The Deserving Mistress

by Carole Mortimer

  Jude had no idea what all this was about, couldn’t even begin to understand what was making her behave in this strange way. And he didn’t like feeling in the dark in this way!

  He stared down at her impotently, anger fighting with his sheer frustration over the situation. There was only one way he had found to subdue this woman—

  ‘Let me go, Jude!’ May ordered coldly, as if she had already guessed what his intention was.

  ‘No.’ He shook his head uncompromisingly. ‘I—ouch!’ He gave an involuntary cry of pain as May turned her head and bit the side of his hand, releasing her abruptly to look disbelievingly at the teethmarks clearly visible on his skin. ‘What the hell did you do that for?’ He looked at her dumbfoundedly.

  She gave an unconcerned shrug. ‘I asked you to release me, you refused—’

  ‘And that was reason enough to bite me?’ He scowled darkly.

  May gave a humourless smile. ‘It’s okay, Jude, I’m not rabid or anything—’

  ‘Going on the evidence of the last few minutes, I wouldn’t be too sure about that!’ he muttered disgustedly.

  Her mouth tightened, her expression bleak. ‘If you want answers to your questions, Jude, then I suggest you go back in there and ask them of April Robine—although I can’t guarantee they will be truthful ones,’ she added scornfully.

  Jude became suddenly still. April was the problem here, not David Melton, after all…?

  Jude hated it when he didn’t know what was going on. Hated it even more knowing May had no intention of enlightening him…

  ‘Maybe I’ll do that,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Fine,’ May snapped hardly. ‘Would you tell David—?’

  ‘I’m not telling David anything!’ Jude cut in scathingly. ‘I’m not your messenger-boy, May; if you have something to say to David Melton, then go back in and tell him yourself!’

  She drew in a sharp breath, glancing at the pub door, eyes so dark a green now they looked almost as black as the pupil. ‘I’ll pass, thank you,’ she murmured huskily, grimacing slightly. ‘I’ve already kept you from your lunch long enough,’ she added dismissively.

  Jude continued to stare at her frustratedly for several long seconds before giving a rueful shake of his head. ‘I doubt any of us will feel like eating after what just happened!’

  She gave a cool inclination of her head. ‘That’s your prerogative.’

  ‘No, May—that’s the situation you have created,’ he rebuked harshly.

  ‘I didn’t create it—she did!’ she returned forcefully, giving an impatient shake of her head as she seemed to realise she had said too much. ‘I really do have to go, Jude,’ she said shakily. ‘I—you—you just don’t understand!’ she cried shakily.

  ‘Then enlighten me!’ he pressured frustratedly.

  ‘I—I can’t!’ She shook her head firmly. ‘I’m sorry, Jude. Really sorry,’ she choked intensely before turning and hurrying over to unlock her car.

  Jude made no move to re-enter the pub, stood in the porchway watching as May drove away, more confused by what had just happened than he would like to admit.

  May had spoken just now as if she and April had already met before today, that it was some sort of past conflict between the two women that had caused her behaviour just now. And yet April’s own behaviour hadn’t implied any such conflict on her part, and she had made no mention on the way here of already being acquainted with May.

  But perhaps April hadn’t known it was May that David Melton had intended introducing her to today?

  No, that didn’t make any sense, either, because April had been as graciously charming as always even after the introductions had been made. So maybe the resentment was all on May’s side, and for something so obscure April didn’t even have knowledge of it?

  Jude gave a puzzled shake of his head. It was one explanation for May’s behaviour just now, but surely the two women must have met at some time for this situation to have developed, even if April seemed to have forgotten the incident?

  Which gave rise to yet another puzzling question: how on earth could two such disparate women as May Calendar and April Robine have possibly met before? And when?

  Although English, April had lived in America for almost twenty years, most of her work based there, too. And as far as Jude was aware, May had rarely been away from her beloved farm, even for holidays.

  Ask April for the answers he wanted to his questions, May had told him—but with a seeming certainty that those answers wouldn’t be truthful ones…

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘MAY…’

  May swayed slightly in the action of climbing down from the cab of the tractor she had just driven back into the yard.

  Having hurried home several hours earlier from that luncheon appointment she had believed was with David alone, she had filled the rest of the afternoon and early evening with the regular but necessary jobs about the farm.

  She had been expecting this visit, of course, but, even so, now that it had happened she still felt the shock of recognition moving chillingly down the length of her spine.

  ‘May, I think the two of us need to talk—don’t you?’ April Robine prompted huskily.

  May deliberately kept her back turned to the other woman, fighting to control the array of emotions she knew must be moving swiftly across her expressive face.

  There had been no car visible in the yard a few moments ago to tell her of the other woman’s presence here, no pre-warning of this confrontation. The only positive thing about it that May could see was that she was alone here on the farm, that neither of her sisters were here to witness this.

  ‘May?’

  She stiffened her spine, turning slowly to face the other woman as she continued to step down onto the cobbled yard, at the same time registering the red car parked beside the garage, and so not visible to anyone entering from the lane. As May had done…

  She looked up resentfully at the other woman. ‘You knew I didn’t want you to come here.’ It was at once a statement and an accusation.

