Act of Possession

by Anne Mather

  ‘Am I going out for dinner, too?’ demanded Susie, pushing herself between them, and Reed’s lazy smile took away her disappointment at his response.

  ‘Not this time,’ he told her, lifting the carrier bag out of her hands and extracting the bulky object that was still inside. ‘Who is going to show Garfield where he’s to sleep, if you’re not here to look after him?’ he exclaimed, depositing the orange cat in her arms. ‘You said he’d probably feel lonely, leaving all those other cats in the shop. You wouldn’t go out and leave him, would you? Not on his first night in a strange bed!’

  Reed had a gift for Mrs Lord, too; a small pearl brooch, which she was evidently charmed with. ‘You really shouldn’t,’ she said, at lunch, admiring the way it glinted on her lapel. But her reaction on her return from the hairdressers had been all Reed could have wanted, and Antonia dreaded what her mother would say when she saw her dress.

  As Antonia had anticipated, Howard and Sylvia and the twins came over in the afternoon. ‘Your mother was so intrigued that you were bringing a man home, she couldn’t wait to phone us,’ declared Sylvia, as she came to find her sister-in-law in the kitchen, revealing that their visit was hardly accidental. ‘But I must admit, he’s not at all what I expected. However did you meet such a dishy man?’

  ‘What did you expect, Sylvia?’ enquired Antonia, setting teacups and saucers on a tray. ‘He’s nothing like Simon, if that’s what you mean. And if my mother’s made some allusion to our being—well, involved, forget it!’

  ‘You mean, you’re not—sleeping together?’ probed Sylvia maliciously, and Antonia’s eyes sparkled angrily.

  ‘No, we’re not,’ she denied, controlling her colour with difficulty. ‘And now, if you don’t mind, I’ll make the tea!’

  There was another reason why Howard and Sylvia had made the journey from Tynemouth to Gosforth, which became evident later in the afternoon.

  ‘Howard’s been given four tickets for tonight’s performance of the play at the Royal,’ his wife inserted at the first opportunity. ‘It’s supposed to be a very funny play, and they’re awfully good seats.’ She paused. ‘We wondered—Howard and I, that is—whether Antonia and … and Reed might like to go with us.’

  ‘How lovely!’

  Mrs Lord was enthusiastic, but before Antonia could do more than exchange a helpless glance with Reed, Sylvia had something else to add.

  ‘The only thing is,’ she went on, and Antonia wondered why she found the rueful tone her sister-in-law had adopted so suspect, ‘we don’t have a baby-sitter; and no doubt you’re looking after Susie, Mum, so it makes things a little difficult.’

  Howard, noticing his sister’s expression, said gallantly: ‘You can have two of the tickets anyway, Antonia. I mean, whether or not Syl and I go is unimportant, really.’

  ‘You speak for yourself, Howard Lord!’ retorted his wife sharply. ‘I was looking forward to a night out. We don’t get many, goodness knows. We don’t have an in-house child-minder!’

  ‘That’ll do, Syl,’ muttered Howard gruffly, flashing his sister an appealing look. ‘The fact is,’ he flushed, ‘we wondered if the twins could stay here tonight, Mum. I know you’ve got company, but if Antonia shared with you, the twins could have her bed.’

  It was ironic, thought Antonia later that evening, as she applied her mascara. She didn’t even want to go to the theatre, and she suspected Reed didn’t either. But because of Sylvia, and her complimentary tickets, they were going, and what was more, when they got back, Mrs Lord would be waiting for her daughter to share her bed.

  She didn’t wear the new dress. It seemed a shame to have to conceal it beneath the woollen coat her mother had lent her, and besides, they were eating at home before meeting Howard and Sylvia outside the theatre.

  The twins were as naughty as usual, making Susie cry by hiding Garfield in the dirty clothes basket and driving Mrs Lord wild by chasing madly about the house. Eventually, it was Reed who settled them, threatening them both with corporal punishment if they didn’t behave themselves while he and Antonia were out, and softening the blow by promising to take them home on Sunday morning in the Lamborghini, if they made no further nuisance of themselves.

  ‘You’ll make a remarkably good father one day,’ said Antonia carelessly, as they drove away, and then could have bitten out her tongue at the obvious connotations of her pronouncement. She didn’t want to think about Celia—not tonight—and she turned her head away to hide her pained expression.

