When she awoke she was alone and she sat up in bed. Nikolaos had already gone down and she wondered whether, finding her asleep, he had stared at her in the same way that she had earlier stared at him. It was a disquieting thought and not wishing to dwell on it she pushed the bedclothes aside and went in to run her bath.
By the time she arrived downstairs the other guests had gone out and deciding to do the same, she put on a tweed coat, tied a scarf round her head and set off. Along the drive she walked and out into the country lanes. To the left lay a thick copse and here the ground was dry. Fallen leaves weighed down by earlier rain were soft underfoot and she walked without making 'a noise. It was wonderful to be alone, to know she could shout or run or fling her arms wide to the heavens without anyone seeing her. She lifted her head to the watery sky and as she did so, glimpsed a flash of blue between the trees. Unwilling to have her solitude broken she drew back behind a bush and waited. After a moment she stepped out, stopping abruptly as she saw that the flash of blue had materialised into a vivid raincoat worn by Irene Ridgeway, who was even now sitting on the fallen trunk of a tree a few yards away. But she was not alone: Nikolaos was with her, and Laura, unwilling to join them, remained hidden.
It was, she realised almost immediately, a bad mistake on her part, for Nikolaos and Irene were obviously indulging in a long and serious conversation. Their voices rose and fell and occasionally she heard a half sob. But everything that was said was said in the language she did not understand, although she understood very well the sudden movement with which the Greek woman nestled close and put her arms round the man's neck.
"Niko," she cried. "Niko!"
Laura clenched her hands and knew an anger so overwhelming that she had to use every vestige of control to stop herself from running out and confronting them. She was still stiff with fury when she heard the snap of twigs and looking through the bushes, saw Nikolaos and Irene walking away.
There was no doubt that the woman was flinging herself at his head, no doubt that she bitterly regretted not having married him years ago. 'Poor Harry' had died before he could inherit his tide and his widow obviously considered Nikolaos an ideal substitute.
'She can have him too,' Laura fumed, 'but not until I've gone.' Suddenly the realisation that he would find happiness with someone else was a bitter one and she began to walk swiftly in the direction of the house. 'What's the matter with me?" she thought. 'I don't want him myself yet I can't bear to think of him with another woman.' It was a dog in the manger attitude, she admitted wryly, and one that she must learn to control. In marrying Nikolaos she had spoiled his life and she had no right to begrudge his finding happiness once they had parted.
It would be strange not to see him any more. She had grown so used to being with him in the last few months. He only had to walk into the room and all the other men seemed insignificant by comparison. She sighed. The freedom for which she had prayed so desperately ever since she had become his wife no longer seemer so desirable now that is was approaching. Yet she had never truly been his wife, never meant any of the vows she had made. Even so, the idea of ending her marriage was abhorrent to her. If only there was something else she could do.
During lunch Nikolaos was placed at the opposite end of the table and Laura was irritated to find Irene by his side, while she herself was forced to give her attention to Ivo Pessis, Stephanos' younger brother.
"I think Stephanos has been very patient with Melissa," he confided to Laura. "He loves her very much, of course."
"Love should be mutual," Laura said carefully.
"I agree with you, Mrs. Dimar, and I think my brother's patience is now receiving its reward." He lowered his voice. "You no doubt know all about the English doctor?"
"Yes."
"Then you probably know they are not seeing one another any more."
Laura's hand clenched on her fork. So Melissa had been right. Philip Burrow's pride had brought about the parting which all Nikolaos' authority had not managed to do. She sighed. Her husband had won again! Across a bank of flowers she looked at him and saw him raise his glass and glance at Irene.
"Do you feel all right, Mrs. Dimar?" Ivor's voice interrupted her thoughts. "You've gone so pale."
With an effort she looked at the boy next to her. "I'm quite all right. I didn't sleep very well last night and I don't think I should have had so many cocktails before lunch."
He smiled. "Try to eat a little food. It'll make you feel better. Or a piece of bread — I can recommended that."
