Love Without Lies

by Lee Wilkinson

  ‘He has a key,’ she admitted miserably. Then in desperation, ‘What am I going to do?’

  ‘I’ll soon send him packing… No, better still… Come on, kiddo, let’s give the cheating swine an Oscar-winning performance.’

  Grabbing her hand, Noel hurried her into the bedroom, coming to a halt in line with the open door.

  ‘Put your arms round my neck and close your eyes,’ he instructed. Dropping the towel, he pulled her close and began to kiss her just as the front door opened and Rafe walked in.

  Noel broke the kiss, and they both looked towards the man standing there as though the sky had fallen in on him.

  Shock, and a kind of raw disbelief, showed in his face, closely followed by anger. Then the shock and anger iced over and with a razor-sharp edge to his voice he said, ‘So this is Noel… I can quite see why you didn’t want to come to Paris…’

  Tossing the key he was holding onto the coffee-table, he added, ‘We’ll meet again, Madeleine, one day. Mark my words…’ and, turning on his heel, walked out.

  ‘That’s put paid to the swine,’ Noel remarked with satisfaction, and, using one hand to cover Madeleine’s eyes, stooped to grab the towel.

  ‘Now, then, if you promise to keep your eyes shut while I make myself decent, I’ll allow you to pour me another mug of coffee…’

  Though she kept them shut, there was no real need to—they were blinded by tears…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AS THOUGH the fates had conspired against her, the bitter end to the affair coincided with a further blow. After slipping into a deep coma, her mother died three days later at the age of just forty-four.

  At the funeral Madeleine was dry-eyed, too frozen for tears. Blaming herself for her mother’s death, as she had blamed herself for her husband’s, she felt leaden, desolate, weighed down by grief and guilt.

  Eve and Noel were the only other mourners. Madeleine’s aunt and uncle wrote to offer their condolences, and to apologise for not being there.

  The letter ended, ‘If you feel like getting right away come and visit with us, do, and stay for as long as you want to.’

  The suggestion seemed like a lifeline.

  Her job at the clinic was almost over, and Noel, on summer leave, and with nowhere to live, professed himself happy to flat-sit for her.

  With Eve’s encouragement, Madeleine notified her private patients, and accepted her aunt and uncle’s invitation to visit them in Boston.

  Her only regret was leaving Katie, who, on hearing the news, threw her thin arms around Madeleine’s waist and, her big brown eyes overflowing with tears, cried, ‘I don’t want you to go.’

  ‘But you’re almost better now. If you keep on doing your exercises you don’t really need me any longer.’

  ‘I do, I do,’ the child wailed.

  ‘I promise I’ll come and visit you as soon as I get back, and then you’ll be able to show me how well you’re managing.’ Tears still running down her cheeks, Katie sniffed dolefully.

  ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Madeleine told her. ‘A few weeks… A month maybe.’

  ‘I’ll miss you, the little girl said, brushing away her tears.’

  ‘Tell you what—suppose I write to you?’

  ‘Can I write back?’

  ‘I’ll expect you to. Now, give me a smile, and don’t forget to do those exercises.’ Madeleine smiled, an ache in her heart as she said goodbye to the little girl who reminded her so much of Rafe.

  ‘I won’t.’

  When Madeleine arrived in Boston, her aunt and uncle, who had a big house on the edge of the Common, welcomed her with open arms and, seeing how shattered she looked, did their utmost to cheer her up.

  For their sakes she tried to appear cheerful, but her mother’s death had left her desolate, and she missed Rafe with a raw, ragged, savage pain that made her feel as if she’d been mauled and left for dead.

  She had intended to stay in Boston for a month at the most, but, unable to regain her grip, and giving in to her aunt and uncle’s urging, the visit lengthened to five weeks.

  After six weeks had gone by, feeling unable to accept their generous hospitality any longer, she declared her intention of returning to England.

  ‘Do you want to go home?’ her aunt asked.

