‘You can think that if you like,’ she said, matching his cool, even tones. ‘But if that’s what’s bothering you, can I tell you something? Brent … well, he wants to marry me. Only he says he won’t rush me into anything, although I… well, I don’t see why we should wait. But anyway, when I told him about you, he seemed to think it would be good for me to be away from him for a while to make very sure of what I felt. Although,’ she looked at Heath straightly, ‘I don’t think it will affect the final outcome. But I want to thank you, Heath, for … well,’ she looked away and coloured, ‘I was very silly that night—the night of the party—and you were very wise. And I really appreciate what you did now.’
Oh, what are you saying, Sasha? she asked herself as that spark of emotion and hatred died with her words, leaving her feeling drained and so cold. How could you?
She moved restlessly and turned away from the table towards the door. Then she made herself stop and turn back, to see him staring across the room away from her.
She waited for a moment, but he didn’t stir.
‘Heath?’
It seemed like an eternity before he moved his head, but only to look down at his glass, not at her.
‘What is it?’ he asked, sounding remote and uninterested.
‘Please don’t go, will you? I . .. meant what I said. Don’t make me do it.’
She didn’t wait for an answer.
CHAPTER SIX
The first week passed agonisingly slowly.
Heath didn’t mention the subject of his going or staying, but Sasha knew he would stay, although sometimes she hated herself for using such a strong lever against him. He also avoided her as much as possible and when it was unavoidable he was curt and brief with her. But she schooled herself to betray no reaction and set about making life as comfortable for him as she could.
It wasn’t easy, because it was like living with a stranger, and added to this she had the problem of what she had said to him about Brent to worry about. Not only because she had spoken for Brent before he had spoken for himself—although that was bad enough, she mused one evening, breaking out into a sweat at the thought of her own temerity, but also because of the intrinsic lie she had told. Not that she doubted for one minute that she would have acted exactly the same way even if she had been head over heels in love with Brent. But another truth was, she wasn’t head over heels in love with Brent, and for and very good reason.
‘Yet if Heath thinks I had any hope of trying to make him fall in love with me,’ she muttered spiritedly, ‘well, I gave up that idea long ago. So there was no need to say those things to me and … goad me into lying to him. And if I’m doing it and I can’t help loving him,’ she went on rebelliously, ‘that’s a different matter. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Heath Townsend!’
Then she sighed dismally and wondered if she really knew what she felt for Heath. And she began to worry again about Brent. Because she knew he would be out to see her sooner or later. And something in his voice when she had spoken to him on the phone and explained why she was resigning so precipitously had made her feel very wary—particularly in the light of what she had said to Heath.
‘Oh dear,’ she murmured, ‘what a mess!’
‘What?’
She jumped and turned to see Heath standing in the doorway watching her. They had had their dinner in the usual strained atmosphere, which was beginning to cause Edith’s face to twitch uncomfortably, and then Heath had retired to his study and firmly closed the door.
Sasha had come to sit in front of the fire and ponder her problems.
‘Nothing!’ she said hastily.
Heath regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and then limped forward to take the plump comfortable armchair opposite her.
‘Could it be that you’re beginning to regret having acted so high-handedly, sweet stepsister?’ he asked mockingly.
She looked across at him in the firelight. ‘You’re not making it very easy for me,’ she said reproachfully.
‘What would you like me to do?’ he said acidly. ‘Let you hold my hand and bathe my brow?’
She grinned ruefully. ‘I can’t imagine it. But maybe I could read to you, or for you. Doctor James said you were experiencing some sort of visual distortions which must make it difficult,’ she finished tentatively, but then added more stoutly, ‘I’m a very good reader.’
‘Says who?’ he asked coolly.
‘Says me! Didn’t you know I was a bit of a genius in that line? Why, I’ve been known to lay ‘em in the aisles!’ She grimaced laughingly. ‘I even won a medal at my last school Eisteddfod with my very moving rendition of The Man from Snowy River. Let’s see— how does it go again …’ ‘Spare me, Sasha.’ He held up a hand, but she thought she detected a gleam of amusement in his eyes as he added, ‘Nobody could possibly remember it all anyway.’
