by Anne Hampson
'I want to go to bed,' she murmured, pulling right away, out of his reach. 'Good night, Paul.' Her voice was low and—although she did not know it—pleading.
Paul sighed, and his lips formed slowly into a twisted smile. 'You're afraid,' he stated. 'And fear is so difficult to combat. Yes, go to bed, Laura, but do as I advised-take care not to make any hasty decisions. Consider carefully the problems you'll be faced with if you return to England; weigh the advantages of marriage to me against remaining on your own, with no one to fight your battles for you.' He stopped but she was in some way too full to answer him, and in any case, what was there to say? Everything he had put forward was logical, and beneficial both to her and to the child whose future was so precarious. Mandy, the lovable child who could be taken from her and put into care. The more she pondered it the more likely it seemed that the child would be taken from her, simply because she was in full employment and away from home all day, leaving the child in the care of a nanny. Others did just that, of course, but they were real parents and in a position to please themselves.
'I'll do as you say,' she said unhappily at last. 'But you must accept that I could never love you, never as long as I live.' Her heart and thoughts had sped swiftly to Phil, with whom she had been so happy. He was the man she loved, and even though his love was not as strong as she would have wished, she could not love him less because of it. 'Yes, I'll do as you say,' she repeated, 'and think seriously about your proposal. She moved and he made no attempt to stop her. She turned on entering the room behind the patio, and stood for a space on the threshold, her face pale, her heart empty of all emotion, but there was a degree of calmness about her which gave a steadiness and a strength to her words. 'You, too, must consider carefully, Paul; try to imagine what your life would be like with a woman who can never give you love, or even give you deep affection. Oh, I know that Greeks mainly scoff at love, and are satisfied with what they term "a good wife," but it takes so much more to make up the whole essence of marriage.' She stopped, and waited.
Paul stood erect, detached and apparently cool, his direct stare unreadable, and yet it confused and disconcerted her, bringing unwanted colour to her face. She was aware of an overwhelming desire for him to speak, to try again to assure her that a marriage between them could succeed…
But he remained silent and presently she turned and passed through the room, her feet dragging, her mind becoming numbed as if the effort of keeping it active was too much for her.
Once in her room she stood broodingly at the window, staring unseeingly into the garden. What had she said out there on the patio? What had she promised? To consider Paul's proposal?
The idea of marriage just to lift the weight of present problems from her shoulders was crazy! It would be a manifestation of sheer weakness of character, and it would bring the heartache she deserved. She shut her eyes tightly as if the action would protect her against her own treacherous thoughts. And when at last she opened them again her decision was made.
Chapter Six
Phil was angry, as Laura knew he would be. She had tried not to cry, or to plead, but her love drove her to the kind of humility she would at one time never have believed possible. Short of going down on her knees, she had done everything in her power to soften him, to make him change his mind about Mandy.
'She's not even a relative!' he had said wrathfully over and over again. 'Had she been your sister's own child, and had Irene died or otherwise not been able to look after her, then things might have been different. As it is'—he made a furious, expressive gesture with his hands—'I am not intending to take on the responsibility for a child who has no ties even with the woman I marry!'
'She has the ties of love,' returned Laura simply.
'You talk nonsense!'
'Have you no feelings, Phil?'
'I have feelings for you, Laura. I love you dearly, and I know for sure that if you agree to place Mandy into care then you and I can look forward to a happy life together.' He had become serious, less hostile, and the angry colour was fading from his face.
She looked at him across the elegant room on which she had spent so much thought and time and care, to say nothing of the expense. A delightful apartment, furnished in the exquisite taste which had been the chief factor in assuring its owner's success with the clients who engaged the firm of Douglas Hendrick to plan and execute their needs. Laura was exceptionally gifted in the art of interior decoration, it had been repeatedly declared by those to whom she had given her services. She glanced around with excusable pride, and thought of Phil's firm refusal to live here if they married.
'You're not listening to me,' from Phil with an edge of impatience. 'I've just said I love you, and that we can be happy if only you'll see sense and part with Mandy.'