  ‘No,’ Madeleine admitted—suppose she ran into Rafe, or saw the announcement of his wedding in the papers?—‘but I must get back to work.’

  ‘You’re not just worrying about money, are you? We’re not exactly poor, and I’m sure—’

  ‘You’re very kind, and I appreciate it. But I do want to start work again as soon as possible.’

  Agreeing that that might be for the best, her uncle offered her a position in the physical-therapy unit of the Wansdon Heights Fitness Center, which he owned.

  After some thought, she accepted. If she stayed safely in Boston, surely sooner or later she would forget about Rafe?

  Either that or she was afraid she would grieve for the rest of her life.

  Her aunt and uncle were delighted that she was staying and, when she announced her intention of finding a small apartment to rent, urged her to live with them.

  ‘We love having you here, and we’ve five spare bedrooms. We can turn the biggest into what you Brits call a bedsit.’

  She thanked them sincerely but, needing to be independent, insisted on paying a fair rent and keeping herself.

  Unable to change her mind, they agreed.

  A phone call to London settled that when Noel went back to the Middle East he would hand in the keys to her flat, and Eve would store her relatively few possessions.

  That part was easy. The letter to Katie, who was looking forward to having her back, was much harder to write.

  The answer came by return. Her parents, apparently to soften the blow, were buying the child a computer for her birthday, and after extracting a promise that Madeleine would keep in touch by email Katie seemed reasonably cheerful.

  The fitness centre was extremely busy, and in an effort to put the past behind her and give herself less time to brood Madeleine chose to work long hours, finding it rewarding and, after a time, therapeutic.

  The bleakness of disillusionment, mingled with the longing for what might have been had Rafe proved to be the man of principle she had thought him, began to fade but still never truly left her thoughts. By the time Alan Bannerman joined the staff, she was over the worst. Or so she told herself.

  Somehow—perhaps it was his mild manner, his charming diffidence—he got through to her, and when they had been colleagues for some six weeks she accepted a date. A pleasant, undemanding companion, he proved to be an antidote to loneliness.

  When they had known each other for three months he asked her to marry him. Thinking him placid and unemotional, she was surprised by how ardently he pressed her. Unable to give him an immediate answer, she asked for time to think it over. She was relieved when he agreed to wait a week, and they arranged to have dinner the following Saturday evening.

  When Saturday morning came and Madeleine still hadn’t been able to make up her mind, she decided to phone Eve and ask her opinion.

  Listening to the familiar voice answer laconically, ‘Hello?’ she felt a surge of homesickness.

  ‘Hi, it’s me.’

  ‘Maddy! It’s great to hear from you!’ Eve exclaimed. ‘How are things?’

  ‘I’ve got something of a problem.’

  ‘Hang on a minute while I switch off the telly… Right, fire away.’

  When Madeleine had told her, Eve exclaimed, ‘A man who’s not only nice-looking but also decent and dependable wants to marry you and you call that a problem?

  ‘Even though the love of my life finally moved in with me six weeks ago, I can’t get him to make any sort of commitment, let alone offer to marry me…’ Eve moaned. Then quickly added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sympathetic really. It must be tough when it’s something as important as marriage and you can’t make
up your mind!’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘Be serious for a second, Eve; this is important.’

  ‘What’s he like in bed?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Madeleine admitted.

  ‘So you’ve been keeping him at arm’s length? I can’t say I blame you. Once bitten, twice shy… Though if you do decide to marry him, it might not be a bad idea to find out what kind of lover he is before you actually say “I will”…’

  ‘That’s the problem, Eve,’ Madeleine sighed, ‘I’m fond of him, but there’s no passion.’ Then, striving to be fair, ‘At least on my side.’

  ‘I thought not. Otherwise you wouldn’t still be hesitating. It’s Rafe, isn’t it? You’re still in love with him.’

  ‘No!’ Realising her denial had been too vehement, Madeleine added more moderately, ‘No, I’m not still in love with him.’

  ‘But you’ve never really got over him,’ Eve concluded.

  ‘It has nothing to do with Rafe.’

