A Chance of Happiness

by Diney Delancey

  Nicholas took her arm and led her to the car. As they drove to the gate he said, "Right, which way to Angelo's?"

  "Angelo's? Is that where we're going?"

  "Well, you said it was good, so I booked a table, but I haven't a clue where it is."

  Petra directed him and they parked outside. Before they got out of the car, Nicholas leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.

  "It's good to see you again," he said softly and then got out of the car and came round to open her door.

  Petra found herself shaking at the touch of his lips and the closeness of his face to hers. Her heart was suddenly thudding and she had a suspicion that her legs might not hold up under her. As he walked round the car she took several deep breaths to steady herself before he should touch her again.

  Angelo's was busy, but their reserved table was waiting in an alcove just off the dance floor. Nicholas ordered drinks and once the meal had been ordered, Petra sat back while Nicholas looked at her speculatively, his dark eyes taking in the silk dress, white as she had promised, which clung alluringly to her slim figure, and the softness of her hair against her pale cheek, the light dancing in her velvet blue eyes.

  "Are you quite better?" he asked. "No lingering effects?"

  Petra shook her head. "No, I'm fine, except for the scar, of course." She lifted a lock of her hair away from her forehead where it had concealed the angry red line left by the gash. "They say it'll fade quite a lot, and I can always keep my hair over it if I want to."

  Nicholas leant forward to inspect the scar, and unable to look into his eyes at such close quarters with any equanimity, Petra kept her eyes averted and her head turned as if presenting the place for easier inspection. She thought he might be sympathetic, but all he said was, "It's been neatly stitched, it'll probably fade away to nothing in the end."

  "How's your—Mrs. Arden?"

  "How's your flat coming . . ?"

  They spoke together to break the ensuing silence and then both laughed. The tension that had been between them broke and they each answered the question the other had asked, after which the conversation flowed with the ease of talk between old friends.

  When they had eaten their main course, they got up to dance. The music was playing softly, not intrusive but persuasively rhythmic, and as they stepped out on to the floor, Petra moved naturally into Nicholas' arms. He held her lightly, delicately, as if he feared to hurt her, his arms gently round her waist and her hands on his shoulders the only contact; but as the music continued he gradually drew her closer until her head rested on his shoulder and her hands locked tight behind his neck. Still the music played and still they danced, their bodies moving in perfect accord. Petra's eyes were closed as she felt the strength of the arms which enfolded her and she thought, I could dance with him for ever.

  When the music stopped they stood together for a moment before Nicholas released her and led her back to the table. Tucked away as they were in their alcove, they were aware only of each other. They finished their meal and relaxed over coffee and brandy, ignoring the rowdy group at a large round table in the corner, the other couples dancing, and those who sat nearby, hands clasped, heads close in intimate talk.

  The band struck up a faster number and Nicholas suggested they dance again. He was an energetic and original dancer and by the time the music changed to a slower tempo, Petra felt exhausted and was helpless with laughter.

  Nicholas caught her to him as before, holding her tightly, his face pressed into her hair. After a while she moved her face away from his shoulder and looking up at him said teasingly, "You're not at all like a professor."

  Nicholas smiled down at her. "What is a professor like?" he asked.

  "Oh, I don't know. Elderly, staid, learned."

  "Whereas I am young, entertaining and thick."

  Petra laughed. "Precisely! You're a fraud."

  "And you've found me out. Well, I'd better give up and come quietly." The look that accompanied these words was a strange mixture of amusement and tenderness and finding it directed at her, Petra felt warmth stealing up her neck and spreading across her cheeks and knew that she was blushing. She returned her head to Nicholas' shoulder. Perhaps he hadn't seen the rush of colour to her face. She hoped not.

  But her hopes were short-lived for Nicholas said, "You always look enchanting when you blush, angel. Don't hide your face," which only succeeded in making her cheeks warmer and his shoulder more inviting.

