by Anne Mather
‘No, I—’
‘Your mother told you what happened,’ her grandmother interrupted, picking up a pair of Helen’s tights, and draping them over the back of a chair. She cast a thoughtful glance at her daughter, before continuing, ‘That friend of his—the drummer—he’s in trouble with the police. Jon had to come back to help him. That’s why he’s gone to Denmark.’
‘Oh, Ricky Ellis, yes,’ remarked Alexa resignedly, as Helen gave her mother a grateful look. ‘But all the same, you’d think he’d have wanted to see me. I mean, he said he’d bring me something back. Something really super. And he hasn’t.’
‘Mercenary article,’ said her grandmother affectionately, ruffling Alexa’s blonde curls. ‘Now, come along. Off the bed. Before you make your mother spill her tea.’
‘I’m not that stupid!’ declared Alexa indignantly, but she got down anyway. ‘I might as well go and get dressed. We are going shopping, aren’t we? You did say that we could.’
‘I promise,’ said Helen, putting her tea aside, and pulling the pyjama-clad little girl into her arms for an impulsive hug. ‘Now, don’t forget to wash first, before you put on your clothes. And clean your teeth. I’ve put your toothbrush in the bathroom.’
‘Nana got me a new toothbrush, while you were away,’ said Alexa, grimacing, not altogether opposed to being cuddled, but feeling that she had to make a token protest. ‘What time are we leaving? You know how hard it is for Grandad to find somewhere to park, if we don’t go early.’
‘Soon,’ agreed Helen, wondering if she had ever had her daughter’s energy. ‘Just give me a chance to finish my tea, and I promise I’ll get up.’
‘It is Saturday morning,’ put in Mrs Caldwell drily, shooing her granddaughter out of the room. ‘Your mother works all week, and she deserves a lie-in at weekends. Just because you’re on holiday, that doesn’t mean everyone else is.’
‘But it is only a week since Mummy came back from Bermuda,’ protested Alexa, from the landing, and Helen sighed. ‘Are you coming shopping, Nana? Sarah Stubbs says there’s a new skateboard at Rosebury’s. Do you think Mummy would let me have a skateboard? I wouldn’t use it on the street; only in the garden…’
Helen’s mother came back into the bedroom as her daughter was finishing her tea, and they shared a wry face over Alexa’s chatter. ‘I really believe that child is getting more demanding as she gets older,’ said Mrs Caldwell ruefully. ‘While you were away your father was quite worn out by her blether.’
Helen shook her head. ‘I’m sorry.’ She paused. ‘You know, if she is getting too much for you and Dad, you must say. I’d hate you to feel you have to look after her.’
‘And what would you do if we didn’t?’ exclaimed Mrs Caldwell at once. ‘Employ some stranger to look after her, or have her going home to that empty flat after school?’
‘I wouldn’t do that. Have her go home to the flat, I mean.’
‘No, well—we wouldn’t let you employ someone else to take care of her. For heaven’s sake, she is our grandchild. Our only grandchild, I might add. And, so long as you’re working, she’s well enough here with us.’
Helen shook her head. ‘But if Dad—’
‘Your father’s not in his dotage yet, young woman. Goodness me, he’s only fifty-eight. And, as the little one doesn’t have a father of her own to care for her, it’s better she has at least one stable masculine influence in her life.’
Helen lifted her head. ‘One stable masculine influence,’ she echoed, ignoring the pain her mother’s careless words had evoked. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Well—’ Mrs Caldwell did look slightly discomfited now. ‘You have to admit, she has no other man to turn to. Not on a permanent basis, anyway.’
‘You make it sound as if I’m in the habit of parading a procession of boyfriends through our home,’ said Helen tensely. ‘There only has been Jon. Before that, there was no one of importance.’
‘Does Alexa know that?’ enquired Mrs Caldwell, recovering her confidence. ‘I know Jon’s young, and your father and I have had our doubts about your suitability for one another, but Alexa did like him. She liked him a lot. And now, although you haven’t exactly said anything, we can sense that—well, that something’s happened.’
