With horror Valerie realized the girl could not swim, and pulling Trigger to a stop she slid down her back and raced to the water's edge. Mark was there before her, and only stopping to remove his jacket, he plunged in and swam toward the struggling figure.
In a matter of seconds he reached her and began to guide her to the bank. The moment he felt solid ground beneath him, he rose and lifted Sheila into his arms. She was silent and inert, her face waxy.
"Darling," he cried. "Darling, speak to me."
There was no response and he laid her face down on the ground and began to give her artificial respiration.
"What about the kiss of life?" Valerie said, kneeling down beside him.
"I've got to get the water out of her first."
There was a gurgle and water bubbled from Sheila's mouth. She coughed, gurgled out more water and then retched violently.
Only when she had finished did Mark gently turn her around to face them. Color was slowly returning to her skin, though she was still deathly pale.
"Mark!" she gasped. "Where—what are you doing here?"
"Saving you," he said huskily and raised her wet hand to his mouth to kiss it. "How do you feel now?"
"A bit of a fool." Shakily she sat up. "It was stupid of me to let Wanderer bolt like that. Is he all right?"
She looked round to where the horse was standing, now quiet though still trembling a little.
Mark followed her gaze. "He'll be fine. Don't worry about him. But I'll never let you ride him again."
"It wasn't his fault." Sheila rose and, going over to Wanderer, stroked his nose and murmured soothing words to him. "I was to blame," she said over her shoulder. "I should have been more careful."
"Talking about being careful," he replied, "the sooner you get out of those wet clothes the better. I'll take the horse back and you go along with Valerie."
"I'm perfectly capable of riding Wanderer," Sheila said in a high voice. "Don't fuss over me, Mark. Go back with Valerie."
"I won't let you ride him anymore," he said and caught the reins from her hands. "He's still nervous and likely to shy at something again. If you want to sit on him, fine, but I'm riding him too!"
Mark mounted himself behind Sheila and dug his heels into Wanderer's flanks. The horse set off at a canter and Valerie followed.
How upset Mark had been by Sheila's fall, Valerie thought. Unless she was very much mistaken, the accident could have made him realize exactly what the girl meant to him. Sheila's dream of living in the country might still come true. If only her own dreams would come true as easily! But that was impossible. Her relationship with Nicky had been a nightmare, and she must forget it. Only then would she stand a chance of finding happiness with someone else.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was not until a week before Christmas that Mr. Browne was allowed to leave hospital.
Seeing him sitting in his usual armchair by the living- room fire, Valerie could almost believe the accident had never happened. True, he was pale and thinner than before, but he looked rested and content, and made no secret of his eagerness to return to the bank and an active life.
"I had hoped that Nicky would manage to fly back for the holidays," he commented. "Perhaps he's planning to surprise you."
Thinking what a surprise it would indeed be, she murmured something inconsequential and pretended to search for a colored skein of silk in her embroidery bag.
"Petit point," her father expostulated. "Whoever heard of a beautiful young girl sitting at home night after night sewing chair seats!"
"They'll be lovely when they're finished," she defended.
"I daresay. And if you were doing them for your own home I could understand it more. But to make them for me———-"
"For us." She saw his look and said hastily, "I can't sew things for a house I don't have."
"Then see about getting one. Or is your engagement going on forever?"
Valerie paused before replying. She had not wanted to tell her father that her engagement to Nicky was over, fearing he would blame himself for it. "If you hadn't been forced to come back to England "
She could practically create the words he would use. Yet neither could she bring herself to tell him the truth about her engagement, partly because he had grown to like Nicky during the times Nicky had sat with him in the hospital, and partly because she still could not bear to openly disclose that her idol had feet of clay. Feet! she thought ironically. He was wholly clay!
Since their angry parting he had not tried to contact her, though she had heard from Bob a few days after Nicky had returned to New York.