Conscious of him watching her, she nibbled a piece of roll but it was so dry in her mouth she could hardly swallow it. 'I must talk to Nikolaos,' she thought. 'The situation between us has become intolerable and I've got to end it.'
CHAPTER TWELVE
LAURA'S hope of talking to Nikoloas about the future was doomed to disappointment for when they returned to London that evening, Ivor travelled with them.
'I'll talk to him when we get home,' she decided, but even there she was thwarted, for as they entered the flower-filled hall the butler came quickly out to meet them.
"Your New York office have been trying to contact you, Mr. Dimar. I gave them the Limarks' telephone number but you'd already left so—" The phone began to ring and he hurried into the library.
Nikolaos followed, closing the door behind him, and Laura went to her bedroom and took off her coat. Maria was already unpacking her clothes and she strolled into the drawing room and poured herself a sherry. She took the glass over to the fireplace and stood looking down into the flames. On the mantelpiece the clock delicately chimed seven and as the last sound died away she heard her husband come in. He walked straight to the small Sheraton table and picked up the bottle of whisky. Holding it in his hand he glanced at her. "Would you like one?"
"I've got a sherry, thanks."
He filled his glass and came to stand with his back to the fire. Above him a light glowed on the dark browns and reds of a Rembrandt and she thought how like a Rembrandt character he was with his sombre countenance and heavy-lidded eyes. The glass in his hand moved as his fingers tightened on the stem, fingers that a short while ago had pressed themselves into Irene Ridgeway's flesh. The sherry jerked in Laura's hand and with an exclamation she dabbed at her skirt with a handkerchief. "Thank goodness tweed doesn't show marks," she said.
"You could of course throw it out and buy another one," he replied equably.
"What a horrible attitude! If you had an interest in a dyers and cleaners you wouldn't say that."
"I have got an interest in a dyers and cleaners!" Nothing seemed to disturb him. "I've got an interest in quite a lot of things, Laura."
"I know you have. I saw one of them this—" she hesitated and in the pause he said:
"I've got to go to New York immediately. Some important business has cropped up."
"Does that mean you'll be leaving in the morning?"
"No. I'm leaving tonight. The car's waiting for me now."
"I see." She moistened her lips, illogically pleased that she had been given a reprieve.
"Why are you looking like that?" he asked. "You've been behaving strangely all day."
"I didn't think you'd notice."
"I notice everything about you, Laura. I've noticed that you're nervous, that you're smoking too much and that you've grown thinner. You were sleeping when I left the bedroom this morning and without your make-up I could see the dark shadows beneath your eyes."
She averted her head. "You shouldn't have looked."
"I'm only human," he said gravely. "And a cat may look at a queen."
She turned quickly. "Nikolaos, I—" She stopped as the door opened and Bingham came in.
"I don't want to hurry you, sir, but the control tower have allocated your take-off for eight-thirty and you should leave right away."
"Very well. Take my bags down and IH follow you."
"How long do you think you'll be away?" she asked.
"A week — possibly a little les
s."
"It'll be the first time we've been apart."
He drained his drink and set the empty glass on the mantelpiece. "We've been apart for a long, long time," he said quietly. "Goodbye, Laura."
Tears welled into her eyes and when she had blinked them away he was gone. For a long while she sat in front of the fire, but gradually the emptiness of the flat began to depress her and she walked from one room to the other, her eyes roaming indifferently over the exquisite furniture, the priceless paintings, the porcelain vases and soft pile carpets. To think of Nikolaos speeding away from her was suddenly so painful that she longed to do something that would help her forget him. But there was nothing to which she could put her mind: no rooms to be cleaned, no articles to be dusted, not even a pair of gossamer stockings to be washed.
On an impulse she dialled Celia's number. Her friend was probably on flight duty but there was a faint chance she might be at home. With a lifting of spirits she heard the phone taken off at the other end and then Celia's voice.
"It's Laura here," she said abruptly. "I'm all alone and I'd like to talk to you."
