A Bewitching Compulsion

by Susan Napier

  'What do you care? You're not the one who has to stay and face the… music.' It was a feeble pun which didn't disguise the sting of her first words. Clare hastily began to pull on her clothes. She was supposed to be handling this maturely. She had rehearsed her graceful exit, so why couldn't she stick to it?

  Because David wouldn't let her. 'Are you? Staying at Moonlight? Is that what you want?'

  She didn't know what he was asking. To block off malicious hope, she said quickly, 'No, actually. I haven't told Miles yet, but I'm going to move to Auckland… with Tim.'

  'You're letting him come to the Music School?' David froze in the act of pulling on his sweater. Clare nodded and he slowly completed the task. 'And when did you decide this?'

  'I… on Saturday night. I… I couldn't tell you until I'd talked to Tim,' she added hastily, seeing the menacing tightening of his jaw, 'and Miles… I can't just leave ham in the lurch. I—'

  'But you knew when you followed me down here tonight. You could have put me out of my damned misery straight away, but no, you had to turn it into some sexual farce—'

  'You were the one who made it such an issue—' she began defensively.

  'Because I love you, dammit!' he thundered at her. 'Because it was important that you do it for Tim and for yourself—because it was right—not because of me, not as a kind of pay-off for my love!' His voice calmed and gentled when he saw her pale, stunned expression, but it was still thick with exasperated temper. 'When you've lost someone, the way you and I have, it's easier to contemplate accepting sex back in your life than love. But, believe me, sex is nothing without the emotional responses to back it up. We couldn't have made fantastic love the way we did tonight unless there was more than just biological impulse behind it, Clare. You might have thought, when Lee died, that you would never fall in love again…you would never let yourself fall in love again, because it hurt too much. I thought that, too, after Nina died. But I was wrong. We both were…'

  'What are you saying?' Clare whispered helplessly.

  'I rather thought I was being extremely explicit,' said David ruefully. 'I love you. I believe you love me. I want to marry you. I want us to build a life together. I want your son to be my son and my daughter to be your daughter. I think we'd make one hell of a family. The future can be ours, Clare…'

  'But… what kind of marriage would it be?' she made herself ask, feeling for the ground with feet that suddenly seemed to be hovering hazily above it. 'With you always on tour, and me in Auckland with Tim…'

  'Only temporarily. As soon as Tim settles in, you'll be free to travel… to live your own life again.'

  Don't you mean yours! thought Clare hollowly. He assumed too much with his extravagant declaration of love. She wouldn't just be marrying David, she would be marrying Deverenko, and she didn't think she was ready for that. To hear him say 'I love you' had been like the answer to a prayer, but it had been a thoughtless prayer. Why, he hadn't even asked if she loved him, he had just arrogantly assumed it, just as he assumed that it gave him the right to casually rearrange her life to fit his. How could he love her when he knew so little of her? The kind of freedom he was suggesting would be like a portable prison…trailing around after her famous husband, clinging to the fringes of his busy life, doomed to constant comparison with his vivacious and equally famous first wife. She would not only be utterly dependent on David financially and emotionally, but socially, too, living a life of empty, unfulfilling glamour. She would need to flex her wings before she could even hope to swoop to the heights that David soared at with any confidence.

  'David…I don't really know what my own life is yet… I need some time. It's too soon…' She swallowed, wishing the moonlight didn't show his face quite so clearly. She wasn't sure whether it was truly his heart or his pride that she was hurting, but he was definitely stricken by her rejection. But he had rejected her, saying that she needed time. Surely he would understand if she asked for more? 'I… I don't know if I'm cut out to be the kind of wife you want. I… I mean, I'm flattered that you should ask, but I don't think I'm ready for anything so permanent just yet…' Oh, that had come out all horribly wrong! David stiffened.

  'You want something impermanent? You want an affair? A string of one-night stands? For that's what an affair would amount to!'