Helen put her teacup aside. ‘Are you suggesting Jon and I should have stayed together for Alexa’s sake?’ she asked evenly.
‘Then it’s true,’ said her mother, not answering her. ‘You and Jon have split up. I knew all this business about him going to Denmark and not having time to see Alexa was all moonshine. Well, you’re going to have to tell her. And soon. It’s not fair to keep her hanging on.’
‘I know that.’ There was an edge to Helen’s voice now, and her mother arched speculative brows.
‘There’s no need to get impatient with me,’ she declared, twitching a corner of the bedspread into place. ‘It’s not my fault if your—holiday—didn’t work out. I just wish you’d been honest with us sooner, that’s all. We could have done our best to break it to Alexa gently.’
Helen sighed. ‘It isn’t that simple.’
Her mother straightened. ‘It seems simple enough to me.’
‘Yes. I expect it does.’ Helen rested her elbows on her knees, and dropped her chin into her hands. ‘But it isn’t.’
Mrs Caldwell frowned, a trace of compassion entering her eyes. ‘Why isn’t it?’ she asked, and smoothing the cover she seated herself on the end of Helen’s bed. ‘Either you’ve had a fallout, or you haven’t. Are you going to see him again, or aren’t you?’
Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t suppose so.’
‘So?’
Helen hesitated, and then, with a nervous glance towards the half-open door, she said, ‘There’s something you don’t know. Something I didn’t want to tell you. But—now, well, I suppose I’m going to have to.’
Her mother stared at her. ‘It’s something to do with Alexa’s father, isn’t it?’
Helen gasped. ‘Who told you?’
‘No one told me.’ Mrs Caldwell made an expressive gesture. ‘Helen, I am your mother. I’ve sensed, ever since you came back, that something was wrong.’
‘I see.’ Helen ran her hands round the back of her neck and squeezed. ‘I must be pretty transparent, hmm?’
‘No. Just human,’ replied her mother gently. ‘So—what about Alexa’s father? Have you seen him again?’
Helen slowly nodded her head. ‘He’s Jon’s father.’
‘No!’ Mrs Caldwell was stunned. ‘But—did you know?’
‘Before I left England? Of course not.’ Helen looked indignant now. ‘Do you think I’d have gone to stay with them, if I’d known he was related to Jon? No. It was a total shock, believe me! I had no idea.’
‘And did he know who you were?’ enquired her mother, her voice distinctly cooler now, and Helen felt a sense of betrayal for the way she had behaved. To her mother, Reed was still the man who had violated her daughter. It would have probably proved impossible to get her parents to see him in a different light. So it was just as well that situation was not going to arise, she thought hollowly.
‘Not initially,’ she said at last, and, realising she would have to explain, she quickly outlined the details of what had happened. Of course, she omitted any mention of her association with Reed. That would only have clouded the issue. As it was, her mother was quite prepared to believe that she had severed her relationship with Jon because of his father, and the fact that that might only be a part of the story didn’t seem to occur to her.
Which was probably just as well, thought Helen, remembering what had taken place between her and Jon with some misgivings. The amazing thing had been, he had expected her to go on seeing him as if nothing had happened. And it was only when she’d refused that the situation had become untenable.
However, when she had first followed him up to the house, she had been quite prepared for a blazing row. She had been able to think of no other reaction to
what he had just seen, and when she eventually tracked him to earth in his room she had already been steeling herself for a confrontation.
And he had been angry. She had known that as soon as she opened the door. But she had soon found his anger was directed more towards himself than her, and when Helen had stumbled out the fact that she and Reed had known one another before, he’d actually seemed to find that amusing.
‘So you met in London,’ he said, nodding his head, as if that explained a lot of things. ‘Well, what do you know? I didn’t know he had it in him.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
Helen tried to divert him. She couldn’t have Jon thinking that she and his father had had an affair. There was Alexa to consider, and, although she knew she was being selfish, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
But, as it happened, there was no startling revelation. In fact, Jon was more interested in what was going to happen now, and when Helen insisted that, in spite of what he had seen, there was no question of her and Reed’s getting together, Jon was relieved.
