Princess

by Alison Fraser

  ‘And they lived happily ever after,’ Adam quoted sarcastically as another image arose of the pale ghost the girl had faded into. ‘Only they didn’t.’

  ‘The accident,’ Nancy reminded him, but Adam threw her an oblique glance that told her she wasn’t fooling anybody. ‘All right, there was some tension, but it didn’t involve Serena. I came once to the house after the marriage, at Graham’s invitation, but Andrea didn’t make me feel welcome. They were both trying too hard. Andrea wanted more than Graham was capable of giving her. While she was looking for the romantic love that I don’t think existed in her first marriage, Graham couldn’t feel more than deep affection. Serena’s real mother was a very beautiful, captivating girl and he was still emotionally involved with her memory.’

  ‘The man was a fool to remarry,’ Adam condemned.

  ‘Adam! Sometimes I think you’re totally without compassion,’ Nancy countered, shocked and hurt by his cutting comment. ‘Nobody is infallible or capable of predicting the outcome of their actions.’

  ‘I don’t believe that, Mother. Man is able to control his life, his destiny,’ he espoused his own brand of philosophy. ‘He used the idea of fatalism as an excuse for his own failing, that’s all.’

  ‘And what about love?’ Nancy challenged softly, disturbed by Adam’s hard creed. ‘What would happen, Adam, if you fell in love and your feelings weren’t returned? You couldn’t have that woman and nothing you could do would change things? How could you control that situation?’

  Adam slipped his arm from his mother’s shoulders. ‘Do all women think the world is well lost for love?’ he sighed heavily, before moving away to pour himself another drink. This topic of conversation had been coming a long time, but this was not the moment to choose for a heart-to-heart! He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to make it clear and unequivocal.

  ‘Mother, I’m thirty-five years old, and as I’ve escaped this dreaded affliction up until now, I see no reason why I should ever succumb. If I desire a woman, I send her flowers and tell her she’s the most fascinating woman in the world, which of course is true for me at the time, but I don’t need to call it love to justify the relationship.’

  His mother was appalled by his cynicism, carved in every well-defined angle of his haughty, handsome face. ‘I loved your father—I still do.’

  ‘I know that, Mother.’ He heard the catch in her voice and softened perceptibly. ‘But that sort of love is very rare—almost extinct. It can’t exist in a world that’s becoming increasingly brutalised.’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Adam,’ she said, shaking her head despairingly.

  He looked down on her beautifully arranged white hair and the blue eyes that seemed to retain all the innocence of childhood, a remarkable feat for a woman past her sixieth birthday. She belonged to a different age. He felt enough had been said on the subject and they were in grave danger of quarrelling for the first time in twenty years. He yawned deliberately.

  ‘I’m exhausted. Coming up?’

  He stretched out a hand to help his mother up and resignedly Nancy Carmichael took it. She had been wasting her breath, and now she felt very tired. Sometimes Adam made it very difficult for her to keep believing in him as any more than one of the unscrupulous pack with whom he loosely ran.

  As they climbed the stairs together, her thoughts returned to Serena. How she hoped that for once, his clinically exact way with words would prove inaccurate!

  Their voices, quiet and conversational as they both made an effort to draw back from the earlier hostility, reached Serena as faint whispers that held menace to a mind that was absorbed by dreams of past and prone to vivid imagining that protected itself from unacceptable reality. But with his intrusion Adam had somehow made it through the barriers and established himself as a force in her life, although her image of him was distorted by her growing problem with distinguishing fantasy and fact.

  His faint resemblance to his aunt had a more sinister impact on a girl who had been pierced by penetrating grey eyes of the exact same shade.

  ‘I want to help you,’ he had said, and she had heard the words and the sincerity behind them, but they brought back echoes of a thousand broken promises.

  ‘Come on, Serena, we’ll be friends.’ And hours, or minutes or perhaps even seconds later, the bitter ranting would start all over. And then the pendulum would swing once more. ‘You’re my little girl now, and I’ll look after you. I love you.’