  Eve grunted her disbelief. ‘I think it has everything to do with Rafe.’

  ‘As far as he’s concerned it’s over and done with. All in the past. Truly.’ Madeleine tried to make her voice sound as persuasive as possible.

  ‘Well, I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. So what do you want me to say?’

  ‘I just want a truthful opinion. Whether or not you think I should go ahead and marry Alan.’

  ‘If you need to ask my opinion, you don’t love him enough and you shouldn’t be marrying him.’

  Put like that it was blindingly simple.

  ‘Thank you,’ Madeleine said gratefully.

  ‘Don’t thank me until you’ve made up your mind.’

  ‘It’s made up.’ Madeleine smiled, relief flooding her voice.

  ‘Atta girl! Is it yes or no?’

  ‘It’s no. You’re quite right. If I needed to ask your opinion, then I don’t love him enough. It wouldn’t be fair to marry him. We’re having dinner together tonight; I’ll tell him then.’

  ‘What will you do when you’ve told him? I mean, if you work together it could make things difficult.’

  Madeleine paused, trying to decide what to do. ‘I think, for his sake, I’ll have to give in my notice and find another post.’

  ‘I agree. Leave him alone so he can gather up the pieces and get on with his life.’

  Madeleine gasped at Eve’s bluntness.

  ‘Look on it as being cruel to be kind,’ Eve said briskly.

  ‘You’ll be doing him no favours by hanging around. Now, how do you feel?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Relieved…a bit sad…restless…unsettled…and just hearing your voice has made me feel dreadfully homesick.’

  ‘You’ve been there for over a year, Maddy. Why don’t you come home?’

  All at once, Madeleine very much wanted to. But if she did she would be in the same city as Rafe and run a risk, however small, of seeing him.

  And that she couldn’t bear.

  Just the thought made her skin chill with panic and the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

  Picking up Madeleine’s unspoken fear, Eve brought it into the open. ‘Unless you’re afraid of running into Rafe?’

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘London’s a big place, Maddy, and it’s not as if you normally move in the same social circles.’

  ‘That’s true.’ Then, saying aloud something she had only thought about, ‘He’ll no doubt be married to Fiona by now.’

  ‘I guess so. I haven’t noticed any mention of it in the papers, but then I don’t often get to read the society columns. So how about it? Are you coming home?’

  ‘I’d like to, but…’ Madeleine hesitated as the practicalities of the situation struck her. She hadn’t managed to save a great deal, and by the time she had paid her airfare she would have very little money left.

  ‘If I come home I won’t have a job.’ She voiced one of the most serious considerations.

  ‘Presumably you won’t have one there when you’ve left Wansdon Heights, and there are plenty of openings in England for a good physiotherapist.’

  ‘I’d have nowhere to live.’ Madeleine sighed.

  ‘Come to me until you find somewhere.’

  ‘You’ve only got one bedroom.’

  ‘Well, I’ve a fold-away put-you-up, and I’ve recently bought a bed-settee, like you used to have, for the lounge.’

  Momentarily tempted, then suddenly remembering, Madeleine said hastily, ‘I couldn’t possibly. What about Dave? He wouldn’t want another woman cluttering up the place, even for a short time.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare raise any objections. I’d kick him out if he did.’ Eve laughed.

  ‘Please, Eve,’ Madeleine cried anxiously, ‘don’t fall out with him on my account.’

  ‘Hey there, I’m only joking. Where’s your sense of humour gone?’

  ‘I’m sorry. I guess I’m just depressed.’

  ‘Then it’s high time you pulled yourself together and came back home. You’ve only been marking time in the States. Why don’t you really put the past behind you and start living again?’

  After a moment, Madeleine said slowly, ‘I might just do that,’ and started to mean it.

  ‘Honest?’ Eve queried.

  ‘Honest.’

  ‘With regard to a job, you could always treat patients privately. Visit them in their own homes, or even take a live-in position, until you find the right kind of opening and accommodation.