‘These things happen,’ he said, and to her horror and astonishment he actually tried to put his arms around her. Then, making a wry face when she wouldn’t let him, he continued blandly, ‘Come on, baby, none of us is an angel, are we? Except Aunt Vee, of course,’ he added, half maliciously, laughing at his own joke. ‘Hey, it’s no big deal. Give a little, can’t you? I guess the old man got a bit overheated, that’s all. You’re a good-looking girl, and he’s only human. Sure, I was peeved at first, when I saw you two together. I mean, it was quite a blow to my ego, that you might prefer the old man to me. But, if you say there’s nothing heavy going on between you, I’m willing to buy that. We’ve all got our faults.’ He paused. ‘Even me.’
Helen looked at him then, and, although she believed her expression was anonymous, something of what she was thinking must have shown in her face.
‘Well—’ he protested, even though she did not want to hear any more. ‘I might as well tell you. That night I went into Hamilton on my own, I wasn’t exactly a good boy myself.’ And although Helen would have silenced him then, he went on doggedly, ‘Susie—you remember Susie, don’t you?—well, we met up at the disco, and we had a real good time. No strings; no recriminations. Just a good time, that’s all. So—who am I to throw accusations? I’ve got my weaknesses, I admit it. So, what do you say?’
Of course, it hadn’t made any difference to what Helen had already decided to do, but it had made it a whole lot easier. And Jon, after realising he was not going to change her mind, had seemed more than willing to book them both an earlier flight back to London. Perhaps he had decided he had had enough of the quiet life for the time being. Or perhaps he had thought he and Reed could both use a period of readjustment. Whatever, he had made arrangements for them to leave the same evening, and Helen had left the island without having another conversation with Reed.
He had been there, of course, when the servants carried their suitcases out to the hire car, but he hadn’t said much at all. Of course, he had had no way of knowing what had happened between her and Jon, but she strongly suspected he was glad to see the back of them…
‘And Jon doesn’t suspect—’
Mrs Caldwell broke off now, without finishing her sentence, but Helen knew what she had been trying to say.
‘No,’ she said steadily, hoping it was true. But Jon had never asked how she had met his father, or when, and she had certainly not volunteered the information. And their departure from the island had been so precipitate, she was sure he hadn’t spoken to his father. Not that Reed was likely to tell him, she consoled her self thankfully. It was not something either of them would want to discuss.
‘So,’ said her mother suddenly, revealing she was not as gullible as Helen had thought, ‘has he changed much? Reed Wyatt, I mean. He’ll be older, of course. And wiser, I dare say.’ She paused. ‘Wasn’t he at all curious about you?’
‘Curious?’ Helen’s heart faltered for a moment, before regulating its beat. Her face blazed with colour. ‘Why would he be curious about me?’
‘Well, didn’t Jon tell his father that you had a little girl?’
Helen nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And that didn’t intrigue him at all?’
‘No.’ Helen took a steadying breath. ‘Why should it? I—I let him think there had been someone else.’
Mrs Caldwell’s eyes narrowed. ‘So he did ask?’
‘Not exactly.’ Helen realised she had said too much, and tried to recover herself. ‘Um—it was just something—something that was said in passing,’ she improvised unhappily. ‘Er—don’t you think we should be making a move? If Alexa comes back, and I’m not even out of bed—’
‘How do you tell someone, even in passing, that you’ve slept with more than one man?’ enquired her mother quietly. ‘Helen, I may not be very clever, but I wasn’t born yesterday.’
‘Oh, God!’ Helen pushed weary fingers into her hair, and regarded her mother resignedly. ‘Would you believe me if I said I didn’t want to talk about it?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Mrs Caldwell nodded. ‘I’d believe you. I do believe you. I’m sure you don’t want to talk about it at all. But we are your parents, Helen. We were the ones who stood by you, when you needed us most. Don’t we deserve some consideration? Don’t we deserve to know what’s going on?’
Helen sighed. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘But you’re not telling us everything, are you?’ persisted her mother. ‘You didn’t—you didn’t do anything—silly, did you?’
