o 53f50dedf5bfd441

by Ria

  situation. She borrowed Esme's car that morning and drove into the city to

  do the odd bit of shopping she had been neglecting because of Andrew's

  fretfulness. Rudolph had told her once that he hardly ever went out for

  lunch, so, with her shopping done, she telephoned him from a booth at the

  corner of a street just after twelve-thirty, with the intention of asking him to

  meet her in town somewhere for lunch. Perhaps, in the busy atmosphere of a

  restaurant, they might be able to come to some agreement about their

  relationship.

  'Mr Brink's office, good afternoon,' a feminine voice answered briskly.

  'Good afternoon,' Janey began, clutching nervously at the receiver with

  both hands. 'May I speak to my husband, please?'

  Tm sorry, Mrs Brink, but your husband left the office a few minutes ago

  to keep a luncheon appointment with Miss Rampling.'

  'I see,' Janey murmured stiffly as her hopes lay in fragments about her.

  After a slight hesitation, Rudolph's secretary continued : 'If you like I

  can find out the name of the restaurant for you?'

  'No ... no, thank you, that won't be necessary.'

  To walk in on them while they were having a tete-a-tete lunch was the

  last thing she wanted to do at that moment.

  'I'll tell him that you telephoned when he comes in.'

  'Please don't do that,' Janey begged swiftly. 'It wasn't important.'

  Her temples were pounding when she replaced the receiver and left the

  telephone booth, while a slow anger began to simmer within her, an anger

  that dulled the pain of her discovery momentarily. If Rudolph had no con-

  sideration for her feelings, then he could at least consider his mother, and

  the considerable strain this situation was placing on her.

  She walked blindly into the nearest cafe and ordered a cup of tea. In the

  state she was in, food would choke her, she told herself as she sat staring

  at the people walking by in the street, yet noticing nothing as she

  struggled to regain her composure. If Rudolph wanted to continue with

  this cold war between them, then she was equally willing to oblige him.

  To her surprise, Rudolph did not go out that evening, and when Esme

  excused herself from the dinner table, Janey followed her example. But

  Rudolph's strong fingers curled about her wrist as she passed his* chair,

  drawing her to his side as he rose to his feet.

  'I understand you telephoned me at the office earlier today,' he began

  without preamble, releasing her as she stood calmly before him.

  'Yes, I did, but you were out to lunch.'

  'With Sybil, yes,' he. admitted smoothly, moving away from her to light a

  cigarette, and allowing her the time to recover from the painful knowledge

  that he had no qualms about flaunting his affair to her face.

  'So I understood,' she said quietly.

  'Why did you want to speak to me?'

  'It wasn't important.'

  He turned suddenly and she felt trapped between the velvet curtain behind

  her and his rapier-sharp glance. 'My dear Janey, wild horses wouldn't have

  forced you to telephone me if it hadn't been of some importance, so let's

  have the truth.'

  She fought down her panic and replied with a coolness she was far from

  experiencing. 'If you must know, I was concerned about your mother. I was

  hoping we could have lunch together somewhere in town in order to come

  to some agreement which would relieve the situation slightly for her.'

  'We could discuss it now, if you like.'

  'It's no longer necessary,' she told him, raising her glance no higher than the

  attractive cleft in his chin. 'I shall manage somehow without your help.'

  For some moments neither of them spoke, then he gestured vaguely and

  turned away. 'As you wish.'

  Dismissed, she fled from the dining-room and almost collided with Esme

  on the stairs. She steadied herself against the balustrade and fought against

  the tears that threatened to spill from her lashes.

  'Mother would like to see you before she goes to bed,' Esm6 said, glancing

  at her curiously.

  Janey nodded, turning to mount the rest of the stairs.

  'And, Janey she hesitated briefly as Janey turned slowly to face her, 'if you

  need someone to talk to, I can be a good listener if I apply myself.’

  A glow of warmth dispelled the chill in Janey’s heart, and the tears in her

  eyes blurred her vision as she retraced her steps to Esme's side fo embrace

  her impulsively.

  'Thank you, Esme. I—I'll remember that,’ she stammered before making

  her way up the stairs to Mrs Brink's bedroom.

  Mrs Brink looked frail and weary where she lay in bed, reclining against

  the pillows with her eyes closed. Janey's glance softened as she stood

  looking down at her for several minutes, taking in the wavy grey hair which

  was always styled so neatly and simply, the smooth white forehead, and the

  permanent wrinkles about the eyes and mouth. A book lay face down upon

  her chest, forgotten when the tiredness overcame her.

  Her eyelids fluttered as if she sensed that she was no longer alone, and

  Janey leaned forward instantly. 'Mother ... you wanted to see me?’

  'Yes, child.’ Her voice sounded tired as she placed the book on the bedside

  table and gestured that Janey should sit down beside her on the bed.

  'Is there anything I can do for you?' Janey asked with concern.

  'Yes, my dear,’ she nodded slightly, her glance searching as it met Janey's.

