Hold the Dream

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  Jim was completely convinced that genuine emotion motivated Emma. She had once loved his grandfather, and, in consequence, she cared deeply about him. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind about that. He might even have been her grandson if circumstances had been slightly different.

  Yes, Grandy had shown her true feelings for him in an infinite variety of ways – he had hard evidence. He ran all of the instances through his head…she had given him the job as managing editor when there had been other candidates just as well qualified; she had ended her vendetta against the Fairleys because of him; she had blessed his marriage to her favourite grandchild. In fact, Emma Harte was always bending over backward to please him, and she was on his side – her actions more than proved this. Grandy had persuaded Paula to live here at Long Meadow because he so wished it. She had acknowledged that the twins must be christened at Fairley Church and, moreover, she had not objected when he had invited Edwina. It was only ever Paula who made a fuss about that unfortunate woman who had never done anybody any harm.

  Jim shifted his stance impatiently, wondering how long Paula intended to sit out there. He glanced at his watch with irritation. If she did not come in within the next few minutes he would go out and talk to her in the garden. He did want to make sure she understood one thing…Emma was not disappointed in him. That morning, when he had told her he wanted to resign, Grandy had agreed, said that she appreciated his honesty. ‘If that’s what you want, then that’s what you must do,’ Emma had said with a little smile. ‘I’d be the last person to stop you.’ Emma was compassionate and full of humanity, and she loved him in her own way. And he was loyal to her, devoted. There was a special bond between them. It was never mentioned but it existed, nevertheless.

  Much to his relief Jim now saw Paula walking up the path. Thank God she was coming back to the house. His tension lessened, even though it was impossible from this distance to gauge her state of mind, or ascertain what her attitude would be. But then he always had trouble doing that. It seemed to him that she constantly had him on the edge, kept him guessing. She was temperamental, even difficult at times, but no woman had captivated him, ensnared him as she had. And she had done so without even trying. There was enormous chemistry between them and their sexual attraction for each other was so strong it was overpowering. Paula was so intense, so serious, so complex she often left him floundering and baffled. Yet he found her depth and sincerity gratifying; equally he was thrilled by her passion, her desire for him in bed. The women he had been involved with before her had often complained about his sex drive. They seemed to think it was abnormal, were unable to cope, balked at his staying power. But not Paula…she never complained, always welcomed him with open arms, as ready as he to abandon herself to their lovemaking, and he could never get enough of her. He knew she felt the same.

  Paula was the best thing in the world that had ever happened to him, and he was struck by this realization more and more every day. How lucky he had been to meet her on that plane journey from Paris.

  He thought back to it now, remembering clearly every little detail of their first meeting. Her name had sounded familiar and her lovely face had touched a chord in his memory, but he had not been able to place her. But later that night, restless, unable to sleep, haunted by her, everything had suddenly clicked into place. It had dawned on him that she was the daughter of David Amory, who ran the Harte stores, and that she was therefore the granddaughter of Emma Harte, his employer. He had been at once intimidated and dismayed, had not closed his eyes all night, worrying about the situation and the ramifications it involved.

  The following morning, confused, disturbed and ambivalent, he had wavered, had wondered whether to cancel their dinner date planned for that evening. In the end he had been unable to resist seeing her again, had gone to the Mirabelle in a troubled state. He had been keyed up, anxious, and his heart had been in his mouth. After one of the waiters had made a remark about her grandmother, he had seen his chance. He had the perfect opening gambit, had asked her who her prestigious grandparent was, and Paula had told him without hesitation. She had made light of this, had made it easy for him, and surprisingly her relationship to Emma Harte had suddenly not mattered. His extraordinary feelings for Paula swept everything to one side, and he had fallen in love with her over dinner at the Mirabelle, had made up his mind to marry her – even if Emma sacked him and disinherited her heiress.

  Jim recalled the night, a month after their first date, when he had finally succeeded in getting Paula into bed. Unexpectedly, erotic images of them together began to dance around in his head, made the heat rush through him. He knew what he was going to do the minute she walked in, knew how to put everything right between them. Words and long explanations were meaningless, inconsequential, now that he thought about it. Actions counted. Yes, his was the best way, the only way to demolish the residue of their quarrel completely.

  Now, as Paula entered the bedroom, Jim saw that she was calmer, that her colour was perfectly normal. He went to her, took her hands in his. ‘I can’t bear these awful rows,’ he said.

  ‘Neither can I.’

  Without saying anything else, he took her face between his hands and kissed her, his mouth working sensually on hers. His passion soared. He was at full arousal. His arms went around her and he brought her closer, so that she was positioned into the curve of his body. His hands slid down her back on to her buttocks, and he pressed her into him with impatience. She must understand the extent of his excitement, understand that he intended to possess her immediately.

