No More Lonely Nights

by Charlotte Lamb

  'I know, but I can still keep my word if I take you there rather than tell you, and anyway, I think it would make it easier for Annette if I was there when she heard the news. This is going to be a real blow for her.'

  His face was sombre. 'I'm afraid it is, they were very close. There are no other relatives, and Lewis, her father, has aggravated his condition by fretting over Annette being left alone when he's gone.'

  Sian's intuition leapt, and she looked hard at him. 'You mean, this heart condition hasn't suddenly shown itself? He's been ill for a long time?'

  William Cassidy nodded, then said impatiently, 'Look, if you're taking me there, will you get dressed at once? There's no time to be lost.'

  'I won't be two minutes,' she promised, hurrying back to her bedroom. She flung on the first clothes she found; pale blue denim trousers and a loose pink top which she belted at the waist with a silvery chain. She didn't bother to put on make-up, and simply knotted her blonde hair at the nape with a blue ribbon. In the mirror her face was oddly alive—green eyes very bright, skin flushed. That was strange, because she should have been sleepy or pale; she had been woken out of deep sleep and given a series of shocks. She didn't have time to investigate her own strange reactions, though. She ran back down the hall and found William Cassidy waiting at the door.

  He hustled her out of the flat, but managed at the same time to run a glance over her and make her prickle with aggression. That cool, go-to-hell look of his made her want to hit him. She might not be dressed to kill, she might even look very flustered, but what did he expect? He had asked her to hurry, or she would have taken more trouble with how she looked. What business was it of his, anyway? Sian didn't care what he thought of how she looked.

  He had a car waiting outside; in the yellowish gleam of the street lamps she admired the sleek limousine, a classy dark blue shade on the chassis, the upholstery a power-blue leather. As he helped her into the passenger seat, she thought grimly that she could very soon get used to travelling in this luxury. Her body sank into the deep upholstery and she leaned back, staring up at the dark sky above London. If Annette was asleep, her awakening was going to be painful. Sian sighed. This had been quite a day for both of them, and what would the next day bring—for Annette, at least?

  William Cassidy slid in beside her and the engine purred into life. When it moved off the car seemed to glide, but at speed; she felt as if they were flying, and watched his hands on the wheel with hypnotised fascination. What did it feel like to have this beautiful machine throbbing in your hands? Sian had to admit he handled it with cool mastery, those long-fingered hands relaxed even though he was driving fast at times on the empty city roads. Most of London was asleep; she almost felt that the two of them were the only ones awake, silent and alone together in their entranced, mysterious city.

  Once William Cassidy had found the suburb to which she had taken Annette, Sian had to guide him, from memory, to the street itself. When they pulled up outside the small, terraced yellow-brick house, he leaned on the wheel, his dark head lowered as he stared with a frown.

  'You brought her here? Why here?'

  'That's for Annette to tell you.' She wondered how much he knew or guessed about Annette's motive in running away, about his rival. Was he going to get another shock when he found out? There was no reason why she should find that upsetting, but she did, oddly enough. So far she hadn't got the impression that William Cassidy was vulnerable or easily hurt, but he was a man and had feelings, and Sian bit her lip as he got out of the car.

  She joined him on the pavement, grabbing his arm. 'Break it gently, won't you?' she pleaded. He looked down at her in surprise, as if he had already forgotten who she was, then smiled suddenly.

  'Of course I will. Don't worry. I care about her, you know.'

  Sian felt an odd little stab right below the ribs, an inexplicable pain which made her frown as she followed him up the narrow little pathway to the front door, shivering in the cold night air. It was a very clear night, the stars were white fire and very close, you could almost touch them, but they would burn your fingers if you did, she thought crazily, trying to bury the memory of that strange, worrying jab of pain. She had only just met William Cassidy; he was nothing to her, so why should she be concerned about his feelings for anyone else?

  'Cold?' he asked her then, ringing the front-door bell. 'I've got an overcoat in the car, I'll get it for you.'

