Secretary Wife

Secretary Wife Page 14

by Rachel Lindsay

  'He's earned his luxuries,' said Duncan. 'Though I don't think he'd miss them if he didn't have them. Sometimes I feel he's still a lumberjack at heart.'

  'A man of all trades,' she said with a tight smile.

  'Unlike me,' he chuckled. 'I could never be any­thing other than a lawyer.'

  'You would have made a good doctor.'

  'Despite an annoying tendency to go green at the sight of blood?'

  She laughed. 'You have an excellent bedside manner.'

  'Wait till you see it in action!'

  Afraid he was going to pull her into his arms, she went over to the tray of drinks and poured him a whisky, adding the right amount of soda and remembering to put in ice, which was a habit he had acquired during his stay in New York.

  They dined in the breakfast room, preferring it to the large dining room which would have over­powered them. The outside lights had been switched on and the pool glowed blue beneath the starlit sky. Would Carl ever swim in those waters again? she wondered, and hastily concentrated on her lobster soufflé. How well she remembered the first time she had seen Carl swim after his accident. She had gone to Hampstead High Street to buy him some books and had returned to hear laughter coming from the garden. Curious to know who could be out on a cold January day, she had been astonished to see steam rising from the pool and, in the middle of it, Carl swimming vigorously. For a wild, delirious moment she had thought he had regained the use of his legs, until she had realised he was only using his arms, his shoulder muscles bulging as he ploughed his way through the water.

  'Laura, come back!'

  With a start she saw that Duncan was looking at her. 'You were a million miles away from me,' he accused. 'I hope you were thinking of our future?'

  It was impossible to lie to him. 'I was thinking of Carl. I won't be able to get him out of my mind until after the operation. I daren't let myself think beyond that point.'

  'We'll know the worst in about twenty-four hours,' he said quietly.

  Her fork slipped from her shaking hand. 'You mean it's being done tomorrow?'

  'Yes. Dr Vanberg arrived tonight and the opera­tion has been brought forward at Carl's insistence. I gather he's refused to have any more tests. He says he wants it done now.'

  'He's mad,' she shivered.

  'He's reached the end of his tether,' Duncan corrected. 'A man can take so much and no more.'

  'Does Rosemary know?'

  'I assume so. I didn't see her at the hospital, thank goodness. Like you, it would be all I could do to talk to her civilly.'

  'I wouldn't talk to her at all,' Laura said.

  'You have no need. You don't even have to see Carl if you don't wish. I mean if the news is bad.'

  'I can't bear to think of it,' she cried, and pushed away her plate.

  'I wish I'd kept quiet about the operation,' he muttered. 'I didn't intend to tell you until it was over.'

  'I'm glad you told me.'

  'So that you can sit and worry your heart out?'

  'What time are they doing it?' she asked.

  'First thing in the morning,' he said reluctantly. 'But it's a long operation. Five or six hours at least. Mr Edwards was telling me what they have to do.'

  'I don't want to know,' Laura shuddered. 'All I'm concerned with is the result.'

  'Right now I'm concerned over you,' Duncan complained. 'Do eat up, darling, you're far too thin.'

  With an effort Laura tried to do as he ordered. Her throat was tight with unshed tears and she tried to swallow her food without chewing it; it was better to risk indigestion than have Duncan go on looking at her with such solicitude. She was immea­surably relieved when the meal finally came to an end and they returned to the drawing room for coffee.

  Luckily there was an interesting documentary on the television which occupied his time and en­abled her to sit beside him without having to make conversation. She prayed he would not try to make love to her, fearing that if he did, she might have hysterics. Fortunately he sensed her mood, for though he held her hand he made no other attempt at intimacy and even his goodnight kiss was brief.

  'Will you be going to the hospital?' she asked as he reached his car.

  'I told Mr Edwards I would get there about eleven.'

  'When will they know the result?'

  'Not for a couple of days.'

