by Penny Jordan
CHAPTER TEN
‘VERITY…Verity…It is you, isn’t it?’
Verity put down the shopping she had just been about to put in the back of the car and looked uncertainly at the woman hailing her, her face breaking into a warm smile as she recognised a girl who had been at school with her.
‘Gwen!’ she exclaimed warmly. ‘Good heavens. How are you…?’
‘Fine. If you don’t count the fact that I’m thirty-three, ten pounds overweight and just about to do a supermarket shop for a husband and three kids,’ the other woman groaned. ‘When did you get back to town? You look wonderful, by the way…’
‘Only very recently. I—’
‘Look, I’m in a bit of a rush now. We’ve got the in-laws coming round for supper.’ She pulled a wry face. ‘I’d love to have a proper chat with you, catch up on what you’ve been doing…Can I give you a ring?’
‘Yes. Yes, that would be nice,’ Verity acknowledged, quickly writing down her telephone number for her before climbing into her car.
It was ironic that she should bump into one of the few girls she had made friends with at school just as she had decided she was going to leave town, she thought as she started her car.
Honor looked sideways at the telephone in the garden centre office. It was Saturday morning and, instead of going swimming with Catherine and her mother, she had opted to come to work with her father. He was outside dealing with a customer. Glancing over her shoulder, Honor reached for the telephone receiver and quickly punched in Verity’s telephone number.
Verity heard the telephone ringing as she unlocked the front door, putting down her bag as she went to answer it.
‘Verity, is that you?’
Her heart lurched as she recognised Honor’s voice and heard its forlorn note.
‘Honor…Where are you? Are you all right?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Mmm…sort of…I’m at the garden centre. Verity, can I come and see you?’
Verity leaned back against the hall wall and closed her eyes.
‘Oh, Honor,’ she whispered sadly beneath her breath. Opening her eyes, she said as steadily as she could, ‘Honor, I don’t think that would be a good idea, do you? I—’
‘You’ve spoken to Dad, haven’t you?’ Honor demanded in a flat, accusing voice. ‘I thought you liked me…I thought we were friends…’
Verity could hear the tears in her voice.
‘Honor,’ she pleaded. ‘Please…’
‘I thought you liked me…’ Honor was repeating, crying in earnest now.
Verity pushed her hand into her hair. She had left it down this morning, oblivious to the admiring male glances she had attracted as she’d walked across the supermarket car park, the bright sunlight burnishing it to honey-gold.
‘Honor. Honor, I do…I do…but I shan’t be staying in town very much longer. I only intended to make a very short visit here,’ Verity began, but Honor was no longer listening to her.
‘You’re leaving? No, you can’t. You mustn’t. I need you, Verity.’ Then the phone went down.
Leaning against the wall, Verity took a deep breath.
Honor looked at her father. He was still talking to his customer. Sometimes grown-ups just didn’t know what was good for them!
She went up to him.
‘Dad, I’ve changed my mind and I want to go swimming with Catherine after all.’
‘All right,’ Silas agreed. ‘Give me five minutes and then I’ll drive you round to Catherine’s.’
‘I’ll need to go home first to get my swimming things,’ Honor reminded him.
‘Fine…’ Silas replied.
He was well aware that he was in his daughter’s bad books—and why. His only comfort was that one day she would understand and thank him for protecting her. One day…but quite definitely not today.
‘So what are you going to do?’ Catherine asked Honor interestedly. They were sitting in Catherine’s bedroom eating Marmite sandwiches and drying one another’s hair after their trip to the leisure centre.
‘I don’t know yet,’ Honor replied in despair.
‘You could always try to find someone else to be your stepmother,’ Catherine suggested cautiously.
‘I don’t want anyone else,’ Honor retorted passionately. ‘Would you want to change your mother?’
Catherine looked at her.
‘Sometimes I would,’ she reflected. ‘Specially when she won’t let me stay up late to watch television.’
‘Goodbye, Honor.’
Honor turned dutifully to smile and wave as she got out of Catherine’s mother’s car.
The latter had just brought her home and Honor could see her father opening the front door for her. Dragging her bag behind her, she headed towards him.
‘No kiss for me…?’ Silas asked her with forced joviality as she stalked past him and into the house.
Honor turned to give him a withering, womanly look.
‘Honor, I was thinking, you know that puppy you wanted…’
‘I don’t want a puppy,’ Honor told him coldly. ‘I want Verity.’
Silas gritted his teeth. He knew when he was being punished and given the cold-shoulder treatment. How best to handle it? In situations like this he’d benefit from a woman’s advice. Verity’s? He checked abruptly. Damn Honor. Now she’d got him doing it.
‘I’ve got your favourite for supper,’ he told her heartily as he followed her into the kitchen.
‘I’m not hungry,’ Honor replied. ‘We’re having an end-of-term play at school…I’m going to be a pop singer but I’m going to have to have a costume.’
‘Well, I’m sure we’ll be able to find you one,’ Silas offered, ignoring for the moment the dubious merits of a ten-year-old aping the manners of a much older pop-singer star, sensing that he was being led onto very treacherous ground indeed, but not as yet quite sure just where the danger was coming from. He soon found out.