"I'm sorry things have ended between you and Nicky," was his opening gambit. "I always felt the two of you hit it off."
"Really?" She had not disguised her sarcasm but the man had been impervious to it.
"Yes, really. You were good for him, Val. Something genuine in a phony world."
"What do you want from me?" she had demanded bluntly. "You didn't ring me up in order to compliment me. Come to the point, Bob, or I'll put down the receiver."
There was a short silence. "I suppose you feel bitter about the whole thing? I can understand that, Val, and I wish—"
"Be brief, Bob, and leave out the fairy tales. Why did you ring me?"
"To ask you to go on with the engagement, at least until we get Dawn out of Nicky's hair. She's making legal noises, which I don't like, and she's got herself a tough lawyer, which I like even less."
"She wants money?"
"And how. If she found out you and Nicky weren't together any more, she'd have a go at trying to prove he'd only got engaged to you in order to get rid of her."
"Which is true."
"Have a heart, Val," Bob pleaded. "You may not like Nicky, but you must like Dawn even less. The girl's nothing but an out-and-out cash register."
Unable to gainsay this, Valerie could also not deny Bob's request. But she would not rejoin Nicky in New York, nor would she go to California.
"So what will you do?" Bob had demanded in exasperation.
"I won't deny our engagement and I… if necessary I'll pose for pictures with him when he returns home. Unless he's free of Dawn by then."
"Wouldn't you consider coming here for a weekend? A day even?"
"No."
She had put down the telephone and relieved her feelings by indulging in an orgy of cleaning, leaving the house sparkling but her own spirits dimmed.
Since that day there had been no further word from Bob, and the little she knew of Nicky's life she gleaned from the newspapers.
"If you don't think Nicky's coming over for Christmas, why not join him in California?" her father cut into her thoughts. "Mrs. Jakes is perfectly capable of taking charge here."
"I've no intention of leaving you." Valerie was indignant. "I'm so delighted we can share Christmas together at home that I'd even refuse an invitation from the Queen!"
Mr. Browne smiled, but Valerie saw the speculation in his eyes and knew she had not fooled him much as she had hoped. One day soon she would have to tell him the truth. Christmas might be a propitious time for he was bound to notice there was no present or telephone call from Nicky.
But in this she was proved wrong, for on Christmas Eve a magnificent hamper arrived for her father from Fortnum and Mason: foie gras, caviar, smoked salmon and marrons glac'es nestled among four bottles of champagne and a huge box of Havana cigars, while for herself there was a small package with the mauve paper of Asprey's of Bond Street. Inside, in a black leather box, was a ring.
Valerie stared at the enormous fire opal, overcome by its beauty. She had never seen a gem like it. Every different angle disclosed a different color, though through them all the fiery heart of the stone could be seen. There was a card with the package, inscribed in what she took to be Nicky's hand, which surprised her as much as the present itself, for it implied he had actually gone to the trouble of writing it and not let Bob do it for him—though of course Bob must have been the
originator of the idea.
"Send the girl a present and keep her sweet."
She could almost hear him say the words. Sourly she looked at the ring again. It was far too expensive for her to keep and she would return it to Nicky the moment he came home.
"Well, dear," her father ..aid, "what does Nicky say? Is it your engagement ring?"
Hastily she read the card, cheeks flaming as she did so. "This fire opal reminds me of you," he had penned. "Lovely to look at but with even lovelier depths."
"He doesn't say," she replied.
"It's beautiful enough for one. You should wear it on your engagement finger."
"What for?" She saw her father's expression and hurriedly added: "All this stuff about engagements is awfully dated. Nicky and I don't go along with it. I've already told you that."
"I find it hard to believe. For a young man who writes such romantic songs, he's surprisingly unro- mantic!"
