The Hidden Years

by Penny Jordan

  If Faye was aware of how much she had given away in using his Christian name she didn't betray it.

  'He's a very attractive man,' Sage told her. 'Very attractive, and rather sexy as well.'

  'You forget… sexy men…'

  'God, Faye, I'm sorry…'

  Faye shook her head. 'It's all right. As a matter of fact…' She gave Sage a thoughtful look and then said quickly, 'I don't know what you're going to think of me for telling you this, but today, after…well, after she had gone… I felt so different, so…cleansed in some way. You see, before she died, she was lucid for just a very short period of time. I was sitting with her, holding her hand… They'd taken her to hospital when they first realised what was wrong. She'd had a heart attack during the night, a massive one which hadn't killed her… not quite. Anyway, she opened her eyes and looked right at me and then she said my name… That's the first time she's done that for years… and as I looked at her, such a look of misery and regret, such a look of desperate pleading came into her eyes that I knew she knew, that she was remembering… that she was asking me…'

  'For forgiveness,' Sage supplied as Faye's voice broke.

  'Yes…yes…for forgiveness, and, well, it was as though for a moment David was there beside me, guiding me, telling me that I must choose, that I could pay lip-service to her silent plea… that I could say I forgave her, speak the words, but withhold my true forgiveness from her, keep my heart locked against her, or I could open my heart to her as an adult, a woman, and take from her the huge burden of her suffering so that she could go from this life in peace. The choice was mine… and mine alone.

  'I can't describe the feeling to you… David was there, but there was no pressure from him, no instruction as to what I should do. I looked at her, and it was as though she knew, and suddenly the entire room seemed to be filled with some kind of light… It seemed to fill me as well… I actually felt almost euphoric, as though a burden had been lifted from me, and I swear as she looked at me that she knew without my having to say it that I had forgiven her…

  'She died moments later…'

  Sage discovered that her eyes were wet with tears. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she opened her arms and they embraced, hugging one another, gently rocking together as they communicated in mutual female understanding.

  'And that's not all,' Faye told her shakily when they had disengaged themselves.

  She couldn't quite meet Sage's eyes.

  'I'm sure this will shock you—it certainly shocks me…but I've got to tell you, because although it was really quite dreadful, in a way it was the most wonderful, magical thing that's ever happened to me.

  'After my mother died, I just walked out of the hospital and kept on walking, for miles and miles… I ended up on the beach, watching the tide… feeling its ebb and flow like a tide inside my body.

  'There was a man there—not young, not old, a very ordinary kind of nondescript man playing with his dog. He must have thought I looked suicidal or something because he came up to me after a while and asked me if I was all right.

  'I told him that I was, but—I don't know why—I started to cry.

  'He insisted on staying with me, talking to me… I told him my mother had just died. He had a flask of coffee with him and he poured me a cup. He said he knew what it was like, that his wife had died of cancer earlier in the year… He told me that they had no children and that the dog had been hers. He lived in Fellingham— he was a teacher, he told me. He asked me if I'd like to go back to his house with him. Not for any kind of sexual reason, I swear. He was simply being kind. He knew what it was like, you see, the shock of death, the void it leaves, the feeling of instability and insecurity.

  'Because I wasn't ready to come back here I went with him.

  'It was a nice house, small and well kept; there were photographs of his wife in the sitting-room—and although the house was immaculate I could tell it was empty in some way.

  'He told me that since her death he'd moved out of their bedroom because he couldn't endure sleeping in their bed on his own… I don't know what came over me, Sage, I really don't… But I looked at him, and without even knowing I was going to say it I suddenly heard myself asking him if he'd like to make love with me…'

  Her face went pink, her eyes darkening. 'I shouldn't be telling you any of this. It's—'

  'You should be telling me,' Sage contradicted gently, 'and I'm not shocked. How did he respond? Did he make love to you?'

