The remainder of the evening was spent catching up on a few chores, and shortly after nine Jenny stepped beneath the warm needle-spray of the shower happily content and pleasantly tired. A nice cup of coffee and possibly an hour of television viewing, then she would slip into bed. Zachary was due back on Wednesday, but at what time and on which flight she had no idea. If he flew in through the day she would be at work and wouldn't see him until the evening, in any case. His 'possibly earlier than expected' might even mean tomorrow, and Jenny's stomach began a series of somersaults at the thought of seeing him again.
The choice of television programmes was minimal— not that it really mattered, for Jenny was only partly concentrating. She felt warm and relaxed and very dreamy sitting curled up in the deep armchair as she sipped her coffee.
A few minutes after ten she stood to her feet and stretched her arms. The news on television didn't look as if it could hold her attention for long, and her comfortable bed beckoned enticingly. She had taken a few steps across the lounge to switch off the television set when there was a sudden loud knocking at her door. Momentarily transfixed, she cast a startled glance in the direction of the front door as the knocking was repeated, much louder this time.
Caution moved her slowly towards the door. It couldn't be Zachary, for he would have identified himself straight away, and unless he'd rung from the airport in Wellington just prior to stepping on to an Auckland-bound plane, there wasn't a remote chance he could be here now.
'Who is it?' Jenny called out, fearful that it might be someone with ill-intent on the other side of the door.
'It's Max, Jenny. Let me in,' he called in loud, slightly slurred tones, and banged on the door again for good measure.
Max! What on earth was he doing in Auckland? What was more, how could he possibly have discovered the address of her flat ?
'It's late, Max,' Jenny pleaded angrily. 'I don't know what you're doing here, but I'm not letting you in,' she added adamantly.
'You've got to let me in,' he began to bellow. 'I've come all this way just to apologise to you. I got here at half-past five and waited for an hour, then I caught a taxi to the first suburb that had a hotel. I've been there ever since trying to get the courage to come back.' He banged on the door again for what seemed for ever to Jenny. 'I've paid off the taxi, so you'll have to let me in!'
Oh, bother Max, Jenny cursed furiously. There was no doubt he was more than a little inebriated—drunk, she corrected wryly. At the amount of noise he was making the entire street would soon be out on their doorsteps to investigate!
'If I ring for a taxi, will you promise to stop making such a commotion?' Jenny begged anxiously.
'You can at least let me come inside and wait,' he demanded truculently.
'Only if you promise not to make any more noise,' she voiced hesitantly, not sure she should let him in at all.
'All right, all right,' Max muttered in a low undertone.
Jenny opened the door and he stumbled inside looking very much the worse for wear and smelling strongly of beer.
'I came to say I'm sorry,' he muttered, his eyes bright as they stared rather fixedly at her. 'Sorry for the way I behaved last night.' He blinked several times and then swayed his way across to the lounge-settee and sank down into it in one careless movement.
Jenny eyed him crossly and decided it would be a waste of time to chastise or attempt to reason with him. The sooner she telephoned for a taxi, the better.
The taxi-cab company confirmed that they would have a cab at her address in approximately ten minutes, and Jenny related this information to Max, dubiously watching as he lay his head back and closed his eyes.
'I'll make some coffee—strong black coffee,' Jenny said hurriedly. Heavens, if he went to sleep she'd never be able to shift him! Keep him talking—she'd have to keep him talking so that he didn't go to sleep!
'Where are you staying, Max?' she queried, willing the kettle to boil as she set out a cup and saucer and took the bowl of sugar down from the cupboard. 'I hope you've booked into a motel, otherwise you could find it difficult to get any sort of accommodation at this hour.'
There was no answer, and Jenny turned swiftly and saw to her utter consternation that Max had stretched out comfortably full length on the lounge-settee—what's more, his eyes were closed.
'Max!' she called desperately. 'Max, for heaven's sake, wake up. You can't go to sleep here!' She flew over to him and began to shake him none too gently. 'Max!'
His only reply was his spasmodic snoring which seemed to increase in volume with every second, to be accompanied by his deep rhythmic breathing. 'Max!' she shouted close to his ear and shook him again for good measure, but there was no doubt that he was utterly and completely out to it.