‘All the other girls are having outfits made by their mothers,’ Honor informed him.
‘Well, perhaps Mrs Simmonds might…’ Silas began, but it was obvious that Honor was not going to be so easily put off.
‘Verity would know how to make mine,’ she informed him coldly. Silas held his breath.
‘Now, look, Honor—’ he began, but as he watched his daughter’s eyes fill with tears which then ran slowly down her face he closed his eyes. This was the very situation which he had hoped to avoid.
‘Honor,’ he began more gently, but his daughter was refusing to listen to him, whirling round and running out of the room and upstairs.
Silas heard the slam of her bedroom door and sighed.
Verity…
God, but even thinking her name hurt, and not just on Honor’s account.
Ever since the night she had spent here he had been fighting not to think about her, not to give in to his compelling, compulsive urge to relive every single second of the time he had held her in his arms, every single heartbeat…
Closing his eyes, he acknowledged what he had been fighting to deny ever since he had walked away, leaving her alone in bed.
It was too late to tell himself not to fall into the trap of loving her again. It had always been too late, for the simple reason that he had never stopped.
‘Honor, I’ve got to go out for half an hour. Will you be all right or shall I phone Mrs Simmonds?’
Honor looked up from the book she was reading. It was Monday teatime and Silas had just received a phone call from one of his customers who wanted to see him urgently.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Honor assured him instantly.
Honor waited until she was sure her father had gone before going into the study and rifling through his desk until she found what she was looking for. Yes, there it was, the photograph of Verity.
Picking it up, she turned it over, quickly reading the message on the back.
Desperate situations called for desperate measures. Squaring her shoulders, she went upstairs to her bedroom
and packed a haversack with a change of clothes. In the kitchen she added a bar of chocolate to it and then, after thoughtful consideration, added another—for Verity.
Having packed her bag, she then sat down and wrote her father a brief note.
Slowly she read it.
‘I am going to live with Verity.’
It didn’t take her very long to walk round to Verity’s, but even her stout heart gave a small bound of relief when she finally got there and saw that Verity’s car was outside. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if Verity hadn’t been in.
The unexpected ring on the doorbell brought Verity to the door with a small frown.
‘Honor!’ she exclaimed as she saw the small lone figure. ‘What…?’
‘I’ve come to live with you,’ Honor told her stoically, walking quickly into the hall and then bursting into tears and flinging herself into Verity’s arms as she told her between sobs, ‘It’s horrid not being able to see you.’
By the time Verity had managed to calm her down she was comfortably ensconced in the kitchen eating home-made biscuits and drinking juice whilst the cat, who had decided to adopt Verity, sat purring on her knee.
‘Honor, you know you can’t stay here, don’t you?’ Verity asked her gently. ‘Your father—’
‘He doesn’t care,’ Honor interrupted her.
‘You know that isn’t true,’ Verity chided her. ‘He loves you very much…’
‘Like you love him?’ Honor asked her, looking her straight in the eye.
Verity opened her mouth and then closed it again. Her legs, she discovered, had gone strangely weak. She sat down and was soon extremely glad that she had done so.
Honor was rifling through the haversack she had brought in with her. Triumphantly she produced the photograph she had taken from her father’s desk.
‘I found this,’ she told Verity, watching her.
‘Oh, Honor,’ was all Verity could say as she stared at the familiar picture. She could remember the day Silas had taken it—it was the day after they had made love for the first time and Silas had told her he would always keep the photograph in memory of all that they had shared.
‘Not that I shall ever need any reminding,’ he had whispered passionately to her as he had abandoned the camera and taken her in his arms.
‘It says “To my beloved Silas, with all my love for ever and always“,’ Honor told her solemnly.
Verity looked away from her.
‘Yes. Yes, I know,’ she agreed weakly.
‘You said you didn’t know my father…’ Honor reminded her.
‘Yes. Yes, I know,’ Verity agreed again.
‘And he said that he didn’t know you, but you wrote here that you love him. Why did you stop loving him, Verity?’
‘I…It wasn’t…’ Verity shook her head. ‘It was all a long time ago, Honor.’
‘But I want to know,’ Honor persisted stubbornly.
Verity shook her head, but she sensed that Honor wasn’t going to be satisfied until she had dragged the whole sorry story out of her.
‘There isn’t a lot to know,’ she told her. ‘Your father and I were young. I thought…He said…I had to go away to New York to work and whilst I was there your father met someone else—your mother…’
Silas cursed as he found the note Honor had left for him. Angrily he picked up his discarded car keys and headed for the door. She was coming home with him right now and no nonsense, and once he got her home he was going to have a serious talk with her—a very serious talk.
Parking his car behind Verity’s, Silas got out and headed for the front door and then, changing his mind, turned to go around the back of the house instead.