She looked at him, then took a sip of her martini. She thought of Mandy, safe in bed in her pretty room… safe and secure and sleeping peacefully because she was loved and cherished, because she loved in return.
'I can't give her up.' Laura turned to refill her glass. 'I know you've said it isn't logical for me to sacrifice my life for a child who is not even related to me, but Phil, there are times in one's life when one's own welfare, one's own wishes and desires could produce a selfishness of which that person would not only be ashamed eventually—but which would be a blot on the conscience which could never ever be erased.' She had topped up her glass and she swung around, the light from the standard lamp sending a soft rose glow which lent added richness to the pure gold of her hair, tinting it, making it gleam more brightly than ever. 'If you are determined, Phil, then… then it's the… the parting of the ways for… for us.' She choked over the words but valiantly managed to suppress the tears bitter tears as yet locked within a cloud behind her eyes They would fall later, in abundance, and yet give her no relief, no comfort…
Her thoughts were suddenly with Paul, who had been so gentle with her, and patient for most of the time, patient because he was understanding. Paul had given her comfort… Paul could give her comfort again if she chose to let him. He had been angry, of course, at her decision, but in some inexplicable way she had known again that uneasiness, because it was as if, despite her unshakable decision to come home, Paul would win in the end.
'That's your last word?' Phil's voice was hard.
'It has to be,' she answered. 'I have no other choice which would leave me with a clear conscience.'
He strode about the room in the kind of wild fury she had not believed he could exhibit—not Phil, who was so calm and collected, who had a logical mind and could be counted on to find the smoothest way out of any difficulty. Well, he was not inclined to find the smooth way out of the present difficulty; he was willing to forego his own happiness and hers by adhering to his first and only decision regarding Mandy.
'If only that blasted woman hadn't left the child on your mother's doorstep! Why did it have to happen to you of all people? And why were you in a position to take her when your mother died?' He sank onto the sofa again. 'Why, I said! Why—?'
'Phil,' broke in Laura gently, 'we've been into all this, and to bring it up again is unprofitable. I did have the means so I was in a position to take Mandy. I have never regretted it—'
'Never? You don't regret it now, when your whole future's ruined?'
Silence. She had not expected this kind of pompous talk from Phil, who had obviously concluded that by losing him her life was blighted forever. Well, perhaps it was, since she could never love anyone else, but she had not thought he would make such a blatant declaration which so starkly revealed his opinion of himself and his importance to her happiness.
'No,' she answered after a long while, 'I do not regret it even now. I am doing what I believe is right and honourable. I shall fight to keep Mandy with me.' A strange calm flooded over her; she sat down opposite to where he was, on the sofa, his eyes brooding, his clenched hand resting on the wide, velvet-covered arm, his legs crossed. 'There isn't any reason for you to stay any longer,' she
reminded him eventually. 'It's goodbye, Phil.'
He rose from the couch, draining his glass in a gulp which Laura felt sure resulted in a burning sensation in his throat, for he was drinking brandy neat. 'You seem very confident that you'll be allowed to keep the child,' he said, his eyes studying her closely.
She hoped she gave nothing away as she replied, 'I am confident, Phil. I shall ask to be her foster-mother, and I feel sure that I can convince them that Mandy will always have as good a home as she has now.'
Phil's face was set like a mask. 'I wonder,' he said thoughtfully, 'if you really are confident. Single women are not considered suitable for the permanent care of a child—and you know it!'
'I am not crossing my bridges yet,' she told him quietly. There was a way out if all else failed, but Laura had no intention of mentioning it to Phil. He had asked about the man in whose house she and Mandy had been staying, and seemed faintly angry, as if he resented her decision to leave the hotel. But he had not pursued the matter, not when other, more important things were having to be discussed.
'All I can say is, Laura, you'll live to regret the decision you're making,' Phil said evenly.
'I shall have only myself to blame.'
'What have you to look forward to? Years of minding a child who in the end might not be grateful.'
