For One Night

by Penny Jordan

  She was beginning to feel rather blasé about opening her eyes and finding herself in strange beds. This one had scratchy sheets, and felt uncomfortably hard.

  'Good—so you've decided to rejoin us at last have you?'

  She looked up into the face of the white-coated doctor bending over her.

  'My baby…' She felt as though she were shouting, but in reality her voice was only a whisper. Her whole body ached, especially her back.

  'My baby,' she pleaded again.

  'Babies are tough little characters,' the doctor told her. 'Yours seems to be quite content where he is for the moment. We'll keep you under our eye for a couple of days though, just to be on the safe side.'

  Diana closed her eyes and felt the hot tears come through her lids and down her face, as she sent up a prayer of thankfulness.

  'Marcus…' She flushed brilliantly as she realised what she was saying, but the doctor seemed not to notice.

  'Ah yes, that will be the gentleman pacing up and down impatiently outside. You can see him, but only for a few minutes.'

  She was in a small side ward, hers the only bed that was occupied. The doctor left.

  Outside the sun had risen fully. The door opened and Marcus walked in.

  'Now you really will be late for milking.'

  She saw some of the strain leave his face when she spoke.

  'Are you all right?' He came to her bedside, and stared anxiously down at her.

  'Both of us are fine,' she assured him, watching the relief dawn in his eyes.

  She felt so guilty. If anything had happened to their baby it would have been her fault for panicking so stupidly.

  'God, when I think what could have happened!' His voice was a thick tortured sound that hurt her. She reached out and took his hand in hers.

  'I feel the same way,' she told him huskily, 'but we were lucky, and nothing did happen.'

  She looked directly into his eyes. 'I've changed my mind, Marcus. I'll marry you. I made a vow on the way here that if the baby was all right, I would.'

  The delight that had been lightening his eyes faded abruptly, and she thought she must have mistaken it when he said slowly, 'I don't want you to rush into a decision.' He avoided looking at her as he walked over to the window and stared out. 'There are worse things a child can endure than an absent father. I was wrong to try and pressure you into marriage, Diana.' He turned round and looked directly at her. 'You don't have to marry me out of guilt, you know.'

  What did he mean? Had he changed his mind? Was this why he was urging her to think over her decision? A wave of humiliated colour scorched her. She had been a fool. His initial offer of marriage had probably been nothing more than a chivalrous impulse which he had regretted almost the moment it was made.

  No doubt he had been secretly relieved when she turned him down. It was obvious that she had stunned him with her volte-face.

  Suddenly she felt dreadfully tired and depressed. The door opened and a nurse came in.

  'Time's up for today, I'm afraid,' she said cheerfully. 'Our patient needs some sleep.'

  It hurt that Marcus left without so much as the slightest protest. He was almost eager to leave, Diana thought wretchedly.

  What on earth was the matter with her, anyway? Her emotions were sawing up and down like a yo-yo. One moment she was terrified at the very idea of commitment; the next she was close to tears because Marcus had changed his mind about marrying her. Why on earth couldn't she decide exactly what she did want?

  She wanted Marcus. The knowledge whispered into her mind in much the same way that she had first realised she loved him. She wanted him to be part of her life; part of their child's life. She had been thrown into panic, as much by guilt as by fear. She had hated seeing the expression of incredulous disbelief in his eyes when he had realised who Leslie actually was, and how much she had lied to him. Her panic had been as much a defensive gesture as anything else, but it was too late to explain all that to him now.

  In his eyes she must appear to be the most deceitful person alive. She hadn't been able to explain to him how one small fib had led to bigger and bigger fabrications. She wanted to tell him the whole story, to explain to him about Leslie and how she had felt about her death, but now it was too late.

  The nurse checking her pulse frowned. 'You really must try and relax,' she told her reprovingly. 'It isn't doing either you or your baby any good to get upset like this. You've had a very lucky escape, the pair of you.'

  She slept through most of the morning, waking only when an orderly brought her lunch. From her window she could see visitors arriving, and she was suddenly struck by her own aloneness. When she had her baby would she be the only new mother in the ward with no family or friends around her?

  Fresh tears welled in her eyes and she was just dashing them away when the door opened, and Ann came in carrying a large bunch of flowers and some fruit.

  'You poor thing, Marcus told me what happened. I was coming in to see Ma anyway, so I thought I'd pop in and see how you were doing.'

  'I'm all right, and Junior is being very patient with me.'

  Ann smiled sympathetically. 'I do know how you feel. I very stupidly allowed myself to get high blood pressure with our first, and I was confined to hospital for the last few weeks. Worse than the waiting and the boredom, was the terrible feeling of guilt; the feeling that somehow I'd failed my baby. It doesn't last though. The moment I held John in my arms, I forgot that I was the most dreadful woman on earth, I was so proud of myself—and him.'

  Diana couldn't help but laugh. Ann was as invigorating as a bracing wind.

  'I can't stop long, but Ma did ask me to see if she could come and see you. They're keeping her in for another couple of days, and she's finding time hanging very heavily on her hands.'

  Diana didn't know what explanation Marcus had given for her accident, but it was obvious that Ann did not know the truth. She would enjoy having Jane Simons' company, all the more so now that she had acknowledged to herself how much she loved her son.

