A Masterful Man

by Lindsay Armstrong

'Do you mean-put us in a bed together and I might not get much sleep?' he suggested gravely.

  'That's exactly what I mean,' she replied equally gravely.

  He laughed and kissed her. 'You'd be quite right.' Then he sobered and sighed. 'You've no idea how frustrating it is to know they must be out there somewhere…' He shrugged. 'So there's been no more radio contact?' 'No. Which makes it seem highly likely they've had to take to a dinghy or-' He stopped.

  'Go to bed,' she said softly. 'Things will look better when you're not so tired.'

  But the next day and night yielded nothing and most people began to believe the yacht had sunk with no survivors, although the search continued.

  It was on the third morning of the search that Lavinia picked up the post and brought home two letters for Davina-one from her mother and one in a type-addressed envelope. She put her mother's in her pocket and opened the other one with a faint frown, only to go white and feel dizzy as she read it.

  My dear Davina, so that's where you're hiding? I don't suppose I need to tell you how I found this out; he really is a little germ, isn't he, although quite useful? But the big news is, by a happy coincidence, I've fought my way out of all my financial difficulties and paid back all my debts. I won't bore you with the details, but I found someone to go into silent partnership with, who believed I was the unlucky victim of the recession, fiscal policies and so forth, which I was, and because my ideas made him a lot of money, quite a lot of it has now come my way and I'm respectable and wealthy again. What, you may be wondering, has this to do with you? I'll tell you. I'm now in the position of not having to stand by and watch you marry another man. Thanks to Paul, I know a lot about Steve Warwick and his quiet but substantial empire, I know all his companies that are public with him as chief shareholder and, on the day you accept his ring, I would begin to attempt to shoot down every one of them, like sitting ducks. Would I succeed? I like to think so, and even make myself some more money in the process, but if I don't, I'll still have a hell of a lot of fun along the way while causing him merry hell. You see, my dear, there are some things I can never forgive or forget. And you shouldn't forget what a genius I was at takeovers in my heyday…

  Davina let the letter flutter to the kitchen floor then stooped to pick it up hastily as Candice came in. 'Davina-are you OK?'

  She swallowed and tried to pin a smile to her lips. 'Fine. Did you want something?'

  'You don't look too good, but I just came to talk to you,' Candice confided. 'Mum's going through a stage of trying to be a better mum, probably just in case I get spirited on to a yacht and drowned and then she'll have to feel guilty all her life.'

  Davina couldn't help but laugh and then found herself saying curiously, 'Is she such a bad mum?'

  'Well, what she was trying to tell me was that she might not be a con…' Candice paused and looked to Davina for help. 'Conventional?'

  'That's it, a con-ven-tion-al mum, but she does love me. Do you think you'd be one of those?'

  Davina looked at her affectionately. 'I don't think you can know until you become a mum. But there are worse things than having an unconventional one; I think that all that matters is that she really loves you. And so does Lavinia, and so does Steve, and, while they may sometimes argue about you, it's because you're such a special person to them.'

  'Like you are to Steve?' Candice looked at her enquiringly.

  Davina returned that clear, innocent gaze and wondered how on earth to answer. But all she could come up with was, 'Perhaps.' And knew it sounded lame but Steve himself walked in at that moment.

  And the way he said, 'Hi, ladies!' made them both look at him searchingly.

  'Have you found something?' Davina asked. 'Just as we landed, a report came in from another plane that they'd made a sighting. Not quite sure what it is, there's a lot of low cloud cover in the area, but at least it's something. I've just come to grab a cup of tea and take some sandwiches back.'

  'Right.' Davina shoved Darren's letter into her pocket and turned towards the counter. 'Candice, you can help me, you can butter the bread-why don't you have a quick shower?' she added over her shoulder.

  'Will do,' he said, paused, his gaze on her, then he smiled briefly and walked out.

  He came back in ten minutes and drank his tea thirstily. By this time Lavinia and Loretta had been apprised of the news and were discussing the possibilities eagerly, but Steve stayed only minutes then took Davina by the hand and said, 'Come outside with me for a minute.'

