by Jane Corrie
One other fact stood out in stark reality. Clay's engagement ploy would no longer work. Vicky was too astute not to see through it now. Cynthia had very effectively opened her eyes to this possibility, and it
would not take her very long to work out the facts for herself.
Sheena gave a deep sigh. Where would that leave her? In all probability, hating her and Clay for their part in the plot.
Her hands clenched by her side. It was all so unfair, as if Vicky hadn't enough to contend with without having to watch while another part of her world collapsed around her, which it would when Sheena left Rimini.
At this thought she shook her head, as if to throw off this unwelcome conclusion. She didn't want to leave Rimini, and she couldn't understand why. Not so very long ago, she had wished that she could just walk out and leave the Daymans to their own machinations, since it appeared that they were quite capable of managing their own affairs without her help.
It was not as if anything had changed, she told herself firmly, although she had to concede that Vicky's behaviour had definitely improved during the last week, and there had been no tantrums, not since the first day of her arrival.
It was Sheena's company, of course, that had made such a difference to Vicky's environment, and Clay had gambled on the possibility that Vicky would take to Sheena. Sheena's lips twisted at this thought, recalling Cynthia's bald comment of her being thrown out on to the scrap heap if the gamble had not come off.
As much as this thought hurt, she had to admit the
truth of it. If Vicky had spurned her company, that shack would have been built in record time and Sheena hustled out of Rimini at the earliest possible opportunity.
It was here that a thought hit her that made her open her eyes wide in consternation. If Cynthia had opened Vicky's eyes to the truth, so she had opened Sheena's to the distinct and frightening possibility that she was not going to be allowed to leave Rimini !
Her knees were weak as she walked to the nearest chair and sat down on it. She had underestimated Clay all along the line! He had presented the engagement as a ploy to keep her at Rimini. She swallowed hard. It wouldn't have looked very good if he had offered her the post of companion to Vicky when she had first arrived, although clearly that had been what he had in mind—not after her firm assertion that she wanted a home of her own. She nodded her head slowly in confirmation. That was when the false engagement idea had been born. Her lovely eyes misted over. Somewhere along the line his thinking had changed, and she knew without a doubt that he meant to go through with the whole thing!
Quite suddenly everything became clear to her. The way he had deliberately set out to capture her heart. Her breath caught on a raw sob. He knew only too well how to go about that. She was not a vain girl, but she was not blind either. She knew that she had the looks to attract men—look what had happened with Doyle, she told herself bitterly.
Clay must have been attracted too, but it didn't go
any further than that, and she would be a fool if she thought otherwise. Vicky needed feminine companionship, someone old enough to watch over her, and Sheena Greig of no fixed address fitted the bill admirably ! That Vicky had immediately taken to her must have been an added bonus for Clay, and from that moment on she hadn't stood a chance !
She wondered how long he intended to give her before she was dragged up the aisle. As clearly as she had suddenly perceived the truth behind his recent attentiveness, she saw just as clearly the future he had lined up for her. Love had no place in his reasoning, she thought wildly, as she envisaged the misery such a marriage would bring her. When she remembered his casual comments at the dinner table that night when he had said that the station boss was still ahead on points, her blood ran cold. That was precisely the way he had looked upon her attachment to Doyle, and an attachment that had to be severed before his plans reached a successful conclusion.
She gulped. No wonder he had been upset at her mention of Barter's Ridge, almost to the point of turning positively savage when he thought that she was making comparisons between the two properties.
What if she let Doyle have her address, and he came to collect her? she wondered. What could Clay Dayman do about that? Precisely nothing ! she thought stoutly. A slight frown appeared on her smooth forehead, as she remembered something else. Hadn't Clay suggested that she do just that? Holding the possibility of a reunion between them as a carrot to gain her cooperation.
The frown disappeared as she reminded herself that that was before he had had a change of mind and had rearranged his plans for her future. She also distinctly remembered the answer she had given him when the subtle suggestion had first been mooted. She had said that she had no intention of contacting Doyle, and she had meant it.
She shook her head sadly. She still-meant it. There was no future for her at Barter's Ridge. That part of her life was over and done with.
She got up shakily from the chair and walked slowly towards the lounge and out into the garden. She knew what she must do, and she must do it that evening when Clay returned from Newcastle.
Just for once, she told herself miserably, she had to stand her ground and make him see how impossible the whole charade had become. She would not let him know that she was now fully aware of his plans for her future, she couldn't have borne him to know that, for if he tried to persuade her to his way of thinking he would soon find out something that she was desperate to keep from him. So she was a fool, and had once again fallen in love with the wrong man. Doyle had been wrong for her. She knew that now, just as she knew that she had never really been in love with him. She had fallen for his looks and his autocratic outlook, but that was all.
She had been able to forget Doyle, but she would never forget Clay. It would have been so easy, she thought miserably, to have allowed herself to be carried away on the tide of his will, to know that she would be near him for the rest of time, but now she
was able to understand a little more about pride. She had pride, and it was this pride that would save her from giving way to her foolish heart.