  He made it sound sordid and cheap, and yet the thought that she might not have to give him up completely blinded her for a moment. 'It's better than rushing into a marriage that we might regret…'

  'So!' He had never looked, nor sounded, so foreign, everything about him thunderously dark. 'I offer you my name, my honour, my lifelong love and respect, and you offer me occasional sex!' He spat the word like a curse. 'Why? Why? Why do you run from love? If I give you time, how will you use it? To intellectualise away your feelings? To dig yourself back into a boring, placid existence where nothing can challenge your smug, emotional complacency?'

  'That's not fair!'

  'Fair? Is it fair that you should make me love you, and then callously trample my heart into the mud?'

  'Is it fair that you suddenly fling marriage in my face and demand an instant answer? Should I have grovelled in gratitude because you want me to become a member of your entourage ?'

  'I don't have an entourage—' he interrupted with words that were tongues of fire sheathed in ice.

  'Well, I have other plans. I'm damned good at what I do, and it so happens that there's a job opening up in Auckland that would just suit the kind of training I've had, and enable me to be on hand if Tim needs me.' She took a deep breath, knowing it was a bad time to tell him, while they were throwing insults at each other, but he would have to know some time. 'Brenda told me that the Music School is going to need a new House Mother soon. I've already applied.'

  The last bitter words in the argument were howled to the moon in furious denial: 'Over my dead body!'

  CHAPTER TEN

  Clare rose to her feet to join in the thunderous ovation for the artists on the platform. Inside, her emotions were equally tumultuous. David had played with his customary brilliance, but it was his appearance which had riveted her. He looked as haggard as she felt. What was the matter with him? And why had he brought that woman with him? She hadn't been scheduled to appear with him on his short tour of New Zealand. Clare glared at her. Anna Federov was every bit as gorgeous as Tamara had claimed.

  For months Clare had been haunted by the wretched woman, and now she was expected to applaud her! Clare's hands fell limply to her sides.

  When David had left Moonlight, after failing to bully, cajole, wheedle, blackmail or seduce Clare into seeing things his way, Tamara had accompanied him with a parting shot that had been devastatingly to the mark. The girl had felt bitterly betrayed over the abortive proposal, which her father had made no effort to keep secret. Even though Clare had refused him, Tamara evidently intended to make sure she never changed her mind.

  'Dad just decided it was time I needed a mother, that's why he asked you to marry him. Stuck down here where you don't have any competition, he might have fooled himself into thinking he's in love with you, but wait until he gets to the States and sees Anna Federov again! She's going to be his accompanist, you know. She's a brilliant pianist and she's spectacularly beautiful, and Dad's always admired her. She's part Russian, too. They have simply everything in common.' Tamara tossed her head, hurt and intent on hurting. 'They'll be working together and living at the same hotels and attending the same parties… If anyone has a chance of replacing my mother, Anna has. Dad won't even give you a second thought!'

  And nor, judging by his actions since, had he.

  Beside her, Tim had scrambled up on to his seat to applaud, almost bursting with awe and pride. In the six months he had been at the Deverenko Music School his shy, solitary nature had blossomed. No longer did he prefer the company of his violin and his books to that of other children. He had become best friends with his room-mate and had even spent a few weekends at Christopher's home. He hadn't h
ad an asthma attack or nightmare in months.

  Clare's elbow was jogged and she smiled quickly at the girl on the other side of her. Tamara was still inclined to be moody and unpredictable, but she had changed almost as much as Tim. True to her promise to her father, she was gritting her teeth and making the best of things. She enjoyed her status as a special boarder at the Music School, and even rose earlier than necessary in the morning to join in the exercise session. She laughed more than she pouted, and no longer hid behind that offputting mock-sophistication. She had even conspicuously put aside her animosity to Clare, and now acted as if she had almost forgotten about the rocky start to their relationship.