The kitchen door was half open—Verity had been outside hanging out some washing when Honor had arrived. Neither of the two occupants of the room could see him and Silas paused in the act of pushing open the door as he heard Verity saying huskily, ‘I thought your father loved me. I didn’t know about your mother…I suppose I should have guessed that something was wrong when he didn’t get in touch with me, but I just thought that he…that he was cross with me because…’ She stopped and shook her head. ‘I came home to tell him how much I loved him, to tell him that he was right and that our love was more important than any duty I owed my uncle, but I discovered that your father had married your mother.’
Helplessly Verity spread her hands.
‘I thought he loved me but he didn’t really love me at all.’ Her voice shook with emotion and the cat stopped purring.
Honor looked up, her eyes widening as she saw her father standing in the doorway.
Verity turned round to see what had attracted Honor’s attention, her face paling as she too saw Silas.
For a moment none of them spoke and then Silas marched across the room and took hold of Honor’s arm, saying firmly to her, ‘Honor, you’re coming with me—right now and no arguments.’
He hadn’t said a word to Verity. He hadn’t even looked at her, Verity acknowledged as he walked Honor out of the back door, firmly closing it behind him.
She could hear the engine of his car firing. Her hand shook as she reached across the table for the photograph that Honor had left.
Tears blurred her eyes. Tipping back her head, she blinked them away. She was not going to cry…not now, not again…not ever…
Catherine’s mother looked surprised when she opened the door to find Silas and Honor outside.
‘Jane, I’m sorry to do this to you but something very urgent’s cropped up. Can Honor stay with you for…until I can get back for her…?’
‘Of course she can,’ she agreed warmly, ushering Honor inside. What, she wondered, was going on? There had been a lot of whispering being done between the two girls recently and Catherine was rather obviously ‘big with news’, as the saying went, announcing importantly to anyone who would listen that she and Honor had a special secret.
Having coldly inclined her cheek for her father to kiss, Honor marched inside with all the regal bearing of a grand dowager—a highly offended grand dowager, Jane Alders reflected ruefully.
Silas, however, was looking far too grim-faced for her to think of questioning him.
Verity was just finishing pegging out the last of the washing she had abandoned when Honor had arrived when Silas came back, walking soft-footed across the grass so that she had no inkling of his presence until she suddenly saw his shadow.
‘Si…Silas…’ To her chagrin the unexpected shock of seeing him made her stammer. ‘Wha…what do you want? What are you doing here?’
‘Do you want the abridged version?’ Silas asked her tersely and then, shaking his head without waiting for her to respond, he demanded abruptly, ‘Why did you tell Honor that you came from New York to tell me how much you loved me?’
‘Because it was the truth,’ Verity admitted huskily. Why on earth was he asking her that? What could it possibly matter now?
‘No, it isn’t,’ Silas argued flatly. ‘Your uncle told me the truth. He told me that you had asked him to tell me that you didn’t want to see me again; that it was all over between us.’
Verity stared at him. Suddenly she felt extremely cold.
‘No,’ she whispered, her hand going to her throat. ‘No, that’s not true, he couldn’t have told you that. I don’t believe it…’
‘Believe it,’ Silas told her harshly, ‘because I can assure you that he did. Not that I was in any mood to listen to him. Not then. I even wrote to you begging you to change your mind, pleading with you to write back to me, giving what I suppose was an ultimatum in that I wrote that if I didn’t hear from you then I would have to accept that it was over between us.’
Verity badly needed to sit down.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ she asked Silas weakly.
His mouth hardened.
‘Can you see me laughing?’ he demanded.
Verity shook her head. She could see that he was telling her the truth, but the full enormity of just
what her uncle had done, of what he had set in motion, was still too much for her to fully comprehend.
‘I never got your letter,’ she whispered. ‘There was a murder in the apartment block and my uncle insisted that I had to move out. He promised me that he would give you my new address and telephone number. I… I waited and waited for you to get in touch and then, when you didn’t…for a while I…You were right. Our love was more important than doing what my uncle wanted. I… I came home to tell you that. To tell you how much I loved you and…’ To her horror Verity felt hot tears spill down her cheeks as she relived the full trauma of that time.
‘I read about your marriage in the taxi on the way from the station. After that I knew there was no point in trying to see you,’ she told him bleakly.
Verity looked down at the ground. Why was he doing this to her, dragging her through this…this humiliation? What could it matter now?
‘Look, let’s put aside the issue of my marriage for the moment,’ she heard Silas telling her huskily. ‘I want to concentrate on something else, on something far more important…Did you really love me so much, Verity?’
For a moment she was tempted to lie, but why should she? Proudly she lifted her head and looked at him.
‘Yes. I did,’ she acknowledged. ‘I…’ Quickly she swallowed, knowing that she could not admit to him that she had never stopped loving him; that she still loved him and that, if anything, that love was even deeper and more painful to her now than it had been then.
‘I didn’t marry Sarah because I loved her,’ she heard Silas telling her rawly. ‘I married her because she was pregnant.’
Disbelievingly, Verity focused on him.
‘But…’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘You would never do something like that. You would never make love to someone you didn’t…you didn’t care about…’
‘I didn’t make love to her,’ he told her bluntly. ‘We just had sex.’