  Paula accepted his kisses, and then quickly but gently pushed him away. ‘Jim, please. They’ll be here in a few minutes. We don’t have time – ’

  He silenced her with another kiss, then breaking away from her, he led her to the bed. He pushed her down on to it purposefully, lay next to her, wrapped his long legs around her. In a voice thickened by desire, he said against her neck, ‘I must have you. Now. Quickly, before they arrive. We do have time. And you know we always make up, once we’ve made love. Come on, take your clothes off for me, darling.’

  Paula started to protest, not wanting this, wary of him, sensing she was being manipulated again. But he was already fumbling with the buttons on her shirt and so she swallowed her words. It was far easier if she was compliant, as she had so quickly come to realize in the last year. Jim believed that sex solved every one of their problems. But of course it did not.

  CHAPTER 18

  At six-thirty the following morning Paula left Long Meadow for the office, looking coolly elegant in a smartly tailored black linen suit and a crisp white silk shirt.

  After a restless night of tossing and turning and worrying, she had risen earlier than usual. Only Nora had been astir at that hour, preparing the babies’ bottles, and after she had showered and dressed Paula had spent fifteen tranquil minutes with her and the twins in the nursery, before going downstairs to the kitchen. As she had drunk a quick cup of tea she had scribbled a note to Jim, explaining that she was facing a hectic day at the store and wanted to get a head start.

  This was only partially true. Paula had the most urgent need to unscramble her jumbled thoughts and take stock of the situation. She could only do that when she was alone – and the only time she was not surrounded by people was either when she was gardening or driving.

  As she pointed the car down the gravel driveway she realized she was relieved to be escaping from the house. It seemed more suffocating than ever to her today. Although she enjoyed the grounds and the conservatory, Long Meadow would never really be her favourite place, despite the more attractive ambience she and her mother had created. As Grandy had said, ‘You’ve both done your best but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’

  And whatever Jim believed, the house was oppressive. Her grandmother felt the same way as she did, and rarely came, preferring instead to have them over to Pennistone Royal. This aside, it was extremely difficult to run efficiently. It was poorly designe
d, had endless staircases, winding corridors and dark landings. Meg and the daily char, Mrs Coe, were constantly complaining, and even Nora, who was younger than they, had taken to grumbling about her aching legs lately. Jim made light of their complaints. He loved Long Meadow, and she knew he would not consider moving, so there was no point in dreaming about another house, one which was more practical and suitable for their needs.

  He was selfish.

  So jolted was Paula by this unexpected thought she stiffened and gripped the steering wheel tighter. She stared ahead at the road, her eyes momentarily glazed by her troubles. What an unkind and disloyal thing to think, she chided herself. But try though she did to convince herself she was wrong about Jim, she did not succeed. It was the truth. For months she had tried to ignore this unfortunate and dismaying characteristic in him, had made perpetual excuses for him. Suddenly this was no longer possible. She had to stop deluding herself about Jim, look at the facts unflinchingly, accept that he only ever did what he wanted to do. He was deceptive in that he gave the impression of trying to please, especially with colleagues and friends, and when small irrelevant matters were involved. Then he bent over backward to be obliging. When it came to major issues he dug his feet in and always strove to get his own way, regardless of anyone else’s wishes. That was the dichotomy in his nature and it had begun to worry her.

  Paula sighed to herself. They were both stubborn, but at least she was not inflexible. With a start, Paula recognized that Jim was absolutely rigid. This trait had been staring her glaringly in the face for months, yet she had been reluctant, perhaps even afraid, to acknowledge it.

  She began to scrutinize the pattern of their life together for the past year, and now discovered that she could remember innumerable examples of that ingrained rigidity. There had been his refusal point blank to accept a new plane from Grandy, not to mention the fuss about their wedding plans. He had been adamant when her grandmother had asked him to get rid of his rickety old fourseater plane, and suggested he buy a more up-to-date jet at her expense. Being conscious of his pride, Grandy had handled it diplomatically, had pointed out that she felt she should have a company plane at her immediate disposal, and who better to select the best piece of equipment and make the purchase than he. But he would not budge from his position, and Emma had thrown up her hands in exasperation at his intractability.

  Almost immediately afterwards he had told her parents and Grandy that he wanted to have their marriage ceremony at Fairley Church. They had all three been staggered by this suggestion, and so had she. Apart from the fact that the village church was far too small to accommodate some three hundred guests, her parents and Emma had wanted the wedding to be held in London, to be followed by a reception at Claridge’s Hotel. It had been especially important to her grandmother that she have a lovely, elegant and glamorous wedding. It was her mother who had scotched Jim’s idea. Daisy had told him that the marriage arrangements were hardly his concern, since they were always the prerogative of the bride’s parents. Clever clever Daisy. She had won by simply pointing out the correct etiquette, the proper form. In this instance he had had no option but to back down.

  But he had made a swift recovery, and the next battle had been about Long Meadow. Jim had been the winner that time, but in a sense by default. She had only agreed to live there to keep the peace, and also because her grandmother had told her to be accommodating. ‘Jim’s ego and his masculinity are on the line,’ her grandmother had remarked. ‘I agree the house is a monstrosity, but he has a genuine need to be the provider, to give you a home on his own terms. You’d better accept the situation for now.’