One day Clay would meet the woman destined to steal his heart, and Sheena would have to stand on the sidelines and helplessly watch his inward turmoil, tied to a woman he did not love and having to turn away from the one he did love. That he would stand by his word Sheena had no doubts whatsoever, and because he was that kind of man she had to prevent him from ruining both their lives.
It would not be easy for her during the next few months, but if she could persuade Clay to her way of thinking, and he agreed to her leaving, but still keeping in close contact with Vicky, then it could all work out in time, and she wouldn't feel that she had let either of them down.
She ate a solitary meal that evening. Pietro had taken Vicky up a tray of food that she had scarcely touched, Sheena noticed, when he brought it back later.
There was no point in Sheena attempting to see Vicky, or to try and talk her out of her misery. She knew where she could find Sheena, and it was best left at that.
While Sheena waited for Clay's return that evening, she had to force herself to sit quietly in the lounge and not keep rushing to the windows each time she thought she heard the car engine. She had to stay calm, she told herself. It wasn't going to be easy putting her views across as it was, and would be
far more difficult if she rushed her fences.
It was just after eight when she heard the sound she had been waiting to hear for what had seemed like hours, then she heard the deep voice of Clay as he spoke to Pietro in the kitchen.
Somehow she made herself stay where she was, and quickly picked up a magazine to give the impression that she had been reading when he arrived. The nasty thought that he might decide to go straight to his study, a normal habit of his, to check up on the farm news during his absence, then occurred to her, and she was on the point of heading him off when he met her at the door of the lounge.
quiet on the western front?' he queried, with a lift of those expressive brows of
his, and making her heart contract.
'I'm afraid not,' she managed to say calmly, although her heart was thumping as his dark eyes bored into hers.
'Vicky?' he said quietly. 'What happened? I thought we were winning on that front,' he commented thoughtfully.
Sheena took a deep breath. It was now or never ! 'Something happened today,' she said slowly, making herself look away from Clay's searching eyes. 'Something that proved that our little distraction isn't going to work,' she went on steadily, still refusing to meet his eyes. She swallowed. 'And it proved to me that we'd be doing more harm than good, although,' she amended quickly,I think the harm's already been done.'
She stole a quick glance at Clay who was now watching her with narrowed eyes and a firmness about his mouth that made her quail inside. The entrance of Pietro with a tray of coffee and sandwiches for Clay, prevented any more conversation until his departure, then Clay said abruptly, 'Well?' impatiently waiting for Sheena to go on.
Sheena swallowed again. Then she launched into Cynthia's visit. She didn't like telling tales, but there was no other way to make him understand how it was, ending with, 'She as good as told Vicky that we were putting on a show for her benefit—oh, not in so many words,' she amended slowly, But Vicky's astute enough to understand what she was getting at.' She hesitated. 'She went straight to her room, and I haven't seen her since,' she said steadily. 'Under the circumstances, I think it would be better if we dropped the whole idea,' she added firmly, then looked up at him. 'I've been thinking of another way in which we might help her—in fact, the only way in which I can help,' she tacked on determinedly, and went on to outline her plan.
`I don't know how soon you can get the shack rebuilt,' she commented persistently, in spite of the warning lights in Clay's eyes that had been there since she had told him that she intended to carry out her original plan of making a go of working up her father's smallholding into a viable business again. `Vicky can help,' she told him. 'It will be the very thing to take her mind off her troubles,' she said, trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into her voice, for
the thought had just struck her that she might need the same remedy.
Clay, it appeared, was not thinking of Vicky, but Sheena. 'And what do you intend to do with yourself in the evenings?' he queried harshly. 'Sit and mope and think of what might have been if your father hadn't let you down? You wouldn't have the sense to see that someone else might want to make you happy, you're too tied up with the past to see that, aren't you?' he demanded savagely.
Sheena felt as if he had slapped her hard. She was trying to give him a way out, and he didn't want one. He was not used to having his well-laid plans upset. He was probably, she conceded miserably, thinking of the gossip her leaving Rimini would cause, particularly after that little demonstration he had given on the dance floor. She lifted her chin. But then he had covered himself there, hadn't he, by bringing in Doyle as a contender?
If he wanted to think that she was still in love with Doyle, then let him think so. It would be easier in the long run, she told herself wearily. He could hardly go ahead with his plans if she was in love with someone else. She stood up abruptly. 'It's been a long day,' she said, her weariness plainly showing in her voice.
`Running away again?' Clay said harshly. 'Well, perhaps it's just as well. Right now I'd like to shake some sense into you, but I doubt if it would make any difference. I guess I expected too much of you, too soon.' This was said on a tired-sounding note, and
made her glance back at him quickly.
Her eyes met his as she hesitated. She wanted to tell him that she was not ungrateful for all that he had done for her, but he had a certain look in his eyes that told her that he would not appreciate such a sentiment at that time. 'Just because you've got a -chip on your shoulder about your father, you don't have to take it out on the rest of us,' he added grimly.