'Damn!' Jenny cursed explicitly, a worried frown creasing her forehead as she surveyed his sleeping form vexedly. The kettle began to boil and she moved into the kitchen to turn off the element. The coffee made, Jenny took it into the lounge and set it down on a nearby coffee table, then turned and made a further attempt to rouse Max. She shook him as hard as she could and called to him as loud as she dared, but it was all to no avail.
There was only one thing left to do, and Jenny crossed hack to the kitchen to fill a bowl with cold water—if that didn't do the trick, then nothing would!
At that precise moment there was the sound of a car drawing into her driveway, and a second later a discreet blare of a car-horn heralded the arrival of the taxi-cab, Jenny all but dropped the bowl of water as she flew to the door and winged down the steps to the waiting cab-driver.
'He won't wake up,' she wailed despairingly through the cab-window to the rather startled driver. Vexedly she pushed back a falling lock of hair, aware that she was clad only in a nightgown and brunch-coat. 'Look, I'm sorry,' she began to explain hurriedly. 'My ex-fiancé came banging at my door ten minutes ago. He made so much noise that I had to let him in, and I thought if I made him coffee and rang for a taxi—' Jenny paused anxiously.
'He must have had a lot to drink—and now he's passed out. I can't wake him for the life of me!' she finished desperately, willing the driver to help her. 'Please—do you think you could help me wake him ?' she begged, but the driver shook his head doubtfully. 'Do you know where he's staying?'
'No, I didn't get a chance to ask him before he—' Jenny began.
'I'm sorry, lady,' the driver said emphatically. 'It's the police you need. They'll shift him for you,' he assured her kindly. 'Otherwise, leave him where he is to sleep it off,' he suggested with a slight shrug.
Jenny looked at him helplessly. 'Can't you ?'
'Look, lady,' he began firmly, 'I'm only a cab-driver. It's not part of my job to shift sleeping drunks, and even if I did, where would I take him? If you want the police, I'll put the call through on my radio—I'll...even wait until they arrive,' he offered wearily.
Jenny sighed deeply, feeling loath to involve Max with the police. It wasn't as if he was a stranger—she'd known him for years. 'I guess I'll let him sleep it off,' she said hesitantly, and the cab-driver nodded at her decision.
'Okay, lady. No charge,' he said briskly, and without further ado put the cab in gear and quickly reversed down the driveway.
Jenny went back inside the flat and shut the door behind her, then turned to view the heavily sleeping Max with frustrated anger. He really was the limit! A glance at her watch revealed that it was almost eleven o'clock, and vexedly she poured the coffee down the sink and set about getting a spare blanket to cover Max's sleeping form. In her bedroom she decided to drag the spare divan across to form a barricade against the closed door—not that she thought Max would try anything, but it was a precaution that would allow her to sleep easier in her bed, she assured herself. In any case, he looked fit to sleep the sleep of the dead right through until morning.
Even so, it seemed an age before Jenny finally drifted into an uneasy sleep from which the continued loud ringing of the alarm roused her next morning. Seven-thirty!
Time to get up, and—Jenny caught sight of the divan across the door and sat bolt upright in bed. Max! She listened carefully for any sounds coming from the direction of the lounge, but it seemed quiet. Perhaps he was still asleep, she thought hopefully as she slid out of bed and slipped her arms into the sleeves of her brunch-coat.
He was exactly as she'd left him last night, Jenny perceived wryly as she stood in the doorway of her bedroom viewing the recumbent Max. Well, she'd have a shower first and get ready for work—then she'd waken him, and after plying him with black coffee, send him on his way.
The shower eased some of the tension, and freshly clean and liberally dabbed with a deliciously musky talc Jenny felt ready to face the world. She'd taken her clothes and make-up into the bathroom with her, and now she took care as she dressed. Her heart quickened considerably at the thought that Zachary could arrive back in Auckland some time today. Probably late afternoon or early evening—if she could manage a few spare minutes this morning she would ring the airport and enquire times of expected flights from Wellington. Make-up completed except for lipstick which she would apply after she'd had some toast and coffee, Jenny emerged from the bathroom to find a hopelessly bewildered Max wandering dazedly about in the kitchen.