  For Clare had got the job that she had sought at the Deverenko Music School—possibly because she had the inside knowledge to apply even before the position was advertised. Her experience at Moonlight and Miles's fulsome reference had clinched the application, once she had reassured the principal that she had no intention of 'interfering' with Tim's education or discipline. Clare was now responsible for the health and welfare of thirteen girls, aged nine to fifteen, including Tamara. It was an interesting job, fun, and at times exhausting. It was a little more—and a lot less—than she had expected it to be. It kept her busy and catapulted her into quite an active social life involving the other staff, the children and their parents, and the wider cultural connections the school sustained. Virginia, who had mellowed now that Tim was getting everything she had wanted for him, was delighted that Clare had come out of her 'self-imposed exile'. Clare looked at her now, beaming at the stage, delighted by her tenuous connection with the maestro. Thank heavens she had never learned that David had asked Clare to marry him. To be Deverenko's mother-in-law … even one marriage removed!

  Clare shifted restlessly. Everything was going swimmingly, so why was she the only one fighting against the current? She wasn't happy, and she had known it for some time, but she wasn't quite sure what to do about it. The reason was simple; she was more in love with David than ever. Life without him was every bit as empty and unfulfilling as she had been afraid that life with him would have been. Only, Deverenko didn't seem to care. He had been back to the school several times in the past few months to conduct classes, but not once had he treated Clare with anything but polite respect. He hadn't mentioned love, let alone marriage. He had been friendly but, worse than that, he had been kind. He had even taken Clare out to dinner a couple of times, and once on a picnic with Tamara and Tim, but there had been no hint of passion, even when she had discreetly indicated it would be welcome.

  She could have made the first move herself but, having dealt such a crushing blow to his pride, she thought that he had earned the right to take the lead. She must accept and follow but—oh, it was agony. Every time he left he took a little bit more of her heart and happiness with him. Dammit, she was the one who had sent him away, and yet she was the one who now felt betrayed!

  Feeling as she did, she would have loved to escape the post-concert gathering, but of course she couldn't. David hugged his daughter exuberantly, with a laughing caution about his latest phone bill. He shook hands happily with Tim, and greeted Virginia with a warm kiss on the cheek. Clare received a cool nod which she returned. Her only defence was to retain her dignity and reflect his own indifference.

  Unfortunately Anna was with him, hanging possessively on his arm. Tamara had spent the night at her father's house, after his flight arrived late the previous night. Had Anna stayed there, too? Clare could hardly bear to be introduced. She felt sick with bitter, black jealousy, totally alien to her experience. She smiled, but violet-grey storm-clouds boiled across her eyes as she saw the woman was even more beautiful at close range. How could mortal man resist her, even if he wanted to?

  She tore her eyes away and found herself looking deep into David's fathomless black gaze. Arrogant, faithless swine! She stared at him defiantly, not hiding her contempt, and to her shock he suddenly smiled—a wolfish, sensual grin that turned her inside-out. He knew how she felt, and he was laughing at her! At that moment she hated him more than she had ever loved him.

  Anna was asking Tamara about her interests, and Clare forced herself to ignore David and listen. For one who had once described her in such glowing terms, Tamara seemed strangely indifferent to the woman's charm, edging away from her towards Clare, and mentioning the local gym they had both joined a few months ago. Tamara was thoroughly hooked on fitness, and even talking about a career as an aerobics instructor. She was still thin, but she was beginning to fill out and develop a muscular sleekness that was very attractive. The school's healthy diet and plenty of exercise had done wonders for her skin, and her hair was a shiny, bouncy bob.

  'And what about music?' Anna was pressing insistently, trying hard to establish a dialogue with the reluctant girl.

  Tamara shrugged again, one eye on her father. 'I play the piano at school.'

  'Tamara?' David looked at her with wary delight.

  Tamara pinkened at the effect of her surprise. She had been in two minds about it, badgering Clare to reassure her that David wouldn't make 'too big a thing' of it. 'We have jam sessions some nights and everyone does something. I was pretty rusty, so I signed up for some lessons at school. Actually, I like playing the synthesiser better,' she said, to assert herself. 'It's more versatile than the piano.'