  And the mark of Andrea’s affection would stand scarlet on Serena’s pale cheekbone. Miraculously she had come through, survived Andrea. The key was to lose fear, cease caring about the present. But there were penalties for the tricks she had learned. She was slipping away from it all. Too far to come back now.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sleep eluded him. It was this damn country quiet. The rain had at last stopped and the hush was such that he could distinguish individual sounds, and the water dripping from the roof guttering was sending him crazy. He grimaced at the unfortunate choice of words before slipping out of bed and scanning the wardrobe for a bathrobe.

  He left the house shrouded in darkness as he felt his way downstairs and crossed the hall to the library. His aunt’s collection of books was large and varied, row upon row of hardbacks in mint condition that suggested they were there as a showpiece. There were even several of his own novels. He had never read any of his own writing after it appeared in print and he wasn’t about to break the habit now; instead he chose a political thriller.

  A board at the top of the stairs creaked and Adam almost passed off that other noise as a similar complaint from a very old house. But he delayed long enough to catch it again, coming from the corridor that lay on the left of the wide staircase and growing louder as he stood and listened for it. Slowly pacing the passageway, he homed in on it.

  Curtains open, the moonlight streamed into the girl’s room and clearly outlined the huddled form, shivering and emitting low fitful whimpers. Hesitatingly he came forward to rearrange the bedclothes that had slipped to the uncarpeted floor and tucked the blankets loosely round Serena’s small frame. Her trembling did not cease. The room was like an icebox, but beads of sweat glistened on her forehead. Gripped in bad dreams, she began to toss from side to side, once more dislodging her covers.

  Adam crossed to the washhand basin in the far corner and ran a facecloth under the cold tap. Treading lightly, he eased himself down on the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping girl, and gently wiped her face and neck. He hoped to soothe her out of the nightmare, but the movements became more frantic, her breathing more laboured, until the girl erupted into wakefulness.

  Dream merged into reality with the dark shadowed face that loomed threateningly over her, and she let out a full-blooded scream. Pure instinct drove him to clamp a hard hand over her mouth to stifle the sharp cry, but it was just as quickly removed when small, incisive teeth bit viciously into the fleshy part of his palm, just below the fingers. Fists rained blows on his bare chest where the borrowed robe had parted, and several seconds passed before he reacted on her startling show of latent strength. He managed to capture one wrist, but she continued to hit out with her free hand. An expression of fear had given way to a fierce, burning anger in the vivid green eyes. When a well-aimed blow hit him squarely in the eye he ceased merely trying to restrain her and took positive action, gripping her shoulders and leaning forward to trap her upper body beneath his weight.

  Suddenly she went quite still. Faces bare inches apart, their stares locked. Adam felt a flicker of incongruous triumph as a look of submission entered her eyes. He slackened off his hold and swore silently at his simplicity as a knee landed hard on his hipbone. Making a desperate grab for her before she could start again, he accidentally caught her cotton nightdress, and as she continued struggling wildly, the much-washed material rent in two.

  Her white breasts, small but perfectly formed, rose and fell as she lay, hair splayed on the pillow, trying to get her breath back to resum
e the fight. Adam was unable to stop himself staring at their movement, and disgust within himself fought a sweet fascination. Her skin was like alabaster, a living sculpture in the half-light, and he wanted to touch its smoothness. A low moan of desire unconsciously escaped his lips, and he made a move to cover her. It was her violent attempt to push him away that made him lose his balance, brought his flesh against hers and effectively knocked the wind out of her. But it was Adam who was a fraction too slow to lift his body away, and despite her youth and innocence, she recognised the betrayal of his wanting as their eyes met once more.

  Seconds ticked by—a suspension of hostility as each tried to come to terms with the shift in emotion. And then a cry of sheer terror was vibrating the air, acting like a cold shower on Adam’s heightened senses. God, he thought, the girl believed he was going to rape her! It was like a scene from a bad play, and now too late to rewrite his part. In desperation he moved her head back to face him, forcing her to read his expression.

