'Yes, of course. Because ...'
'Because you don't want anything from me,' Bruno finished for her. 'Yes, I remember you telling me that. But Ben is my son and if he needs anything I'll provide it. And as for you,' his eyes dwelt on her scornfully, 'while you're under my roof then you're my guest. And I don't expect my guests to pay for their own food.'
'You can hardly call me a guest,' Norrie retorted, remembering how she had scrupulously divided everything she'd spent on food. 'And I should have thought you'd need every penny you can get towards paying off your debts. Have you raised the money yet?'
'Mind your own damn business,' Bruno flashed harshly.
'It is my business. The sooner you raise it the sooner I can leave. You don't think I enjoy being here, do you?'
'How and when I get the money is my affair, and you'll just have to wait to find out when you can put your stupidly misguided philanthropy into practice,' he told her with a sneer.
Norrie's temper blew. 'It isn't philanthropy; they're debts you owe only you won't admit it. And I'm not going to use your money. I don't want to be kept by you for even a minute.'
Bruno laughed unpleasantly. 'Afraid of being thought a kept woman? You needn't worry; you're not the type any man would choose for a mistress.'
'Why you ...' Picking up an empty bowl, Norrie threw it at his head, but he ducked and it shattered against the wall. The next second he'd grabbed her and they were fighting in the small confines of the kitchen, Norrie trying to tear at him with her nails and Bruno easily holding her off. So she kicked him on the shin, hard.
'Ouch! You bitch.' Bruno tried to catch her wrist and a cup went flying from the table to smash on the tiled floor.
They were so intent on fighting one another that neither of them noticed Ben come into the room. He threw himself at Bruno, grabbing one of his legs and holding on to it with both arms and legs, then tried to bite Bruno through his trousers.
'Hey.' Bruno reached down and had to tug hard to pull him off.
'Don't hurt Norrie! Don't hurt Norrie!' Tears were streaming down Ben's face and he was hitting out at Bruno with his small fists.
'Oh hell!' Bruno exclaimed with real pain in his face. 'It's all right. Norrie and I were only playing. Like you and I pretend to fight. We pretend, don't we?' He held Ben close and kissed his wet cheeks. 'It's all right, old son. Don't cry.'
But Ben pushed away from him and held his arms out to Norrie. She took him and sat down in a chair, cuddling him to her, letting him feel the security of her warmth and closeness, her head close to his.
Bruno watched them for a moment, then said abruptly, 'I'm going out.'
Norrie raised her head, feeling suddenly deathly tired and sad. 'What about dinner?' she asked mechanically.
'To hell with it.' And he strode out of the flat.
After that they were both very careful to control their feelings, speaking to each other with icy politeness when Ben was around, and trying to ignore one another when he wasn't. But emotions held in check only served to increase the tension. Norrie felt as if her nerves were taut wires that could snap at any second. The days, when Bruno was at work, weren't too bad, she could take Ben out to see the sights of London or walk with him in Regent's Park, but as the day wore on and she knew that the time for seeing Bruno was coming closer, she grew more and more uptight.
The evenings, after Ben had gone to bed, were the worst; she dreaded the long summer nights when she had hung out clearing up the kitchen for as long as possible and would have to join Bruno in the sitting-room, the two of them in the same room together and yet a million miles apart. Mostly she read, because that gave her a barrier of preoccupation that he couldn't easily break through, but it was almost impossible to concentrate when Bruno sat broodingly in his armchair, his eyes more often on her than on the television set, the tension between them mounting to screaming point as the days went by.
Ben was a very lively boy and, like every other child in the world, never wanted to go to bed, especially on the light summer evenings, so it was easy to give in to him and let him stay up to watch the end of his television programme, to take longer over giving him his bath, and to read him the extra bedtime story that he always demanded.
