The Director's Wife
Page 14
‘Yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘They’re out on the terrace toasting the dawn.’
‘I see. But Tom was not in the bedroom, I take it?’
‘No. He was asleep downstairs—they didn’t see me go. Oh, Charlie, he didn’t even speak to me after… after…’ She couldn’t go on.
‘Listen,’ he said after a while, ‘if you really want to leave him, even temporarily, you need to go somewhere, don’t you?’
‘I suppose so,’ Cathy said indistinctly. ‘I haven’t thought about it yet.’
‘Ever seen the Barrier Reef?’
She took his hanky away from her eyes. ‘No.’ ‘Everyone tells me you shouldn’t leave Australia without seeing it. Come up there with me. Now.’
‘I couldn’t!’ she protested.
‘Why not?’
‘It might… it might create a terrible scandal to go anywhere with you, besides getting your hopes up and—no. Thank you, Charlie, but——’
‘Well, where are you going to go? Or is this just a bit of bravado? Are you planning to frighten him for a couple of hours and then go back?’
Ten minutes later, Cathy heard herself say, ‘So long as you understand, Charlie. I’m only travelling with you. I’ll pay my own way, I’ll sleep in my own bed, in my own room, and I’ll expect you not even to touch me, because the first time you do I’ll——’
‘I get it,’ he drawled. ‘Yes, ma’am! All your conditions will be met. Scout’s honour.’ And he placed his hand on his heart.
‘All the same,’ Cathy said worriedly, ‘if people recognise you, even travelling together——’
‘We won’t hit the high spots.’
‘But——’
‘In any case, I have a disguise!’ He reached forward to the glove box and with a flourish withdrew a red wig and a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles.
For the life of her Cathy couldn’t help smiling feebly, then more so as he put them on with the wig back to front. ‘Well…’
They spent two weeks drifting through the sun-soaked Barrier Reef, and Charlie observed all his promises to the letter—so much so that Cathy was moved to comment on it once with gratitude, and in doing so, provoked a curious conversation.
‘There’s something about you, Cathy,’ he said lazily, as they were lying side by side on a golden beach, ‘that makes it impossible to be any other way. For me,’ he added ruefully.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked after a moment.
‘Well,’ he thought for a bit, ‘you’re so innocent, I guess, and sort of… untouched, if you know what I mean. Which is a bit of a mystery—I mean, how you survived two years of Tom West and stayed this way has to be some sort of miracle.’
‘I’m not,’ she protested, but with a frown in her eyes, and sat up abruptly.
Charlie grinned. ‘I don’t mean you’re dumb, if that’s what you thought. It’s something else—much as I don’t go for the guy, I can sort of understand why he kept you under double wraps until he had this change of heart. There’d be plenty of blokes around who’d want to change that—I just don’t happen to be one of them,’ he added with his usual candour, and sat up as if struck by a sudden thought. ‘Be odd if we had anything in common, wouldn’t it?’
‘What… who?’
‘Me and your old man,’ Charlie said with a grimace that deepened into a fleeting frown.
‘I…what could you have in common?’ asked Cathy.
Charlie shrugged. ‘The way we take care of Cathy West,’ he said with an ironic little grin, and refused to elaborate.
‘Well, I still don’t see why I need such care taken of me,’ Cathy said finally and irately, but added in a different voice, ‘I can’t really be so innocent and untouched.’ She stared at him.
‘Can’t you?’ Charlie cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘You don’t think you’d have given Ms Bishop a run for her money or even a sock in the eye, otherwise? You don’t think you might have made it plain to all and sundry that he might be Mr Director but he was first of all your husband—if the guy really got to you, I reckon you would have.’
‘Oh…’ she said, and it sounded uncertain even to herself.