  She went reluctantly and as soon as they were out of sight and earshot, he said, still holding her hand, 'What's wrong?'

  'Nothing,' she said quickly, perhaps too quickly, because he frowned immediately.

  She tried again. 'I think we're all a bit uptight. I know I've never been involved in a sea search this closely and it-gets to you.'

  'Sure?'

  'Yes, Steve,' she said quietly. 'Look, don't even think about me; you need all your energy to concentrate on finding them.'

  'It's very hard not to think about you,' he said with a slight smile at the back of his eyes. And as her hand trembled in his, he lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. 'I'm off.'

  She watched him drive away, then went to her chalet and locked herself in.

  * * *

  It was only after she'd reread Darren's letter a couple of times that she remembered her mother's and was horrified to discover that her mother had read the magazine articles Loretta had mentioned and was distraught and disturbed. 'I don't know why he's doing it,' she wrote, 'but the way he's telling it makes him come out smelling of roses and you, well, like some cheap girl who only married him for his money.'

  'Which I did,' Davina murmured with irony, and looked unseeingly at the wall. And she thought of that old saying about women scorned with a bitter little smile.

  Then she sighed and forced herself to think about Steve and the whole situation she now found herself in. Of being in the position to bring possible ruin to a man she loved. Was it as simple as that? she wondered. And discovered that a lot of things had become curiously simple, such as finally admitting to herself that she loved Steve Warwick far too much to do that to him.

  Sounds so dramatic, she thought, and noble! Only I don't feel noble; I feel frightened, helpless, exposed as if I've been hung up on a line like dirty washing-will Steve think of me that way one day? Could a relationship survive that kind of strain? He did say to me once that I should never have done it, married Darren… And I know Darren too well to disregard his threats. But there is one thing I can do… and the sooner I do it, the better.

  But it was a good few minutes before she stirred, and made a phone call. Then she started to pack. And when that was done she looked around and swallowed, hating herself a little for leaving as she was hoping to be able to, like a thief in the night, and decided to write a brief note which she would leave in the Land Rover at the airport. Nor did she feel any better when she was able to get her bags into the Land Rover and drive away unseen. But, at the airport, things changed…

  'I'm sorry, Mrs Hastings,' the girl behind the counter said nervously, 'but we've discovered we've overbooked the flight.'

  Davina frowned and opened her mouth but the girl rushed on, 'What with so many aircraft being diverted for the search it's been…we've had to cancel quite a few flights, although they've found them!' she said, brightening. 'All alive and fairly well.'

  'That's wonderful news,' Davina said with relief but added, 'Are you sure there's no room for me?' She looked out at the plane waiting on the apron and bearing the distinctive emblem of Steve's airline, which she'd hoped to be able to avoid but the urge to be gone had overcome that-then around the little terminal where there appeared to be only two other passengers waiting just five minutes before take-off.

  'Well.' The girl cleared her throat, then brightened. 'There are only a few passenger seats on it. The rest is freight.'

  'But you must have known that when I rang,' Davina pointed out, suddenly
feeling a cold, sinking sensation.

  The girl looked confused, miserable, then blurted out, 'The thing is, Mr Warwick left strict instructions that we weren't to fly you out in any circumstances, only I didn't know it when I took your call-Sam,' she called over her shoulder, 'could you come out, please? I think I need help.'

  Sam turned out to be the airport manager and he looked both sheepish and harassed.

  'Is this true?' Davina demanded coldly.

  ' 'Fraid so, Mrs Hastings.'

  'But you don't even work for him! There's absolutely nothing you can do to stop me going on another flight on another airline-he doesn't own the airport!'

  'That's what I told him,' Sam said eagerly but his face fell. 'There is no other flight today, though. We put on a couple of extras this morning to clear the backlog but- that's it. Incidentally,' he added, as a plane zoomed into view down the strip, 'that's Mr Warwick, he's just landed. So you can have it out with him.'

  Davina closed her eyes, feeling about as trapped as she'd ever felt. Where to run? Where to hide? On Lord Howe? Nowhere…

  'Then will you tell him that I'm waiting for him in the Land Rover-as I've no doubt you'll tell him everything else,' she said sardonically and swung away on her heel.