Norrie knew that she was over-indulging him and began to feel desperately guilty when it got to nearly nine before he finally went to sleep, but it was only for a short time and often she would carry on reading aloud after he'd gone to sleep because that way there was only an hour or so of the evening left to get through with Bruno before she could retreat to bed herself. When she had gone into this it had been on a wave of anger that had carried her along, and it had all seemed so simple; to make Bruno pay and then go back to her old life. But the stark reality of having to live with him in this electric tension while he raised the money was almost more than she could bear, so Norrie gradually let the boy stay up later and later until he grew fretful and almost asleep on his feet. Bruno watched grimly, knowing exactly what she was doing, and it led, inevitably, to the clash that she had been trying to avoid.
It was gone ten one night when Norrie finally came out of Ben's room; he was fast asleep and she couldn't pretend any longer to be reading him a story, but it was late enough now for her to go to bed herself. Bruno was sitting in an armchair with a drink in his hand, watching television, but his eyes followed her as she went into the kitchen to wash up Ben's supper dishes. She poured a glass of milk and put a couple of biscuits on a plate for her own supper, thinking that she could eat them in bed and read a book until she felt tired enough to go to sleep.
The kitchen door opened behind her and Bruno came in. 'I want to talk to you,' he said coldly.
'But I don't particularly want to talk to you,' Norrie retorted, picking up the plate and glass. 'Unless of course you're going to tell me that you've raised the money at last.'
'At last?'
'It's getting very boring being stuck here in the flat with you every evening,' she told him baldly.
'Which is why you spend as much time as possible in the kitchen and let Ben stay up so late, I suppose?'
'Of course. Anyone's company is better than yours.'
'You're taking this out on the child. He's tired out and nothing like the lively boy he was before you came here.'
'Before he had to live with you, you mean. If you want him to be happy again, you'll hurry up and let me go home.'
'No one's stopping you,' Bruno pointed out icily.
'Oh no, I'm not leaving here until you pay what you owe—or until I tell my story to the press. And until then I shall avoid you as much as possible.'
'You didn't used to object to my company once,' he reminded her acidly.
'That was a long time ago, before I realised what you were really like. A lifetime ago.'
'Ben's lifetime ago,' he said forcefully. 'Don't take your frustration out on him, Norrie.' The words were a command not a plea.
'Frustration?' She gave a high, slightly hysterical laugh and put down the things she was holding. 'Oh, that's funny, it really is. Can't you ever think about anything but sex? I'm not in the least frustrated. I told you before that you don't turn me on any more. Quite the reverse. You just make me feel—unclean.'
Bruno's jaw tightened in anger. 'Really?' he taunted. 'That wasn't the way I read it. The way you responded during our so-called engagement made it pretty obvious that you were sex-starved.'
'I was what?' Norrie demanded incredulously, her voice rising. 'My God, do you think that you're the only man I've ever had? Well, you're not, not by a long chalk. I've had plenty of boyfriends since you. And they were all better in bed than you ever were.'
Unable to keep his hands off her any longer, Bruno reached out and caught her wrist. 'That's a very sweeping statement,' he said with biting anger. 'And if it's true, you'll have learnt a whole load of new tricks. Why don't you tell me about them; maybe I'll learn something. That would make a change, wouldn't it? You teaching me.' He pulled her close to him and held
her arms behind her back. 'Well, go on. I'm waiting to hear. Tell me all these things your dozens of lovers have taught you—or is it hundreds?' he added savagely.
'Let go of me or I'll scream.'
'And wake Ben? Yes, that's the sort of thing you would do. Playing on a child's happiness to grab what you want. How the hell do you think he feels about all this?'
'He's too young to understand. And it's only for two more weeks; if you haven't got the money by then I shall take him away.'
'And subject him to everything the gutter press can do. His photograph in the papers, pointed out in the street, his life made a misery.'
'No,' Norrie interrupted fiercely. 'I won't let Ben come into it. Those are the things that will happen to you, not him. You'll be the one who is pointed out and laughed at.'
He stared down at her.' I believe you really do hate me.'
She laughed mirthlessly. 'I have cause enough.'
But he went on as if she hadn't spoken. 'But you want me, even so. Whatever you say, whatever your mind tells you, your body still wants to be loved. And that's what you hate more than anything else; the fact that your body betrays you every time. You want me, Norrie, admit it.'
