CHAPTER FIVE
The sun was a red ball of fire sinking in the west, changing the appearance of the rugged mountain peaks from drab grey to gold, and finally red.
Melanie sighed audibly, thrusting her hands deeper into the pockets of her windcheater as the darkness descended on the scene before her. She did not think she would ever tire of watching the magical rays of the setting sun as it transformed the mountains into something so indescribably beautiful that she was always filled with a sense of loss when the moment had passed. If only she was able to grasp that moment of splendour and hold it for a little longer! she thought whimsically.
She had felt like that often during the past few days. Her growing awareness of Jason, and the confusing, emotions he awakened in her, resembled her feelings when watching the sunset. Before she could grasp the answer to it all, the moment would be gone, and she would be left feeling more confused than ever before.
They had spent hours together exploring the mountains, and she had discovered, too, that they were not as isolated as she had thought initially, for, less than a kilometre away, there was a group of similar chalets nestled together among the trees. During the bitterly cold evenings they had sat in front of the fire, and she had spent the time pondering the circumstances which had led to their marriage, and the peculiar relationship which now existed between Jason and herself. There were occasions when he had kissed her with a lingering passion, but she had sensed the anger in him when he had thrust her away to resume his cold and distant attitude.
He was, she realised, displaying remarkable control for a man who was accustomed to having his way with women and, although she appreciated the effort he was making, she could not help wondering if she would not still regret the request she had made for time. A man as virile as Jason could not live for lengthy periods without a woman—she did not need much experience to realise that—and Delia Cummings' prediction might yet come true. Jason might get tired of waiting, and turn to Delia instead to resume their affair.
It was a sobering thought, and one which disturbed her more than she cared to realise. It was really no concern of hers how Jason chose to continue living his life, and yet…!
Melanie shook herself mentally and went in out of the cold, but, as she packed her suitcase that evening before going to bed, these thoughts returned, and they remained stubbornly until she finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
'Well,' said Jason, his voice thick with sarcasm as they drove away from the chalet the following morning, 'the honeymoon is over.'
Melanie bit back a sharp retort, preferring to ignore his remark for the time being as he negotiated the sharp bends in the road. This was not the time nor the place for a confrontation, and it would have to keep until they were home.
Home! Where was home? she wondered suddenly, realising that she had no idea whether Jason had a house somewhere outside Johannesburg, or a flat in the city in order to be near his work.
'Where are we going to live?' she asked, unable to restrain her curiosity a moment longer.
'At my flat,' he said abruptly, obviously in no mood to enlighten her further, and one glance at his stern profile was enough to make her realise that it would be safer to shelve her questions for the moment.
His flat, she discovered some hours later, turned out to be a two-bedroomed penthouse with a study, living-room, dining-room, and modern kitchen. It was tastefully and luxuriously furnished in cream and gold, but it sadly lacked that homely, lived-in feeling so evident at Greystone Manor, and Melanie was suddenly indescribably homesick.
Jason carried her suitcase into the main bedroom, and her glance skimmed uncomfortably over the large double bed with its white padded headboard. This was to be her room, she gathered, and it would eventually be the room she shared with Jason. She trembled at the thought, and the tense little silence was broken as Jason gestured abruptly in the direction of the suitcases placed in a row beneath the window.
'I arranged for the remainder of your possessions to be brought here while we were away.'
'Thank you.'
His cool glance swept over her before he turned away and went further down the passage towards the other bedroom, and Melanie sighed with relief as she walked across to the window to draw aside the curtains. It was a peculiar feeling to be staring out across the city with its tall buildings, and the inevitable layers of smog above the skyline. It was such a vastly different sight from the view she had from her bedroom at Greystone Manor that she felt almost physically sick. She opened the window to let in some air, and was thankful at least that the sound of the traffic was muted.
She inspected the wardrobes and then dragged her suitcases closer to start unpacking. She had unpacked two of them and was undoing the catches of the third when she became aware of Jason leaning against the door frame with his thumbs hooked into the belt of his pants. He had exchanged his thick woollen sweater for a blue shirt and dark grey jacket, she noticed at once, and a faint suspicion stirred within her.
'Are you going out?'
He pushed himself away from the door and strolled towards the bed in a leisurely fashion. 'I'm going down to the office, and I doubt if I'll be back before late this evening.'
As he spoke he picked up a silky pink nightdress which she had left lying across the foot of the bed, and she watched in fascinated horror as he held it up to inspect it before his eyes slid down the length of her, almost as. if he were trying to imagine her wearing it. A faint smile curled about his mouth as though he had found his mental image of her, pleasing, and Melanie felt the air being drained slowly from her lungs.
'Shall I keep your—your dinner in the oven for you?' she managed haltingly, her cheeks suffused with colour as he pulled the nightdress lightly through his fingers before replacing it where he had found it.
'Don't trouble yourself. I'll get something to eat while I'm out. Oh, and…' his expression was faintly sardonic as he halted halfway towards the door and turned to face her, 'I would appreciate it if you would make up the bed in the spare room for me. You'll find clean linen in the cupboard at the end of the passage.'
