Chapter Nine
Towards dawn, Murray left to go to his own room.
‘I expect they’ll guess I’ve been here, but we don’t want to advertise the fact, do we?’ he asked, bending down to kiss her, smoothing the tangled hair away from her face. ‘I can’t believe I’ve only known you a few days. It seems like a lifetime.’
Annie let out a soft laugh. ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’
He was serious. ‘It just feels so right – as though you’re the other half of me – as though you should always have been there.’
Enchanted, she gazed up at him, lifting a hand to his cheek, unable to speak. Then he was gone, leaving her floating on clouds of happiness which eventually enfolded her in sleep.
Murray was down before her, eating breakfast at the little table in the small bar. Clare was beside him, pouring tea and looked up and smiled as Annie came in.
‘Good morning. Sleep well?’
Annie hoped her blush was not too obvious, trying to ignore Murray’s grin.
‘Marvellously, thank you.’
‘I was just saying, Mrs Tallon-Smythe was on the phone a little while ago. Worried about you both, I think.’
Annie went cold and shot a quick glance at Murray, whose expression had hardened.
‘I’ll get back to her as soon as I’ve eaten, don’t worry,’ he said, helping himself to a piece of toast, and Clare nodded, satisfied, and withdrew.
‘Do you think she’s all right?’ Annie took her place opposite him and he reached out to cover her hand with his.
‘Just annoyed that her plans have been thwarted and everyone isn’t jumping to attention around her. Do you want to come back with me, or would you rather go straight home? The road has cleared, by the way.’
‘I’ll come back with you, if you’d like me to,’ Annie murmured shyly.
‘I would rather never lose sight of you again.’ His eyes reflected some of the passion they had shared last night and Annie felt her insides melt. ‘So I’d love you to come back with me, but only if it won’t upset you.’
‘Why should it upset me?’
He frowned. ‘You know by now what my mother’s like. She’ll do her best to ruin everything, if she can.’
‘She can’t hurt me, now.’ Annie smiled, feeling her love for him surge through her. No matter that he hadn’t said he loved her – he’d said enough for her to hope.
Murray frowned dubiously and shook his head. ‘I hope you’re right,’ he said, neatly decapitating his boiled egg with a certain viciousness. ‘I’m not sure you are.’
He waited outside for her to load her bag into the car, then swung himself up into the Land Rover and led the way back towards Tallon House. The snow had almost entirely disappeared except on the higher ridges of land, and the sides of the lane were running with water. A little lake had formed at the foot of the Tallon House drive, which the Land Rover swished through majestically, but Annie went very cautiously and tested her brakes afterwards.
Murray was waiting for her on the steps, and took her arm as soon as she drew level with him.
‘This isn’t going to be easy, darling,’ he said, and Annie’s whole being warmed to the endearment. Squeezing his arm, she fell into step with him and they went together through the big oak door.
‘So. There you are. What a pretty sight! And where have you been all night – or can I guess? Oh, of course, I know where you’ve been – it’s more what you’ve been doing that I’m interested in.’
Marion’s wheelchair was blocking the way and Murray slipped a protective arm round Annie’s shoulders. Marion’s frenzied eyes took in the movement and she moved forward, her hands claw-like on the arms of her chair, her hair wild and uncombed around her face.
‘Drugged me, didn’t you? So I wouldn’t be able to stop you? Your own mother and you drugged me.’
‘No, mother.’ Murray moved forward and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. ‘Dr Graham prescribed you a sedative because you were upset, that’s all.’
‘And why was I upset?’ She shook off Murray’s hand and began wheeling the chair towards Annie who backed towards the door. ‘Because this little tart had run away, hadn’t she? And did she tell you why?’
‘Mother …’ Murray took the handles of the wheelchair and began to turn it back, but Marion flung it sideways, wrenching out of his grasp.