'No, that isn't so.' She tried to break free of his hold, but when she did her body rubbed against his and he grinned.
'Perhaps you'd like me to make you admit it, I've a feeling I can, quite easily.' His eyes looked down into hers in mocking anger.
'Let go of me, Bruno. This isn't funny.'
'What's the matter, has the game got out of hand? . Have I called your bluff?' Bending his head he began to kiss her neck. 'You like it when I kiss you,' he murmured, his lips soft against her skin. 'Do you think I don't know? You drown in them. I can read it in your eyes. Feel it in your pulse. You don't want it, but you can't resist.' His mouth moved to the corner of hers, began to move along her lower lip with light kisses that were little more than a touch.
Norrie stood rigidly within his hold, determined not to yield an inch, to let him see by her complete indifference just how wrong he was. But then his tongue pushed insidiously between her lips, softly exploring the warmth of her mouth and she jerked her head back, her eyes spitting hate. 'Get away from me,' she yelled hysterically. 'Get away.'
He laughed, knowing he'd proved his point, and let her go contemptuously. 'Just promise not to take it out on Ben any more. Put him to bed at his normal time. If my being here bugs you that much we can take it in turns to go out in the evening.'
Norrie rubbed her wrist where he'd held her and glared at him. 'I hate you,' she said balefully. 'God, how I hate you.'
But he only laughed again and said, 'But now we both know why, don't we?'
She couldn't take any more, turning, Norrie ran out of the kitchen and into the bedroom with the sound of his mockery ringing in her ears.
Thinking about it, she knew that Bruno was right about Ben and the next day she put him to bed at seven. At eight Bruno went out and didn't come back until after she was in bed. He didn't say where he was going and she didn't ask. Their relationship was strained now, to say the least, and Norrie found it a relief to go out the following evening. She went to see a him in the West End, but it felt strange going to a cinema by herself, and she hadn't seen an adult film for ages. The only ones she'd seen were Walt Disney productions with Ben, who'd sat entranced the whole way through, holding tightly to Norrie's hand and burying his head in her lap whenever a wicked character came along, and shouting with the best of them when the cavalry—in whatever form it took— arrived in the nick of time. It felt almost sinful to sit back in the comfortable seat with a bar of her favourite chocolate. Norrie had no real worries about leaving Ben with Bruno, but somehow she just couldn't enjoy the film. She felt restless and strangely lonely, but sat there until the film ended, not really taking it in.
When she got back to the flat Bruno was still up, stretched out on the settee listening to Mozart from his quadrophonic speakers. He had a good collection of recordings and his equipment gave a first class reproduction. Norrie sat in the other chair and let the music engulf her, her eyes closed as she listened. When it finished, she opened them reluctantly and found that Bruno was watching her. 'Maybe we should listen to music more often,' he suggested lazily. 'We haven't taken a knife to each other for over half an hour.'
Norrie sat up to retaliate but saw that he wasn't trying to goad her and leaned back. 'Maybe we should,' she agreed. 'Was Ben okay?'
'Fine. Not a peep out of him. How was your film?'
'How do you know I went to a film?' she countered. 'I could have gone to a concert, or a play. Or to pick up a man,' she added provocatively.
But he didn't rise to the bait. 'You left the paper open at the entertainments page and you'd marked off the films with a pencil,' he told her with a grin.
'Oh. Well, it was okay, I suppose.'
'That doesn't sound as if you enjoyed it very much.'
'No, not much. I'm not used to going on my own,' she admitted without thinking.
'You mean you'd rather have been in the back row with one of your many lovers,' Bruno sneered.
Norrie didn't say anything, but just stood up and walked out of the room.