  They had returned to the table when a shadow fell across them and Petra looked up to find Tom standing over her, glowering.

  "Ah, Petra. There you are. Enjoying your evening, I trust." His words were slurred and it was clear he had had too much to drink.

  Petra answered coolly, "Yes, thank you, Tom. I hope you are, too."

  "Me? Oh, yes, I am. Of course I am. I always enjoy seeing my girl in the arms of another man."

  Petra flushed with anger and said in icy tones, "I am not 'your girl', Tom. I never have been and I never will be. I'm sorry if you thought differently."

  "I did indeed. I did indeed. And you led me to think it."

  "That's utter nonsense, Tom. You're drunk. Please go away and we'll talk again when you're sober."

  "We'll talk now," he said belligerently.

  "Oh do go away, Tom," cried Petra in anguish.

  He leaned down towards her and she shrank away from him, dismayed at the scene he was causing.

  Nicholas rose to his feet and putting a hand on Tom's shoulder said, with cold contempt, "I think it's time you rejoined your friends."

  Tom jerked away from him. "Well, if it isn't dear Peregrine. How's your mother, Professor? Still dying of starvation and hypothermia in a basement?"

  For a moment Petra thought Nicholas was going to knock Tom down, never had she seen such fury on a man's face. His dark eyes burned with it and his face which two minutes earlier had been laughing and handsome, became a mask of chilling contempt.

  Even as she watched him, Petra knew if that fury were ever turned on her it would cause a mortal wound.

  Without looking at her, Nicholas said softly, "Collect your coat, Petra. We're leaving."

  With a final glance at Tom's rebellious expression and Nicholas' withering one, she hastened to the cloakroom and by the time she returned to the hall, Nicholas was waiting for her, having paid the bill, and Tom was nowhere to be seen.

  No word passed between them as they went out to the car. The beautiful bubble that had been the evening had exploded with a plop and there was nothing left of it.

  As they roared through the town, Nicholas driving fast, Petra could have wept. How could Tom behave like that? How could he? She clenched her fists, biting her lip to keep back the tears of rage and disappointment.

  The town flew by and suddenly Petra realised that the last of the houses was receding and they were out on the coast road. By the faint light emanating from the dials on the dashboard, Petra could see Nicholas' hands gripping the wheel, strong hands with long fingers.

  Suddenly the car slowed and pulled off the road into a layby. intended as a viewing point for tourists. The engine died away and they sat in silence for a moment. Petra found she had been holding her breath and let it out now in a long sigh.

  "Well," said Nicholas at last.

  "Well what?" Petra felt defensive.

  "Why did he think you were his?"

  "I don't know," she said lamely. "I've been out with him, that's all." She turned to face Nicholas and found his eyes intent on her. "I don't belong to him, or anyone else for that matter. No one. Do you understand? No one."

  "I see." He released his seat belt with a snap and reaching over to the passenger seat, very deliberately slipped his hand behind Petra's head, drawing her face to his. For a moment his dark eyes scanned her face—as if he could read my soul, Petra thought as she found herself unable to turn away. Then slowly his mouth came down on hers and she had no room for coherent thought. He kissed Petra as he had once before, with a
n urgency and longing which awakened an equivalent response in her.

  She clung to him despite the awkwardness of the car seats. Her body arched to his and his searching hands caressed her to quivering fever-pitch.

  Then as suddenly as before, he broke away and returning to his own side of the car rested his head for a moment against the side window. Petra watched him, his face illuminated in the weird green light from the dashboard. It was as if he struggled within himself, his face tormented as by some inner devil. She said nothing. Her own heart was still pounding, her body pliant and weak with desire. She had never wanted a man as much as she wanted Nicholas. Never loved with body and soul in concert. So she watched his private battle and said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

  The agonising silence lasted thirty seconds, one minute, two—and then at last Nicholas spoke.

  "Let's finish our evening on a harmonious note," he said lightly. "Will you show me your flat?"

