'What?' Turning to run widening eyes over him, Alys said, 'Oh, wow! You'll have to go away again.'
They made it as far as the bed this time, a king-sized bed that almost filled the room. And afterwards, when they lay languorously in each other's arms, their energy spent, Alys's anger was completely forgotten.
Her head on his shoulder, his still unsteady heartbeat under her cheek, she played with the hairs on his chest, curling them around her fingers, as she said, 'Why did you go away?'
Under her hand she felt him stiffen and it was a few moments before Titus said, 'I didn't want to go. It was an old college friend who was in a spot of bother, and needed some help to sort it out.'
'And did you?'
'Yes, hopefully everything's fine again now.'
'Which friend was it?'
'No one you know; somebody I hadn't seen for years and had almost forgotten about.'
'Why come to you for help, then?'
He hesitated, as if choosing his words. 'Possibly because I could deal with the trouble best—and because I owed a favour.'
'What kind of trouble was it?'
Turning towards her, Titus tapped her on the nose. 'You are a very nosy woman, do you know that? Aren't I allowed any secrets?'
'No!'
'I bet you have secrets from me.'
'Of course I don't.'
'No? What about that new coat you sneaked into the house and think I don't know about? You deserve to be punished for that.' And he began to tickle her, knowing that she couldn't stand it for long.
Alys shrieked and ran away from him, locking herself in the bathroom, only letting him in to shower when he promised to stop. And it wasn't until a long time later, when it seemed completely irrelevant, that she remembered he hadn't told her what his friend's 'spot of bother' had been.
Soon Alys had forgotten the whole incident; she began to make more definite plans for the wedding in the spring of the following year, but first there was the long vacation to look forward to when they were going to Egypt again. And this time Alys was to go in an official capacity as Titus's assistant and secretary, her Egyptian studies having qualified her for the post. 'And keeping me happy in bed is a very big part of the job,' Titus warned her teasingly.
'I shall be a kept woman,' Alys remarked. 'Paid for my services.'
'You sound almost pleased.'
'Of course I am.'
'You'd be thrown out of the Feminine Liberation Party if the members heard you say that.'
Coming to sit on his lap, Alys put her arms round his neck. 'No woman would want to be a member if she had you to go to bed with.'
He raised a pleased eyebrow. 'Keep you happy, do I?'
'And some. I think you must be the best lover in the world.'
Titus pretended to frown and look menacing. 'Have you been shopping around?'
'I don't have to. There couldn't be anyone more wonderful than you; I just know it.'
Lifting a hand, he stroked her hair, his eyes tender as he looked at her. 'Sometimes I forget just how young and innocent you are.'
'I'm not innocent,' Alys protested, thinking herself very sophisticated.
'Yes, you are—innocent of the world and trouble. You're one of the fortunate few who've led a cottonwool life. The only child of adoring parents, and now protected by me. Everything has always gone right for you. A dream world. Do you realise just how lucky you are? Sometimes I think I ought to push you out and make you find out what the real world is like.'
'I wouldn't go. You're my world. Always and forever. I don't want anything to change—except for us to get married and have children. And then we will be complete and we'll live happily forever and ever.'
Strangely his eyes shadowed for a moment and he frowned.
Putting her hand on his cheek, Alys looked into his face. 'Titus? What is it?'
He hesitated, as if about to say something, but then turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. 'Nothing. Nothing to bother your beautiful head about.' He changed the subject then, and Alys forgot about it, except to feel mixed emotions at being fobbed off with such a chauvinistic remark.
They continued with their rather insular lives, working hard, being sociable, but eager always to be together. But then, almost two months after he had gone away to help his friend, there was a phone call late one evening. The phone was out in the hall and Titus answered it. Usually he left the door to the sitting-room open, but tonight, after he'd exchanged a few words, he pulled it shut.
'What was that about?' she asked, when he came back.
'Oh, just some of the usual college politics.'