He turned on his heel and left, and seconds later she heard the outer door slamming behind him. Only then did her pulse resume its normal pace and, picking up the offending garment, she flung it into the farthest corner of the wardrobe before she resumed her unpacking with renewed energy born of embarrassment and anger.
She discovered later that the room Jason would be occupying was across the passage from the guest bath-room, and it was a room which was just as spacious as her own. The furnishings were similar as well, except for the twin beds which stood against the opposite wall with a glass-topped table between them, and she felt Jason's recent presence so strongly that she almost fled without putting clean linen on the bed as he had instructed.
With Jason out of the way, she explored the spacious penthouse at her leisure. His study, lined with books on engineering and a vast number of other subjects, differed strongly from her father's study at Greystone Manor. Jason's desk was uncluttered, the blotter clean and smooth, and Melanie stared at it thoughtfully. Jason was either meticulously neat, or, like the rest of the penthouse, the study was seldom used. Apart from the rows of books in the shelves there was nothing to give her an insight into the character of the man she had married, and no items, such as objects bought and kept for sentimental reasons, stood about the place. The walls were bare except for two rifles mounted above the ornamental fireplace, and she wondered curiously, but thankfully, why he had taken the mounted head of that ferocious-looking lion to his chalet in the Drakensberg instead of keeping it here in his study.
Melanie shivered and walked across to the telephone on the desk to dial Greystone Manor's number. Sister Wilson answered it almost immediately and, after Melanie had enquired after Granny Bridget's health, they chatted for a few minutes before Melanie rang off with the promise to pay them a visit the following morning.
Further explorations took her through the
sliding glass doors leading off the living-room on to the roof garden with its potted shrubs and deck chairs. It could never compare with a real garden, but the greenness of the shrubs relieved the drab greyness of the buildings in the background, and this was something to be thankful for, she decided as she lowered herself on to the recliner to spend a lazy, hour in the. sun with the newspaper someone had left for them on a table in the living-room.
On the second page of the newspaper, dated two days after their marriage, she found something which made her sit up abruptly. It was a photograph of Jason and herself leaving the church, and she was surprised to see that her smile had a genuine appearance about it. Jason, too, was smiling faintly, and his appearance was a little less austere at that moment.
Melanie's glance rested on the pearl necklace about her neck, and she recalled her anger when his self-satisfied glance had rested on it briefly in the church. He had insisted that she should wear the necklace which had once belonged to his mother, and, although she had to admit that it suited her perfectly on that day, it had irked her to obey him, and she had returned the necklace into his safe keeping immediately after she had changed out of her wedding dress.
What had his mother been like? she wondered suddenly as she lowered the newspaper and stared at nothing in particular. There was so little she knew about Jason, she realised. She remembered him telling Granny Bridget that his parents had been killed in a small aircraft, but other than that there was really nothing she knew about him, except what the newspapers cared to print.
The air became chilly on the roof garden as time passed, and Melanie went inside, taking the newspaper with her to scrutinise at her leisure that evening while Jason was away at the office.
Was it work that kept Jason out so late, or was it Delia Cummings? she could not help wondering that night when she went to bed, tiredness snapping the tight rein she had had on her thoughts all afternoon. Did it really matter where he was? Was it any concern of hers if he spent his time in the arms of another woman?
A peculiar tightness wound itself about her heart, and she turned on to her side, snapping off the light as she did so. Her thoughts dwelled on the past two weeks, and she recalled suddenly where she had heard the name 'Cummings' before. It had been in Jason's office that fateful day she had gone to see him to beg for leniency. He had told his secretary that, if Miss Cummings telephoned, she was to tell her that he would see her that evening.
What had been Delia's reaction, she wondered, when Jason had confronted her with the news that he intended marrying someone else? Had she been angry, Melanie wondered, or had she cleverly disguised her feelings? Was Jason with her now? Was he making love to her?
Dismissing her disturbing thoughts with a quality of fierceness she had not known she possessed, she turned over on to her other side and tried to sleep.
As they faced each other across the breakfast table, Melanie could not help thinking a little cynically that Jason looked remarkably fresh for a man who had worked until late the previous evening. He ate his -breakfast in a relaxed, unhurried manner, and Melanie had the feeling that she did not exist until .he raised his glance and captured hers relentlessly. His eyebrows rose sharply above those eternally mocking eyes, and she lowered her lashes swiftly to hide her confusion.
'I trust you slept well?'
The sarcasm in his tone stung her, but she managed to control the tremor in her voice as she murmured politely, 'Yes, thank you.'
'What are your plans for today?'
'I thought I'd pay a visit to Granny Bridget, and do a bit of shopping at the same time. The cupboards in the kitchen are practically empty, and what's left in the refrigerator has gone stale.'
'I seldom had a meal here at home, but buy whatever you think necessary, and have the accounts sent to me.' He removed a cheque book from his pocket and wrote out a cheque. 'That's for your own personal use.'
Melanie stared at the cheque he had pushed towards her across the table, and her breath locked in her throat momentarily as she stared at the amount. It was more than three months' salary put together, and the thought of accepting money from Jason, over and above that which her father had owed him, left a nasty taste in her mouth.