  "If you'd like to see it," she replied, trying not to show how disturbed his kisses had made her.

  They drove back into town at a far from sedate speed and before long came to a halt in the street outside the flat. Without a word, Nicholas got out and opened her door for her.

  'Tom's never done that,' Petra thought inconsequentially as Nicholas helped her out.

  There was a light on in the first floor flat, but the house was silent and their feet sounded very loud on the stone steps.

  "I feel as if I'm trespassing or something," Petra whispered and then forcing herself to speak normally she said, "Come in. It's not finished yet, but at least it's clean and dry again and doesn't stink of mud."

  Nicholas looked round him and then said, "You've made a good job of it, you and your students."

  She showed him round and then said, "Would you like some coffee? The kitchen's back in operation."

  "That would be lovely," he said and when she returned from the kitchen she found he had lit the gas fire and was looking out of the uncurtained window.

  "I'm sorry there aren't any curtains," she said. "The ones in here were long and soaked up the sea water." She put the two mugs of coffee on the window-sill, standing beside him.

  He turned to her with a groan. "Oh, angel, don't stand so close, there's so much I must tell you before…" His voice trailed off as he looked down into her expectant face.

  "Before what?" she whispered, reaching up to slip her arms about his neck.

  He made no answer, but his arms closed convulsively round her and his mouth found hers. Petra struggled a little to pull away from him and he released her at once, but she didn't move far. She smiled up at him and said, "There are curtains in the bedroom."

  He gathered her into his arms once more and with the single word, "Witch!" carried her through to the bedroom.

  There was no carpet on the floor, but the bed—being an old-fashioned wooden one—had stood high above the sea water and remained virtually undamaged, and the curtains hung at the window from which Petra had made her escape.

  Nicholas deposited her on the bed, jerked the curtains along their track, lit the gas fire and then turned back to her. His breathing became heavier, his loving more urgent and Petra, as aroused as he, pulled him down beside her, and cried out her love for him in the ecstasy of her fulfilment.

  They fell asleep in each others arms and, as she drifted into blissful oblivion, Petra knew she had never been so happy before.

  She awoke to find him standing over her, already dressed. "I've got to go, angel. Do you want me to drop you back to college, or are you going to stay here?"

  Petra uncurled like a waking kitten and reached her arms up to him.

  He laughed and bent to kiss her. "No more, angel. I've got to be in Yorkshire by mid-afternoon."

  "Yorkshire?"

  "Remember, I told you I've a couple of lectures to do up there this week?"

  Petra did remember and pulled a face.

  "I'll be back on Saturday," Nicholas promised. "Where will I find you, here or at college?"

  "Here," said Petra definitely. "I'll be here."

  "Are you going to stay here now?"

  "Mmm. I think so. Don't want to shock the night porter in college."

  Nicholas pulled the bedclothes up round her and, holding them firmly in place as if to avoid further temptation, kissed her once more.

  "I'll phone if I can," he said. "But I'll be here on Saturday."

  Petra heard his car engine outside in the street and then the roar as he accelerated away, leaving a silence hanging in its place. She curled up again and dreaming of Nicholas beside her, drifted off into sleep once more.

  Chapter Six

  Petra spent Sunday in a happy daze. She met her students for a lunchtime drink in the pub as arranged, and then returned to the flat to finish the gloss paintwork. She worked alone, completely content in her own company. The shadow Tom had cast over her the evening before had faded away in the sunshine of her love for Nicholas.

  Her heart turned somersaults at the very thought of him and she found herself laughing out loud for sheer joy when she remembered how he'd held her, kissed her, loved her. He hadn't said he loved her, Petra could accept that it was too early for that, but that he wanted her she was in no doubt and having recognised and acknowledged her own feelings for him, she was determined to do all in her power to turn that wanting into loving, not merely with his body but his mind and soul as well.

  Pausing in her glossing of a window frame she said, "I'm going to make you love me, Professor Romilly, or die in the attempt."