He sat down at his desk and went on with the work he'd been reading, but when Alys glanced at him ten minutes or so later Titus was gazing into space, a grim look on his face and his hand gripping the pen he was holding so tightly that the knuckles showed white.
Alys's biggest fault was that she often spoke and acted impulsively; now she opened her mouth to ask him what was the matter, but for once she held back. There had been rumours flying round the university about cut-backs for some time, and only a couple of days ago she had heard that some of the lecturers might have to go. Perhaps that was what the phone call was about. Although she couldn't see Titus ever being made redundant, because he was so good, his work giving him an almost international reputation now. But most of the other dons were his friends; he would be just as upset if he thought that any of them were to go. She would wait, Alys decided; Titus would tell her when he was ready, when he was sure.
To anyone else, Titus would have seemed perfectly happy and normal during the next few days, but Alys sensed the undercurrent of tension in him, especially when they were at home and the phone rang. She put out feelers to find out if there was any more definite information about the cut-backs, but if there was the teaching faculty were keeping it under wraps; none of her fellow students seemed to know any more than she did.
Then, late one afternoon, Alys came home and overheard him talking on the phone, his voice sharp, almost desperate. 'But what good would it do, Camilla? You know I'd come if it would help, but Harry doesn't like me being around and Tim just gets ‑' He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Alys, covering the receiver with his hand for a moment, before turning his back on her to say, 'I'll call you back later. Yes. Yes, I promise. Goodbye.'
'Who was that?' Alys asked in astonishment.
'It was...' Titus lifted a hand to run it through his hair, a habit he had when he was worried. 'It was the old college friend I had to go and see before. Unfortunately the problem didn't get settled as I'd hoped. I might have to go down there again.'
'Just what is this problem?'
A grim, fed-up look came into Titus's eyes. He went to speak but then the doorbell rang. 'Damn! That will be Bill,' he exclaimed, naming a fellow lecturer. 'He's giving me a lift to the faculty meeting and there's dinner at high table afterwards. I only dropped by to change.' Crossing to her, he put his hands on her shoulders. 'Look, there's something I have to tell you. Something I maybe should have told you before. But there isn't time right now so I'll see you later. OK?'
'What is it?'
But the impatient sound of a car horn sounded outside and Titus shook his head, frowning. 'I have to go.' He gave her a swift peck on the cheek and strode away from her, but at the door suddenly turned and came back to take her tightly, almost roughly, in his arms and give her a fiercely passionate kiss on the mouth. Then he was gone, with Alys staring after him and wondering what on earth had got into him.
Perhaps he had got the push after all, she thought with trepidation. Perhaps it had been decided to drop the chair of Egyptian studies completely, and that was what he had to tell her. But he'd also spoken about his friend's problems recurring. Was that what he was going to tell her about? After a few minutes' thought, Alys decided that it couldn't possibly be; it must be something about his job.
She cooked herself a meal, eating it while going through the notes she'd taken that day. At s
even the phone rang, but when she answered it and said the number the caller cut off. Half an hour later the same thing happened. Alys was beginning to think it was someone playing a joke, and was ready to give the caller a rocket if it happened again. But when the phone rang for the third time someone did speak, a woman, and she asked for Titus. There was nothing unusual in that— Titus often got calls from female colleagues, students, friends. But there was something about this phone call, something in the woman's voice, that immediately made Alys's skin prickle.
'Did you ring before?' she asked.
'Just get Titus,' the woman said tersely, rudely.
'I'm sorry, he isn't here,' Alys replied. 'Can I take a message?'
'When will he be back?' the caller asked shortly. •
'I've no idea.'
'Is he at the college? I'll call him there.'
'No.' Alys spoke quickly, instinctively trying to guard Titus. 'He's at a meeting somewhere. Who's calling? What is it you want?'
'I want Titus,' the woman said vehemently. 'If he comes in tell him to call me at once. It's Camilla.' Adding shortly, 'Oh, never mind. I'll call again later.'