She forced a chuckle and made a pretext of having to go to the kitchen. Once alone, she looked at the ring and knew that if Nicky were within striking distance, she would have thrown it at him. How dare he write her such a false message! Did he think she would show it to her friends and perpetuate the myth of their engagement? Well, he would soon learn otherwise. The minute—the very minute he had settled things with Dawn—she would telephone the newspapers and tell them she had broken with him. Had it not been for her father's accident and her reluctance to distress him, she would never have allowed Bob to persuade her to go on with it, no matter if Nicky had had a hundred Dawns screaming out for his blood!
Much later that night, as she was putting the finishing touches to their small Christmas tree, Nicky telephoned her from Hollywood. Unfortunately her father was in the room and she was forced to make a pretense of being delighted to speak to him. But he was quick to recognize she was not alone.
"I wondered why you sounded so affectionate," he drawled. "I take it your old man's with you?"
"Yes."
"If he weren't, you wouldn't talk to me at all, right?"
"Yes, darling."
"Then I'll put you out of your misery and hang up!"
"Wait!" she said hurriedly. "When are you coming home?"
"Eager to see me or to get rid of me?"
"The latter, of course." She made her tone passionate, as if she were saying something deeply affectionate. "I can't wait, Nicky darling."
"That's what I thought." His voice was no longer drawling but hard. "You're a tough girl, Valerie. You make up your mind about a person and nothing can change it."
"People don't change. They only pretend they do."
"Have a happy Christmas, Val, and give my best to your father."
"Are you recording this farewell for your publicity handout?" she said as she saw her father hurry from the room and diplomatically close the door.
There was a small explosion of fury from the other end of the line. "It's a good thing I'm not near you, Val. If I were…"
"Happy holiday, darling," she purred, and ended the call.
It was in the week between Christmas and the New Year that she learned Nicky had finished his film and would soon be leaving for England, though the columnist who interviewed him inferred that the singer was contemplating making the States his future home.
"I've always fancied being able to retire to California," her father joked. "I understand they cater marvelously to elderly people."
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him the truth but, as always, she found she could not do it. Perhaps it would be easier to wait until her engagement was officially ended.
January snowed and blew its way through to its end and February was halfway along when she again heard Nicky's voice. The instant she did, she knew he was in England.
"I got back this morning," he announced. "How are things with you and your father? Is he still convalescing?"
"He returned to the bank a couple of weeks ago."
"So you're free? Good." He sounded crisp and businesslike. "Bob wants us to have a new set of pictures taken. You know the sort of thing I mean."
"I can imagine." Her voice was equally crisp.
"Shall I send a car down for you or shall I have someone meet you at the station?"
"Neither." She was still crisp. "I'm not going anywhere. If you want any pictures with me you'll have to come down here. The business of being a loving fiancé applies equally well to you!" Not giving him a chance to reply she banged down the receiver.
Anger buoyed her through the rest of the morning, coloring her cheeks with scarlet and adding luster to her eyes, so that her father remarked on her prettiness when he returned home for lunch.
"It's because Nicky's back, I suppose," he said. "I must say I expected him to rush down here—or at least for you to go tearing off to London."
"I'd hardly get a chance to see him alone," she replied. "He's up to his eyes with press conferences."
"In my day a man wouldn't allow a thing like a press conference to stop him seeing the girl he loved."
"You don't know modern publicity," she said wryly.
"Maybe not. And it seems I don't know modern love, either. I'm surprised that—"
His words were drowned by a squeal of brakes, and glancing through the window she saw a silver-gray Lotus. Nicky's car! Heart racing, she went into the hall, hearing the sound of another car as she did so. Quickly she opened the door and Nicky, his finger raised to the bell, drew back a step to look at her.
"Darling girl!" he said loudly, and pulling her into his arms, pressed his mouth upon hers.
Unable to stop herself she responded to him, arms encircling his neck, her limbs trembling as she felt his warm breath on her face. Then a blinding light startled her and she became aware of a battery of cameras and a crowd of newspapermen.
Face flaming with color, she tried to push Nicky away. But he held her more tightly and spoke in a low voice that only she could hear.