'Jason, I don't want—'
'What you do or don't want is of no concern. It's what I want that counts,' he interrupted coldly, draining his cup of coffee and ignoring the cheque she held out to him. 'I'll see you this evening.'
He was gone before she could prevent him and she jumped as he slammed the outer door behind him with unnecessary violence.
Left alone at the breakfast table with the cheque still clutched in her hand, she wondered what she should do. She did not want Jason's money; she would be too ashamed to use it. There was only one thing she could do, she decided eventually, and that was to tear up the cheque and say nothing about it to Jason. She took the cheque between her fingers, hesitated briefly, then ripped it to shreds with a determined yet satisfied look on her face before dropping the pieces into the waste-paper bin. Jason would never know, and she still had enough money of her own to last her several months if she did her personal shopping with care.
Granny Bridget was sitting in the living-room with a rug across her legs when Melanie arrived at Greystone Manor later that morning, and her eyes lit up with pleasure at the sight of the slender, graceful figure of the young woman approaching her.
'Melanie child, it's good to see you,' she smiled as her hands were gripped firmly in Melanie's. 'I missed you.'
'I missed you too, Gran,' Melanie admitted, leaning forward to kiss the thin cheek before she examined her grandmother more closely. Granny Bridget's frailty had increased alarmingly, and there was concern in Melanie's eyes as she asked, 'Have you been well this past week?'
'I've been perfectly well, my dear,' her grandmother brushed aside her question with her usual impatience as she gestured towards the chair close to hers. 'Sit down and tell me about Jason and yourself. Are you happy?'
'Yes, Gran,' she lied, avoiding those shrewd blue eyes as she drew the chair closer and sat down..
'The mountain air has certainly done something for you, or is Jason the reason for the sparkle returning to your eyes, and that healthy flush on your cheeks?'
'Perhaps a little bit of both,' Melanie replied, hating herself for having to pretend to her grandmother as she skilfully steered the conversation in a different direction without drawing attention to the fact that she was reluctant to discuss her life with Jason.
They chatted for some time, but Melanie was surprised to discover that Granny Bridget was beginning to live very much in the past. She talked, at considerable length, of her son and others who had passed on before her, and Melanie was more than a little frightened when she became aware of the longing in Granny Bridget's voice, almost as if she wished the time would come for her to join her loved ones in the world beyond death.
'How is Granny Bridget's health?' Melanie demanded of Sister Wilson when she cornered her on her way out.
'She's as well as can be expected, my dear.'
'Don't be evasive,' Melanie accused as she searched the expressionless face of the uniformed Sister who had become almost a part of the family during the past months. 'I want the truth… please!'
Sister Wilson looked away. 'Perhaps you should speak to the doctor. He—'
'I'm asking you!' Melanie insisted, fear clutching at her heart.
'Melanie, my dear…' Sister Wilson took one look at the stubborn determination on the face of the young woman before her, and capitulated with a sigh of acceptance. 'Her health is deteriorating rapidly.'
'How rapidly?'
'That's difficult to say.' The older woman seemed to fidget uncomfortably beneath Melanie's direct gaze. 'Ever since your father's death she's failed to respond to treatment as well as she used to.'
Melanie stared at her incredulously. 'You mean she's losing the will to live?'
'It seems so, yes.'
'I see.'
With her
suspicions confirmed that Granny Bridget no longer had the desire to live, Melanie felt herself weighed down by a helplessness that brought her to the verge of tears. Life without her grandmother was unthinkable, but it was inevitable, and there was nothing she could do to halt the process of nature.
'I'm sorry, Melanie.'
She blinked away the glimmer of tears in her eyes and smiled a little wanly. 'I asked for the truth, Sister Wilson, and I'm grateful to you for being so honest with me.'
Melanie walked blindly from the house and down the driveway towards the bus stop a block away. Her mind was so busy assimilating the details of her conversation with Sister Wilson that she stared without recognition at the Chev that drew up beside her, and the chestnut-haired young man who leaned across from the driver's seat to open the door nearest to her.
'Melanie!'
The sound of her name brought her to her senses, and recognition sharpened her glance. 'Adrian! What are you doing here?'
'I've been waiting for you.'
'How did you know I would be here this morning?' she asked curiously, ignoring the silent invitation of the door he held open for her.
'I telephoned last night to find out if anyone had heard from you, and Sister Wilson told me you were expected this morning,' Adrian explained, his smile charming and persuasive. 'Get in, and I'll drive you to wherever you want to be.'
Knowing how he felt about her made her hesitate. 'It's kind of you, Adrian, but—'
'I must talk to you, Melanie,' he interrupted urgently. 'Please?'
His pleading glance swayed her decision. 'Would I be taking you out of your way if I asked you to drive me to the city?'
'I'm going that way myself,' he smiled. 'Get in.'
Melanie obeyed him silently and Adrian pulled way from the curb with unnecessary speed. She glanced at his silent, boyish profile, and the seriousness of his expression aroused her curiosity.'
'You said you wanted to talk to me,' she prompted him gently.
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