Sheena swallowed hard. I have not got a chip on my shoulder,' she replied stiffly, blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill over. Not about my father, or anyone. I was just trying to help the only w-way I can ' She could not say more, for the tears were now cascading down her cheeks, and she made a dash for the door and the safety of her bedroom.
* * *
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHEENA had only just entered her bedroom when Vicky joined her, and stood looking at her as if uncertain what to say to her.
Her eyes were swollen with crying over a long period, and her off-white blouse was now definitely grubby. Sheena, who had been about to indulge in her own bout of tears, forgot her troubles as she gazed at Vicky.
`Did you hate your father?' Vicky asked, a slight hiccup intervening between the words.
Sheena's eyebrows went up as she considered this extraordinary question, and wondered what had prompted Vicky to ask it. Vicky's next words, however, enlightened her.
`I heard what Clay said to you,' she said, fixing her red-rimmed eyes on the floor. 'I didn't mean to listen, but I couldn't help it,' she explained carefully. Then her voice was caught in a low sob as she rushed on, 'I hated my father and my mother for leaving me alone. For not coming back for me—and they're not coming back, Sheena,' she added on an almost hysterical note. 'They're never coming back. I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. Clay said it was, but I wouldn't believe him.' Her small frame racked with another rasping sob.
* * *
Sheena held out her arms to her. 'Don't torture yourself, Vicky,' she said gently. 'I know it's not easy, but at least you've been brave enough to face up to it now.'
Vicky gave a loud sniff and threw herself into Sheena's arms. ' I couldn't tell anyone else,' she got out as a fresh bout of weeping broke out, and she buried her curly head in Sheena's shoulder. 'I didn't cry before,' she said in between gasping sobs, 'but now I can't stop.'
`You go ahead and have your cry,' Sheena told her soothingly, 'it sometimes helps to ease the pain. It's a remedy I've often tried and can recommend.'
A short while later Clay, who had obviously been searching for Vicky, looked in on Sheena and found Vicky fast asleep on Sheena's bed, with Sheena sitting beside the bed still holding the sleeping girl's hand.
The question was in his eyes as they met hers, and she nodded. 'She's all right now,' she said in a low voice. 'She'll be a bit weepy for a day or so, but at least she's got it out of her system.'
Clay nodded abruptly, then lifted the sleeping Vicky gently off Sheena's bed and carried her back to her own room.
With Vicky's recovery, a truce seemed to have been made between Clay and Sheena. It was as if by mutual consent they had abandoned their differences caused by Sheena's decision to leave Rimini
The days slipped by with Vicky making great strides towards a total recovery. There would still be
times when she had a suspicion of a tear in her black
eyes, but Sheena and Clay, being on the lookout for
such occasions, soon jolted her out of her depression.
The proposed trip to Coff's Harbour took place the following weekend, and Sheena enjoyed listening to Vicky's exuberant exclamations at the antics of the porpoises at Park Beach. 'Did you see that ! ' she would call out to Sheena time and time again.
Sheena would have enjoyed it all a lot better if she had not been constantly aware of Clay's eyes upon her, and feeling once again the mesmeric hold of those dark enigmatic eyes of his. Just what did he want of her? she would wonder silently. Vicky was now completely back to normal, and there was now no real reason why she should continue to stay on at Rimini.
She knew that she was a coward, for she had refrained from bringing up the subject of her moving out to her father's smallholding. She felt that the next move was up to Clay. He knew her sentiments in this, and as each week slipped by she found herself waiting to hear that the shack had been rebuilt and was ready for her occupation.
By the time a month had gone by, with no such communication from Clay, she finally got the message that nothing was being done abo
ut the shack, and that Clay had no intention of letting her carry out her wish for total independence.
Sheena could no longer allow herself to hope for release from the bitter-sweet trap she had so innocently walked into. Each day brought her into close
contact with Clay, even closer contact than she had had with Doyle, for at Barter's Ridge it was Sheena who would surreptitiously watch Doyle, longing for a sign that he still cared for her—a sign that he had been very careful not to provide.
At Rimini, it was Clay who would watch Sheena, and it was Sheena who would raise the barrier between them. It was a complete reverse from the past, but for very different reasons.
By now Clay had given her her father's savings, and the amount was certainly enough to keep her going until she had decided what she was going to do. Without Clay's help she knew she would stand no chance of making the smallholding a success. It would have helped if she had had some idea of how to proceed, but she had none, and there was no one else that she could turn to for advice.
Her disappointment over his refusal to co-operate in this was soon tempered by common sense. Quite apart from the fact that the thought of going into business on her own frankly terrified her, the thought of loneliness was even more frightening. Clay had known that, of course, and as he felt responsible for her had quite rightly firmly quashed the whole project.
The only thing he had not been right about was who she would be pining for in her loneliness, she thought miserably, and he was never going to know that.