  'Well, yes… yes… he did… I think he was rather taken aback at first… I didn't tell him anything, not about myself, not about David, but it was as though in some way he understood that it wasn't simply a matter of a bored housewife looking for a sexual adventure… It was as though in some way he had been sent to me, if you know what I mean…' She gave Sage a defiant, shame-faced look. 'I suppose you think I'm making that up just to excuse myself?'

  'No. No. I don't… You're not promiscuous, Faye. You don't need to tell me that.'

  'No… sexually I must be the most inexperienced forty-one-year-old there is—or at least I was…'

  Again a blush tinged her skin. 'Well, I don't know very much about men. As I've said, he was very ordinary—the kind of man you'd never really pay much attention to, and I certainly don't have the experience to make comparisons, judgements, but…' She broke off. her blush deepening.

  'It was good?' Sage guessed delightedly.

  'Good?' Faye grinned at her. 'It was… it was wonderful. I'd never dreamed… never known… never imagined…'

  Wisely Sage said nothing to her about the heightening effects strong emotion could have on a woman's sexual responsiveness, nothing about the fact that Faye had already inadvertently told her that she was in a state of euphoria, and said gently, instead, 'I'm glad for you, Faye. Will you be seeing him again?'

  Instantly Faye looked shocked. 'Oh, no…it was nothing like that. We both said, both agreed… He said it was the first time since…since his wife. Oh, but, Sage, he was so tender, so caring, so…so knowing somehow of everything I needed. He made me feel… He made me feel like a woman. For the first time in my life I realised what sexual desire was like. It was as though something clicked into place. As though a missing piece of me was suddenly there. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, I wanted…

  'When he touched my breasts, kissed them… instead of feeling revulsion and horror I felt pleasure, joy. Instead of only wanting him to touch me in the darkness, I felt proud of my body. I wanted him to see it. I wanted…' she shook her head '… I wanted so many things I'd never even wanted to think about, never mind experience. I didn't feel at all as though I was betraying David, as though I was doing something dirty or wrong. It didn't matter that he was a stranger, that I didn't love him or he me. It was as though… as though for both of us it was a true celebration of life. Yes, that was it— it was as though after years of deprivation, of hunger, I had been given a banquet filled with things to tempt and please me… as though I was being given a gift devised especially for me.'

  'A gift that might perhaps have consequences,' Sage pressed gently.

  Faye frowned and then shook her head. 'A child? No… He had already told me that he was infertile— that was why they had no family. He had a low sperm-count.' Now that she had started talking, confiding, she was finding it impossible to stop.

  'The things he did for me,' she said breathlessly, her eyes glowing like a child discovering Christmas for the first time. 'The things I did for him…'

  Sage laughed. Sex held no embarrassments or surprises for her. She felt no disgust, no shock, only pleasure and happiness for Faye and a little gentle amusement at her sister-in-law's new-found enthusiasm—plus, if she was honest, more than a small amount of envy. Not of Faye's lover, but of her joy, her innocence. They made her feel jaded, used, regretful that the kind of joy radiating from Faye was something she had never known or ever would know. No matter what Faye did, she would always have that look of awed innocence
about her, that sweetly feminine aura of mystery so very different from her own potent sexual allure.

  'Tell me about them,' she invited, sensing that that was exactly what Faye wanted to do… that she wanted to relive what had happened and that in telling her about it she could do so. It was no sordid or voyeuristic impulse that made her invite Faye's confidences. After all, Faye could hardly tell her anything she had not already experienced for herself. No, it was simply that she wanted to reach out and help her, to give her something… to make this special time even more special for her.

  'Well, once he had got over his shock, he looked at me and said quietly, "I didn't bring you here to have sex with you, you know, but if you're sure…" '

  'I told him that I was. We went upstairs… I don't know what I expected, really, I just knew it was something I had to do. When we were in the bedroom he put his arms round me and started to kiss me. I hadn't expected that…

  'It was nice. He was very gentle… very slow. He told me how lovely I was, how happy I was making him, and then he started to undress me… I'd thought I'd have to take off my own clothes and his but he wouldn't let me. It was as though in some way he knew. I felt so safe with him, Sage, so free, so completely myself. I knew it was something I was doing for myself and not for him, and that made me feel very strong, very powerful.'