  With Duncan gone, Laura wandered around the downstairs rooms. She was too overwrought to sleep, nor did she want to go to bed. How heavily the time was going to drag for the next few days. If only she could take a pill and wake up when it was all over. Fleetingly she thought of Rosemary and knew that wherever the girl was, she was giving little thought to the man lying in his narrow hospital bed. What were Carl's thoughts at this precise moment? Did he regret the choice he had made or was he still as adamant as he had been when she had last seen him? She could not believe he was unafraid and wished with all her heart that she had the right to comfort him. But she would only have had that right if he had loved her and, had he done so, she would never have allowed him to take this dreadful risk.

  Unaware of what she was doing, she went into the garden. The air was cold, but she did not return to the house for her coat. Slowly she walked round the pool, staring into its blue depths and seeing Carl's silver blond hair in the water, his strong arms cleaving through it and sending up the spray.

  At noon the following day Duncan rang. He had no news and merely told her the operation was still in progress. At two o'clock he called again to say that Carl had been taken to the intensive care unit where he was being watched over by an electronic nurse who would monitor his pulse beat, heart rate and blood pressure.

  'When will we know if…' She could not go on.

  'In about forty-eight hours,' Duncan said. 'Now put down the phone and go and have something to eat before you faint from lack of food.'

  'How do you know I haven't eaten?'

  'One doesn't need to be psychic to know the obvious,' he said grimly. 'Promise me you'll have some coffee and toast or I'll come up and force-feed you!'

  Shakily she promised to do as he ordered and went to the kitchen where the staff were waiting to hear the news of Carl's operation. The house was sombre with expectancy, yet she loved it as much in this mood as she did in all its other ones. It was a house meant for happy people and children's voices. But children's voices were one thing it might never know unless Carl and Rosemary adopted some. Angry at her pessimism, Laura forced herself to think the exact opposite. The operation would be a success and Carl would soon be living life to the full, the way he had always lived it. But this time Rosemary would be beside him: the girl with china blue eyes and no heart.

  To Laura's relief, Duncan did not come to the house that night, grumbling that an unexpected business engagement would keep him in town until ten o'clock. She knew that, given the word, he would drive over to see her afterwards, and firmly told him she intended to have an early night and would see him the following day.

  She went to bed not expecting to sleep, but the wakeful hours of the night before had taken their toll and, the moment her head touched the pillow, she knew no more until she awoke to find the sun streaming through her windows. At once she sat up and dialled the hospital, fearful that something had happened to Carl while she had been asleep.

  'He awoke for a moment last night,' the Sister told her, 'but Dr Vanberg has been in several times to see him and is coming back in an hour. If you care to come down, he'll be able to tell you if the operation was successful.'

  'I was told we wouldn't know for forty-eight hours,' Laura gasped.

  The Sister gave a non-committal murmur and Laura put down the receiver and jumped out of bed. It was wrong of Duncan to lie to her. He should have given her the chance of being at the hospital when the final truth was known.

  Agitatedly she bathed and dressed, then ran down the hall, still undecided what to do. She longed to go to the hospital yet could not face the prospect of seeing Rosemary. If the news was bad,
she would want to get her hands round that slender throat and squeeze it until there was no more life left. Horrified at where her thoughts were taking her, she walked from room to room and was in Carl's study when Duncan came through the door.

  The blood drained from her head and she held out her hands to him.

  He caught them tightly. 'It's all right, Laura. It was a success! In a fortnight Carl will be up and about again and in a month he'll be walking.'

  Duncan's voice receded into an indistinct mur­mur and the ground rocked beneath her as she sank down on it.

  When she recovered her senses it was to find her­self lying on the settee in the drawing room. There was a taste of brandy in her mouth and the hard rim of a glass pressing on her lips. She pushed it away and sat up. Duncan straightened and set the glass on the table. He looked grave and for a moment Laura was afraid she had misheard him.

  'You didn't lie about Carl, did you?' she cried.

  'No, he's fine. It's you I'm worried about.'

  'There's no need,' she said shakily. 'I suppose one slice of toast isn't enough to keep me going for twenty-four hours.'

  'For heaven's sake!' he said violently and, strid­ing over to the wall, gave the bell a firm push.

  A quarter of an hour later, at his command, José wheeled in a trolley. On it were coffee and sand­wiches and an omelette for herself.

  'Not a word from you until you've eaten it,' Duncan ordered, and refused to speak again until her plate was empty. Only then did he relax and smile. 'Now I'll answer all your questions.'