  Petra decided to move back into the flat as soon as she could. She would contact the carpet warehouse first thing in the morning. They guaranteed fitting within forty-eight hours and thanks to her father's generosity, she could tell them to go ahead. She would make her curtains and collect the chair covers from the cleaners so that when Nicholas arrived next Saturday everything would be ready and she would be waiting for him in her own flat.

  Petra didn't see Tom the next day. It wasn't that she avoided him particularly, but she visited her teaching practice students in the morning and had lectures and tutorials all afternoon. Her lunch hour she spent at the carpet warehouse arranging for the delivery and fitting of her new carpet and kitchen vinyl, and directly she had seen her last student, she hurried round to the flat to begin work on her curtains.

  She half-hoped Nicholas would phone, but then remembering she hadn't given him her ex-directory number, she realised that unless he had taken it himself from the telephone, he wouldn't. Anyhow, she thought, he'll think I'm at college, not here.

  Petra didn't see Tom the next day either, and wondered if he was avoiding her. She hoped not. Although she had been angry and embarrassed by his behaviour at Angelo's, she also knew he had been drinking and had said more than he ought as a consequence.

  It was Wednesday lunchtime when she finally bumped into him. Literally, in fact, as she hurried along the corridor to the staff-room. The pile of folders she was carrying cascaded to the floor and they both bent down to retrieve them.

  "Thanks, Tom." She smiled at him. Tom murmured something but didn't return her smile. He walked beside her however and held open the staff-room door for her. She thanked him again and was moving away to put the files on the table when he caught her arm.

  "Sorry about Saturday," he mumbled awkwardly.

  "Forget it," said Petra lightly. "I have."

  "Really?" He sounded anxious.

  "Of course."

  She smiled at him and he said quickly, "Have a drink with me later?"

  "That would've been nice, Tom," she replied, "but I've got the carpet fitters coming this afternoon, so I've got to be at the flat, I'm afraid."

  Tom didn't accept defeat easily. "I'll come round there then," he said. "I'd love to see it now it's all clean and painted."

  Petra sighed inwardly. She hadn't finished the curtains and she had masses of student work to assess before the weekend. Still, if it would make her peace with Tom it
might be worth it. She could always work into the small hours if necessary. Petra felt she could cope with anything just now. She was riding the crest of a wave.

  "All right," she said. "I'll be making curtains, so why don't you bring a bottle of wine with you and we can stay in by the fire?"

  Tom agreed and then muttering something about a lecture, disappeared.

  The carpet fitters arrived as promised and set to work at once. Petra had decided to close carpet both the bedroom and the living-room this time. The salt water had badly stained the polished wooden floor in the living-room and utterly destroyed the rugs.

  When Tom arrived he was full of admiration for the work she and the students had done.

  "It really does look lovely," he said as he made the guided tour. "I see the bed wasn't harmed."

  Petra had an almost overwhelming desire to giggle, but she managed to keep her countenance and say, "The water stained the legs and took all the polish off, of course, but luckily it didn't reach the mattress. Mrs. Arden sat on it until we were rescued—it gave her somewhere dry."

  "Have you seen her since the flood?" Tom asked as they went back into the living-room. "Where's a corkscrew? I'll open this wine."

  Petra found it for him and said, "No. She was in a nursing-home for a while and now she's moved into an old folks' home. Nicholas moved her on Saturday."

  Tom poured the wine and handed her a glass. "I really am very sorry about Saturday evening," he began.

  Petra interrupted him. "Yes, you said so, Tom. Let's forget it."

  "Petra, I can't. I was drunk and…"

  "I know," she said drily.

  "But do you know why? Why I'd set out to drink myself under the table? Because I was insanely jealous." He set his glass down and said aggressively, "I love you, Petra. You must know I do." He moved to take her in his arms but she pulled free saying, "I didn't, Tom, we just had fun, that's all. I'm sorry, I really didn't know how you felt."