  He went back with quick, lithe steps while lights came on in the rooms upstairs, and voices sounded—anxious, puzzled, startled voices. Sian thought she picked up the note of Annette's voice, then William Cassidy came back with a smooth black cashmere overcoat which he draped casually around her shoulders. She was far shorter than he was, and it hung down almost to her feet, but it was very warm and she snuggled into it with a sigh of gratitude.

  'Thank you.'

  He looked down at her, then suddenly grinned. 'If you could see yourself…' His amusement died as the front door opened and a young man faced them, defiant and pale.

  'Wesley?' William Cassidy looked utterly taken aback, and the other man squared himself up, as if expecting to have to fight.

  'You aren't taking her back. She won't see you,' he said, in a deep yet not quite steady voice. He was much closer to Annette's age, maybe in his early twenties, thought Sian, amazed that Annette could prefer this smooth-faced boy with the very ordinary looks to someone as impressive as William Cassidy. It wasn't simply that Cass had more money, or the sort of power that could confer glamour on a man, but he was unquestionably the better-looking of the two. Cass was bigger, taller, with a more forceful and commanding face; his features were powerful yet elegant, with razor-cut bones, and hypnotic grey eyes.

  Rick, on the other hand, was fair and a little ungainly, with worried blue eyes and a firmly moulded mouth. Why did Annette care so much for him? But then, why did any woman fall in love? You couldn't compute it, it didn't respond to logic or common sense; it was just a runaway emotion that took its victim headlong into passion, and Sian envied Annette, if she was truthful. She had never felt like that for anyone. If she had cared more for Louis, she wouldn't have let her job keep them apart. She wouldn't have let anything keep them apart. She had liked him, but she hadn't been mad enough about him to abandon everything else, the way Annette just had.

  'I'm afraid I've got bad news for her,' Cass said in a low voice, and Rick Wesley frowned, uncertain yet disturbed.

  'Bad news?' He kept his voice down, glancing over his shoulder. No doubt Annette was hovering there, out of sight but within earshot.

  'Her father had a heart attack. He's in hospital, in intensive care.' William Cassidy's voice was still subdued, and Rick leant towards him to hear, his face very white.

  'Oh, my God, no!'

  'I'm afraid so.' Cass watched the younger man with a frowning compassion. 'Will you tell her or…'

  'She's upset already. She looked out of the window and saw it was you. How can I tell her this?' Rick made a gesture as if he were wringing his hands, and shivered. He was in pyjamas and dressing-gown, his bare feet pushed into slippers, his hair untidy. Sian watched and thought how young he looked, how helpless. He didn't have a clue how to deal with this crisis.

  'What do I say?' he asked Cass, who wryly glanced sideways at Sian.

  'Do you think you might… ?'

  'Yes, I'll tell her,' she agreed, although she thought Annette might prefer to hear this from Rick. As they all began to enter the house, Annette herself appeared on the stairs, very pale in a green cotton wrap, her hand holding the neck of it, her eyes big and glazed with fear and suspense.

  'You promised not to tell him where I was,' she accused Sian huskily, looking at her in reproach.

  'I'm sorry, Annette, I had to!' Sian said, going towards her.

  The other girl backed away, shaking her head. 'What did he pay you? I thought I could trust you. It just shows, you should never trust anybody!'

  Sian put out her hand, her eyes stea
dily fixed on Annette's face. 'I've got to talk to you, Annette. Come down.' She looked round. 'Is there somewhere where we can talk, Rick?'

  'I don't want to talk to you…' Annette broke off, frowning. 'Talk about what? What are you…'

  Sian's green eyes went back to her.

  Annette's intake of air was audible. 'What is it?' She stared down into Sian's face and grew intensely pale. 'My father?' The leap of intuition did not surprise Sian somehow. Gently, she told Annette the truth and the other girl closed her eyes, giving a sharp cry of anguish.

  'My fault, it's all my fault—he's going to die, because of me!'

  'No,' Sian said quickly, but Cass spoke first, his voice insistent.

  'His heart has been bad for the past year, Annette. It's amazing that he hasn't had a serious attack before. You can't blame yourself, it isn't your fault.'