  The actress looked less controlled than she had at lunchtime today, lines of strain beside her eyes, her face pale beneath her impeccable make-up, still dressed in the cashmere sweater and fitted black trousers she had worn earlier.

  ‘In fact,’ May continued derisively, ‘I’m surprised you could still find your way here!’

  April Robine flinched as May’s deliberate taunt obviously hit home. ‘I remember everything about this place, May—’

  ‘Really?’ she cut in scathingly. ‘Then you’ll remember the way out again, won’t you?’ She turned away, moving to unfasten the trailer from the back of the tractor, her hands shaking as much with rage as shock.

  How dared this woman come here? How dared she!

  No—she wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t give this woman the satisfaction of knowing how much her mere presence here, of all places, hurt and upset her.

  ‘Still here?’ she taunted as she turned to find the actress standing as if frozen.

  April Robine looked at her searchingly, her face having lost all colour now. ‘I was sorry to hear about your father last year—’

  ‘Were you?’ May cut in hardly, her hands clenching at her sides. ‘Were you really?’ she repeated scornfully.

  April’s eyes flashed angrily at May’s obvious scepticism. ‘Yes, I was really,’ she snapped. ‘I—he was—James and I may have had our differences, but I never wished him any harm—’

  ‘Oh, please,’ May muttered disgustedly. ‘Spare me the insincere platitudes!’

  ‘They aren’t insincere,’ the actress sighed. ‘Far from it. May, you were very young, you can have no idea—’

  ‘No idea of what?’ May glared at the other woman. ‘Of my father’s unhappiness because his wife had left him?’ She gave a disbelieving shake of her head. ‘I may have been “very young”, as you put it, but I wasn’t too young to see that my father lost the will to live himself after you left, that it was only because of his
three children that he managed to carry on at all!’ Her face was flushed, her eyes feverish, her breasts quickly rising and falling beneath her thick black sweater as she breathed agitatedly.

  ‘They were my three children, too!’ April cried emotionally, her hands raised appealingly.

  May became very still, all anger leaving her as that chill once more settled down her spine.

  January. March. May. Yes, they had been this woman’s three children. And she had left them as well as their father, had walked out on all of them to follow a star, to become a star herself.

  And two weeks ago David Melton had ironically offered May the film role of Stella, with April Robine playing the title role of Stella’s mother!

  May had been so excited when David, a well-established film director both in England and America, had picked her out of a local pantomime as a possible actress in the film he was shooting this summer, claiming that she was perfect for the part of Stella, the heroine’s daughter. But all of that excitement had died the moment David had told her who was to play the part of her mother.

  David had claimed May was perfect for the part.

  Of course May was perfect for the part!

  David couldn’t know how perfect…

  Because April Robine really was her mother!

  For years she had denied that fact, by tacit agreement with her father had brought January and March up with the impression that their mother had died while they were still very young. Only to have the woman brought vividly back to life in this intrusive way!

  May looked coldly at the other woman. ‘Our mother is dead,’ she stated flatly.

  April gasped, her face paling even more. ‘Is that what January and March think, too?’ she choked disbelievingly.

  ‘It’s what we all think,’ May assured her hardly. ‘Only I know that my mother was a beautiful, selfish woman, who cared more about fame and fortune than she did for her husband and three young daughters. She died for all of us the moment she made that choice,’ she added coldly.

  April swallowed hard, her beautiful face pale and haggard as she looked every inch her forty-six years. ‘I knew James hated me, but I never thought—’

  ‘He didn’t hate you,’ May cut in incredulously. ‘He loved you. Only you. Until the day he died,’ she concluded emotionally, knowing it was the truth, that their father had never looked at another woman in the years after April had left him, that he had continued to love his ex-wife despite what she had done.

  April closed her eyes briefly, swaying slightly. ‘There didn’t have to be a choice,’ she breathed shakily. ‘Your father—’

  ‘I absolutely refuse to discuss my father with you!’ May cut in forcefully, glaring at the other woman. ‘I lived with him for over twenty years after you left, I saw what your leaving did to him—so don’t presume to come here all these years later and tell me anything about him!’ She breathed agitatedly.

  The other woman swallowed hard. ‘We have to talk, May—’

  ‘Why do we?’ she challenged. ‘I have nothing to say to you. And, after all these years, I can’t believe you have anything to say to me, either!’ she added scathingly.

  The beautiful face softened with emotion. ‘Do you have any idea how I felt when David told me that the young woman he had picked out to play opposite me in his next film was called May Calendar?’

  May grimaced scornfully. ‘I can imagine!’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ April contradicted softly.

  ‘If it was anything like the way I felt when I learnt you were the star of the film, then, yes, I can!’ May insisted hardly.

  She had been so shocked, so stunned by the knowledge, that she had hurried home on the next train back to Yorkshire from her screen test in London, informing her sisters that she had turned down David’s offer, and that she didn’t wish to discuss the subject any further, knowing only too well David kept insisting why she was perfect to play opposite April Robine in the role of her daughter.