And that night, on her own in her own room, she lay awake for a long time examining her new feelings of uncertainty, and found herself suddenly wondering fearfully whether she’d been more of a Cinderella than she’d realised, and not through anyone’s fault but her own. And as the long, dark, lonely night ticked away a lot of little things occurred to her, stretching back like a guided path through her mind… How, for example, she had been completely unconscious of Charlie’s feelings for her, how she’d had to be jolted into seeing all was not well with Bronwen, how Tom had told her there were some things she might never understand and also used Charlie’s very words to her once—I don’t have to keep you under double wraps any more…
Was that what he’d done through their marriage? Gone out of his way not to disillusion her or let anyone else do so, rather than the things she’d accused him of? Had he in fact been trying to protect her? Was that why after two years of marriage she still came across as an ‘innocent’? Because she was, and she’d never really changed, and Tom had understood—as Charlie thought he understood.
She sat up suddenly with her heart pounding, remembering what Charlie had said about having something in common with Tom and then clamming up on her. Could he have meant that they were both in love with her but because of the way she was…
But I did change, she thought despairingly. Even if it wasn’t as much as I thought, I did try to get out of my chrysallis—why couldn’t Tom accept it?
It was two weeks to the day after she had left him that Cathy picked up a newspaper and leafed through it with not much interest. Then she stiffened, and Charlie pushed his straw hat back. ‘What?’ he queried.
‘Bronwen’s… got married,’ Cathy said with difficulty.
Charlie sat up and brushed sand off his hands. ‘Er… seeing as it couldn’t be to your old man without making him a bigamist, let me guess— Duncan?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Cathy.
‘Cathy,’ he said in a different voice altogether, ‘I suppose you want to rush back and hold his hand.’
‘I have to go back some time—I can’t just disappear.’
‘What about us? I’ve done everything you asked me to or not to, but——’
Cathy gathered all her mental resources and took his hand in hers. ‘I know, and I thank you, Charlie, but I have to explain some things.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘WHEN’S Cathy coming back, Mr West?’
Cathy stood at the open kitchen window and watched Tom and William unseen. It was a beautiful afternoon and Mount Macedon was as clear as a bell in the sunlight. Tom and William had come into view, William carrying his inevitable football, and from the fact that his socks were dangling about his ankles and they both looked hot and had stopped at a tap, she made the inevitable deduction which explained why they wouldn’t have heard the taxi that had deposited her. Why they would be unaware that she could hear their conversation, unaware that Mount Macedon and, after that cursory glance, William, had faded from her field of vision. And supremely unaware that as she stared at Tom, her heart was beating heavily in her breast and she felt like a thirsty traveller confronted with a mirage.
‘I don’t know, William.’ Tom cupped his hands beneath the tap and took a drink. ‘Want some water?’
‘Thanks. Is she still on holiday? Hasn’t she written and told you when she’s coming back?’
‘William, it could be a long holiday, old son, and we’ll just have to get along as best we can without her.’
‘Shouldn’t you have someone to look after you, though?’ William asked thoughtfully after a pause. ‘Gran reckons without Cathy the place must be in an awful mess and you prob’ly aren’t getting enough to eat. She said to tell you to come for dinner any time you want.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘I could come and stay with you till she comes back.’
But William persisted. ‘Aren’t you lonely, Mr West? It just doesn’t seem the same without Cathy. Why don’t you go on holiday with her?’ he added with sudden inspiration. ‘Gran reckons it’s strange you haven’t anyway.’
Tom took a moment to answer. Then he said, ‘William, the fact is Cathy might not be coming back. We… well, it’s probably hard for you to understand, but when you’re older, you will, but we might not be the right people for each other, you see, and then the best thing is to stay apart.’
‘But…’ William’s eyes were suddenly huge and anxious. ‘But she’ll be so lonely. Won’t she?’
‘I don’t think so. I think she’s found someone who’s right for her—William, these things happen, but I’m still here and I think I can hear your gran calling you. Come back tomorrow afternoon and we’ll work on your tackling. Off you go!’
William went with a sudden spurt as his grandmother’s voice made itself clearly heard. Tom stared after him, then squared his shoulders and started to walk towards the kitchen door.