  ‘I hope so,’ Reed answered behind her, as she struggled to get her emotions under control. ‘My parents can’t wait to have a grandchild. Someone like Susie would suit them very well.’

  Antonia moistened her lips. ‘I doubt if they’d agree with you,’ she murmured, and she sensed his wry amusement.

  ‘Well, I suppose they would prefer for me to be the father of my children,’ he conceded softly. ‘They’ll leave the choice of the mother up to me.’

  Antonia’s fingers tightened round the slim purse in her lap. ‘But it wouldn’t do for you to produce a little bastard, would it?’ she got out bitterly, and she felt the sudden intensity of his gaze.

  ‘What is that supposed to mean?’ he enquired, and her tongue circled her lips once again.

  ‘Well,’ she ventured tensely, ‘accidents can happen.’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ he exclaimed wearily, and all her pent-up frustrations burst from her like a flood.

  ‘You don’t care, do you?’ she cried tremulously. ‘Oh, I know it’s unlikely that that particular stroke of lightning should strike twice in the same place, but it doesn’t matter to you, does it?’

  Reed brought the car to an abrupt halt and turned towards her. ‘Why are you doing this?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Why are you saying these things? Who are you trying to hurt? Me? Or yourself?’

  Antonia was trembling violently, but when he would have put his hands upon her, she shook them off. ‘I can’t hurt you, can I?’ she choked. ‘You wouldn’t allow that to happen.’

  ‘Antonia, for Christ’s sake!’ Reed thrust long impatient fingers through his hair. ‘We can’t talk about this now!’ He shook his head. ‘What do you want me to say?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Antonia withdrew into her corner, putting as much distance between them as it was possible to achieve. ‘Go on. We’re going to be late. We don’t want to keep Howard and Sylvia waiting.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn about Howard and Sylvia,’ Reed told her roughly. ‘Hell, why did we let them talk us into going to see this bloody play? I wanted to be alone with you—not obliged to make small-talk with your brother and his wife!’

  Antonia bent her head. She could not doubt the sincerity of his words, and she knew a blind impatience with herself for precipitating such a scene. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said unhappily, as he swung back to the wheel, and with a muffled oath, he set the car in motion again.

  ‘So am I,’ he muttered harshly, his features set in grim lines, and for the remainder of the journey there was silence between them.

  Antonia had even less reason for enjoying the evening when, after a couple of whiskies at the bar in the interval, Howard admitted that it had been Sylvia’s idea to get the tickets. ‘You mean—they weren’t complimentary tickets?’ Antonia demanded of her brother, as Reed discussed the first half of the play with Sylvia.

  ‘Syl wanted an evening out,’ said Howard placatingly, already realising he had said too much. ‘And you know how our mother hates to come out to Tynemouth to baby-sit. It seemed the ideal solution. And you are enjoying the play, aren’t you? I’m sure Reed is. He’s a good chap. I like him.’

  It was supposed to be an apology, but Antonia found it hard to forgive him. Still, she reflected, as she and Reed drove back to Gosforth, Howard was not to know how precious the time she spent with Reed was. And perhaps it was fate, after all, stepping in to prevent her from making another mistake.

  The house was dark when they let themselves in, but Antonia guessed
her mother would still be awake. Mrs Lord always liked to assure herself that all the occupants of the house were safely home and the doors securely locked before she went to sleep. And when Reed suppressed a yawn, Antonia realised she had selfishly forgotten how tired he must be.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ she asked, adhering to the rules of politeness, but Reed only looked at her with guarded eyes.

  ‘Not tonight,’ he responded evenly, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. ‘Would you think me very rude, if I went up to bed?’

  It was late on Sunday afternoon when they finally left Newcastle. Susie was tearful, as usual, doubly so because the twins’ presence had spoiled the morning for her, and she clung frantically to her mother when Antonia tried to get into the car.

  ‘You’re coming to London in two weeks,’ Antonia consoled her gently, extricating the little girl’s arms from around her neck. ‘Less than that, actually, because Nanna’s going to bring you down on Friday, and she says she’ll stay until Tuesday, how about that?’

  ‘Will Reed be there?’ asked Susie innocently, and Antonia cast an awkward look at his dark face.