‘I’m not likely to have another baby, if that’s what you’re afraid of,’ retorted Helen harshly, and then knew a terrible sense of contrition at the pained look on her mother’s face. ‘Oh—no. No, of course, I didn’t do anything-silly, as you put it,’ she assured her gently, putting out her hand and squeezing her mother’s arm. ‘Honestly, Mum, you don’t have anything to worry about. My—my association with the Wyatt family is over.’
‘Is it?’ Clearly, Mrs Caldwell wasn’t convinced, but Helen didn’t know what else to say to her. She could hardly tell her mother what had really happened. Even now, she could hardly absorb the events of that last morning on the island with any degree of conviction herself. She wanted to forget it; forget everything that had happened, and, if there was a trace of panic in her need to put Reed out of her mind, she couldn’t bear to examine it for fear of what she might find.
But, in the days that followed, it became less and less easy to keep those thoughts at bay. Time didn’t heal, it merely concentrated the pain, and although exhaustion sent her to sleep the minute she laid her head on the pillow, a couple of hours later she was wide awake and vulnerable.
Of course, she told herself she was crazy to allow this to happen to her, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. The cushion of time had been removed, and without its comforting barrier her feelings for Reed returned in sharp perspective. Not that she believed the way she felt now bore any resemblance to the past. In retrospect, those girlish fantasies seemed unreal and immature. Nothing like the shattering wave of emotion that had swept away her inhibitions—and her sanity.
Her only spar in this sea of uncertainty and turmoil was Alexa. Reed’s daughter, she thought now, with more satisfaction than sense. At least she had something of him to hold on to, however inglorious that achievement might be. For, having met Reed again, she had had to revise her opinion about him. He had not been the immoral adventurer she had previously thought him. If she believed what he had told her—and she was inclined to do so—he hadn’t exactly abandoned her to her fate. He had come back—albeit too late to do anything to help her—and, it could be argued, he deserved to know the truth.
Yet, how much of the truth did he deserve to know? she asked herself bitterly. The truth that he had a daughter, as well as a son? Remembering what he had told her of the legal battle he had had with his first wife, when she had tried to take Jon away from him, how could she
face such a prospect with equilibrium? Or perhaps the truth that she herself was in love with him? For she was. She knew that now; had sensed it, in fact, from the first day she arrived in Bermuda.
But neither of these alternatives was an option that was open to her. She couldn’t play games with Alexa’s future, and the possibility that Reed might use her to gain control of his daughter was not one she cared to consider. She had to accept the fact that Reed was not in love with her, and therefore they had no future together. He had been—he was—attracted to her, but that was as far as it went. It wasn’t the first time a man had shown interest in her. For heaven’s sake, Jon had been interested in her, and other men before him. Just because, on those other occasions, she had felt no answering attraction herself, the situation was no different. For some reason, men found the combination of her fiery hair and pale skin infinitely appealing, and although she knew she wasn’t beautiful she apparently possessed something else.
Which didn’t make the slightest difference to her present dilemma, except in so far as to say, had Reed not been attracted to her, she might not now be suffering as she was. If he hadn’t recognised her, if he hadn’t touched her, if he hadn’t aroused such strong emotions in side her—if, if, if! But he had recognised her, he had touched her, and the feelings he had aroused would not easily be denied.
Her work suffered, because she found it so difficult to concentrate, and Alan Wright got quite irritated with her. He was used to relying on her completely, and when contracts went astray, and letters went untyped, his usual good humour gave way to frank impatience.
‘What is the matter with you?’ he demanded, one Friday afternoon about three weeks after Helen’s return from holiday. ‘For God’s sake, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were having marital problems. Alexa’s OK, isn’t she? I know it’s the school holidays, but your parents are looking after her, aren’t they?’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
While Alexa was on holiday, she spent most of her time with her grandparents. During schooltime, things were different. Then, Helen took her daughter to school on her way to work, and either her mother or her father picked her up afterwards. Usually, they took her to the flat, so that she was there when Helen got home. But occasionally they took her to Chiswick, and at weekends Helen often stayed there too.
