by Anne Mather
‘Leave my mother out of this!’
‘Why should I?’ Gareth was scornful. ‘She has a hell of a lot to answer for.’
Caroline was a little scared of the violence she had aroused in him now. ‘Will you please let go of me, Gareth? Your—your girl-friend will be wondering what’s taking you so long—’
Gareth looked down at her, the anger in his expression discernible even in the gloom. Diffused light from a bungalow window some few feet away illuminated the spot where they were standing, and with a muffled exclamation he dragged her out of that revealing radiance and into the shadow of a clump of bushes which edged someone’s garden. Then he released her arm to take her by the shoulders and shake her quite violently.
‘What is it you want, Caroline?’ he demanded, in a tortured voice. ‘What will satisfy you? If you’re so desperate for masculine admiration perhaps I should oblige you. I’m afraid I’m not conversant with all the modern trends. I foolishly imagined that you desired a more permanent relationship. It seems I was wrong, and as you’re an attractive woman, I see no reason to deny myself what’s so freely offered—’
Caroline gasped, his words acting on her like a douche of cold water. ‘How—how dare you—?’ she began, but he was not listening to her. His hands had slid round her neck, his thumbs against the pulses which beat so erratically beneath that increasing pressure. For a moment when he looked into her eyes she sensed a kind of self-contempt behind his anger, but then his mouth touched hers and her lips parted convulsively.
She tried to resist him. This was not the way she had planned that he should want her. This was not what she had flown half across the world for. But it was a disurbingly accurate facsimile, and she realised she had forgotten exactly how expert he was at making love. Maybe if he had been ungentle with her, if he had sought to subdue her by violent means, she would have been able to withstand him, but his mouth explored hers with growing passion, and his hands slid down over her shoulderblades to rest on her hips, holding her firmly against him.
Weakness invaded her system, and she sank against him helplessly, feeling the instant hardening of his body. Her hands were crushed against his chest, but she felt no pain. The muscles of his thighs were against hers, but even the thinness of their garments seemed too great a barrier between them. She pressed herself against him. Why resist when all her senses cried out for a fulfilment only he could assuage? She heard his hoarse protestations as she yielded against him that belied the desperation behind his touch, but then he tore himself away from her, leaving her utterly bereft.
‘Oh, God!’ he cursed savagely, raking his scalp with his nails. ‘What kind of a man do you think I am? How much of this do you think I can stand? Would you have me lose control completely—make love to you here—where anyone can see us?’
‘Gareth—’
‘No! No, for God’s sake, don’t say anything,’ he commanded, lines of strain visible around his mouth. ‘Go to your dinner party! It seems I was wrong. Nick is better equipped to deal with you than I am!’
‘What do you mean?’ She stared at him in dismay.
Gareth shook his head. ‘Maybe you’re two of a kind,’ he spoke almost to himself. ‘You each care more for yourselves than you do for anyone else.’
‘That’s not true—’
‘Isn’t it?’ Gareth turned away from her. ‘You don’t care what you do—who you hurt—so long as you get what you want. It’s an unfortunate quality you both possess.’
‘Gareth, please—’ She wrung her hands helplessly. ‘I couldn’t help myself a few minutes ago, any more than you could. It just happened. It was always like that between us. Don’t you remember?’
Gareth thrust his hands deep into the waist pockets of his navy trousers. ‘The Laceys’ bungalow is just across the road. If you’ll walk across, I’ll remain here until you’re safely inside.’
‘Oh, Gareth, you can’t pretend it never happened! I didn’t plan it, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Indirectly you did.’
‘How? In what way?’
‘If you hadn’t come here, if you hadn’t deliberately sought me out, we would never, in all probability, have laid eyes on one another again.’
‘You think not?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, I concede it’s a remote possibility. We might have met accidentally if ever I went to England to see my sister. But it would have been nothing more than a casual encounter.’
‘You can’t deny that you—that you wanted to kiss me just now,’ she cried.