"Right now?"
"Yes." Laura was surprised to find her hand was shaking. "But if you're busy it doesn't matter. I can—"
"I'll be over right away," Celia interrupted and hung up.
Laura put down the receiver and leaned her head against the wall. What was the matter with her? Why should she feel excited one moment, lethargic the next? Why should she alternate between optimism and depression? What emotions lay in her subconscious mind that she was trying so desperately to suppress?
Quickly she went into her room and changed into a full skirted house-coat, taking a sensuous pleasure in the long folds of sapphire velvet that flowed out behind her.
She was just crossing the hall when the doorbell rang and she answered it herself. "Celia!"
"Laura!"
They threw their arms round each other, laughing and talking at the same time.
"It's so long since I've seen you," Laura exclaimed. "You look wonderful."
"So do you. From the way you sounded on the telephone I thought you'd had a row with Nikolaos."
"He left for America an hour ago on business."
"No wonder you were feeling miserable! Poor darling." Celia followed Laura into the drawing room. "Why didn't you go with him?"
"It was all rather unexpected. We got back from the country tonight and found a message waiting for him." Laura sat down. "Have you had supper yet?"
"No. I was in the middle of making a mushroom omelette when you rang."
Laura was impressed. "It's not like you to make something so elaborate when you're on your own. A boiled egg and a cup of tea used to be enough."
She saw the expression on Celia's face and stopped, aghast. "Celia! You don't mean to tell me you weren't alone when I telephoned?"
Her friend nodded.
"It wasn't Tim, was it?"
"As a matter of fact it was."
"Why ever didn't you say so? I'd have understood and you could have come over tomorrow."
"I'm flying to Cairo in the morning and I knew if I didn't see you tonight I wouldn't be able to see you for another two weeks."
"But you won't be seeing Tim either."
"I know where I stand with him," Celia said softly. "And quite honestly, Laura, you had me worried."
"Well, seeing me should relieve your mind." Laura forced herself to smile. "But I feel an absolute beast at taking you away from Tim."
"You needn't. I was with him the whole weekend." She held out her hand and on the third finger a small diamond twinkled.
"Oh, darling, how wonderful!" Laura hugged her close. "That's the best news I've heard for months. Now we really must have something to celebrate. How about champagne and chicken?"
"Sounds good to me."
Together they went into the white tiled kitchen and Celia gasped at the vast refrigerator, the row of sinks and eye-level oven.
"You could prepare a banquet here," she exclaimed.
"We often do! Nikolaos thinks nothing of inviting twenty or thirty people for dinner." Laura walked into the larder and looked at the shelves. "Shall I open a tin of foie gras or caviare!"
"Not for me," Celia said. "There's no point in giving myself a taste for caviare!"
Laura grinned and opened the refrigerator door. On silver plates were cuts of cold meat and a roast chicken, as well as glistening slices of smoked salmon garnished with olives.
"Wow!" Celia said behind her. "You two certainly do yourselves proud! I suppose this was for your little supper snack tonight."
"As a matter of fact it was! Louis — our chef — always leaves us something cold on a Sunday." She began to take the food out of the refrigerator. "Come on, let's eat in the kitchen. It's something I've never yet been able to do here!"
An hour later, replete, they carried their coffee cups into the drawing room and sat down either side of the fire.
"This is almost like old times," Laura said as she smoked a cigarette. "We had a lot of fun together, didn't we?"
"We certainly did. Do you remember how petrified we were during our training? And poor old Marjorie
Whatsername who had hysterics in the Decompression Chamber?"
"I wonder what happened to her?"
"She got married. I bumped into her in Harrods the other day. Apparently she met someone when she was on the course — a navigator I think she said he was." Celia sipped her coffee. "But none of the girls have done as well as you. Why, not only were you the star stewardess of Bantock Airlines, but you married the head of it!"
"What a man possesses is unimportant," Laura said soberly. "It's what he is that counts. I don't mean to sound like an armchair philosopher, but in the last few months I've had plenty of leisure time to think things out."