'Hi,' he muttered sheepishly, his voice thick and faintly slurred. 'Sorry about all this,' he lifted a lethargic arm and waved it slowly in the direction of the lounge.
'I should think you jolly well should be,' Jenny said expressively, and her eyes flashed indignantly as she set about boiling the kettle and getting some sliced bread from the cupboard with which to make toast.
'I must have gone out like a light last night,' he frowned perplexedly as he tried to remember what had happened.
'You did,' Jenny assured him succinctly.
'Thanks for letting me stay,' he voiced in appreciation, and lifted his hands in a calming gesture as Jenny vented some of her exasperation.
'I had no choice, other than to call the police. The taxi driver wouldn't have anything to do with you—evicting sleeping drunks just wasn't part of his job,' she said angrily. 'Really, Max! How did you get hold of my address, in any case?'
Max groaned and placed a hand to his head. 'Jenny, have a heart,' he pleaded painfully. 'My head feels as if it's going to explode!
Jenny placed a steaming mug of strong black coffee on the table and motioned him to sit down before turning back to butter the toast.
'Look,' he began wearily,, 'I behaved like a low-down heel over the weekend. You were right—there is a whole world out there, and I like Australia. I'm going back there in another we or so when Mum perks up a bit.' He paused to sip some of the coffee and sat back with a heartrending sigh. 'It was a hell of a shock to find you were already engaged to someone else—that on top of Dad's sudden death really shook me, and I suppose you could say I suffered from reaction and hurt pride.' He offered the semblance of a rueful grin across the table and picked up a piece of toast. 'I do love you, Jenny. I want you to know that. I guess it was a case of the right girl but the wrong time, because suddenly everything crowded in on me those last few weeks before we were due to be married and there seemed so many things I wanted to do before I settled down. I wanted to apologise to you—to explain,' he concluded simply.
Jenny glanced at her watch and saw she had only a few more minutes before she had to leave. 'Apology accepted, Max,' she said sincerely. 'If you hurry up, I can drop you off on my way into the city,' she suggested, casting a critical eye over his clothes. 'You don't look too bad, although you do need a shave.'
'My things are at a motel a few- miles along the Pakuranga highway. By the way,' he began hesitantly, looking decidedly wary, 'this chap you're going to marry —what does he look like?'
Jenny cast him a startled glance, her eyes frankly curious. 'Tall, dark-haired, fairly rugged-looking,' she spoke slowly. 'Why?'
'I don't suppose he drives a Mercedes-Benz, does he— a kind of subdued mustard shade?' Max queried cautiously.
'Yes.' Jenny felt her stomach somersault alarmingly, and the tension began to mount as she tried to control her rapid breathing. 'Max,' she bit out suspiciously, 'what are you trying to say?'
'Some man knocked on the door while you were in the bathroom. The knocking woke me up,' he hurried on to explain, 'and when you didn't appear I stumbled over and answered the door.'
Jenny swallowed convulsively and her hazel eyes widened in consternation. 'It must have been Zachary— did he say anything? Oh, Max, what on earth would he think—finding you here?' she whispered desperately, and her face whitened with shock.
Max shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. 'What could he possibly think, Jenny ?' He had the grace to look repentant. 'He gave me a critical glance, looked past me into the lounge, and then left. He said—"I'll contact Jenny later in the day"—that was all, I swear it,' he endeavoured to assure her. 'He couldn't have been here for more than two or three minutes.'
Jenny looked at him blankly, and began to feel physically ill. Any rational thoughts were lost as she gazed across at Max. All she wanted to do was to get to the office as soon as possible so that she could ring Zachary and explain.
'I'll have to leave in three minutes, Max,' she said anxiously, unable to excuse him for placing her in such an invidious position. 'I'll drop you off at your motel.'
Max made a conciliatory gesture, then shrugged and crossed to the bathroom, jenny stood at the front door patiently waiting, and as soon as he appeared she urged him to hurry.