Gareth’s lips twisted. ‘No. I can’t deny that.’
‘And—and if things had been different—if we’d been somewhere else, you might—you might have—’
‘I might have what, Caroline?’ His eyes were hard and cold. ‘Made love to you?’ He looked unpleasantly at her. ‘All right. I won’t embarrass you by questioning the validity of that remark.’
‘You—you swine!’ Caroline couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t believe that he could change so completely from the hungry, passionate lover he had been only minutes ago into this cold, calculating brute who was making her feel cheap and dirty. Her arm had begun to throb from the pressure he had exerted on it earlier and the need to make him believe her was being swamped by a strong sense of self-pity. She had urgent desire to burst into tears, but to do so in front of him was to invite further sarcasm. He had already told her what he thought of her tears.
Summoning all her composure she turned away, looking up and down the track. It was only a few yards to the Laceys’ bungalow. Surely she could reach it without giving way to emotionalism. She set off jerkily, and then was almost defeated when he called: ‘Goodnight.’
Goodnight! The word sang in her ears. That he should treat her as he had done and then expect her to say goodnight as though there had been nothing more than casual conversation between them!
She didn’t answer him. She couldn’t. She was too choked up. And the idea of Nicolas’s dinner party didn’t bear thinking about…
* * *
During the following week, both David and Miranda went down with gastric tummies. Elizabeth, who left all the washing of stained sheets to Caroline, blamed Thomas’s cooking, but if she hoped to bludgeon Caroline into doing that as well she was sadly disappointed. The younger girl had enough to do running about after two demanding invalids, and so Elizabeth herself tackled a few simple meals for her family.
The days were passing absurdly quickly. It was almost three weeks since they had come to Tsaba, and Caroline would not allow herself to consider that in three weeks she would be home again, in London, never to see Gareth again.
Nicolas was a frequent visitor at the bungalow in spite of the fact that Caroline would have little to do with him. He brought candies and presents for the children, and once a box of Turkish Delight for Elizabeth, but Caroline knew they were only excuses. He really came to see her, and while it was rather flattering, as she had told Gareth, it was also rather annoying. She didn’t want to see Nicolas, she didn’t want his admiration; and nor did she care to speculate on what Gareth must be thinking if Nicolas told him how often he came to La Vache.
Her arm had healed now, and was no longer painful to the touch, but she still continued with the injections Lucas had prescribed. That was the part of the day she cared for least, when occasionally she saw Sandra Macdonald and had to listen to her talking about Gareth. She was half convinced that the other girl suspected that she felt something for the attractive civil engineer and deliberately chose to discuss Gareth when she was around to show how close they were. And probably Sandra spoke nothing but the truth—Gareth was often at the Macdonalds’ house, and it seemed generally expected among the European population that it was only a matter of time before they got married.
From time to time, Caroline found herself speculating upon their relationship before Gareth’s wife left him. She couldn’t help but wonder what had precipitated their separation, and the idea that Sand
ra might have had something to do with it made her feel slightly sick. She had never met Gareth’s ex-wife, although she had heard about her from her mother. She had lost no time in taunting Caroline about it, claiming that she had been right all along, that Gareth was no different from any other man, that he hadn’t really loved her at all or he wouldn’t have been willing to put someone else in her place so swiftly. At that time it had seemed an inescapable conclusion, and Caroline had secretly cried herself to sleep for nights on end knowing that her chance to effect a reconciliation with Gareth was irrevocably destroyed.
On Friday, at the end of that hectic week, Charles took the day off. He suggested that as the children were up and about again, albeit looking a little peaky still, they might take a picnic lunch out with them and go and visit Kywari game reserve some forty miles away. Elizabeth was mildly enthusiastic and naturally the children were excited, but Caroline was not so keen. It had been an exhausting week for her and the idea of a day alone did not come amiss.
‘You go,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay here.’
