, so she said brightly,
'Shall I help you get ready for school?'
'I don't want to go to school!' Sam thrust his bottom lip forward stubbornly and his eyes had exactly the same look as Seton's when he'd come to collect her from the police station: untrusting and wary.
'Then we'll both have a day off,' Seton said. 'What would you like to do instead?'
Sam looked at Lucie. 'Will Mummy come with us?'
'Of course.' Seton spoke for her.
'Can we go and choose a new video?'
'Yes, but not till this afternoon,' Seton said easily. 'So why don't you go and get dressed and then we'll gather up the leaves in the garden.' When he'd gone Lucie expected the questions to start, but instead Seton stood up and said,
'I've some calls to make and a few letters to write.'
He went into his study and was gone for some time. When Sam came down he seemed to have lost his resentment of the night before and was his usual happy self when Lucie made him some salt dough and they sat together cutting out and colouring shapes to bake in the oven. It was then the phone rang and Sam ran to answer it before Lucie could stop him.
When Rick spoke Lucie couldn't answer, her heart filling with despair that he'd found her after only one day back.
'You thought you'd got away from me, didn't you?' He laughed—a sound that Lucie had come to hate more than anything in the world. 'You're going to pay for that.'
'I don't have enough money—' Lucie began, speaking softly so that Sam wouldn't hear, but Rick interrupted her.
'I'm fed up with the petty few quid I get from you. That's peanuts. Hardly worth the bother. I want some real money,' he said, making Lucie's heart go cold. 'And you're going to help me get some.'
'Help you?'
'Yes. You're coming on a job with me.'
By 'job' she knew that he meant committing a burglary. Her voice filling with appalled horror, she said, 'No! No, I won't.'
Suddenly the receiver was snatched from her hand. Seton said, 'Is it him?' And when she nodded, too taken aback to deny it, he shouted into the receiver, 'Damn you, you bastard. Keep away from my wife!' He slammed the phone down, then said curtly, 'Sam, go and play outside.'
He stood there glaring at her, holding her eyes with the power of his own anger white Sam, sensitive to the tension between them, quickly did as he was told. The second the door closed behind him Seton's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. 'Were you making plans to leave with
him? Were you?' She couldn't speak, but it didn't matter. His face hardened by rage, his jaw thrust forward, Seton bit out, 'Because I'm damn well not going to let you. Did you think I'd let you go without a fight? You're my wife!' His mouth twisted. 'And, God help me, I still love you.'
She stared at him. 'Even—even after this?'
'Yes.' Bleakness came back into his eyes. 'I told myself all last night that I hated you for what you've done to us. I wanted to hate you. But I only have to look at you, touch you...' He looked down at his hand still holding her wrist and raised pain-racked eyes to meet hers. 'And then I know that I can't let you go, that I'll do everything within my power, whatever it takes, to keep you.'
Her silly heart swelling with such joy and gratitude that she thought it would burst out of her chest, Lucie could only say on a tremulous breath, 'Oh, Seton.'
He looked at her for a moment, frowned, seemed about to question her, but then dropped her wrist and stepped away. Lifting a hand, he pushed his hair back from his forehead as he always did when something was worrying him—a gesture so familiar that she wanted to go to him and put her arms around him, let him know that she was there, a part of him. But that was impossible now; she had no right to comfort him when she was the cause of his torment.
Abruptly, he said, 'I'm going to need more time to be with Sam—and to be with you. So I've written this morning to the chairman of the party selection comittee, telling him that I no longer wish to stand as their candidate in the next election.'
'Oh, but you can't!' Lucie's face filled with distress. 'You just can't. Not after everything I've been through to—' She broke off, turned and ran into his study. The letter was lying on die desk, ready to be posted. Picking it up, she tore it in half and threw the pieces into the waste basket.
'Lucie!' Coming into the study after her, Seton caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. 'Why did you do that? Can't you see that—?'
'Because you want it so much. Because it would be so right for you. And you would be such a good, such an honest politician. You mustn't let anything stand in your way, anything! Not me. Not—not this mess.' She shook her head in despair. 'Seton, you know how much you want it.'
His hands tightened convulsively on her shoulders. 'But there's nothing I want so much as I want you. Nothing!'
The phone rang again, cutting through the vehemence of his words, distracting them both. Lucie jumped up with sickening fear, her body going rigid. Still holding her, Seton felt it and the bleak, cold mask settled over his face again. Picking up the receiver, he said curtly, 'Hello?' After listening for a moment while Lucie watched him with wide, petrified eyes, he covered the receiver and said, 'It's for me.'
She visibly relaxed, her shoulders sagging with relief, then nodded and left him, not knowing that his eyes were raw with pain as he watched her go. Her thoughts and emotions too chaotic to make any kind of sense, Lucie went into the kitchen and held onto the work surface for several minutes before going out into the garden to look for Sam. He was on the swing that Seton had made for him which hung from a branch of the apple tree, but he wasn't swinging, just sitting there looking at the house, an expression of fear and dread on his small, pale face.
'Want a push?' Lucie asked him.
He shook his head. 'Are you going away again?' His eyes, the exact blue-grey of his father's, were wide and vulnerable.
'Of course not,' Lucie managed to say lightly. 'We're going out to choose a new video later, aren't we?'
'I don't like it when you go away.'
Sitting on the ground beside him, she said, 'I bet you've been having a lovely time with Granny and Grandpa, though. Did they take you to see the new Disney film?'
He let her distract bun, but it seemed a long time before Seton came out to join them. Glancing at him under her lashes, Lucie thought he seemed withdrawn, as if he was thinking deeply about something on his mind. But that was understandable in the circumstances, she supposed. 'Who was on the phone?'