‘I’ll tell you why. Because she knew she couldn’t win. She knew I’d stop her. She wanted you. She wanted this house – she wanted to get rid of me.’ Marion’s voice had risen to an eldritch screech. ‘You didn’t know that, did you!’ She turned on Murray, standing horrified behind her and saw Tracy appear from the direction of the kitchen. ‘And you! You helped her, didn’t you? Left me at her mercy. She tried to kill me, you know. She did!’ Marion raised a shaking finger and pointed at Annie, now flat up against the oak door.
‘Mother.’ Murray’s voice cut across the tirade as he moved round her and gathered Annie against his side. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying.’
‘I do, I do. She tried to kill me. With a window – when she fell and hurt her head.’ Annie could see spittle forming at the corners of Marion’s mouth. ‘See, I told you. You didn’t believe me, did you!’
‘That’s not true,’ Annie burst out. ‘You know it isn’t true.’
Murray let his arm drop and turned to face her. ‘Window? You said something about a window ...’
Annie looked up into his face, horrified at what she saw there.
‘Murray!’ she gasped. ‘You can’t think …?’
He was looking down at her, his face grave, and said nothing.
‘You evil woman.’ Annie turned on Marion and saw mad triumph written on the other woman’s face. ‘You evil, evil woman!’
She caught a last glimpse of Tracy’s shocked face and the unfathomable expression on Murray’s, as, taking him by surprise, she jerked open the door and rushed down the steps, and for the second time in two days tried to break free of Tallon House.
This time, she was more successful, despite the blinding tears that hampered her vision and caused her to drive almost as slowly as she had the previous day. She half expected the Land Rover to come after her, but there was no sign of it by the time she had breasted the rise that had been her undoing yesterday, so, choking down the painful lump in her throat, she drove on through the bleak winter countryside.
Afterwards, she could never remember much about the drive, which she accomplished in an almost dreamlike state which wouldn’t have augured well for either herself or other road users had she met any. But until the motorway, the traffic was almost non-existent.
It was a surprise to Annie, later that night, that she’d actually made it home in one piece, as her brain seemed to have gone on strike completely after driving away from Tallon House. She had tried desperately not to think of the awful expression Murray’s face after Marion’s accusation, but it filled every corner of her mind. She loved him they had made love and she had given him the final commitment and now he thought she had tried to kill his mother. It was too dreadful for her tired brain to assimilate, and somehow, after pouring herself a large medicinal brandy, she got upstairs to bed and to her surprise, fell in to a dreamless sleep.
The next morning, she managed to get out of bed, feeling like death and dragged herself down to her tiny kitchen, where she put on the kettle and picked up the phone.
‘Vicki? It’s me, I’m home.’
‘Hello, old thing. How are you? You sound dreadful – have you picked something up?’
‘I think I have, actually. Vick, would you mind terribly if I didn’t come in today? I really feel pretty awful and I don’t think I could face anybody.’
‘No, that’s fine. I’ve been thoroughly enjoying myself, so stay away as long as you like. How was the family estate, by the way?’
‘Bleak. I’m getting rid of it.’ The words came out unnaturally, but Vicki didn’t seem to notice.
‘A
nd the mysterious Mr Campbell?’
‘I can’t get rid of him, I’m afraid,’ managed Annie with a totally unconvincing laugh.
‘Ah, well, they can’t all be winners,’ said Vicki cheerfully. ‘Tell me all about it when you come back. Go back to bed and take care of yourself.’
But somehow, when Annie did go back to bed, she couldn’t settle, despite feeling as though she had a bad attack of flu, and by lunchtime, her thoughts were making her so miserable she knew the only escape was to go to the shop and take her mind off them. She had unplugged the phone, or she would have been waiting for Murray to ring all day and wondered if she dared do the same at the shop when she got there.
However, when she arrived, her face haunted and drawn, Vicki took one look at her and diagnosed the trouble immediately.
‘You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?’ she said, making it more of a statement than a question, as she sat Annie down at the back of the shop with a steaming mug of coffee.
‘Is it that obvious? Couldn’t I have the plague, or something?’ Annie cradled the mug in her hands.
‘It is the plague, love is.’ Vicki nodded wisely. ‘Come on. Tell Auntie Vicki all about it.’