  ‘We’ll see,’ she murmured uncomfortably, aware of her mother’s eyes upon her, and Susie had to be content with the half-promise.

  ‘Drive carefully,’ called Mrs Lord, as the car began to move, and Reed lifted his hand in farewell as they turned out of the close.

  To begin with, the traffic in the city took all of Reed’s attention, and Antonia lay back in her seat, wondering what he was really thinking. A surreptitious glance at her watch advised her it was already four-thirty, and by her estimation it would be half-past nine or ten o’clock by the time they got back to London. Much too late to have dinner, she reflected, unless he stopped on the motorway. But looking at his grim face she suspected he was eager to reach his destination, and her heart ached at the knowledge that she had generated his mood.

  The roads were not busy once they left the outskirts of Gateshead, and paying little attention to the speed limit, Reed’s foot descended on the accelerator. The miles were eaten up at a steadily increasing rate, and she dare not disturb his sombre concentration. She was not afraid. Reed drove fast, but safely, and there was a certain exhilaration in passing every other vehicle on the road. Nevertheless, it shortened the journey considerably, and it was barely eight o’clock when Reed suddenly signalled his intentions to leave the M1, and turned instead on to the Aylesbury road.

  Antonia, who had been anticipating their arrival at the flat with some apprehension, turned to look at him. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Stonor,’ he said flatly, negotiating a pair of slow-moving vehicles and picking up his speed. ‘As you’re already prepared for the office, I thought we could spend the night there, and I’ll drive you in to work in the morning.’

  Antonia’s heart fluttered. ‘Spend the night at your house, you mean?’

  ‘If you have no objections,’ he conceded harshly, his fingers flexing tiredly against the wheel.

  Antonia caught her breath. ‘I—I thought you were mad at me,’ she faltered.

  ‘I am,’ he agreed shortly, slowing for some traffic lights. ‘But I’m also in love with you, and somehow I’ve got to convince you of that!’

  By the time the Lamborghini turned between the gates of the gravelled drive that ran up to the house, Antonia had convinced herself she must have imagined Reed’s terse words. He could not have said he loved her, she told herself fiercely. She was tired, and so was he, and somewhere between his lips and her ears, an error had been made. It was probably her, she chided herself bitterly. She was confusing her feelings with his. Reed didn’t love her; he loved Celia Lytton-Smythe. For her he felt a fleeting attraction; it was Celia who was to be his wife.

  ‘I phoned on my way back from Tynemouth this morning,’ Reed remarked briefly as Rose Macauley appeared at the door to greet them. Switching off the engine, he thrust open his door and got out, and Antonia was left to acknowledge that she could not have known. Reed had driven the twins home that morning, accompanied only by Susie. The sleek sports car was not built for two adults and three children, and besides, Antonia had not been invited.

  ‘Sure, this is a surprise,’ the little housekeeper observed, as Antonia slid out of the car. She smiled at Antonia and then turned her attention back to her employer, as she said: ‘I’ve delayed the meal, just as you suggested, sir. But I’m sorry to have to say, Miss Patricia arrived late this afternoon.’

  ‘Tricia!’ Reed cast a rueful look in Antonia’s direction, and then shook his head. ‘Oh, well,’ he remarked carelessly, ‘I guess there’ll be three of us for dinner, Rose. That doesn’t create any problems does it?’

  ‘Not to me,’ replied Mrs Macauley meaningfully, and Reed’s lean mouth curved into a smile.

  ‘Nor to me, Rose,’ he assured her drily, but Antonia’s nerve fled at the prospect of meeting Reed’s sister.

  ‘Perhaps I ought not to stay,’ she murmured, in a low voice, as they walked towards the entrance, and Reed looked down at her half-impatiently.

  ‘I was polite to your brother, wasn’t I?’ he demanded, his hand in the small of her back compelling her forward. ‘Now you can be nice to my sister, even if it is going to be an effort—for both of us!’

  Patricia Gallagher met them in the hall. She, too, had heard the car, it appeared, but her reactions were not as acute as Mrs Macauley’s. ‘Hi, Reed,’ she ventured doubtfully, her grey eyes, so like her brother’s, moving swiftly to the young woman beside him. ‘I hope you don’t mind me inviting myself for a couple of days. I didn’t think you’d be here. Aren’t you supposed to be in New York, or something?’