Cathy unfroze and spun away from the window, suddenly panic-stricken, and taking several deep breaths to calm herself.
Tom didn’t see her immediately as she stood like a statue in the same jeans and white blouse she had come back to him once before in. In fact he went straight to the sink and washed his hands, and only then, as he turned round, did he go still as his eyes came to rest on her and they narrowed as though he was looking through sunlight. He made no move to reach for the towel for about ten seconds—as if she really was the last person he expected to see. Then he said quietly, ‘Hello, Cathy.’
‘Tom——’ Cathy had difficulty with her voice ‘—how did you know I’d gone away with Charlie? That is what you meant when you told William I’d found the right person, isn’t it?’
His eyes rested on her sombrely. ‘I saw you drive off with him.’
‘But…’ Her lips worked.
He shrugged. ‘I woke up not long after you left and decided to go for a walk to clear my head and to get away from the rabble.’ He grimaced. ‘Of course I didn’t realise until I got back to the villa that you’d actually left for good… with him.’
‘I hadn’t planned to go with Charlie at all,’ she said hoarsely. ‘It…just happened, and I was going to tell you about it, anyway.’
‘Were you?’ His lips twisted. ‘What went wrong?’
‘Wrong?’ She stared at him.
‘With you and Charlie.’
‘Nothing. I was never in love with Charlie or anything like that,’ she whispered.
‘He was certainly in love with you.’
Cathy took a breath and cautioned herself to take hold. You’ve done nothing wrong, she told herself. Don’t go on the defensive… She pulled out a chair and sat down, looking around as she did and noting for the first time that the kitchen was in a fairly pristine condition. ‘You aren’t in a mess,’ she murmured, and smiled faintly. Then she looked at him levelly and her eyes were very blue. ‘He thought he was,’ she said steadily, ‘but we decided he was really in love with a will-o’-the-wisp—like Chloe, something he’d never really understand, not as well as you did…’ She stopped and waited for some reaction, but all she saw was a faint movement of his eyelid.
Then he said, ‘You actually convinced him of that?’ His gaze was suddenly supremely sceptical.
Cathy gripped her hands together. ‘Well, he had no choice really, and——’ she raised her eyes and they were oddly defiant ‘—because Charlie is also more a gentleman than you ever gave him credit for, he agreed to…’ She loosened her fingers and gestured instead of adding that Charlie had in fact promised to be there for her to his dying day. ‘Which,’ she went on with determination, ‘leaves us with Bronwen.’
Tom pulled out a chair himself. ‘Bronwen is out of the game,’ he said casually. ‘She married Duncan.’
‘I know,’ said Cathy. ‘That’s why I’m back.’
‘To hold my hand?’ he queried.
She winced but said coolly, ‘Does it need holding?’
Although he’d only just sat down, he stood up abruptly and said something like, ‘Not by you…’ beneath his breath, then, more audibly, and normally, ‘Is that the only reason you came back? You said in your note…’
‘I said in my note that it was obvious you didn’t want me any more, Tom. I came back,’ her voice faltered but she made herself go on. ‘in case was … mistaken.’
‘Because you think that without Bronwen or anyone I’ll go to the dogs?’ he said with a dry little smile.
Cathy stared at him and remembered her resolution on the long flight home: to try to explain her new understanding of herself to him, to be honest in the face of all odds—as well as to nurture the seeds of hope in her heart that Duncan might have been right, and Charlie in his oblique comment which could have meant that both he and Tom were in love with her…
She said quietly, ‘No. Because I’ve been wanting to come back almost ever since I left, Tom. I’d rather be with you than anyone——’
‘Cat—Cathy,’ he corrected himself, causing her to tremble with apprehension, ‘there are reasons for that, but they’re not necessarily the right ones. Let’s examine them. All this,’ he gestured around, ‘represents a home and security to you, and those things are important to you because you know rather well what it’s like to be on your own. That’s also why when someone like Charlie offers you freedom, you’re wary of it even though you’re dying to spread your wings, because you also want roots.’