‘Want to bet? Nobody who had a mad English teacher like I had could possibly forget it. He used to break out into it at least twice a period. It’s very stirring too. I mean, I really love Banjo Patterson’s poetry,’ she said seriously. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘You’re right.’ She sighed theatrically but with her lips twitching.-Then she sobered completely. ‘But we could … talk, and listen to music, walk together and play cards or chess. And I could read the papers to you, keep you updated on world affairs.’
‘I can listen to the radio for that,’ he said after a moment, the amusement gone.
‘Heath, please don’t shut me out like this,’ she said huskily. ‘I feel bad enough as it is, but I had to do it.’
‘And now you have to live with it,’ he said quietly. ‘Tell me, does Brent intend to shut himself off from you entirely during this period?’
‘Oh no,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘He’s coming out soon. But he’s very busy at the moment. Do you mind?’
‘Mind what?’
‘Brent coming out here. You haven’t been in touch with anyone so far.’ ‘
He looked into the fire and didn’t speak.
‘He’s a very great friend of yours, Heath,’ she said softly.
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I—just that you were home and not well and needed someone. And I made him promise not to tell anyone else. I know he won’t.’
She waited with bated breath, but all he said eventually, in dry tones, was, ‘I had no idea when I nicknamed you, Napoleon, just how apt it would be.’
And he stood up awkwardly and left the room without another word, leaving Sasha staring into the fire, conscience-stricken.
But the next morning two things happened to ease her conscience somewhat. Doctor James arrived while they were still at breakfast. Heath immediately cast Sasha a resigned, cynical look which the doctor intercepted.
‘No, she didn’t call me, Heath,’ he said firmly. ‘I - came quite off my own bat. And just to set the record straight, if you’ve made other plans, I’ll go. If not, I think we should come to some agreement. You need medical care, and I could begin it right now.’ He eyed Heath with his no-nonsense look that Sasha vividly remembered from her own childhood.
And she saw Heath do battle with his own emotions and once more she waited with bated breath. But he stood up finally with a shrug yet tightened lips before he said, ‘Lead on. I’m with you.’
After the examination Heath stayed in his room and Doctor James came to find Sasha. ‘You’re a good girl,’ he said abruptly, ‘but I’m not sure if you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew.’
‘Neither am I,’ she said with a humourless smile. ‘But I can keep trying. Just tell me what I must do.’
‘Well, he’s agreed to see another specialist, so I’ll set up the appointment. So far as his leg goes,’ the muscles need exercise, which as you can see is painful. “I’ll arrange for a physiotherapist to treat him daily, which might mean driving him into Penrith. Walking, provided you don’t let him overdo it, would be good for him.’
‘Thi
s specialist is a neuro-surgeon?’
‘Yes. A brilliant one too, and I’m hoping he’ll consult with the first man Heath saw, who also has a considerable reputation in the field. So that they might t track his exact progress—or lack of it—between them.’
‘He never talks about his eyes—I mean, his sight.’
‘His eyes are perfectly healthy, Sasha.’ He hesitated. ‘His state of mind bothers me somewhat, I must admit.’
‘Me too. I sometimes wish I hadn’t done what I did,’ she said sombrely.
‘I know what you mean. But then it’s often not easy to tread the right road. And you must never forget what he’s been through.’
‘I wish he’d tell me!’
‘He told me a little of it just now. Apparently he lay for nearly two days in some ghastly battlefield with a skirmish going on about him before he could be got out. It’s a miracle he didn’t die from loss of blood or infection.’
‘Why didn’t he let us know?’ she sighed despairingly. ‘Or his paper?’