  ‘Look, Serena, I’m not going to hurt you.’

  The girl was oblivious to the tenderness in his voice, to the silent pleading of his dark eyes, as her cries, mingled with choking sobs, became louder, more frenzied, till he was scared for her and felt ineffectual in the face of the demons that were driving her on.

  ‘In God’s name, what have you done?’ Nancy Carmichael stood in the doorway, rigid with shock, as she snapped on the light and took in the whole scene, damning to her son in every detail.

  Backing off the bed, Adam turned to look at his mother, but almost immediately his eyes were pulled back to Serena. He had become part of the nightmare that had landed him in this situation.

  The girl’s heartrending sobs, somewhat muffled by the pillow in which she had buried her head, forced Nancy Carmichael into action. Brushing past Adam, she gathered the girl in her arms, gently rocking and soothing much as she would a crying toddler. After an initial attempt to shove the older woman away, Serena collapsed into the warm protective embrace, her crying eventually subsiding to a whimper.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hurt her in any way.’ The hands that raked through Adam’s hair were shaking. He was having a hard time believing it had all happened.

  Feeling the girl’s tremor of fear at the harsh, male tone Nancy rapped out,’ Get out, Adam. Now!’

  For a lifetime he would remember the look on the pale tear-stained face that rested on his mother’s shoulder— the look of intense fear. There was nothing he could do about it—he had put it there.

  ‘Hush now, my lamb, I’ll look after you.’

  Nancy Carmichael was as good as her word; she stayed until the girl exhausted herself into sleep and held her all the while. And Serena, who had no real idea of the identity of her comforter, nevertheless accepted her, for she smelt of flowers and brought back the memory of a beautiful mother to whose soft skin had always clung the smell of violet or rose.

  The mirror told Adam he looked forty; he felt even older. His eyes were shot with blood, the left one underlined by the shadow of a bruise. A day’s growth of dark stubble completed the disreputable picture.

  Showered and shaved, he admitted to an improvement, but his head was still fragile, the loud knocking doing nothing to alleviate the pain.

  ‘Yes?’ he barked.

  ‘It’s me!’ his mother called through the closed door.

  He groaned silently, but the meeting was inevitable. ‘Come in.’ He finished buttoning up the front of a freshly-laundered shirt and reached for his tie.

  For a long moment they faced each other as wary strangers, until his mother broke the disturbing atmosphere by stating the obvious, ‘You look ghastly.’

  ‘I feel worse,’ Adam muttered, concentrating on knotting his tie. ‘But I don’t suppose you’ve come to discuss my state of health.’

  ‘No, I’ve not,’ she said primly. ‘Especially as your illness is self-inflicted.’

  ‘And I’m equally sure you’re not here to deliver a temperance sermon, Mother.’ He hadn’t meant to resort to flippancy, but he felt irritatingly defensive. ‘How did you know I’d been having a drink?’

  ‘More than one, I should say, from the empty bottle of brandy I found lying on the living room floor.’ Her voice was heavy with disapproval; she was determined not to be disarmed by him.

  ‘I’m a big boy now, Mother,’ he murmured dryly as he crossed to the dressing table and used one of the brushes lying there.

  Nancy knew if she didn’t challenged him outright, her questions would go unanswered. ‘I want to know about last night, Adam.’

  Their eyes made brief contact in the mirror glass. ‘Is there any point?’ His tone was resigned.

  ‘Of course there is!’ she exclaimed, and stepping forward, continued rashly, ‘You can’t do what you did and not expect to be asked to explain your actions!’

  It brought Adam spinning round, dropping any interest in his appearance. ‘And what is it exactly I’m supposed to have done?’

  Nancy became flustered; she had not intended making accusations. ‘I’m trying to be fair, Adam.’ She spread her hands in an appeal for reasonableness. ‘Trying to understand.’

  ‘Innocent until proved guilty, eh? But I suspect our little princess has already given her version with every sordid detail.’