"Be still, Valerie. This is part of the act you agreed to play."
"I'll only play it if you let me go. If you don't, I'll hit you across the face!"
Instantly his hands dropped to his side. But his mouth remained stretched in a smile, though it did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and hard.
"You look fantastic," he drawled. "I'll never let my career part us again."
"What about another kiss?" Bob called. "A couple of the boys at the back didn't get a decent picture."
"I don't like kissing in public," Valerie said.
"Nor do I." Nicky caught her arm. "Let's go inside. I'd like to see your father."
"That's a great idea," Bob interrupted, busy as ever. "I'm sure the boys would like a picture of the three of you together. It's a miracle your father came through his accident, Valerie. That's why Nicky flew home with you, wasn't it?" Bob turned to the newsmen. "You remember that, don't you, boys?"
Sickened by Bob's remark, Valerie said, "No more pictures," her tone so icy that it even penetrated his thick skin. The smile left his face but his voice was as smooth as ever as he turned back to the reporters.
"You heard what the little lady said. She doesn't want her father bothered with pictures and I can't say I blame her."
"We didn't drive down for only one shot," a thin man said from the back of the crowd. "Have a heart, Bob. We also need more of a story."
"Where would you like our lovebirds to pose?" Bob asked. "There's a swing in the garden where Nicky used to push Valerie when he was courting her."
"This I'd like to see," a red-faced man said. There was general laughter and they all moved round the back of the house to the garden.
The next hour was an unpleasant charade for Valerie. Bob was indefatigable and much as she disliked the man, she could not help but admire the way he parried awkward questions and steered the men onto subjects which would afford Nicky the greatest value.
At length even the florid-faced manager seemed satisfied and, still talking, he shepherded everyone back to his ca
r, leaving Valerie alone with Nicky.
As the large American car drove away, she turned to look at him. He was more handsome than ever. The California sun had given a faint bronze sheen to his skin, and he had cut his hair slightly shorter, which gave it an unexpected wave in the front. She swallowed hard, wondering if the time would ever come when she would see him without wanting to throw herself into his arms.
"Now that Bob's gone," she said coolly, "there's no need for you to stay."
"Considering I drove all the way down to see you," Nicky said sarcastically, "the least you can do is ask me in for a drink."
"You drove down for the publicity," she snapped. "You wouldn't want to see anyone but yourself!" She flung back her head. "If I still remember you by next Christmas, I'll send you a mirror—then you can look into it and see a portrait of the only person you love."
Anger darkened his eyes. "I wish we were alone," he grated. "I'd make you take back those words."
"What's stopping you?" she asked. "No one can see us."
"Your father's watching us through the window. You'd better ask me in, Valerie, or does he know the truth?"
"No, he doesn't. I didn't tell him because he___ because for some unknown reason he likes you. When we end our engagement I'm going to let him think it was because we were incompatible."
"Thanks for warning me," Nicky drawled. "I'm glad to hear one member of the Browne family appreciates me."
Turning on her heel she marched into the house.
For the rest of the day Nicky exerted all his considerable charm on Mr. Browne, persuading him to take off the rest of the day and then regaling him with stories about his experiences in Hollywood. Watching her father's amused expression, Valerie could cheerfully have strangled Nicky and, as she served dinner late in the evening, knew an almost insane longing to tip the bowl of soup over his head. She could not help smiling at the thought, and seeing the smile, Nicky leaned forward and caught her hand.
"You look so beautiful, darling," he murmured. "You've a wonderful daughter, sir."
"Character's more important than beauty," Mr. Browne said gruffly. "And Valerie's got plenty of that."
"I agree with you. Character and beauty. No wonder I love her." Pushing back his chair, he leaned across the table and kissed her full on the mouth. Valerie went scarlet and her father chuckled.
Rachel Lindsay - An Affair To Forget Page 15