  'There's only one. Will Carl be completely well?'

  'A hundred per cent. They'll be moving him back to his own room tonight and he'll be allowed visitors tomorrow. Rosemary was already there when I left,' he added drily. 'So you see her gamble paid off.'

  'Carl's gamble,' Laura retorted, and burst into tears.

  Instantly Duncan was beside her, cradling her in his arms. His shoulder was hard and bony, not broad and firm the way Carl's had been the night she had lain close to him on this self-same settee.

  'He deserves someone better than Rosemary,' she sobbed. 'It isn't fair.'

  'It's what he wants,' Duncan pacified. 'He'll be happy with her.'

  'No, he won't. She'll break his heart and make a fool of him.'

  'At least he'll be able to walk away from her when she does.'

  This only made Laura cry harder and Duncan finally lapsed into silence and waited for the tears to cease of their own accord. It was only the re-entry of José with fresh coffee that forced Laura to some semblance of control, and she patted her face in­effectually with her handkerchief.

  'I'm sorry for making such a fool of myself,' she hiccoughed.

  'There's no need to apologise.' Duncan gave a faint smile. 'You've been living on your nerves since you knew the risk of the operation.' He poured more coffee for them both. 'When will you go and see Carl?'

  'I'm not.'

  'He'll be expecting you.'

  'He has Rosemary; he doesn't need anyone else.'

  'And you have me,' Duncan said, 'so you don't need anyone else.'

  There was an odd note in his voice which made her hands shake. Her cup rattled in its saucer and she set it down on the tray.

  'It isn't only Carl who's blind,' Duncan went on. 'I am too. Why didn't you tell me the truth, Laura? Didn't you know it yourself, or were you ashamed to admit it?'

  Silently she stared at him and he put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle shake. 'You love Carl, don't you? If I hadn't been so much in love with you myself, I would have realised it weeks ago. You wouldn't have married him otherwise, nor would you have been so hurt by Rosemary.' His voice quickened. 'And of course it explains her vindictiveness to you. She knows you love Carl too. It's only Carl who doesn't know it.'

  'He must never know,' Laura said, realising it was impossible to prevaricate any longer. 'I should never have agreed to marry you, Duncan. If I'd been more in control of myself the other night, I wouldn't have let you talk me into it.'

  'I did rather force your hand,' he said wryly. 'But I won't hold you to your promise.'

  It was typical of Duncan to say this, and she wished with all her heart that she could agree to marry him. But he deserved something far more than second best, which was all she would ever be able to give any man other than Carl.

  'Don't search for kind words,' he continued. 'Nothing will compensate me for losing you.'

  'I wish it could have been different,' she cried.

  'So do I.' He moved over to the fireplace, thin and sober in his dark suit. 'This doesn't change anything for Carl and Rosemary, you know.'

  'I realise that.'

  'What will you do?' he asked.

  'What I was going to do in the beginning, I sup­pose. Get a job abroad.' Still joyous with the know­ledge that Carl was going to be well, she was in no mood to think clearly. 'It doesn't matter where I go,' she said vaguely, 'as long as it's far from Eng­land.'

  'I have an aunt in Brazil who's looking for a com­panion,' Duncan said unexpectedly. 'If you're in­terested, I can call her for you.'

  'Would you?' She went towards him and then stopped. But he held out his hand and she took it, liking him so much at this moment that had he asked her to change her mind and marry him, she would have agreed.

  'It wouldn't work, darling,' he said, as if guess­ing her thoughts. 'Not yet, anyway. Carl is still too close to you and I'm still too aware of it. But go to Brazil. At least I'll know where you are and how I can get in touch with you. Perhaps one day we can start again.'

  She nodded and drew his hand to her cheek. 'Dear Duncan, I hope you get what you deserve.'

  'That's up to you,' he said whimsically and, to lighten the mood, used his free hand to give her hair a tweak. 'I'll call Rio and tell my aunt you're on your way.'

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  LAURA tossed back her hair and quickened her pace, defying the black-haired Brazilian who had been following her along the promenade for the past ten minutes to come any closer. The one thing she had learned in her six weeks here was that to give a Brazilian male a millimetre would immedi­ately encourage him to take a mile.