'I'm sorry, Jenny. I hope you'll be happy—I mean that,' Max squeezed her hand gently as she pulled in beside the motel, then slid out from the car.
'Thank you, Max,' Jenny murmured distractedly as he waved an arm in farewell and she put the car into gear and drove into the stream of city-bound traffic.
She was scarcely aware of the heavy flow of traffic as she accomplished the remainder of the drive. Almost unaware of doing so, her eyes searched for Zachary's Mercedes-Benz as she drove into the parking building and her vision clouded somewhat when she failed to discern it anywhere.
There was no sigh of him in the downstairs entrance-lobby of their office building, and she rode the, elevator in a quandary, anxiously, torn between the decision to go directly to Zachary's suite on the uppermost floor, or telephone from her office. At the last moment she panicked and emerged from the elevator at the sixth floor, determined to ring him at the very first opportunity.
At nine-thirty Jenny very determinedly looked up the number of Benedict, Benedict and Partners and dialled it with shaking fingers.
A light feminine voice wished her a cheerful 'good morning'.
'Could I speak to Mr. Benedict, please?' Jenny asked quietly, desperately willing Zachary to be in his office.
'I'm sorry,' the voice trilled engagingly, 'Mr. Benedict left five minutes ago and expects to be in court most of the day. Would you care to leave a message?'
Jenny's heart sank despairingly, and the faint hope she held that the man who had called at her flat earlier might not be Zachary disappeared. After all, she thought rather hysterically, who else could it be but Zachary ?
'No, thank you. I'll ring back later this afternoon,' Jenny replied, and slowly replaced the receiver.
Later that morning Grant Ogilvie cast her a piercing glance as she dazedly requested him to repeat the sentence he had just dictated. Jenny pulled herself up with a jolt—that was the second time in the space of ten minutes that she had had to ask him to repeat his words. She really must concentrate!
Somehow Jenny managed to get through the morning, although each time the telephone rang at the switchboard she couldn't control the erratic thud of her heart-beats in the hope that Zachary had had the opportunity to get a message to her. In the hope that he might ring through the lunch-hour break she elected to stay in the office—even barristers at court had to break for lunch.
By mid-afternoon her powers of concentration had deserted her completely, and she made so many errors that most of her w
ork had to be retyped. Lise cast her a spiteful glance from time to time, and Judy seemed on the point of querying at least twice what was causing Jenny to assume such a worried expression.
Jenny resignedly slid the cover over her typewriter at a few minutes past five. She felt sick with apprehension, and how she managed to negotiate the inner city traffic was a miracle. She thought rather wildly that her favourite saint must indeed be watching over her, for twice she had moved the car into the wrong traffic lane and had narrowly missed the car in front of her by nothing short of a hair's breadth! It was only by sheer will-power that she drove straight to her flat and did not give in to the inordinate longing to detour slightly and pass Zachary's home, and as she turned the ear down her street and drove towards the flat she found herself peering forward in an attempt to ascertain whether Zachary's Mercedes-Benz might be resting in the driveway—but she was doomed to be disappointed.
The mere thought of food in any form was unthinkable, and Jenny simply dropped her shoulder-bag on to the floor in the lounge and sank dejectedly into an armchair. The thoughts that had idly chased around inside her head all day took precedence over everything else and became magnified way out of reasonable proportion. The tears welled up in her eyes and slowly spilled over as she considered the possibility that Zachary had come to all the wrong conclusions on finding that Max had spent the night at her flat. That Zachary might want to end their engagement was more than she could bear, and Jenny began to weep brokenly with desolation as she tried to imagine a life without him. Deep raking sobs shook her slender shoulders as she gave in to her misery and sobbed uncontrollably. It seemed an age before the tears began to abate, and after a long few minutes spent mopping up her tear-streaked face she sat upright and gazed sightlessly about the room in an attempt to fill her mind with more mundane things. It was to no avail, for within seconds her eyes filled as Zachary's image came to mind again to torment her and fresh tears ran slowly down her cheeks to rest at each corner of her mouth.
Bewildered Haven Page 16