  Anna raised her eyebrows at David, as if expecting him to protest the offence to classical tradition, but he merely grinned in reply. The grin highlighted the new leanness to his face, and Clare studied him hungrily. It was more than just tiredness, there was an edge to David's exhaustion, a rawness that was new. As if he had reached the end of his tether, as if he no longer had the strength to rein in all the violent energy that sustained his artistic and personal drive. She felt suddenly afraid for him, and her concern burst out, in a voice that was slightly too sharp for politeness, 'Have you been ill? You look terrible.'

  David's musician's ear detected the pitched tension. He turned his head slowly and looked at her. 'It's been a long six months,' he said, and she forgot to breathe. Those polite, empty black eyes were suddenly speaking to her again, and she was afraid to try and understand what they said. 'Particularly this last tour. Six European cities in ten days, a prisoner of hotel-rooms and concert halls… it's pretty gruelling. Perhaps I'm getting too old for it all…'

  'Don't be absurd, David,' Anna laughed in her husky brown voice. 'You love it! And you did have a break… Remember when we were snowed in for two days in Berlin? You certainly weren't complaining about your age then!' Clare could have murdered her then and there for her revolting coyness. 'You're at your peak, David.'

  'He won't stay there long if his health breaks down,' said Clare thinly.

  'David needs to play as he needs to breathe, and if he must suffer a little in the process…' an eloquent shrug that emphasised her lovely bare shoulders above a beautiful black gown '… all great artists suffer for their art. The European critics say he is better than ever. 'A new fire in his interpretation that richly complements a superhuman technique',' she quoted, as if that put an end to the matter.

  'And that's all you care about, his playing?' demanded Clare hotly, appalled by the callous attitude. 'What about his life! What use is a dead musical genius?'

  Someone gasped at her bluntness, and Anna smiled pityingly. 'David's genius is immortal. He's made recordings that will give pleasure to millions for generations to come.'

  'And do any of those millions give a damn for David as a human being? Do you? Would you stick around if he got sick and couldn't play any more? Or would you just whip out some of his recordings and substitute the music for the man? I think all that about suffering artists is a load of rubbish! It's just an excuse for people to ease their own consciences, so they don't have to suffer!'

  Anna's dark eyes flashed, her long black hair swirling like silk over her shoulders. 'You have no conception of what you are talking. What are you? Some sort of domestic employee at David's school who happens
to have a talented child? I suggest you—'

  'Ladies…ladies…' David intervened at last, with the lazy satisfaction of a sultan breaking up a fight among his concubines. Clare, humiliated that she had betrayed herself, took a vicious swipe at his conceit.

  'You may still play like an angel, David, but you look a wreck,' she told him bluntly. 'I think you should see a doctor. Do they starve you on these tours? You look as if you've lost a lot of muscle tone.'

  Anna wasn't going to be silenced, either. 'Of course we don't starve. David's manager always organises first-class accommodation.'

  'You mean his secretary does, from his office in New York.' Clare knew from Tamara that Efrem conducted most of his business with David by phone, unless David was appearing on the American East Coast. 'And since his manager takes a percentage cut of David's income, it's in his interests to keep him in constant work. Who looks after David's personal requirements? Makes sure he doesn't forget to eat and sleep like the rest of us more ordinary mortals? You?' Clare raised her eyebrows in magnificent scepticism. 'If so, you're not doing a very good job.'

  'David is a mature man, quite capable of looking after himself; he doesn't need a nursemaid!' snapped Anna, on the defensive as everyone looked at the unmistakable signs of exhaustion on David's face, the taut skin by his shadowed eyes, the febrile flush that lay along his cheekbones as he endured the inspection. 'He's had a slight case of flu, that's all… we both did. In fact, I was the one who caught it first, just before Berlin.' Her smile cut Clare to the heart. 'Perhaps I passed on the infection…'

  'Let's hope that's the only infection you passed on,' Clare muttered but, to her horror, there was a lapse in conversation in the crowd around them and her words were clearly audible.

  There was a moment of shrieking silence. Clare went scarlet with embarrassment. She closed her eyes, hoping she could shrink into a small, dark hole in the floor.