Alys slowly replaced the receiver, her eyes bewildered as she wondered who the woman could have been. Titus had no mother or sisters, no close female relations who would have the right to ask for him in such brusque tones. And any of his female colleagues from the college or university would surely be with him at the faculty meeting. She wouldn't even speak to him in such a demanding way herself, and no one had more rights over Titus than her, his lover. Belatedly she remembered the earlier phone conversation that he'd ended as soon as he realised she was there. He'd said it was to do with his old college friend; could this woman be the friend's wife? Thinking back, Alys realised that the person he'd been speaking to was a woman. Wasn't the name he had used then Camilla? Yes, that was it. Other names had been mentioned, male names, but she couldn't remember those.
Feeling strangely uneasy, Alys collected up her books and put them away, unable to concentrate on work. She decided to wash her hair and ran upstairs to the bathroom, standing under the shower because it was easier to shampoo it there. Beneath the sound of the water she was almost sure that she heard the phone ring again. She stood still for a moment, listening, but made no attempt to go and answer it. Wrapping a towel round her hair, she dried herself off and put on a robe, before going downstairs to listen to some music. But that, too, couldn't hold her attention. A thought was niggling at the back of her mind, something she was reluctant to bring out in the open and look at. Earlier she had been indignant that anyone should make such terse demands of Titus, that only she had the right to do so. Because she was as good as his wife. Well, OK, at the moment she was just his partner, but they did intend to get married. But that woman had sounded equally sure of her position, so maybe—just maybe she had once been Titus's mistress, too.
The thought brought Alys agitatedly to her feet. Pressing her fingertips to her temples, she tried to concentrate. Was this Camilla some old flame of Titus's he was trying to keep secret from her? But why should he bother? Alys knew that she wasn't the first woman in his life; he was far too experienced for that. He was over thirty, for God's sake, so it would have been very strange if there hadn't been other women in his past. But he had never talked about his past, not where women were concerned anyway, and Alys had never wanted to hear, never asked him. She knew, when she was being realistic, that it was silly, but she liked to believe that she was the first woman Titus had ever loved, physically as well as emotionally. He had told her so often, told her he had been waiting for her all his life, so that Alys had pushed all thoughts of other women he might have held in his arms right out of her mind. Their love was too passionate, too pure, for her to sully it with such sordid pictures.
And yet this woman must be out of his past. Alys tried to convince herself about that, to try to stay calm and reason that Titus would soon deal with it once he came home. In her eyes he was omnipotent, could handle anything that came along, and would probably laugh at her for being so silly, for letting her imagination run away with her. It was probably something very trivial, very unimportant. Nothing for her to bother about—to 'bother her beautiful head about'. Dimly she recalled Titus saying those very words after he'd gone away a couple of months ago. She had objected to the sexism in them, forgetting that he hadn't answered the question. Biting her lip, Alys turned off the music just as it reached a crescendo, unable to bear the noise, leaving the room suddenly empty and still.
Pushing her thoughts back to the first phone call that evening, the one she'd interrupted, she remembered Titus saying that somebody, a man, didn't want him around. Was Camilla married, then? Or living with a man who knew Titus and didn't like him? But the only reason any husband could have for not wanting Titus around was if—Alys's heart seemed to stop for a moment—was if Titus and this Camilla were having an affair now. Alys tried to look at this possibility calmly, but her heart, mind, all her senses screamed against it. It was impossible! No one who loved her as much—and as often— as Titus did could possible want or need to have an affair with someone else. And anyway her instincts told her that he wasn't the kind of man who would have an affair with another man's wife. He was too honest, too honourable for that. And they were too happy, too much in love for Titus even to look at another woman. Alys was completely sure about that, too.
But he'd said that he had something to tell her, something he ought to have told her before, and he had looked tense and strange, so unlike himself. Feeling suddenly very afraid, her confidence in Titus shaken for the first time since they'd met, Alys sat down in the chair to wait for him to come home.
But it was the phone that rang again first, its strident call shattering the silence of the room. Alys let it ring for a long time, but it went on and on. In the end she couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed up the receiver. 'Yes?'