  For this same reason she and Grandy had gone along with his wish to have the twins christened at Fairley Church, even though Emma had initially balked at this idea, had hardly been overjoyed to trek all the way to Fairley, of all places. She rarely went there these days.

  Paula slowed down and stopped at a traffic light, mulling over this first year of marriage. People said it was the most difficult year and perhaps it was inevitable that there would be a few unpleasant revelations. Whizzing up the short hill, she cruised past the Stray and turned on to the main road to Leeds. I suppose I might as well accept that the honeymoon is now definitely over, she muttered under her breath, then laughed ironically. He had even been contrary about their actual honeymoon, had whisked her off to the Lake District instead of to the sunny South of France. Wanting to please him, in love and feeling euphoric, she had accepted his decision, even though France had been more appealing to her. They had been greeted by inclement weather and thunderstorms when they had reached Winder-mere, and had spent a week shivering in front of the fire in their hotel suite, or in bed making love.

  Her thoughts automatically settled on their sex life. She was in love with Jim, and wanted him physically, had normal desires and a healthy attitude about sex. But lately it was growing more and more apparent to her that Jim was abnormally driven. His marathons were becoming tiring, even tedious. There were other things in a marriage as well as sex. He was insatiable, and endless, mindless sex was not particularly fulfilling to her. Sometimes she found herself wishing he had more finesse, a better understanding of a woman’s body – her body, her needs. Loath though she was to admit it, she knew deep within herself that Jim was just as selfish in bed as he was out of it, always pleasing himself, never giving a thought to her. It was growing harder and harder for her to cope with his need to make love all the time. Her work was demanding and she craved sleep, but he was seemingly tireless.

  Sudden anger flared in Paula as she considered the way he used sex as an antidote for their rows. Her resentment was increasing, because it was manipulative. It seemed incredible to her that he believed their problems evaporated into thin air once they were locked in a tight embrace. Of course that didn’t happen, their difficulties were still there afterwards. And naturally they remained unsolved.

  Oh God, if only he would talk to me, Paula thought. He should communicate. Instead he retreats behind his charm and his jokes, and whenever I try to explain my feelings he laughs me off. Yes, Jim had a childish tendency to pretend their differences did not exist. She could never get him to open up, try though she did. It occurred to her that she had reached an impasse. She had come to a turning point in her marriage. And after only one year, she said to herself wonderingly. Had she made a terrible mistake? Was divorce the only solution?

  Horror trickled through her at the mere idea of breaking up, and was quickly replaced by a rush of panic. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, and she began to tremble inside. Slowing the car to a crawl she pulled into the first side road she saw and parked. Leaning forward, she rested her head on the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Divorce was unthinkable. She was stunned that it had even crossed her mind a moment ago. She loved him…truly, truly loved him. And in spite of their problems they were compatible in so many important ways. And there were the twins…Lorne and Tessa needed a father, needed Jim as much as she needed him.

  Instantly, it struck her that she had been unfair to her husband, adding to his faults, mentally compiling lists of grudges against him when he was not present to defend himself. He was a nice man, a good man, and he had so many lovely qualities. She owed it to him to be scrupulously honest with herself about his manifold attributes.

  Silently she began to tick them off in her head. He understood about her work. He appreciated her desire to be out there in the marketplace. Certainly he never interfered with her career; he did not grumble about her preoccupation with the stores, the late hours she kept. At least he’s an enlightened man in that respect, she acknowledged swiftly, and he allows me to be myself. He’s not threatened by me either. Furthermore, he was obviously cut out to be a marvellous father, that was already evident. There was no question that he adored her, was devoted to her. Jim would never be a philanderer who played around with other women. He was strictly a onewoman man and totally geared to his family, and family life, and she was thankful of th
at.

  Straightening up, Paula smoothed her hair into place. I’ve got to make a go of this relationship, she told herself. It’s vitally important to me, and I know it’s essential to Jim. She remembered something her grandmother had once said…that it was always the woman who made a marriage work. Paula believed this. Her grandmother was wise and experienced, she had lived it all, seen it all. No one knew better about marriage than Emma Harte.

  Paula resolved to be as understanding of Jim as she possibly could. She would put extra effort and time into their relationship. She would be loving and tolerant. It would be immature of her if she did not. After all, everybody had faults, and you didn’t stop loving a man simply because he had a few imperfections. You loved him in spite of them.

  Turning the ignition key, Paula started the car and backed out of the side road. Her mind began to revolve around her grandmother and Jim’s resignation as she sped down the road heading in the direction of Alwoodley. Convinced though she was that Jim had totally misjudged Emma’s reaction to his decision, she nevertheless hoped that her grandmother was not angry with him. She did not want Grandy to think badly of Jim.

  Less than half an hour later Paula sat behind her desk in her office at the Harte store in Leeds, talking to her grandmother whom she had reached at the flat in Belgrave Square.

  ‘I’m sorry to wake you up,’ Paula apologized, although she strongly suspected she had not done so.