She looked up at him, wishing she wasn't seriously taking in all he was saying—but she was, and it caused a sort of fatalistic sensation to close in on her, heavily oppressive. 'Please go,' she begged. 'I'm very tired.'
'And depressed.'
'You're hard, Phil. I never realised it before.'
'I'm trying to do what is best for you.'
'Which is to persuade me to fail in my duty.'
'Duty!' he rasped. 'What duty do you owe to the child?'
'I owe a duty simply because, in the first place, I accepted her into my care.' Laura rose from her chair. 'I must ask you to leave,' she said and her voice was crisp. 'This aimless discussion—if one can call it that— must be as unpleasant for you as it is for me. We've both made our decisions and they're final, so there's no point in hurting one another unnecessarily.'
'You're hurt?'
'Of course I'm hurt,' she answered with a hint of asperity. 'I've lost the man I love.'
It seemed for a fleeting moment that her words, her simple admission, had softened him, and hope lit a spark in her lovely, sapphire eyes. But it died instantly as his mouth went tight.
'It's your own doing, Laura. However, if it should transpire that the authorities decide to take Mandy away from you, then promise you'll let me know—get in touch immediately.'
'I rather think, Phil, that nothing could be the same between us after this.' Laura's voice was bitter, her eyes shadowed with pain.
Phil moved restlessly, as if he had something to say, but he changed his mind and with a curt, 'Good-bye, Laura,' he strode to the door and was gone.
The silence was instantly oppressive. Laura stared at the closed door, listening for the click of the latch on the outer door leading off the hall. The end… When first she had met Phil, and they had both seen almost at once that they were in love, she never dreamed it would all end like this. Tears filled her eyes, filming her lashes before escaping through them to fall slowly onto her cheeks. Rising as if urged by some compulsion, she went into Mandy's room and stood by the bed. So peacefully she slept, with one small hand beneath her cheek as it rested on the pillow. As she watched, Laura saw the full, rosy lips move as Mandy smiled in her sleep. Could Phil be right when he implied that the child might not be grateful for the sacrifice Laura was making? A frown touched her brow. She did not want gratitude; all she wanted was that Mandy would become a girl of whom she, Laura, could be proud; that was all she would ever ask… and she knew without any doubt at all that her wish would come true. Mandy would never let her down.
It was four days later that Paul telephoned. Laura's hand trembled as she listened to his voice asking how she had gone on about Mandy.
'They're undecided,' she replied guardedly, 'I feel it's touch and go.'
'And… ?' So significant the one brief word.
Laura paused a moment before answering. 'I haven't yet had time to think.'
'Time?' Again the brief enquiry had a pointed edge to it.
'The heart, then.' She felt annoyed at his perceptive-ness.
'I'm in London,' he said, 'and I'm coming to see you.'
'In London!' Why were her pulses racing like this? 'You came on business?'
'I suppose you could call it that. I'm here to help you.'
'You're very kind, Paul,' she said, and meant it. Her troubles already seemed halved. 'I certainly need help.'
'You're not very optimistic about being allowed to foster Mandy?'
'No.' She shook her head, forgetting he could not see her. 'The officer from the Child Care Authority was very nasty with me, reminding me several times that I'd broken the law. I feared at one time he'd bring in the police.' Laura was unaware of the catch in her voice, or of the fear which came through so plainly to the man on the other end of the line. 'He says Mandy's parents must be found.'
'That's not surprising. You should have expected such an eventuality. The consent of the parents will be necessary whatever happens.' No comment from Laura and he continued, 'You say you've not had the heart to think, but all the same you have kept at the back of your mind the solution to your problem, haven't you?'
'Yes, Paul,' she agreed, 'I have.'
'When is it convenient for me to come and see you?'
'As it's Saturday and I'm not at work, you could come this afternoon.'
'Good. We'll get all the business over and then I'll take you out to dinner. Have you a sitter for Mandy?'