  'Tell me why you're allowing Sybil to come between Rudolph and yourself?’

  Janey's heart lurched violently, but she smoothed down the sheets and

  smiled reassuringly. 'It's not as bad as it seems.’

  'If another woman had flirted with my husband the way Sybil is flirting

  with Rudolph lately, I would have thrown her out of my house and made

  sure that she never returned.' Her breathing was shallow and fast with

  agitation. 'As Rudolph's wife, you are now mistress of this 'house, Janey,

  with every right to choose your own guests.'

  'Don't upset yourself, Mother,' Janey spoke soothingly as she gripped the

  veined hands.

  'I want you to be happy, Janey,' Mrs Brink said at length when she

  managed to calm herself, 'and it's only natural that I should want my son to

  be happy. Rudolph deserves happiness, heaven knows he slaved himself

  almost to death, for months after my husband's death, to provide for Esme

  and myself, while at the same time trying to save the business.' She shook

  her head as if the memories were painful to her. 'He was absolutely

  relentless as far as his own health was concerned, working twenty-four

  hours a day and snatching only an hour's rest when the pressure became too

  much.'

  Janey's throat tightened. 'Was it... that bad?'

  'It couldn't have been worse, child,' Mrs Brink admitted, her grip on

  Janey's hands tightening. 'We were on the verge of bankruptcy and in danger

  of losing everything we possessed. Everyone advised Rudolph to sell before

  we were left penniless, but his sense of duty, his loyalty and determination

  wouldn't allow him to give up without a fight. And I thank God for it,

  because within a year the business was flourishing once more, and

&n
bsp; expanding to such an extent that it makes my mind boggle just to think of it.'

  While Mrs Brink spoke, Janey recalled, with a growing sense of guilt, the

  sound of Rudolph's voice on the telephone during those weeks after he had

  been recalled to Johannesburg. Was it possible that she could have mistaken

  exhaustion for his declining interest? That would explain the lack of vitality

  and enthusiasm in his voice at the time, but it did not explain away the fact

  that Sybil had telephoned her to say that Rudolph would be relieved to end

  their association, and she had had no reason to doubt that

  statement.

  'Mother ...' she began, groping helplessly for the right words. 'Was there

  ever an understanding between Rudolph and Sybil?'

  'If there was, then I think it was purely on our side,' . Mrs Brink replied

  thoughtfully. 'Rudolph and Sybil practically grew up together. She was

  one of the few women he seemed to have time for, and we more or less

  took it for granted that they would eventually marry, as Sybil often hinted

  at it.' She leaned forward urgently, her glance sharpening. 'Janey, did

  Rudolph know you were expecting his child?'

  'No.'

  'Why didn't you tell him?'

  The anguish of those days after discovering that she was to have a child

  returned to Janey with such force that she drew a shuddering breath and

  bit down hard on a trembling lip before trusting herself to speak.

  'For one thing, I didn't want to become an added burden to Rudolph, and

  for another, I... thought he was going to marry Sybil.'

  'What on earth gave you that idea?' Mrs Brink demanded.

  'It doesn't matter now, Mother.'

  The hands clutching hers trembled slightly. 'Janey ... forgive my

  impertinence, but... do you love my son?'

  Janey felt her cheeks grow hot, but she sustained the older woman's

  glance unwaveringly. 'Yes, Mother. For two years I tried to convince

  myself that there was nothing left of what I felt for him, and even now,

  after our marriage, I've fought against it. But I've discovered that love isn't

  something you turn on and off at will. You either love someone or you

  don't.' Choking back the tears, she added: 'At the moment we seem unable

  to reach each other, but I still love Rudolph very much.'

  Tm happy to hear that, my dear,' Mrs Brink sighed, leaning back against

  the pillows and closing her eyes for a brief moment. ‘Your love will find a

  way to bridge the gap between you; to clear up the misunderstandings that

  prevent you from tasting the fruits of your love.'

  Janey rose to her feet and walked across to the window, hiding her tears

  from the frail old woman reclining in the old-fashioned bed with its brass

  trimmings. A movement down on the patio caught her eye and, brushing

  the tears from her eyelids, she realised that it was Rudolph, one hand

  thrust deep into the pocket of his trousers while the other held a cigarette

  to his lips. He turned suddenly and, in the light that shone out from the

  living-room, his expression was harsh and unrelenting, his brow furrowed

  as if his thoughts had angered him.

  'You're very understanding and perceptive. Mother,' she said, turning

  swiftly from the window to return to Mrs. Brink's side.

  'I know my son, and I think I'm beginning to know you, Janey,' she

  smiled briefly. 'I could help you, but I've learnt from experience that it's

  better to find your own solutions to your problems. Only then can the slate

  be wiped clean in preparation for the new beginning.'

  The new beginnings Janey recalled her words much later. Would there

  ever be a new beginning for her and Rudolph while there was still so much

  doubt in her mind about his sincerity? Of one thing she was certain, Sybil

  would never willingly relinquish her hold on him.