  ‘Why do you call Serena that?’ his mother asked, alarmed by his bitterness.

  ‘No reason. Forget it.’ Last night he had felt utter self-loathing, but with the morning, his emotion had taken on a different complexion. He had not realised how strongly he felt towards the girl until the words were out, and it was difficult to analyse the change in attitude— resentment was the nearest he could get to pinning it down.

  ‘Actually, I haven’t seen Serena this morning, and she didn’t utter one word after you left her room,’ Nancy declared, resting her tired weight down on the edge of the bed.

  ‘So I’ve got a reprieve,’ he responded with mock relief.

  ‘I’m not going to have a duel of words with you, Adam. Anything you care to tell me, I shall believe.’ She knew her son was not a liar.

  Adam picked up a packet of cigarettes from his bedside table and lit one before replying staccato-like,’ All right, Mother. Serena was having a nightmare. I heard her crying. I went to see if I could calm her down, and I startled her.’

  ‘And?’ Nancy prompted softly.

  ‘End of story,’ Adam clipped out.

  ‘And that’s why she was screaming the house down?’ Nancy commented, adopting some of her son’s dryness.

  ‘I don’t think she likes me very much.’ He smiled crookedly. The understatement of the year!

  ‘Did you... did you try to seduce her?’ She felt rather foolish asking this, for despite the evidence of her own eyes, in the cold light of day the idea seemed ludicrous.

  ‘No—no, I didn’t.’ His denial was slow to come. She waited for him to continue, knowing there was more. The admission was forced out of him. ‘But I wanted to.’

  ‘Adam, how could you?’ Nancy gasped, not ready for the truth now it had been given to her. She protested, ‘She’s just a child, like you said.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mother.’ Last night came back to him with total clarity, although he had tried to erase it with the drink he had later consumed. ‘I wish I did. She woke up when I was wiping the perspiration from her face, and then she was attacking me, as though I was something bad out of her nightmare.’

  Nancy shut her eyes wearily for a moment before saying lentatively, ‘Adam, I’ve got to ask. Did you... did you touch her in any way?’

  ‘No!’ He was angry, mostly because her question, delicately put, called up a memory of the girl’s satin-white body, and the almost overwhelming desire he had had to trail his fingers across the soft pure skin. ‘What do you take me for?’

  ‘A human being, with all the fallibilities that entails.’ And right at that moment, although he was giving little away verbally, his drawn features made him appear intensely human. ‘
She’s too young for you, even if...Too delicate.’

  She was warning him off, and it infuriated him that she should think it necessary. ‘A moment’s craziness doesn’t constitute a desire to conduct a full-blown affair, Mother.’

  He was angry, far too angry about it all, but Nancy replied quietly, ‘Good.’ Her response lacked conviction.

  ‘God, Mother, her top ripped in the struggle to calm her, her breasts were bare, and I wanted to make love to her for a couple of seconds. But not her—any faceless, nameless girl in the same set of circumstances.’ Nancy had been wrong; Adam was capable of lying to her, but it did not work on himself. He crushed his cigarette out. ‘Unfortunately she misinterpreted my intentions and thought I was about to rape her. For that, I’m sorry, but in broad daylight I have about as much interest in that skinny, nutty kid as I have in the little parlourmaid!’

  She had not heard her son so vehement about anything for many years, and in a different situation it might have pleased her that he had lost that air of nonchalance that made him seem such a cold uncaring individual.

  ‘What are we going to do about the child?’ she queried anxiously, deciding to close the subject of last night.

  ‘What are you going to do about her, you mean.’ Adam strode to the tallboy and whipped out his suit jacket. ‘I’m going back to London in the hire car, and if I ever have to come back to this morgue,’ he growled, his gesture taking in the house, ‘or have to meet that crazy girl again, it will be too soon! Do what you like with her. I just don’t care—as long as you keep her well away from me. She’s bad news as far as I’m concerned!’

  Nancy was unsure how much he really meant, since her son must know she wouldn’t abandon Serena.