  ‘I was,’ drawled Reed, slipping his arm carelessly about Antonia’s shoulders and drawing her closer to him. ‘But—well, I got home sooner than I expected.’

  ‘Yes.’ Patricia’s smile came and went, and Antonia realised the other girl was as nervous as she was. She was very like her brother: dark hair, grey eyes, a tall, slim body. But her features were much more feminine. The simple jersey tunic she was wearing bore the unmistakeable hallmark of good taste.

  ‘You’ll have gathered, this is my sister, Tricia,’ Reed said now, resisting Antonia’s efforts to break free of him. ‘She always turns up at the least convenient moment.’

  ‘And you must be—Mrs Sheldon,’ Tricia declared, putting out her hand politely. ‘I—Rose told me all about you.’ She glanced awkwardly at her brother. ‘I gather … I gather Celia’s not with you.’

  Shaking hands with his sister, Antonia knew her face was suffused with colour, but Reed was unperturbed. ‘No, Cee’s not with me,’ he agreed, the look he cast in Antonia’s direction turning her bones to water. ‘And now, I suggest you let us freshen up before dinner. Which room are you occupying? Your usual one, I suppose.’

  ‘Well, Rose did tell me that—Mrs Sheldon used that room the last time she was here,’ said Tricia uncomfortably. ‘But she said she didn’t think you’d mind if—if your guest occupied the green room. You don’t, do you?’

  ‘We can live with it,’ responded Reed drily, as Mrs Macauley came in carrying his overnight case and the small hold-all containing Antonia’s suit and the dress he had bought her. ‘I’ll take those, Rose,’ he added swiftly, releasing Antonia to take the bags from the housekeeper. ‘We’ll see you at dinner, infant. I’ll show—my guest to her room.’

  At the head of the staircase, Reed turned in the opposite direction from the one Antonia remembered. Instead, he escorted her to the fourth door along on the right, allowing her to open the door and precede him into the room.

  Dropping his own case outside, he deposited her hold-all on the chest at the foot of the bed, and then retreated to the door. ‘You know your way downstairs again, don’t you?’ he said, propping himself against the jamb. ‘Don’t be long. Rose will get impatient.’

  ‘Reed—’ As he would have left her, Antonia took a step towards him. ‘Reed, I don’t have anything to wear
.’

  ‘Wear the dress I bought you,’ he muttered, his brooding gaze raking her slim figure in the simple shirt and jeans she had worn to travel in. ‘You have brought it with you, haven’t you?’ And at her nod: ‘I’ll see you downstairs in twenty minutes.’

  With the door closed behind him, Antonia drew a hasty breath. Twenty minutes seemed such a little time to come to terms with the situation, and her heart palpitated wildly at the prospect of what his sister must be thinking.

  She paid little attention to her surroundings as she took a hasty shower in the perfectly matched bathroom. Like the other room, the misty greens and gold of the carpet were picked out in the covers and curtains, and the deliciously warm apartment banished the goose-pimples from her flesh.

  Applying a little make-up, she remembered what Tricia had said about her room, and the realisation that the clothes she had seen in the closet there were Reed’s sister’s gave her an unwarranted lift. It was foolish, she knew, for if Celia did not occupy that room there was no doubt another room that she did. Or did she simply share Reed’s apartments? Antonia mused unhappily. Although she had spent the weekend here, she still had no idea where the master of the house slept.

  Dinner was served in the small dining room that opened off the library. It was where she and Reed had had dinner the Saturday evening she had stayed at the house, and beforehand, they had drinks in the comfortable book-lined room adjoining.

  ‘Did you go to New York with my brother, Mrs Sheldon?’ Tricia asked, as the two girls sipped glasses of white wine seated on the leather sofa.

  ‘No, she didn’t,’ Reed interposed briefly, from his position on the hearth. ‘And I think you should call her Antonia, don’t you?’ His lips twisted. ‘As our relationship is anything but formal.’

  To Antonia’s relief, Mrs Macauley’s appearance to announce that dinner was served, saved the younger girl from making any response. With an eager: ‘Thank goodness!’ Tricia followed the housekeeper into the dining room, and Antonia met Reed’s gaze with growing apprehension.