'I've a temporary girl sent from the agency. She'll not mind coming in this evening.' Laura was conscious of excitement, of anticipation. For almost a week she had been filled with anxiety and fear, but now a lightness had come over her. It was miraculous, the effect Paul could have upon her.
'The agency?' he was saying with interest and curiosity. 'What does that happen to be?'
'They call themselves "Caring Aunts",' she elucidated and was not surprised to hear him laugh. 'You can hire all sorts of people from house and dog minders to nannies and escorts for dinners or other functions.'
Paul laughed again and his humour was contagious. Laura found herself laughing for the first time since she left Greece.
She was reading to Mandy when Paul's knock was heard. Mandy was off like a shot and it was she who opened the door to him.
'Ooh, Uncle Paul! I'm so glad you've come! Are you going to stay with us? I want you to, for a very long time!'
Stooping, he swung her up, threw her into the air, caught her, and sat her on his shoulder. 'I rather think—' he said with a swift glance at Laura as he walked into the room, 'that it is you who will be staying with me… for a very long time.'
Laura dropped her eyes, her thoughts winging to Paul's reminder that she had the solution at the back of her mind. Yes, he knew she would not hesitate to marry him if, and when, the danger of losing Mandy should loom close to becoming a reality.
'Well, aren't you going to say you're glad to see me?'
She had stood up as he came in, and now that he had put Mandy down he was towering above Laura, making her feel small and rather helpless, but certainly glad he was here. 'Yes, of course,' she murmured shyly.
'Not much enthusiasm all the same.' With an unexpected gesture he had tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his keen and all-examining stare. 'You're pale,' he observed, and bending his head, he kissed her full on the lips.
'Ooh… Do you love each other?' from Mandy, whose eyes were dancing. 'I don't think Uncle Phil loves my Aunty Laura any more because he doesn't come.' She was clinging to Paul's trouser leg, tugging at it to bring his attention from Laura to herself. 'I like to be kissed sometimes as well,' she said.
'Mandy,' chided Laura, more to relieve her own embarras
sment than anything else. 'Would you care to go into the kitchen and lay the tray so we can have afternoon tea?'
The big eyes flashed with mischief. 'You want to get rid of me, don't you? Uncle Phil used to say, "Can't you get rid of Mandy for a few minutes while I show you how much I love you?" and then he used to tell me to go and play in my bedroom. Do you remember. Aunty Laura?'
'Go and lay the tray, dear,' repeated Laura gently, aware of heightened colour and increased embarrassment and wondering why she had allowed Mandy to go on like that without attempting to stop her. She moved away from Paul, to the other side of the room and then turned, watching him as he looked all around, his eyes admiring and sometimes faintly surprised.
When at last he spoke it was to say, 'So this is what you do for a living. You're a very gifted young lady, my dear.'
She swallowed, hands clasped in front of her. 'What made you decide to come?' she heard herself asking a moment later.
'You didn't seem much surprised when I phoned.'
She puckered her brow thoughtfully for a space. 'No, for some inexplicable reason I wasn't too surprised when you phoned. I think I was a bit surprised that you were here, though, in London.'
'You knew that your good-bye in Crete wasn't final, I think.'
'I suppose I had in mind that I'd marry you, as a last resort,' she admitted, stopping rather abruptly as the full impact of what she had said hit her.
Paul's smile was twisted. 'You're honest about it, and for that I admire you.'
'I wouldn't gain anything by pretence. You know I can never care for you, but you know also that I might be driven to marrying you. It would merely be a marriage of convenience, wouldn't it?'
The blue eyes opened very wide. 'Convenience?' with a slant of his eyebrow. 'What exactly do you mean by that?' he wanted to know.
Confusion spread over her because of the question and because of the look of satirical mockery in his eyes. 'I didn't mean… I was merely saying…' She stopped, took a breath and began again, lowering her eyes against his disconcerting stare. 'On my side it would be for convenience that I'm marrying you—if I marry you. But I suppose for your part you'll expect… expect me to… to be a proper wife.'