The next day was Friday with the long weekend when Bruno would be at home looming over her, but two things happened that day to take her mind off it, both of which gave her very mixed feelings. The first arrived in the way of a letter, forwarded to her from Welford. It was from her brother, Geoff, which was a surprise in itself, for he seldom wrote to her. The letter told her that he had met a French woman out in Saudi Arabia and was going to marry her fairly soon. 'So we have the problem of Ben,' the letter went on and Norrie's heart stood still at the thought of losing the child. 'Michelle is divorced and has two daughters of her own. She doesn't mind taking on Ben but is quite happy to leave him with you, if you will still have him. Quite frankly, I would rather you kept him. You know all the reasons why. And also, when I finish here in six months, I will be going to France with Michelle to live permanently. I have been offered a job there near Lyons.
'If you do decide to keep Ben, I think we should put it on a legal footing and I will let you legally adopt him. I will still continue to send the money for his keep, of course, so nothing will really change. Please let me know what you decide and, if yes, take this letter to my solicitor who will put all the legal arrangements in hand.'
It took a couple of readings before all the implications of the letter sank in. Ben would be really her own, forever. But he would have to grow up knowing that his own father had rejected him. And right now was the worst time to take up adoption proceedings in case Bruno found out. She would rather he went on thinking that Ben was his until after he'd paid up and she was safely away from him. But there was no question of her not wanting Ben, even if she was thought of as an unmarried mother for the rest of her life. She folded the letter carefully and zipped it into one of the compartments of her handbag; she must be careful not to let Bruno see it and to destroy it as soon as she'd been to Geoff's solicitor.
She 'phoned them and made an appointment for the following week and had hardly put the 'phone down before it rang again.
'Bruno, darling,' said a husky female voice before Norrie could speak. 'It's Katie. I'm here in London. I got back from America earlier this week, and you were the first man I thought of to spend the weekend with. Bruno?' the voice paused questioningly.
'I'm afraid this isn't Bruno,' Norrie said silkily, enjoying the moment. 'He isn't here.'
'Are you the domestic help?' the woman asked coldly.
'Not quite. As a matter of fact I'm his wife. You must have been away some time.'
'Not that long. But it was obviously long enough for you to move in,' the woman said with a trace of bitterness.
'Well, don't let that stop you. If you'll give me your number I'll tell him to call you back.'
'You don't mind him going out with someone else so soon?' The voice sounded incredulous.
'Oh, we have a very open marriage,' Norrie replied airily. 'And I'm sure he could do with a little— diversion by now.'
The girl gave her number and the two receivers went down together. Norrie sat staring at the 'phone as if it could tell her what the other girl was like. She had certainly sounded extremely sexy and sophisticated, and Norrie felt a stab of something that was very close to jealousy. Well, she could probably have been sexy and sophisticated herself if she hadn't met Bruno, and hadn't had Ben to look after. But then she remembered the words Bruno had whispered on their farcical wedding night: that he'd never stopped loving her, had never wanted to marry anyone else. And he'd chosen her over his sexy-voiced girl-friend. Or was that all for Ben? To keep her happy as the mother of his son?
Dinner was waiting when Bruno came home at six that evening and when they'd eaten and Ben had run into the sitting-room to watch a cowboy film, Norrie said casually, 'There was a call for you today. Or at least it was for Bruno daahling,' she imitated the sexy tone. 'From somebody called Katie who had a voice like a deflating water bed and wanted to know if you were available for the weekend.'
Bruno lifted his head and looked at her steadily. 'And what did you say?'
'Oh, I told her I couldn't think of a thing to stop you,' Norrie answered off-handedly. 'Her number is on the pad by the 'phone. I should hurry,' she added tauntingly, 'she must be near the bottom of her list if she'd got to you.'
Beyond giving her an unpleasant look, Bruno said nothing further but went into the main bedroom to use the extension 'phone. Norrie would have given a lot to lift the one in the kitchen and listen but pride prevented her. When he came out of the bedroom half an hour later he had bathed and changed. 'See you later,' he said casually.
'Don't keep Katie daahling waiting,' Norrie taunted, hoping for information.
But Bruno merely smiled mockingly. 'I won't.'
And then he was gone and for some reason Norrie had to pick up a cushion and throw it at the closed door, 'Damn you, Bruno Denton! Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.'
Fatal Deception Page 14