  Rudolph arrived late from the office the following evening and went

  directly to his study after barely touching his dinner. Esm6 went up to her

  room to do some studying, while Janey sought the seclusion of her own

  room. Andrew was asleep, and the silence settled about her until she could

  no longer resist the temptation to pay a visit to her favourite room in the

  attic. Glancing swiftly down the length of the passage, she hastened up the

  narrow steps and slipped behind the curtain. Once inside, she closed the

  door firmly behind her before attempting to switch on the light.

  The portrait looked strangely different in this artificial light. There was

  actual laughter in those grey eyes, and a gentleness about those curved lips

  which Janey had not noticed before, making her wonder whether her own

  emotional state had not made her place an entirely different interpretation

  on the portrait. The woman looking down at her appeared to be absolutely

  radiant with happiness, she noticed with a certain amount of shock. She

  reminded Janey of someone ... but who? She searched the hidden recesses

  of her mind for the answer, but it continued to evade her.

  Lost in thought, she jumped violently as she heard the sound of a step

  behind her, and, catching her breath sharply, she swung round to find

  herself face to face with Rudolph. His perceptive glance took in the guilty

  flush on her cheeks, and a faint smile of mockery hovered on his lips.

  ‘I ... suppose I shouldn't be here, her words came out in a breathless

  rush as she clasped her trembling hands behind her back.

  The key is always left on the hook beside the door for anyone who

  wishes to enter this room.'

  'I'm afraid that I come here often,' she admitted, lower- - ing her glance

  to the silk scarf tied about his strong neck and tucked so cleverly into his

  shirt.

  There was a tense little silence during which she wondered whether she

  was about to be scolded by this tall, fiercely silent man confronting her.

 

  'Does that portrait interest you?’ he asked so suddenly that her nerves

  reacted sharply. She glanced at him blankly for a moment, and he was

  forced to repeat his question derisively.

  Her cheeks were hot as she turned away from him and faced the portrait.

  'There's something so terribly familiar about her, but I just can't discover

  what it is.'

  Again there was that tense silence that set her nerves quivering frantically.

  With every fibre of her being she was aware of Rudolph's lean, muscular

  frame standing close behind her. The temptation to lean back against him

  was incredibly strong, while the desire to feel those strong arms about her

  almost proved her undoing.

  'Come here,' he commanded, the deep timbre of his voice shivering along

  her nerves as he gripped her arm and drew her towards the dressing-table.

  With his hands on her shoulders he turned her towards the mirror so that she

  was forced to see her own image. 'Take a good look at yourself,' he said

  harshly. 'Now look at the portrait and tell me what you see.'

  Janey trembled as she stared at herself, noticing for the first time the

  disturbing similarities between herself and that woman in the portrait. It just

  could not be possible, she decided stubbornly as she turned away from her

  own reflection to face the portrait.

  'But
I don't look like her, I

  '

  'Of course you do,' Rudolph interrupted impatiently. 'Same colour hair,

  same eyes, similar bone structure.' He moved away from her then, thrusting

  his hands into his pockets as he leaned against the wall beside the portrait

  and allowed his glance to sweep over her cynically. 'Her name was Porua de

  Waal. Coincidence, isn't it, her surname being the same as yours was.'

  Portia de Waal! The name reverberated through her mind, hammering at

  the door of her memory, but finding no response. Janey's cheeks were pale

  as she raised her glance to the laughing eyes in the portrait once more.

  Should she know her, or was it all merely coincidence?

  'I'm flying down to Cape Town next week for three days,' Rudolph

  interrupted her turbulent thoughts. 'I thought you might want to come with

  me. Would you?'

  'M-May I?' she asked, regaining her composure as she lowered her glance

  to his.

  'I'm asking you, aren't I?'

  The harsh mockery in his voice did not escape her, but she chose to ignore

  it. 'What about Andrew?'

  'He will go with us, naturally. I'm sure his grandparents would want to see

  him.'

  Thoroughly unnerved, she lowered her glance swiftly. 'Thank you,

  Rudolph, I—I should like to go very much.'

  She bit her lip fiercely, wishing that she could refrain from stammering

  foolishly like an erring schoolgirl. The silence was unbearable between

  them, and she wondered frantically whether there was something she had

  neglected to say.

  There was a touch of impatience in Rudolph's manner as he pushed

  himself away from the wall and prepared to leave. 'I'll telephone your

  parents and make the necessary arrangements.'

  Surfacing from her state of confusion, she wondered whether fye would

  object if she asked to speak to her parents.

  'Rudolph ...' she began hesitantly as the door swung open beneath his hand.

  'Yes?'

  He waited patiently for her to speak, but somehow she could not bring

  herself to voice her request. Instead, she shook her head and murmured

  apologetically, 'It doesn't matter.'

  His eyes seemed to glitter strangely as he faced her with that inevitable

  twist of cynicism about his lips. ‘If you come down to my study in about

  thirty minutes' time you can speak to them yourself.'

  He was gone before she could recover sufficiently to remark upon the