Annie stared gloomily into her coffee. ‘I can’t, Vick. I don’t understand it myself. All I know is that Martin Humphrey has got to organise it all for me. I don’t want the house or the money.’
‘Isn’t that a bit like cutting off your nose to spite your face? Think what you could do with the money, even if you didn’t want the house.’
Annie shuddered. ‘I don’t want a penny of it. If I could give back what I’d already spent, I would.’
Vicki surveyed her friend shrewdly. ‘I don’t think you’re thinking straight,’ she pronounced. ‘Who would benefit from that?’
Annie looked up with pained eyes, Marion’s distorted face swimming through her mind. ‘I see what you mean,’ she whispered.
‘Now, stop thinking about it for the time being, finish your coffee and make a shopping list.’ Vicki stood up as the shop door opened to admit a couple of harassed businessmen.
‘Shopping list?’ Annie frowned after her.
‘Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Your parents are coming, aren’t they?’ Vicki turned her attention to their customers and Annie experienced a shock like a douche of cold water. Christmas Eve! In the hectic events of the past few days she’d completely forgotten Christmas and the fact that Linda and Frank were driving up from Cornwall to spend it with her. Galvanised into panic-stricken action, she stood up, grabbed a piece of paper and pen and began making a hasty list.
Luckily, she thought ten minutes later, as she pushed a trolley round the small supermarket in the high street, Linda and Frank’s presents had been bought some time ago, as had all the others she normally bought, so it was only the food and – oh no – the Tree! She stood stock still in the middle of an aisle while grumbling shoppers detoured round her. She always bought the tree for the shop at the beginning of December when there was plenty of selection, but what on earth would she be able to get now? She always had a real tree, she wasn’t going to give in now and buy an artificial one. Grimly, she trundled on through the supermarket marking items off on her list, then wheeled the trolley outside and up the ramp to the car park, where she unpacked the food into the boot of her car.
Back in the bustle of the high street, she finally tracked down a very small, rooted Christmas tree at the back of a greengrocers, which she carried carefully to the car and installed on the back seat. She re-entered the shop in a mildly triumphant manner which was dispelled as soon as she saw the wary expression on Vicki’s face.
‘He called?’
Vicki nodded uncomfortably. ‘He didn’t believe you weren’t here at first. He said he’d been calling home all morning and got no reply so you must be here.’
‘I unplugged it,’ explained Annie. ‘Can we do that here?’
‘Well, we could, but the child minder’s got this number ...’
‘Oh, of course. I’m sorry, Vick. I’ve really put you out, haven’t I? Look why don’t you go off now? You must have some last minute things to do – and don’t bother to come in tomorrow. I shall close early anyway.’
‘Of course I shall come in tomorrow,’ grinned Vicki. ‘Best day of the year at work, Christmas Eve.’
‘Oh, yes – the sherry! I nearly forgot.’ Annie’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh, well, I’ll dig out one of the bottles I bought for home.’
‘Good for you. And I’ll bring in some of my cheese straws. If we don’t get through them all you can take the rest home. Your Mum loves them, doesn’t she?’
Annie nodded, her mind returning to Murray’s call.
‘Did he say anything else?’
‘What?’ Vicki looked puzzled. ‘Oh, the mad bad Campbell. Sorry,’ she apologised, seeing Annie’s face. ‘No. Just said tell you he’d called and would try again.’
Annie sank down on to the stool by her decorated drawing board. ‘Oh, God.’
Vicki pursed her lips, concerned. ‘Look, why don’t you go back home and I’ll carry on here?’
‘No, Vicki. You go. If he rings again I shall just put the phone down and then – I’m warning you – then I will pull out the plug.’
But he didn’t ring again and at half past five Annie saw the last customer out of the shop and locked up.
The house was warm, but for once, not particularly welcoming. Annie put away the shopping, then opened a pile of cards that had accumulated since she’d been away. She dotted these around the small living room and the kitchen, then, while the frozen chicken pie she had bought cooked through in the oven, she dug out her Christmas decorations and set up the tree in a wastebasket on the coffee table in front of the window.