  'Excuse me,' the young man said, breathing heavily in her ear.

  'I'll do nothing of the sort,' Laura snapped, and swung round on him, handbag raised. 'If you don't stop following me, I'll scream!'

  The man hesitated and she drew a deep breath and opened her mouth. With a quick bow, he melted into the shade of a building, leaving her to continue her walk unimpeded.

  She had been aware of him following her since she had left the apartment that overlooked the fash­ionable Copacabana beach. But then it had been unwise of her to go for a walk alone; Mrs Richards was always telling her this. Still, Mrs Richards had a highly nervous disposition and was even reluctant to sit out alone on the balcony where she lived. Laura smiled at the memory of some of the old lady's foibles but knew that, despite them, she was lucky to be working in this exotic land. Mrs Rich­ards was equally pleased to have her, particularly since she was aware of her nephew's friendship for her.

  'I gather Duncan is fond of you,' she had said a few days ago. 'You are the first girl I have known him to bother about and certainly the only one he has ever recommended to me. But if you don't love him, don't let him corral you into marriage.'

  'Corral me?' Laura had echoed.

  'It's what they do to horses, and some men have a tendency to liken their womenfolk to fillies I Dun­can in particular is inclined to think that way. He won't try and rope you in, though. He's too subtle. He believes that if he keeps a gentle hand on the bridle, you'll soon start nuzzling for his particular piece of sugar!'

  Laura had burst out laughing and had assured the old lady that much as she liked Duncan, she had reached the stage where marriage could only be con­templated if love came with it. 'And I'm afraid I don't love him,' she had said. 'I left England because—'

  'I know why,' Mrs Richards had interrupted. 'Don
't upset yourself by talking of it. I'm only glad Mr Anderson has recovered the use of his legs. He's going to be led a pretty dance by his particu­lar little filly.'

  Laura remembered this as she strolled along the uneven pavement that bordered the wide sandy beaches of this tropical city. She had only heard once from Duncan since she had arrived here, and that had been a week after leaving London. Since then there had been no word from him and she wondered if he was deliberately keeping silent in the hope it might encourage her to miss him. Un­fortunately it was having the opposite effect, for he was becoming a dimmer memory. If only the same thing could happen to Carl! Even without think­ing of him she found him taking over her thoughts. He seemed to be entwined into the very roots of her being.

  She sighed and came to a halt. It was the best time of the year to be in Rio, but even so it was extremely hot and the bodice of her yellow silk dress clung to her. She had gained the weight she had lost and her pale skin was tanned by the fierce sun. To a casual observer she was a brown-haired, girl, though a more astute eye would have seen the sad droop to the gentle mouth and the violet shadows beneath the warm brown eyes. She started to walk again, not sure whether to continue along the front or take one of the side turnings and look at a few of the boutiques. But the shimmering blue sea tempted her to remain where she was, and she continued her stroll around the bay, wishing that the planners who had built the opulent hotels that rose on her left had thought to keep some of the luxurious vegetation and not cover it all with con­crete.

  There was another monstrous concrete pile being put up some twenty yards ahead of her; a hotel, possibly, or an apartment block. Head on one side, she regarded it and, as she did so, became intrigued by its shape, which was far more elegant than the buildings either side of it. Mindful of the traffic—for it had an alarming tendency to speed up when there was a pedestrian on the road—she crossed to the other side to get a better look at it.

  There were several signboards in the front and her pulse jumped as she saw the name Anderson. This was one of Carl's projects! She could not re­member them quoting for a contract in Rio arid supposed it had been done after she had left the company. She moved closer to peer in at the ground floor. Yes, it was going to be an apartment house, and an exceptionally luxurious one. It was the type of work which Carl had always regarded as 'gravy' and which he generally gave to one of the other directors to supervise—once he himself had ap­proved all the plans. Thinking of him in relation to his work made her wonder what he was doing now. Their marriage had not yet been annulled, though this would not stop him from living with Rosemary. He had so much time to make up for, so much loving to do. She gave a gasp of pain and put her hand on a signboard to steady herself.

 

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