‘Because for a long time he didn’t even know who he was himself, my dear. Nor did anyone else. Then, as he said to me, it seemed superfluous to worry you all unnecessarily. And he wasn’t working for any particular news service, you see. He was there quite independently. I presume his mother is used to him sort of disappearing for long stretches of time?’
‘You presume right,’ Sasha said sadly. ‘And for a journalist, he’s a lousy correspondent. That’s why she hated him going off so much, because she was liable not to hear from him for ages. ‘But as she said often too, if you could pin Heath down .. . well, he wouldn’t be quite Heath, would he?’
Then second surprise came later in the day. After lunch Sasha did a totally uncharacteristic thing. She sat down in front of the fire to warm herself and promptly fell asleep.
She awoke some two hours later to find Heath standing over her with a newspaper in his hand, and she sat up with a hand to her mouth and her grey eyes round and slightly perplexed as she struggled with the remnants of a deep sleep.
‘Heath?’ she said uncertainly, then it all came crowding back to her and for an instant the vulnerability showed clearly in her eyes as she waited and wondered how he would try to demolish her this time.
His face tightened momentarily, then he said unemotionally, ‘Don’t look so guilty, Sasha. Here,’ he tossed the newspaper into her lap and sat down.
‘You want me to read it to you?’ she asked stupidly.
He moved his head impatiently and said irritably, ‘I don’t want you to paper the walls with it.’
So she read, at first hesitantly and almost shyly, and mentally castigating herself for her showing off last night. But he said nothing, just lay back in his chair with his eyes closed, until she gained confidence and launched into a very funny report about a woman who had found a snake in her laundry and spent the whole day sitting on top of her washing machine in consequence.
She burst out laughing.
‘But the worst part—it was dead,’ she said, still chuckling. ‘Only she didn’t realise it.’
‘It might have died of fright,’ he said with a faint grin ^ tugging at his lips. ‘Can you just picture a frantic lady leaping on to her washing machine with accompanying sound effects?’
Edith came in then with a tea tray and set it down between them. She didn’t say anything, but as she left the room she winked at Sasha.
‘Go on,’ said Heath idly after she had poured the tea.
‘What would you like?’ she asked. ‘The trials and tribulations of the government, or cricket?’
‘How about racing?’
Sasha wrinkled her nose. ‘Very boring.’
‘On the contrary, I find it very interesting. In fact in lieu of anything better to do, I might turn to a life of gambling.’
‘You don’t mean go to the races?’ she asked wide-eyed.
‘No. But I could open a telephone betting account.’
‘Are you serious, Heath?’ she demanded.
He looked thoughtful and then relented. ‘No—at least not about that side of it. But between us, my dear mama and I have some valuable brood mares eating their heads off in the paddock which we’ve neglected lately. Come spring they should be got in foal so that they can pay for their keep so to speak.’
Sasha drew an excited breath. ‘Do you mean we should … do a bit of research and pick out stallions to send them too?’
‘It’s just an idea,’ he drawled. ‘We could be too late. A lot of the top class stallions would have had their books closed by now.’
‘Ah,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘A problem, I. admit.’
‘I didn’t think you ever admitted that,’ he said with a sudden flashing look of amusement that took her breath away because it reminded her so forcibly of the old Heath. And all her nerve endings seemed to come alive, and that old longing to reach over and touch him, so that she swallowed unexpectedly and looked away confusedly.
‘What is it, Sasha?’
‘Nothing,’ she said hastily, and put down her cup. ‘I … I was just thinking, we could try, couldn’t we? I think your mother has every book on breeding that was ever published here, and we might even find some not so fashionable stallions yet, but with the right bloodlines to match the mares. Why we might even get a nick,’ she said with genuine excitement, referring to that elusive matching of bloodlines that throws champions.
His blue eyes searched her face for a long time and she waited anxiously with her heart beating that strange tattoo again.
Then he said, ‘You’re very sweet and you’re very young, Sasha. I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh with you.’ He looked suddenly tired as he added, ‘If you want to go to all the trouble, I suppose it’s as good a way as any of trying to while away the time.’