‘But you’ll miss seeing the elephants!’ exclaimed David in consternation. ‘Daddy says we might see a rhi—rhicerus—’ He looked appealingly towards his father. ‘What is it?’
‘A rhinoceros,’ said Charles obligingly. ‘Why don’t you just say rhino?’
‘All right.’ David turned back to Caroline. ‘We might see a rhino!’ His eyes were large. ‘And Daddy says there are always lots of zebras and giraffes to be seen. Won’t you come?’
Caroline smiled gently at him, touched at his concern. ‘I don’t think so, thank you, David.’
‘Why not?’ Miranda chimed in. ‘You’ve always come before.’
‘Caroline’s had a pretty busy week with you two,’ said Charles firmly. ‘I don’t know what your mother would have done without her. So let her have a nice peaceful day without you two constantly clamouring for attention.’
‘Would you mind?’ Caroline looked at Elizabeth.
Elizabeth looked at her husband and then, reading his expression, shook her head. ‘No, of course not. You’ve scarcely had any free time since we came here, except in the evenings, of course. We’ll cope, I suppose. I just hope Charles knows what he’s doing taking our two into a game reserve. You have to remain in the car, you know, David. You can’t go bounding madly about like you do at home.’
David nodded. ‘I know, I know. Daddy told me already.’
Elizabeth gave her son an exasperated pat on the nose. ‘You always know everything, don’t you, pest?’ she asked goodhumouredly, and David giggled delightedly.
After they had gone the bungalow seemed extraordinarily quiet. Caroline realised that it was the first time she had had the place to herself since their arrival, and for once she had no one to consider but herself. Of course, Thomas was still pottering about, but she had decided to dismiss him at lunchtime and make a meal herself for the others returning home.
The morning stretched ahead of her, delightfully empty of all responsibilities, and she tucked her thumbs into the low belt of her hipster shorts and mooched through to the living room. What to do, that was the immediate problem.
She lounged into a chair, draping one leg inelegantly over an arm, and rested her chin on her hand. Why was it that the idea of being able to spend a day in bed had such appeal when one was being overloaded with responsibilities, and yet became such a waste of a day when the occasion presented itself? She couldn’t go to bed now. It was a glorious morning outside. How could she deny its appeal by burying herself between the sheets?
She sighed. If only she had some means of transport, she thought regretfully. She could have gone for a drive. It would have been quite an adventure—on her own.
She rose to her feet again and walked across the room, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror near the door. She did look pale, she conceded reluctantly. There were definite signs of weariness around her eyes, and her hair had a lacklustre quality.
That was because it needed washing, she decided, glad to have a definite objective in mind. She would wash her hair and dry it in the sun. That would be a nice, in-exhausting thing to do.
It was fortunate that Caroline’s hair required no special effort. At home, if she wanted it to look especially nice, she put rollers in the ends to give it more bounce, but since coming to Africa she had merely washed it and allowed it to dry straight. It still had the tendency to curve under her chin and was so thick and silky that it always looked attractive.
She washed it in the basin in the bathroom with some lukewarm water Thomas provided. Then she rubbed it almost dry and emerged to find a brush and comb. She was standing in the hall, binding the towel more securely round her head, when a man’s outline appeared beyond the mesh door at the end, and her heart flipped a beat. It was Gareth, and after giving a peremptory knock, he simply opened the door and walked in.
Caroline was taken aback. She wished desperately that he had not seen her like this, her head swathed in a towel, her eyes reddened from the invasion of the shampoo. But she could not avoid him. Short of diving into her bedroom like a scared rabbit there was nothing to do but stand there and make the best of it.
Gareth drew off the dark glasses he had worn to protect his eyes, and she took a couple of steps forward. ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, and then coloured under his intent scrutiny. He made her feel embarrassingly aware of the limitations of her appearance, and she laid a protective arm across her breasts, thinly concealed beneath the white bra top of her bikini.
‘Where is everyone?’ he enquired, her defensive action causing a mocking lift to his lips.
‘Charles and Elizabeth have taken the children to the Kywari game reserve.’