  The actress shook her head. ‘Somehow I don’t think so,’ she murmured softly. ‘Tell me about January and March. Are they—?’

  ‘They are none of your business!’ May assured her hardly, wondering when this nightmare was going to be over.

  April’s mouth firmed determinedly. ‘Jude tells me that they are engaged to marry two of his closest friends—’

  ‘You’ve told Jude that we’re your daughters?’ May gasped disbelievingly.

  The other woman raised derisive brows. ‘What do you think?’

  May gave a disgusted snort. ‘I think you wouldn’t want Jude, of all people, to know you have three daughters aged in their mid to late twenties!’

  After all, Jude was around ten years younger than the woman he was obviously intimately involved with—to know that she had three such grown-up daughters, not that much younger than himself, would be a bit of a dampener on the relationship, May would have thought!

  April frowned darkly. ‘That isn’t the reason I haven’t told him. May, I don’t know what impression you’ve formed of my being with Jude earlier today, but I can assure you—’

  ‘I don’t need or want your assurances, Miss Robine—on anything!’ May cut in coldly. ‘And neither do January and March—’

  ‘You can’t speak for them,’ the other woman protested.

  ‘In this case, yes, I can,’ May said with certainty. ‘They grew up all these years without a mother, they certainly don’t need one now that they are about to marry the men they love!’

  ‘Especially one like me, is that it?’ April finished flatly.

  ‘That’s it.’ May nodded firmly, wishing the other woman would just leave, the strain of these last few minutes beginning to tell. She turned away, not sure how much longer she was going to last before she broke down in tears.

  This was her mother, for goodness’ sake, the mother she had adored for the first five years of her life, the woman she had had to learn to live without after April had walked out on her husband and children to pursue her acting career. Just the smell of April’s remembered perfume earlier today had been enough to make her head spin.

  ‘I’ve given David my answer concerning the film role; I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other?’ Her expression was deliberately challenging.

  ‘David tells me you’re a very good actress,’ April prompted huskily.

  She shrugged. ‘He seems to think so.’

  April nodded. ‘And exactly where do you think that acting talent came from?’

  May’s eyes flashed deeply green. ‘The same place that January’s singing talent and March’s artistic one came from, I expect!’ she snapped, knowing that none of them had inherited those talents from their staid, unimaginative father.

  ‘January sings and March paints?’ April murmured incredulously.

  ‘Yes—but I’m sure we would all willingly give up those talents not to have you as our mother!’ May came back insultingly.

  April paled even more. ‘Are you giving up your chance of stardom because I happen to be in the film, too?’ The other woman gave a pained frown.

  May gave her a scathing glance. ‘Some of us do have our priorities in the proper order!’

  April flinched at the deliberate taunt, her chin rising challengingly as she looked at May with narrowed eyes. ‘You—’ She broke off as both of them became aware of the sound of an approaching vehicle. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’ April prompted frowningly.

  Jude!

  It had to be him, a brief glance at her wrist-watch having told May that it was seven-thirty, the time Jude had said this morning that he would arrive for dinner this evening, with a bottle of white wine.

  After their conversation at lunchtime she hadn’t thought for a moment that Jude would keep their dinner engagement for this evening, but the timing was too much of a coincidence for it not to be him.

  Damn!

  What was she going to say about April Robine being here? More to the point, what was April Robine going to s
ay about her own presence here?

  Jude’s foot almost slipped off the accelerator as he drove into the farmyard to see May and April standing there obviously deep in conversation.

  What on earth was April doing here? A muddy farmyard was positively the last place he would ever have expected to find the beautifully elegant actress, he acknowledged with amusement, the contrast between the two women even more extreme now that May was back in her working clothes, that woollen cap once again pulled down over her hair.

  Remembering May’s deliberate rudeness to the other woman earlier today, her absolute adamance that she had nothing to say to April, he was more than a little puzzled to find the two of them here together this evening…

  He parked his car beside April’s red one, getting out to slowly walk over to join them. ‘Ladies,’ he greeted lightly, giving them both a quizzical look.

  ‘Jude!’ April was the one to greet lightly. ‘I had no idea you were coming here this evening,’ she added teasingly.

  He gave a slight inclination of his head, still completely in the dark as to exactly what was going on between these two women, and as such reluctant to commit himself either way. ‘I had no idea you were coming here, either,’ he returned noncommittally.

  May gave a disgusted snort. ‘Have you ever noticed how Jude answers a question with a question?’ she derided.

  April gave him a considering look, head tilted enchantingly to one side. ‘Now that you mention it—’

  ‘I actually answered a statement with a statement this time,’ Jude defended curtly, having the strange feeling, despite these two women’s obvious differences, that they were somehow in league at this particular moment.

  ‘Same difference,’ May dismissed mockingly. ‘The end result, of your giving out very little information, is still the same,’ she expanded as he raised questioning brows.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he allowed guardedly.

  May gave April a knowing look. ‘See what I mean!’ she derided.

  April smiled warmly. ‘I do.’

  Jude raised dark brows. ‘Are you invited for dinner, too, April?’