"Are you happy?" Celia said and instantly put her hand to her mouth. "I'd no business to ask that. You needn't answer if you don't want to."
"I don't mind." Laura looked at the gleaming end of her cigarette. "Am I happy? I'm not sure how to answer. A short while ago I knew what I wanted, and if I'd got it then, I'd have been perfectly happy. Now I'm not sure what I want, and I'm so mixed up that—"
"Maybe if you had a child…" Celia interrupted.
"A child!" Laura's cheeks burned. Close though Celia was to her, she could not bring herself to admit what a fiasco her marriage really was. She wondered what Celia would say if she knew that she and Nikolaos would soon be parting and that this afternoon, with her own eyes, she had seen him passionately kiss another woman. She leaned forward and from a leather scuttle replenished the dying logs on the fire. "Do you want some more coffee, Celia?"
"Yes please."
Tacitly they changed the subject, their conversation turning to gossip of the Bantock personnel, and only occasionally, as a plane droned overhead, did Laura's thoughts go to her husband alone in his chartered aeroplane, flying thousands of feet above the Atlantic.
For the rest of the week she tried to keep herself busy. With unaccustomed extravagance she bought herself some clothes and for the first time enjoyed spending the money, enjoyed too the prospect of wearing them for Nikolaos.
One evening she dined with Melissa and her mother, listening to them talk of Andreas and the baby that was expected any moment. Melissa was paler and thinner but Laura only had a few minutes alone with her, when she learned that Ivor's statement of the week before was true and that she and Philip had parted.
"He decided that Nikolaos was right," Melissa said bitterly, "and that I wouldn't make a poor man's wife. He's also got too much pride to take any of my own money to help him."
"I wish there was something I could do."
"Well there isn't. Philip doesn't love me any more!"
"I'm sure it's because he loves you too much," Laura said gently. "He knows it would place a terrible strain on your marriage if you had to quarrel with your family."
"I love him more than my family."
"Do you?" said Laura. "Yet you wouldn't disobey Nikolaos."
Melissa had no chance to reply for at that moment her mother came back into the room.
Late on Friday night Laura received a telephone call from Nikolaos' office informing her that he would be arriving at ten o'clock the following morning, and she was so disturbed at the thought of seeing him again that she could not sleep.
At eight o'clock she was already up and dressed and wandered from room to room counting the minutes. By half-past eight she could no longer bear to remain inactive, and on an impulse decided to go to London Airport to meet her husband's plane. Not giving herself a chance to change her mind, she asked Bingham to have the car brought round immediately, and ten minutes later was waiting outside the flat, wrapped against the cold weather in a silver blue mink coat.
"I shan't need you," she told the chauffeur. "I'll drive myself."
"Very good, Madam." He closed the door after her as she slid into the driver's seat and let in the clutch.
It was not easy to drive a heavy Rolls through the London traffic but as she reached the Great West Road and settled down to a steady sixty she was able to relax and felt her spirits lifting. The sun shone down, sparkling on the flinty road in front of her while a slight breeze coming in through the half open window gently Lifted her hair away from her face. Many people looked twice at the red-headed young woman at the wheel of the huge Rolls, but Laura was unaware of the interest she aroused and drawing up outside of airport buildings, parked the car and went into the departure hall.
As she looked round her, the past months dropped away and once more she was Laura Prentiss, air hostess, hurrying through the building to collect her passengers.
Someone brushed past her and turning, she saw a girl in the olive green uniform of the Bantock Airlines.
"I'm sorry, Madam," the stewardess began and then let out a shriek. "Laura! I didn't recognise you."
"Hello, Sheila." Laura grinned at one of her erstwhile classmates. "Don't tell me I've changed so much."
"Of course not but I never expected to see you here." The girl's eyes sparkled as she took in Laura's coat. "You look like a million dollars. And I bet it cost a million dollars to look like that too!"
Rachel Lindsay - The Taming of Laura Page 15