  Sage dipped her head, smiling wryly to herself. How well she had once known that feeling. But not with Daniel. Never with Daniel… With him she had felt vulnerable, afraid, weak.

  'When he touched my breasts, well, it felt… Oh, I don't know… I just wanted him to go on stroking me. We were on the bed then, lying down… He kissed my throat and then my breasts, first one and then the other, so slowly that it was like being lapped in warm water.

  'And then suddenly, so quickly that I hardly knew what was happening, I wanted him to be less gentle with me, to…' She broke off, flushing, avoiding Sage's eyes.

  'I know what you mean,' Sage told her easily. 'It's a strange feeling, isn't it—but a pretty nice one?' she added with a grin.

  Faye gave her a relieved look.

  'Yes…yes…and he seemed to realise how I felt, what I wanted because he… Oh, Sage, he made me ache so much inside. I'd never realised, never felt… It was as though I could almost feel something inside me softening and opening… Before—with David—well, he was always gentle, but it was always uncomfortable, never really easy, if you know what I mean, but when he touched me, just with his fingers at first, it was as though he'd touched a secret lock…'

  She sounded so amazed, so wondering that Sage had to smile. Privately she had already decided that Faye's stranger sounded a very accomplished lover indeed and had quite obviously known how to arouse a woman, but she kept these thoughts to herself. If Faye wanted or needed to believe that his touch had been invested with a special magic, then so be it. She for one didn't want to do a single thing that would cast the lightest shadow over Faye's joy.

  'And… And he didn't just touch me…' Faye told her breathlessly. 'He…' She broke off, her face suddenly red, her breathing accelerated as she twisted restlessly on the bed.

  'Oral sex can be pretty special,' Sage supplied matter-of-factly for her.

  Faye gave her a thankful half-relieved, half-triumphant look, her eyes suddenly shy, her mouth quivering a little as it curled up at the corners with remembered pleasure.

  'Sage, it felt so good. I had no idea… I just wanted it to go on and on, but then when it did, suddenly… suddenly it wasn't enough and I wanted…' She gave a tiny shudder, closing her eyes as she whispered huskily, 'For the first time in my life, the very first time, I realised what it was that makes sex so important, so…so powerful. I couldn't believe what was happening… couldn't believe that I could actually feel like that, could actually feel such pleasure…

  'And afterwards, oh, Sage, he made love to me all over again, only this time he showed me how to please him, to give him the same pleasure he had given me, and when it happened again…' She shuddered again.

  'When I left we both knew that we'd never meet again, that it would never happen again. It was as though we were fated to meet—as though…' She swallowed nervously and huskily.

  'Don't laugh at me or judge me. I'm not trying to make excuses for myself, but when I left him I felt as though it was David's way of rewarding me for forgiving my mother.'

  Or nature's way of reacting to the removal of a burden which must have been an intolerable weight for far too many years? Sage wondered wisely, but she kept this thought to herself. Who was she to question what was obviously for Faye a deeply held belief? And the last thing she wanted to do was to mar her sister-in-law's release from the kind of bondage that made Sage feel sick with disgust and hatred for the man who had degraded and hurt her, imposing it on her.

  'You aren't shocked, disgusted…?'

  'On the contrary, I think I'm rather envious,' Sage told her wryly. 'You didn't happen to make a note of this wonderman's address, did you?' she asked mischievously.

  Faye gave her a round-eyed look and then, realising that Sage was trying to lighten the emotional mood, laughed herself and shook her head. 'No…nor do I intend to make a habit of having sex with strangers…'

  'I'm very pleased to hear it,' Sage told her drily. 'After all, if it's sex you want, as I've already said, I suspect Mother's very dishy surgeon would be only too pleased to partner you… In fact, I suspect he's more than half in love with you already. He certainly seemed most concerned about you when he rang here.'

  'Oh, he saw me in Fellingham the last time I visited my mother in the home. He tried to question me, to talk to me, but I was in such a state that I was rather unpleasant to him, poor man…'

  'Mmm… well, I'm sure he'd be only too pleased to allow you to make amends for it, if you wanted to.'