It was only that night in the privacy of her bedroom that Sasha allowed herself to wonder uncomfortably, if Heath hadn’t seen right through her today. And she felt hot and cold by turns as she examined the strength of her feelings this afternoon, and how difficult it was going to be not to betray herself.
She lay in bed and listened to the wind surging round the old house and couldn’t prevent herself from thinking of Heath lying not many rooms away from her. She caught her breath and felt a tremor shake her from head to toe as she pictured herself lying beside him, quietly, with her hands on his body soothing away the pain and the tension. Then the picture changed and she imagined his hands on her body, stroking her, and she knew a terrifying sense of desolation because it could never be.
The next few days passed peacefully.
Sasha got out all Stephanie’s books on breeding and Heath went along with her enthusiasm in a strangely gentle mood that secretly tore at her heartstrings.
The weather warmed slightly and they went for a walk every afternoon down the paddock, Heath wearing old jeans and an older sheepskin coat and dark glasses to protect his eyes, and Sasha in an alpaca wool poncho that Stephanie and her father had sent from South America and a green woollen cap with a pompom.
It was slow progress, and most days she had to find a place for him to rest for a few minutes before they made the return journey. And it was on one of these walks that she discovered that the truce—if that was what it was—between them was a very precarious thing.
Heath was more silent than usual and when she put her hand through his arm as, they came to a rough patch of ground she felt him tense distinctly even through the thickness of his coat. She took her hand away immediately and tried to think of something to say.
Unfortunately, in her concern, she tripped over a hidden rock herself and instinctively clutched at the first thing that came to hand. Which happened to be Heath.
She heard him take a sharp breath as he put his full weight on his bad leg and she sprang away, but it was too late. His face went white with pain and he swayed where he stood and would have fallen if she hadn’t reached out again this time to steady him and take his weight on her.
‘I’m
so sorry,’ she gasped. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ he said tightly.
‘Won’t you sit down? There’s a boulder just behind you.’
‘No! I’m fine. So you can stop clutching me like a mother hen,’ he said shortly.
Sasha took a step backwards experimentally and saw the effort it was costing him to stand upright. ‘Heath, don’t be silly,’ she pleaded with her hands on his arms.
‘Get away from me, Sasha,’ he ground out.
‘B-but…’ she faltered.
‘Just do it,’ he said violently. Then he closed his eyes briefly. ‘It’s got to come some time,’ he added in more normal tones. ‘I can’t use you as a crutch for the rest of my life.’
‘Well, I know that,’ she said shakily, ‘only…’
‘You don’t know anything about it,’ he said shortly, ‘or you wouldn’t be here forcing these attentions on me that I don’t want. Take your hand away, Sasha,’ he commanded curtly.
She stared up into the navy blue of his eyes and knew that she would be in tears in a moment. She took her hand away quickly and turned so that he couldn’t see her face.
‘Oh, for God’s sake, let’s go home,’ he said impatiently.
‘So they did, and all the while Sasha told herself to ignore his taunts, but it was easier said than done and the bright, cold afternoon turned inexplicably dark for her.
Dinner was strained again that evening, so that Edith’s long nose quivered as she sensed it like a bloodhound, but she said nothing, not even to Sasha when they were alone with Heath’s study door firmly closed against them.
He’ll come round in the morning, Sasha told herself dismally as she chose to go to bed rather than face a long empty evening.
But she couldn’t sleep and she couldn’t get anything she wanted to listen to oh her bedside radio, nor did she have anything to read, so she finally gave up the struggle and slipped her blue velvet dressing gown on and matching slippers, and crept into the lounge to stoke up the fire. The house was in darkness and quite silent, so she assumed Heath must have gone to bed. She made herself a cup of cocoa and took it back to the fire, but found she had trouble sitting still, so she roamed restlessly around the room and finally stopped in front of the record player to flip idly through the dozens of records Heath and his mother owned.
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