She said slowly, ‘That’s true, but I’m not so immature as to want them with anyone just for the sake of them, and——’
‘Let me finish—and because there were the good times as well as the bad, you can’t help feeling some concern for me now. But there’s no need.’
He said it quietly but quite definitely, and if she thought she saw a shadow of strain in his eyes, as so often happened, it was gone before she could be sure.
She thought for a moment, then chose another tack. ‘Because she’s married Duncan? That needn’t mean anything other than that you’re both too proud to back down.’
‘Cathy, it’s not that.’ Tom’s voice was clipped and curt now.
‘Then what was it, and why did you affect each other so?’
‘The only way we affected each other…’ He stopped, then started again after a moment. ‘Contrary to what you believed the night we shot the final scene, I did what I did because in the end it was the only way to wring what it needed out of her. When you have more experience, you’ll understand how it’s impossible for directors and actors not to be moved by each other, especially over interpretations, because… well, often I have to try to get inside someone’s head and thoughts. It was just unfortunate,’ he said wearily, ‘that that was the only key left in the repertoire and it had the significance it did.’
Cathy took an unsteady breath. ‘Tom, are you trying to tell me you don’t love Bronwen any more?’
He moved his shoulders restlessly and said shortly, ‘All I’m trying to make you understand is that you don’t have to feel sorry for me and I don’t need my hand held.’ His hazel gaze was suddenly piercingly acute as it captured hers. ‘Would you have come back otherwise? When did you find out?’
She bit her lip. Tom saw it and his mouth twisted; he pushed himself away from the wall and went over to the window to stand staring out at Mount Macedon with his back to her.
She watched his tall frame in jeans and a check shirt, and thought that, even for him, his hair needed a trim—which she was quite good at doing herself, which reminded her of a time when he’d slipped her damp hair through his fingers and dried it for her.
‘I don’t think that point has as much significance as you’re attributing to it,’ she said in a low but stubborn voice.
He turned and smiled wryly. ‘Let’s not get too academic, Cathy I really am fine, and——’
‘On the other hand,’ she tilted her chin at him, ‘I can’t deny it gave me hope. The hope that if you and Bronwen had found out it was all over, there might be another chance for me.’
Tom laughed, but with no amusement. ‘A chance for what? Don’t you think you might have suffered enough at my hands, Cathy?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she said quietly. ‘And if you’ll let me, I’ll tell you why in a moment, but in the meantime, Tom, I am still your wife, and if there’s no longer another woman in your heart, at least I deserve to know, don’t you think?’
He eyed her with his mouth set in a hard line. ‘And to know why,’ she added.
He continued to stare at her in the same way. Her heart started to beat rather oddly and she found her palms were damp, so she hid them in her lap and sat with a straight spine returning his look bravely.
Until suddenly a smile twisted his lips and he shrugged. ‘The Spanish Inquisition in blue jeans and a silk blouse—all right, I’ll tell you. It was a battle royal of the sexes between me and Bronwen; it was a sexual confrontation of the worst kind with each of us fighting for supremacy, and both of us more concerned for ourselves than each other. And the spark of what attracted us to each other in the first place soon got lost in the carnage, but we fought on. Do you know why? Because we’re both the same kind of egotists and we neither of us knew what love was. Strange, isn’t it?’ he said drily. ‘I mean that we can admit now that if we’d ever stopped fighting there would have been nothing left. I have no regrets about her marrying Duncan, Cathy,’ he said straightly. ‘I hope she’s very happy, and in fact she rang me and told me the news herself. She also told me that after she’d got over the public aspect of shooting the finale, it seemed to have acted as a catalyst for her and washed all the bitterness and self-deception down a drain. The same,’ he paused, ‘had already happened for me. Does that satisfy you?’
Cathy gripped her hands in her lap. ‘When——?’
But he ignored her. ‘It also means we all, you included, can get on with our lives now.’
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