  She said it half expecting to hear the embarrassed, stiff repudiation she would have heard from the old Faye, but to her surprise and amusement instead Faye seemed to be digesting her comment rather thoughtfully.

  'He seemed quite nice,' she said eventually.

  'Very nice,' Sage agreed, straight-faced.

  'Oh, Sage, we oughtn't to be thinking like this… not with Liz…' She broke off, shaking her head. 'I feel so confused about everything at the moment…'

  'I'm not surprised,' Sage acknowledged. 'And as for Mother, I'm sure she'd be the first to tell you that doing the right thing for yourself is far more important than paying lip-service to convention. She knows you love her, Faye—she knows how much you care. The fact that you and I are sitting here laughing doesn't mean that both of us aren't thinking about her, aren't willing her to survive, and to suggest that she might think it is an insult to her…'

  Sage saw the curious look Faye gave her and turned her head away defensively and then explained huskily, 'It's the diaries. They're making me see her in so many different ways—as… as a woman rather than as a mother, if you know what I mean…' She hesitated, groping for the right words to explain her own confusion in the discovery that her mother, the woman she had always privately thought of as cold and withdrawn, was in fact the very opposite. Why had she misjudged her so badly? Was it because of their relationship, or was it because her mother had deliberately fostered that belief? If so, why? Why had she wanted to drive a wedge between them, to ensure almost from her childhood that they would never be close?

  'You know, I never realised that my mother had actually met Lewis McLaren before Scott and I knew one another.'

  'Lewis McLaren?' Faye repeated, puzzled. 'Oh, you mean your Scott's father?'

  'She never said a word about knowing him when I brought Scott home that weekend.'

  'Perhaps she'd forgotten,' Faye suggested practically. 'After all, she meets so many people. Where did she meet him? At a dinner somewhere?'

  'No… Nothing like that,' Sage told her slowly. 'He came here to the house… It was before I was born. I'd never realised before, but Woolonga, where the ram came from, where young Vic went
to work, actually belonged to Scott's father. Scott never mentioned the station by its name, and in her diaries Mother never mentioned Scott's father's name… At least not until now.'

  'Perhaps she didn't know it before she met him.' Faye was looking puzzled, as though she couldn't understand why Sage was so concerned about something so minor, but Sage was beginning to know her mother very well. Just those few words, describing her surprise at discovering Lewis McLaren with Edward, had given away so much. Lewis McLaren had not simply been another visitor; he had been someone whom her mother had reacted to in a very intense and intimate way.

  Suddenly she was impatient to get back to the diaries. She glanced at Faye and saw that she was back in control of herself. Pausing for a moment, she suggested quietly to her sister-in-law, 'You know, it might be an idea to tell Camilla what you've told me. Not about this afternoon, but about the other… your childhood. She's feeling very shut out at the moment… very much alone and afraid. To know that you trust her, that you feel she's mature enough to share that kind of pain with you will be something she'll remember all her life. Don't shut her out, Faye. Don't make her feel that you don't care, that you don't think her mature or value her.'

  'Of course I care, but I want to protect her… I—'

  'She's not a little girl any more. She's almost a woman. Let her into your life… Let her grow up, Faye. She's at a very critical age.'

  'I can't tell her now, not when she's so worried about Liz.'

  'You're wrong. I think you should tell her now. It's what she needs—something else to focus on. It's probably what we all need right now… I'm going to ring the hospital later, just to check that they're going ahead.'

  'But Alaric said he would let us know if the operation had to be rescheduled.'

  'Yes. I know…but I just want to check. They said there was no point in us trying to see her tomorrow. Look, I know it sounds terrible, but would you mind if I skipped dinner tonight? I'm almost through this present diary, and I'd like to finish it.'

  'No, you go ahead. I've got a lot of catching up to do on them, I'm afraid—I've been putting off reading them because of David… I was afraid it might bring it all back. The accident, his death, your father's collapse.'