  Sian watched him through her lashes; his face was gentle now, all the rage gone. He must love Annette deeply. As he had admitted, he really cared about her, even though she had hurt him badly by deserting him at the very altar for another man. Only a very deep love could forgive such a betrayal. William Cassidy must be quite a man, Sian wryly decided. Couldn't Annette see that?

  Annette was crying now, her hands over her face. Sian moved towards her, but Rick got there first, putting his arms round the girl's slim, shaking body. He led her back up the stairs, murmuring to her. Sian heard a door close, then Rick came back to the top of the stairs and looked down.

  'She's getting dressed. I'll dress, too, and come with you, if that's OK.' His tone was defiant, and his eyes said that even if it wasn't OK with William Cassidy he was coming anyway.

  'We'll wait outside in my car,' Cass said without any other comment.

  Back in the warmth and comfort of the limousine, Sian shed the overcoat, handing it back to him. 'Thank you. What a gorgeous coat it is! Pure cashmere, isn't it?'

  He took it absent-mindedly. 'What? Oh, yes, I think it is.' Clearly, he didn't care, and he settled back into his own seat a moment later, tapping his long fingers on the wheel, looking up at the lighted windows of the little house. 'I didn't realise she had run to Wesley,' he said, almost to himself. 'In fact, I'd no idea that they were ever close.' He shot Sian a look, frowning, his grey eyes probing her face. 'She told you about him? I gather you knew.'

  'I think she was dating him before she started seeing you.'

  He nodded, his mouth a firm line, curiosity in his eyes.

  'In fact,' Sian decided to add, 'I gathered that you scared him away—he felt he couldn't compete. As you see, he doesn't have your…' She paused to find the right word, and ended, 'Advantages.'

  He looked round at the small house. 'Is this his place or…?'

  'His parents live here,' Sian told him.

  'She poured it all out to you, did she?' He was looking angry again, his facial bones tight. 'Or did you coax her to confide all her secrets? Am I going to read all about it in tomorrow's paper?'

  Sian was flushed, her green eyes hectic and defiant. 'It's my…'

  'Job!' he finished for her with a bite that made her stiffen. 'Excuse yourself with that corny old line, if you like, but don't ask me to accept it, because I don't. Annette didn't know what she was doing when she talked so much. If she had realised you were a journalist…'

  'I told her!'

  That stopped him in his tracks for a minute; he stared at her with dislike, then shrugged. 'Maybe you did and she didn't realise what that would mean. I can't believe she wanted her private life splashed all over the newspapers.'

  Sian knew he was probably right; Annette had not been in a condition to know what might happen if she confided so openly in a total stranger. She hadn't really taken in what Sian said about her job, she hadn't been listening.

  'It made rather a romantic little story,' she said drily, knowing he would hate what she was going to say, but determined to say it. 'Annette's such a nice, ordinary girl, and she chose not to be Cinderella to your Prince Charming—she ran away from the ball back to her nice, ordinary young man. You may not find that charming, but a lot of readers will.'

  The front door opened and they both watched as Annette appeared with Rick hovering protectively at her elbow. She was wearing a warm anorak under which Sian recognised the clothes she had lent her. Had Rick lent her the anorak?

  'I know you must have been badly hit, but try to understand,' she said hurriedly to William Cassidy, who turned a blank face to her and didn't answer.

  Sian realised it was early for him to begin to get over the first blow of finding out that Annette had run away from him, but this was no time for him to say anything to Annette. She would have enough problems coping with guilt over her father's heart attack. Sian had learnt during their drive up from the New Forest to London just how close father and daughter were, how attached Annette was to her father, and how much he, in turn, cared about her.

  'She'll blame herself,' Sian told William Cassidy as Annette and Rick came towards the car. 'She mustn't; it could haunt her for the rest of her life if her father dies now. Don't make it harder for her.'

  'Damn you, what makes you think I will?' he muttered furiously, then got out of the car to greet the other two. A moment later they were in the rear seats and the limousine was sliding away from the kerb. There were still lights on in the little terraced house; no doubt Rick's parents were up now and distressed over the events of the past few hours.