It was the same woman, and she didn't bother to say her name. Her voice as curt as Alys's, she just said, 'Where is he? I have to speak to Titus urgently.'
'Why?' The word was a bold, insistent demand.
But the other woman said tersely, 'Never mind why. Just tell me where I can reach him.'
'No, not unless you tell me who you are and why you want him.'
Camilla laughed harshly. 'I suppose you're the student he's living with. Still keeping you in the dark about me, is he? Well, if you must know, he was my lover too, once. Look, I haven't got time for this. It's up to Titus to tell you, not me. Give me his number.'
'No, I damn well won't!' Alys retorted, too angry yet to be shaken by having her fears realised. 'Why don't you leave him alone? He isn't interested in you. Leave him alone.'
To her surprise Camilla laughed again. 'You silly little fool. I need him. And he'll always come when I need him. Because he owes me—and he'll go on owing me for the rest of his life!'
Stunned, her wits shattered, Alys muttered, 'But—but I don't understand ‑'
'Just find him,' Camilla cut in viciously. 'Tell him I want him and he's to come here at once. Do you understand that much?'
Alys put the receiver down without answering, too shocked to feel anything for a while, but then she looked down at her hands and saw they were shaking. Irrationally she blamed Titus; he should never have left her alone tonight, knowing that—that vixen of a woman was likely to phone. And how dared he let his dark past interfere with their bright present? She felt sullied by it, and suddenly the walls of the room seemed to close in on her, and she wanted out, out of the home she loved so much. And Titus was to blame for that, too; he shouldn't have given Camilla this number. And he should have protected her, Alys, from any nastiness. She didn't want to know. Just didn't want to know!
When Titus came home she was waiting in the sitting-room, pacing the floor in anger, and dressed in a bright red outfit that showed a great deal of leg, her hair newly washed and standing out from her head in a ragged halo of curls like a Millais painting.
'Hey!' Titus gave a whistle of admiration. 'I didn't know we were going out tonight.'
'We're not!' Alys snapped. 'Your ex-mistress rang. And please don't pretend that you don't know who I mean. She said it was urgent. She, Camilla ‑'
'Camilla?' Titus's face paled.
Alys stared at him, appalled at the effect the woman's name had had on him. But she gulped and went on angrily, 'Yes, she's been ringing all evening—a couple of times she even bothered to speak!'
'What did she say?' Titus's voice was unsteady, almost fearful, but Alys was too angry to notice or care. He ought to be thinking about the effect it had had on her, not about this other woman's troubles.
'That you were to call her at once. She didn't ask, she ordered you to. And she said that you owed her—and that you'd always owe her! So you'd better just jump to it and do as you've been instructed, hadn't you?' she added furiously.
She went to stride past him but Titus seemed to pull himself together and, reaching out, caught her wrist. 'Where are you going?'
'Out. And don't expect me to come back until you've sorted this out.'
'Look, I can explain. I intended to tell you tonight anyway; you already know that. You see, I ‑'
'No!' Alys interrupted fiercely. 'I don't want to know. That—that woman sounded evil. Just get rid of her, Titus.' Wrenching her wrist free, she made for the door.
Titus didn't come after her, but his face was white and drawn as he said, 'Don't be like this, Alys.'
'Why the hell shouldn't I?'
'Please stay and hear me out.'
Alys's chin came up, her eyes flashing fires of furious indignation. 'I've already told you no. Just settle this so we can be happy again.' And she marched out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
She met up with a group of friends, fellow students, who were also at a loose end, and they went to a disco. It was a place she wouldn't normally have gone to; Titus's taste in music was either for classical or jazz and she had largely come to share his enthusiasm, but tonight she wanted music so loud that it would blast her worries from her mind, flashing lights that killed the pictures in her imagination, and enough drink to speed up the whole process. They stayed at the disco until two in the morning when they were all pushed out on to the pavement, temporarily deafened by the silence after the noise.
Mirrors of the Sea Page 7