‘Indeed?’ Gareth looked through into the living-room. ‘So you’re on your own, then.’
‘Thomas is in the kitchen!’ she declared, and Gareth half smiled.
‘Is he really?’ he commented. ‘And why didn’t you go to the game reserve?’
‘I—I was tired. The children have been ill. It’s been quite a hectic week.’
Gareth inclined his head. ‘Yes,’ he murmured thoughtfully, ‘you do look rather pale. I heard from Nick that you’ve been working like a slave—er—his words, not mine.’
Caroline coloured. ‘Is that all?’
Gareth raised dark eyebrows, and strolled uninvited into the lounge. ‘Aren’t you being rather ungracious?’ he asked, stretching his length comfortably in a low chair.
Caroline had been forced to come down the hall to speak to him and now she stood in the doorway uncomfortably shifting her weight from one foot to the other. ‘What are you doing?’ she cried. ‘I’ve just washed my hair—’
‘I had noticed.’
‘—and I have to dry it!’
‘Is that all that’s pricking you?’ enquired Gareth, regarding her uneasy stance with pointed irony, and immediately Caroline was still.
‘Look, Gareth,’ she said, with burning cheeks, ‘I don’t know what your game is, but I wish you would leave—now!’
‘Don’t be so unneighbourly, Caroline. I understand—certain other guests, who shall remain nameless, get very different treatment.’
‘If you’re meaning Nicolas Freeleng, I don’t ask him to come here.’
‘But you don’t discourage him either.’
‘What am I supposed to say to him? He is Charles’s employer, you know.’
Gareth swung himself to his feet. ‘All right, all right. I don’t intend to spend the whole day arguing over Nick Freeleng. That’s not why I came.’
‘Why did you come?’ Caroline spread a hand. ‘You didn’t seem surprised when I told you that the Laceys weren’t here.’
‘I wasn’t.’
Caroline gasped. ‘You mean—you knew they’d gone out for the day?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes. I passed them on the road here. Charles shouted across that they were going to Kywari.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘Then wh
y did you come here pretending you didn’t know?’
Gareth ran a hand round the back of his neck. ‘Would you believe—to see you?’
Caroline had to grasp the door jamb for support. ‘What?’
Gareth shrugged. ‘Well, why not? I got to thinking that in a couple of weeks you’ll be going back to England, and I thought how stupid it was to go on with this feud. I mean—I don’t care to be hated too much.’
Caroline tugged the towel from her hair with nervous fingers, allowing the damp tendrils to fall unheeded about her bare neck. ‘I see,’ she managed at last. ‘So you came to apologise.’
Gareth sighed. ‘No, not to apologise,’ he stated rather impatiently. ‘Just to make peace between us.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
THERE was silence for several minutes as Caroline digested this and then she said slowly: ‘And am I supposed to respond?’
Gareth’s hand fell to his side. ‘That’s up to you. I’ve said what I came to say.’
‘You’ve absolved your conscience, is that it? For what happened a week ago?’
Gareth had the grace to colour slightly. ‘My conscience is clear,’ he said steadily, but she sensed he was holding himself in control.
Turning away, she touched her hair almost absently. Her thoughts were running riot. This was the very last thing she would have expected him to do. To attempt to create a kind of anonymous relationship between them. But he had, and that in itself created a whole new spectrum of possibilities.
‘Well,’ she murmured, flicking a glance in his direction, ‘as you are here, perhaps you would like a drink—beer, I mean, or some coffee.’
Gareth hesitated. ‘I thought you wanted to dry your hair.’
‘It’s almost dry already,’ she replied. ‘It won’t take a minute to make some coffee. Do say you’ll have some.’
She had placed him in the defensive position now, and he gave a helpless gesture. ‘Very well.’
Thomas soon prepared a tray and Caroline carried it back to the living room. Gareth was standing staring out of the window, but he came to a chair at her invitation, and accepted a cup of coffee without comment.