  Nothing was said on the long drive back, along the motorway, passing very few cars, the wide road unwinding in a strange yellow glare while overhead the starlit sky had a melancholy beauty. Sian leaned back and listened to the brooding silence in the car. Beside her Cass drove without a flicker of expression on his lean face; his hands resting lightly on the wheel, his gaze fixed always ahead. In the back, Annette seemed half asleep, but every now and then she made a sound which wasn't quite a sob, yet wasn't ordinary breathing either. Each time Sian felt Rick stir, felt him move, tightening his hold on her, half murmuring to her.

  It was not a comfortable drive, and Sian was relieved to see the dark bulk of the New Forest looming up. It had certainly never entered her head when she set out from here this morning that she was going to be driving back again quite so soon. It was probably just as well that human beings couldn't see into the future.

  Cass swung the car round a corner suddenly, and Sian leaned forward to glimpse a hospital just ahead of them at the end of a drive. It blazed with lights even at this hour; she saw an ambulance standing on a forecourt, saw two nurses in dark capes going through swing doors, their white uniforms shown up by the light from a window.

  'Will they let me see him?' Annette suddenly whispered.

  'You may have to wait a while,' Cass told her quite kindly, and she gave another of those funny little sobs.

  'He'll be OK,' Rick muttered, his arm round her and his chin on her hair. 'You'll see. They can do wonders these days.'

  Cass pulled up on the hospital drive outside a double-doored entrance. 'I'll go and park—you had better get out here,' he said, and they all began to get out. Annette didn't really need Sian, but somehow Sian was reluctant to leave her. She had become inextricably involved in this; she felt she had to stay, see it through. Annette had Rick to lean on for the moment, but she might still need another woman around, especially as Cass was there, too. The two men weren't overtly hostile, but on the other hand they had a guarded wariness which came close to out-and-out hostility. At any moment they could start acting belligerently, and that was the last thing Annette needed. It would help if Sian was there to stop any trouble before it became serious.

  Cass was wrong; Annette did not have to wait to see her father. As soon as they arrived she was taken upstairs to the ward in which he lay, while Rick and Sian sat in a glass-walled waiting-room. When Cass joined them he asked if either of them wanted a drink of coffee or tea.

  Rick shook his head, his face averted, but Sian said she wouldn't say no to some coffee—it would help
her to stay awake.

  'I'll show you where the machine is,' Cass said, turning on his heel, and she followed him along the corridor. When he reached the vending machine he just leaned on the wall beside it, his grey eyes sharp as he watched her read the instructions.

  'I was so preoccupied with Annette that it didn't impinge on me that you had somehow managed to stay with us,' he said coolly. 'Let me warn you, if you have some notion of getting further copy out of this, you're mistaken. You've taken advantage of Annette once, you aren't doing it again while I'm around.'

  Sian ignored that, hunting for a coin in her purse. His hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist.

  'Do you hear?' he snarled, and she looked up, icy with affront.

  'Let go of me, you big bully! I'm not deaf, I heard, and I'm here to help Annette, not make copy out of her, so leave me alone.'

  She shook his hand off and he pushed it into his trouser pocket, his face grim. 'I have half a mind to make you go.'

  'You and whose army?' mocked Sian furiously. 'I'm staying and there's nothing you can do about it.'

  'Don't provoke me,' he said through his teeth, black-browed. 'If I choose to have you thrown out of here, you will be, don't worry, but Annette may need to have another woman around, it's true. For the present, you can stay, but take one step near a telephone and you're out.'

  She gave him a seething look, but merely asked, 'Have you got any change? This machine wants coins I haven't got.' She offered him a pound coin and he pushed it aside, producing some smaller coins which he fed into the machine. Sian got her black coffee and stalked back to the waiting-room without another glance in his direction.

  She sat down next to Rick, but Cass stayed outside in the corridor where she could see him pacing up and down, head bent, his hands thrust into his pockets and his face shuttered, unreadable. This must have been a hard day for him; Sian had to admit he was taking it pretty well on the whole. Few men could be trusted to behave generously after they'd had the sort of kick in the teeth which Annette had inflicted on him this morning. Sian might find him overbearing, if not downright unbearable. He might be under some delusion about his right to push people around. But he had some good qualities.