By half past nine, she had scraped most of the chicken pie into the waste bin and finished decorating the downstairs of the little cottage. Despite the television flickering seasonal programmes at her from the corner of the living room, she felt her spirits sinking lower and lower and when the tree lights gave a half hearted flicker and went out they hit rock bottom, and suddenly, it was all too much. Sinking down on the floor in front of the tree, she burst into despairing tears.
At first, she didn’t hear the tap on the door, then, when it was repeated, she froze, fighting down the sob in her throat. Once again came the knock, louder this time and more imperative, and she got reluctantly to her feet and rubbed her hand over her face.
‘Who is it?’ she called, trying to control her quavering voice.
‘Murray.’
Annie’s thought processes ground to a halt. In a daze, she drew back the bolt and opened the door. Murray stood on the step, his dark blue overcoat glistening with raindrops, the collar turned up around his ears.
‘I couldn’t find anywhere to park,’ he said. ‘I’m miles away.’
‘Oh.’ Annie just stood looking at him as though he was an apparition.
‘May I come in? I’m getting rather wet.’
‘Oh,’ said Annie again. ‘Yes, of course.’ She stepped back to let him through the door and as she did so, her brain cleared. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘I came to see you.’
‘What for? To make a few more accusations?’ Her voice shook and she turned away abruptly.
‘No.’ He sounded tired. ‘Annie, please. Listen to me.’
‘I’m listening.’ She didn’t turn round.
‘I didn’t accuse you of anything.’
‘It sounded like it.’ Her arms were folded tightly across her chest to stop herself from shaking.
‘No. My mother did.’
‘And you wondered. You said …’ Annie stopped, aware of a peculiar buzzing noise and turned round. ‘Good heavens!’
Murray was standing with his overcoat unbuttoned, one hand cradling a small furry bundle which was vibrating loudly under the ministrations of a stroking finger.
‘I didn’t know what to do with him. Th
ere was no one to look after him.’ Murray looked faintly embarrassed.
‘Oh.’ Annie held out a hand. ‘May I?’
‘I would be very grateful if you did.’ Murray handed over the kitten and Annie drew back hastily at the inadvertent touch of their fingers.
‘Would you like me to keep him?’ Annie rubbed her cheek against the soft fur.
‘Could you?’
‘Of course. I think I’ve got some tinned tuna in the cupboard. That’ll do until I can buy some cat food.’ Contact with the little animal was steadying her. ‘I don’t suppose he’s housetrained, is he?’
‘Well, he’s not car trained!’ said Murray wryly.
‘How did you cope?’ Annie was interested in spite of herself.
‘With a large cardboard box, basically.’
Annie suppressed the first grin she had managed in two days and took the kitten into the kitchen to find it some food.
‘I like your cottage.’ Murray’s voice was close behind her.
‘Thank you. So do I.’ Annie put the kitten down in front of a saucer of tuna and took an old newspaper from beside the bin, which she put down hopefully in a corner.
‘Annie, will you please listen to me?’ There was desperation in Murray’s voice and she risked a look at him. Her heart turned over at the sight of his thick dark hair slightly ruffled – he’d obviously been pushing a hand through it – which contrasted oddly with the business suit and overcoat that she hadn’t seen since that first day at the shop.
‘Would you like a drink – coffee?’ she heard herself say.
‘Yes, please.’ He looked as surprised as she was. ‘Coffee would be great.’
‘Take off your coat and go and sit down, then.’ Annie became brisk, refusing to think beyond what she was doing. The kitten had finished its tuna and was making exploratory darts at her feet on unsteady legs and she spent a good deal of time avoiding it as she moved around the kitchen.
Murray was sitting in the armchair by the fire, his eyes fixed on the carol service on television.
‘Coffee,’ she said, handing him a mug. ‘Sorry it’s instant.’
‘It’s fine, thank you.’ He sat forward and cradled the mug in his hands. ‘Annie, you’ve got to listen to me.’
A Will to Love Page 12