  ‘Tell you what, I’m working tomorrow morning, filling in for Tracy. I can check the list of clients who want home-visits and see what new enquiries are coming in. I’ll let you know if there’s anything that seems suitable… Now, before you go, there’s someone here who would like a word with you. Just at the moment he’s sleeping on my bed-settee while he looks for a flat.’

  ‘Hi, beautiful!’ said a familiar voice.

  ‘Noel!’ Madeleine cried, her gladness evident.

  ‘What’s my favourite girl been doing?’

  ‘Behaving like an idiot.’

  ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ he joked.

  ‘It’s great to hear your voice.’

  ‘I thought you’d be pleased. Hurry back, sugar. Seeing me in the flesh is bound to give you an even bigger thrill.’

  Laughing, she said, ‘I didn’t know you were home.’

  ‘I’m back for good, ready to settle down to a nine-to-five job behind a desk.’

  Madeleine didn’t believe him for a second. ‘You’re joking, of course.’

  ‘Yes and no. I’m going to give it a try, anyway.’

  ‘Any special reason?’ she pried.

  ‘You mean, is there a woman involved? Yes. Her name’s Zoe. She’s five feet three, with a figure like a dream, short dark hair, and eyes the colour of chocolate. Added to that, she’s clever, good-natured and loyal, and she thinks I’m the bee’s knees,’ he added smugly.

  ‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? You always did have a good sales pitch. Just take care she doesn’t discover too many faults,’ Madeleine giggled.

  ‘Faults?’ He sounded affronted. ‘I don’t have any faults—like most men, I’m perfect.’

  ‘Of course you are. Sorry.’

  ‘I should think so. However, just in case she hasn’t realised all my finer qualities, it wouldn’t do any harm to have you on hand to sing my praises…’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, if you can’t think of anything better, you could always tell her how shy and sweet and utterly wonderful I am. If necessary I’ll pay you.’

  ‘You want me to lie to her for money?’

  He groaned. ‘Where are your friends when you need them? Still, I’ll forgive you if you come back as soon as possible.’

  ‘I intend to.’ Whether or not Eve found anything suitable, Madeleine now knew for certain that she was going home.

  ‘Any chance of making it back for Christmas?’

  ‘I seriously doubt it.’

  �
�There’s a cold snap on the way and good odds on it being a white one this year. Remember how, as kids, we used to wish for a white Christmas?’

  ‘I remember,’ Madeleine answered wistfully.

  ‘Well, the long-range weather forecast has been for snow nationwide, the mistletoe is up and my lips are pursed ready.’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘Even with such an incentive, I’m afraid I can’t see myself making it until the New Year. But I’ll get things moving as fast as possible.’

  ‘You do that. Bye, now. See you soon.’

  With a sigh, Madeleine replaced the receiver.

  The fact that she was going home would be a blow to her aunt and uncle, and she hated the thought of telling them almost as much as she hated the thought of telling Alan. But it had to be done.

  In the event, telling Alan proved to be an even worse ordeal than she had anticipated. Displaying an unexpected streak of tenacity, he hung on like a terrier, refusing to accept her decision, trying to change her mind.

  By the time the uncomfortable meal was over, Madeleine felt totally shattered.

  Pleading a headache, which was the truth, she opted for an early night and, fearing a continuation of the pressure, refused his offer to take her home and waved for a cab.

  It was obvious that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and, knowing that for both their sakes it would be best to make a quick, clean break, she decided to leave Boston as soon as she could. But as it was only a few days to Christmas, she realized it might prove impossible to get a flight until after the holiday.

  As soon as she got back to her bedsit, she called Logan Airport.

  Her luck was in.

  Due to a last-minute cancellation, there was a seat available on a flight leaving the following evening. Though it was in first class, and she couldn’t really afford the extra, she booked it on her credit card.

  That done, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  When she reached London, she would have just about enough money to enable her to stay in one of the cheaper hotels for a few nights.

  How well she managed after that would depend on how soon she could get back to work. If Eve came up with anything suitable…