  Mount Gower and Lidgbird had never been more beautiful, with some lazy cloud touching their peaks as she looked at them from the place she'd first photographed them.

  Steve had come out of the terminal with his face grim and set and simply climbed into the Land Rover, slammed the door and driven them off. Not home, she'd prayed and indeed, he'd turned off the road and driven across the grass to the point above Lovers' Bay, as she now knew it was called.

  'OK,' he said through his teeth, as the engine died. 'Want to go first? I presume you're going to tell me all the stupid, cowardly reasons you've come up with as a bar to us being right for each other.'

  Davina took a breath and tried to control the anger that rushed through her but it was useless. 'No,' she said tautly, 'but I'm going to ask you this-how dare you do that to me?'

  'Because I know you too well, Davina. You're still wearing your crown of thorns and loving it-do you think I couldn't see it? God knows what triggered it today but something as sure as hell did. I can only assume you've been moralising on things, such as…' He held up a hand and ticked off his fingers, and it was the most curiously insulting gesture she'd seen for a time. 'It's too soon, it's too awkward because of Lavinia, Loretta, Candice, Mary, probably, and the devil alone knows who else you have in mind. It's too… physical?' He glanced at her with so much irony in his eyes she flinched, and he went on with searing mockery. 'Too hot to last-is that what you think, Davina? You're going to have to go a long way before you find a man who will fall in love with you without wanting to sleep with you, my dear, and possibly even a longer way before you find a man you want to sleep with as much as you like to do it with me.'

  She gasped and went white before she could speak, he said, 'Sound a bit crude to you? Believe me, it's true, and I think you should know better than most what a crucial thing it is in a marriage. You didn't exactly practise passive resistance with me. You didn't, for example, seem to mind it when I-'

  'Stop,' she whispered, still white to her lips. 'If you expect me to believe a marriage to you could last when you can say things like those you've just said to me, you're mad!'

  'Not mad, just a realist,' he said quite gently. 'You want me to tell you we'll love each other madly until the day we die? Well, there's no way I can prove it and you can't either and we could prolong this argument for six months and still be unable to prove it. But to run away because it's a possibility we mightn't? Well, you know what I think that is.'

  'Yes. And I have to tell you I'm happy to be a stupid coward, Steve, and I'm going to go.' She stared at him, her mouth set, her eyes angry and determined. 'I told you once before about the aversion I have to any man dominating me the way you're attempting to, and whether I have that aversion rightly or wrongly is not the point. The point is I can't stand it and again, whether I like to go to bed with you or not doesn't change that. But the most important point of all is that, when you know a marriage is unlikely to last even six months because of it, you'd be crazy to even contemplate it.'

  'All right,' he said abruptly and switched on the engine. 'You've got it.' He drove the Land Rover round in an arc towards the road, so fast that she clutched the door.

  'Where?' she said furiously. 'Would you mind telling me that?'

  'Wherever the hell you want to go. The plane I just landed in is going back to the mainland, and you can go with it. Actually, Pete is the pilot. Remember Pete? Now, doesn't that add quite a twist to our little saga, Davina?'

  She could have hit him, but there was worse to come.

  At the airport he was coldly businesslike as he arranged for Davina's departure, and he totally ignored everyone's unspoken embarrassment. Then he stood back and said with a dry smile and quite audibly to all in earshot, 'You were an excellent housekeeper, Davina. It's a pity we didn't just confine ourselves to that, isn't it? Remember me when you're lying alone in bed at night.'

  She stared into his eyes disbelievingly, then turned away and walked out on to the tarmac.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It was with the greatest effort of will that Davina presented a normal image to her mother when she arrived at the flat they shared in Sydney that evening.

  'Davina! Darling, I didn't expect you home yet. Has something gone wrong? Not my letter-'

  'No.' She kissed her mother and looked round the familiar flat with a sigh of relief. 'No, it was just one of those impossible jobs. I…walked out.'