'What? Oh—the office.' He didn't enlarge on it but said, 'Why don't we go out to lunch? Sam can choose where.'
'Yes, please. The new burger place.' Sam ran inside to get his coat and they followed more slowly. As they reached the back door Lucie stopped and looked at Seton anxiously. 'You won't give up the candidacy, will you? Please. Please promise you won't.'
Seton gave her a strange, brooding kind of look. 'I've already done so. I spoke to the chairman on the phone before I wrote to confirm it.'
'Oh, no.' Her face filled with sadness. 'I wouldn't have had this happen for the world.' His eyes were fixed on her face.
'Wouldn't you?' 'Seton, I'm so sorry, so dreadfully sorry.' He gave her an odd look. 'Do you trust me, Lucie?' 'Trust you?'
She frowned, the question puzzling her, unable to see why he'd asked it. 'Yes, of course I trust you. I suppose you mean trust you to know what’s best,' she said gropingly.
But he shook his head. 'No. No, that isn't what I meant—but it doesn't matter.' He turned away. 'Sam's waiting.'
For the whole of that afternoon Seton seemed oddly withdrawn, distant, making Lucie wonder if this was how he was going to behave towards her all the time. Maybe he was regretting that outburst this morning, having second thoughts about wanting to keep her at any price. Before, in the time before Rick had got out of prison and found her, their relationship had always been so open; Seton just wasn't devious, but now Lucie felt that he was keeping something from her. He gave them his superficial attention but there was obviously something on his mind, and his eyes, when he thought Lucie wasn't watching him, kept sweeping round as if he was looking for someone. It came to her that he might be afraid that Rick— whom he only knew as 'the other man' and with whom he thought she was having an affair—was following them. He hadn't asked her anything personal about Rick—who he was, how she'd met him, that kind of thing. That puzzled Lucie too, until she realised that he probably couldn't bear to know, couldn't stand to hear any details.
After Sam had chosen his video they went to a garden centre where there was a small farm and a miniature railway that Sam loved to ride on, and by the time they got back home they all felt tired. But Sam insisted on watching his video after dinner and only reluctantly went to bed.
Seton stood up. He looked so tired and drawn that Lucie's heart went out to him. 'I'd better go and rewrite that letter.'
'Must you? Couldn't you say you've changed your mind?' Lucie pleaded wretchedly. 'Surely if s not too late?'
'On the contrary; I should have done it months ago.' And he walked into his study. Lucie automatically cleared up the sitting-room and kitchen, and was still there when Seton put his head round the door and said, 'I'm going out to post the letter. I might stop off at the pub on my way back.'
She was surprised that he was leaving her alone, but he would have to leave her some time, she supposed. Pouring herself a coffee, Lucie took it into the sitting-room and sat pensively drinking it. That Seton had decided to give up the candidacy was a terrible blow but also a great relief. At least now if Rick fulfilled his threat to expose her it wouldn't shatter Seton's parliamentary hopes, wouldn't create a national scandal, but it would still be bad enough. Tiredness overcame her and she decided to go to bed—that cold, lonely bed. But as she got to her feet the phone rang. Instantly she stood frozen with dread. She let it ring and the answering machine in the study cut in. Going into that room, she listened and heard Rick say, 'I know you're there, and I know you're alone, so answer the damn phone or I'll take the kid again.' With a small, tortured sob, Lucie picked up the phone.
'That's better. Now listen, bitch. I want you and I want your car—the Range Rover,'
'No!'
'Shut up,' he yelled at her, then called her a stream of foul names. 'It's for tomorrow night. You'll meet me at two in the morning where you've been dropping the money off every week. And don't try telling me you can't sneak out, because I know you're not sleeping in the same room as that jumped-up pig of a lawyer.' He laug
hed richly. 'Kicked you out, did he? Never mind, he'll take you back as soon as he gets randy and wants to—'
'Shut up!' Lucie shouted. 'Just shut up.'
He laughed again, but said, 'I should get enough money out of this job to set me up hi Spain. So you'll be rid of me, Lucie. Won't that be nice? And then your kid will be safe. See what happens when you're sensible?'
There was a long silence, then Lucie said slowly, 'Do you mean it? I'll really be free of you.'
'Free as a bird—a gaolbird.' And he guffawed at his own wit. Then his mood suddenly changed. 'And don't try and get clever. If you tell that husband of yours or go to the police, then you can kiss your son goodbye. I won't just take him for a little ride like last time, I'll make sure he's taken abroad, to a place where you'll never find him. And you'll spend the rest of your life wondering where he is, who's got him, and knowing it's all your fault. So be there. All right?'
'Yes,' Lucie answered on a long, tired breath. 'All right.'
She went to bed but it was over an hour later before she heard Seton come home. He didn't come to her room to check that she was there or even call goodnight; perhaps he thought she was asleep, and he must have known that she would never leave Sam alone in the house.
Lucie had no idea how she got through the next day. It was Saturday, so both Sam and Seton were home, but luckily they spent most of the day in the garden, clearing up the leaves and making a bonfire on which they roasted potatoes in the embers. Sam was laughing and happy, his confidence returning, but Lucie watched them both with sad, sombre eyes, knowing what she had to do that night.
At one-thirty in the morning Lucie let herself out of her room and went quietly down the stairs. What preparations she'd thought necessary had already been done: hinges on doors oiled, the petrol in the car checked. The garage doors opened quietly and she let the car coast down the drive and out into the road, letting it roll as far down the hill as it would go before starting the engine. It was very dark, the moon completely obscured, but she knew the way and drove with grim purposefulness. When she reached the telephone box she could see no sign of Rick, but she was early and settled down to wait.
The Guilty Wife Page 14