  Her mother grimaced. 'It must have been bad for you to do that; you're usually so competent, and not only at housekeeping but handling these people-but you know, I do wish you'd think of doing something else. It's… not much of a life. What did you think of the island, by the way? Plenty to photograph?'

  'Oh, it's a paradise in that respect,' she said with the barest tremor. 'Do you know, Mum, I've got the feeling that that will be my last job as a temporary housekeeper? I don't quite know how, but I'm going to concentrate on photography for a while. I've saved a bit in the last few years so-who knows, you might be looking at another Cecil Beaton. In the meantime, there must be jobs as-fashion photographers et cetera.'

  'I'll help you look,' her mother said eagerly. Then she sobered. 'About Darren-'

  'Don't worry about him, he can't hurt me now,' Davina said, and turned away.

  Her mother hesitated but didn't persist.

  But that night when Davina went to bed, she closed her door and stared around at her room and at all the photos pinned to the wall, and wondered if she had the simple will to gather together a portfolio and try to hawk her wares around the picture libraries and agencies. Whether she had the energy to seek commissions or jobs as a staff photographer, whether she could turn her flair to something like fashion, whether she was only ever destined to be a passionate amateur…whether she didn't feel like dying.

  She sat on her bed and dropped her face into her hands. And discovered that no amount of telling herself that Steve Warwick was impossible to the point of being hateful at times, could do something as essentially dictatorial as what he'd done, had been brutally frank enough to make her doubt he could truly fall in love with anyone, no amount of it quite stilled the small murmur within that she was both stupid and a coward. Nor could it conquer the numb, barren feeling that was creeping up in her. And she wondered how her anger could drain away like this…

  It was the next night that the memories attacked her. Lying alone in bed, she remembered his last words and was flooded with cameos of the times they'd been together, such as the morning after the night at the cottage when she'd told him about her father and Darren…

  She'd wakened first, seen that he was still sleeping deeply and eased herself out of bed without waking him. She'd pulled on a T-shirt and shorts and slipped out to breathe in the clear, rain-
washed air, the smell of damp earth, and to trail her feet through the sun-spangled grass. Then she'd decided to take him breakfast in bed, but there'd been no wood chopped fine enough to light the stove and she'd regarded the axe and the chopping block outside the back door, and thought, It's probably quite simple to chop wood; why don't I try to add it to my list of accomplishments? I'm sure Lavinia would approve, if no one else… It hadn't proved simple at all, and Steve had appeared at the back door only wearing a brief pair of underpants.

  'I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,' she'd explained ruefully, and explained about the wood.

  A lazy smile had lit his eyes and he'd rubbed the stubble on his jaw as he'd said, 'It's quite simple really. Let me show you how.'

  She'd laughed. 'That's what I thought, but…' She'd gestured ruefully at the mess she'd created.

  So he'd picked up the axe and, within a few minutes, reduced several sturdy blocks to fine, even slivers. But as he'd put it down, she'd remained transfixed by the sheer perfection of his body, the long lines of his back and the flow of muscles of his shoulders, the ease and strength of his movements, the compact hips and the springy darkening hair that ran down to his loins… And she'd stood rooted to the spot and blushed hotly like a silly, dizzy schoolgirl. But the growing wry query in his eyes had suddenly gone oddly gentle and he'd taken her hand and taken her inside, saying only, 'It's OK. You do it to me all the time.'

  'I feel a bit foolish…'

  'Don't.' He'd tilted her chin and looked into her eyes. And then he'd taken her back to bed and their love-making had been piercingly sweet…

  Was I mad? she wondered, coming back to the present and her lonely, torment-filled bed. When will I get over this raw, wounded feeling?

  But over the next few days it grew so much that she doubted she would ever recover from putting Steve Warwick out of her life, however much cause she might have had to do it. But not only did the pain grow, it seemed to pose these questions-had she walked out on a man not because he could be difficult and arrogant-he could also be wonderful-but because she was still terrified to trust herself to any man? Why had she not defended herself by telling him about Darren's letter- because even in her anger at the time, she'd perceived it would only be putting a totally unfair burden on him? Or because she was a coward and it had been something to hide behind in her mind?