  'I'd love to see your mother,' she told Ann, 'but is she really well enough?'

  'Don't worry, the nurses are keeping an eye on her.' She looked at her watch. 'I've got to go, otherwise I won't get back in time for the school run; it's my turn this week.'

  The room seemed empty after she had gone. She felt restless and uncomfortable. Her bruised body ached, but it was the conflict that raged inside her that hurt the most.

  Marcus had rejected her. She could hardly take it in. She didn't want to take it in, she admitted miserably.

  The female doctor who came to check up on her frowned a little over her withdrawn misery, and counselled her reassuringly, 'Don't feel guilty about what happened; you'd be amazed the number of pregnant ladies who have falls. Babies are pretty tough creatures, you know; and agonising over what might have been won't do you any good at all.'

  She wasn't to know that it wasn't the fall Diana was agonising over as much as Marcus's reaction to her acceptance of his proposal.

  It had thrown her completely. She had become used to him being there in her life; she had been spoiled by his numerous attempts to coax her into a relationship—as she had then thought, and it was only now that she realised how much she had come to count on him.

  She had been deceiving herself. She couldn't live without human contact and love, and it was only now, when Marcus was lost to her, that she was able to accept how much he really meant to her.

  Jane Simons came to see her later in the afternoon. It was a relief to see the older woman looking so well. Although she had forced herself to hide it at the time, Diana had been as appalled and frightened as Mrs Jenkins by that still figure sprawled on the ground.

  'My dear, I've been hearing all about your fall. A similar thing happened to me when I was carrying Marcus. I felt so guilty. And then Ann… but I suppose she's told you.' A warm smile lit Jane's face. 'Diana, I really came to thank you for all you did for me the other day. Mrs J is a treasure, b
ut she's no use at all in an emergency. Of course, poor Marcus has been lashing himself into a fever of guilt about it, but I'm afraid the blame is really my own. I've struggled so hard to hang on to what little mobility and independence I do have, that I'm afraid I've overestimated my own capabilities.

  'Marcus has been on at me for ages to have a companion. He's been frightened all along that something like this would happen. When my sister-in-law was alive it was different. She and I got on so well… It's difficult explaining to Marcus how I feel when he's done so much for me already. Given up so much to… Did you know that he was once engaged?'

  Diana nodded.

  'I never met the girl myself. She was an American, and used to a far more sophisticated life-style than we have here. Marcus worked for her father. They were all set to get married, when my brother died and Marcus learned that he had inherited the farm. She expected him to sell up and invest the money with her father, and although Marcus has always denied it I can't help wondering—if it hadn't been for me, would he have done?'

  Diana didn't know what to say to comfort her friend. 'Marcus doesn't strike me as a man who would let anyone else make his decisions for him,' she ventured at last.

  'No… no, he isn't. But he's like his father—a very compassionate and caring man, with a strong sense of duty. I can't get it out of my mind that he refused to sell the farm because of me…'

  'I'm sure that must have been part of it,' Diana admitted, knowing that the older woman wouldn't accept an easy lie. 'But he seems to love the farm, and he doesn't strike me as a man who's suffering from a broken heart.'

  'No… that's what Ann says. He does love the farm, but he's had a very hard job with it. My brother was old-fashioned in his methods, and he had let the breeding side of the farm go down. Marcus has had to work hard to boost that up again. It's only lately in fact that we've been making a profit on the breeding side of things. Perhaps I wouldn't feel so guilty if Marcus married. He's had several girlfriends, but none of them have ever been serious.'

  'Not even Patty Dewar?'

  Diana flushed guiltily, but it was too late to recall the question. Jane Simon looked surprised.

  'Oh, I'm sure that Marcus looks on Patty as little more than a child. She's definitely not cut out to be a farmer's wife. No, Patty has her eyes set on stage-lights, I suspect.' She looked down at her lap and fiddled for a moment with her handkerchief.

  'Diana, forgive me for interfering, but I suspect you know what I'm leading up to. Marcus has given up his own life for my sake once already, I don't want him to do it again. If he were to meet… someone… who for whatever reasons couldn't live on the farm, I would want him to sell it.

  'I've talked to Ann about this, and with my share of the money from the farm I could have a small self-contained annexe built on to her house, and employ a companion-cum-nurse as Marcus has suggested.'

  'Oh no, you mustn't do that!' Diana was horrified. 'Marcus would be so hurt.'

  'But surely not as hurt as he would be if he lost the woman he loved. Diana my dear… I'm not blind… I've seen the way my son looks at you. And I've also noticed how determined you are to keep him at bay. If that's because of me… or the farm… It can be a lonely life for a young woman used to the bright lights of London.'

  Diana was horrified, Good heavens! Did Jane really think that she…

  'Oh no… please… you mustn't think that.' Her eyes widened abruptly as she saw the pleased smile curving Jane's mouth. Her eyes twinkled naughtily as she watched the realisation dawn in Diana's eyes.

  'I'm sorry, that was naughty of me, but you leapt to Marcus's defence so gallantly and determinedly that it was worth it. Diana, I know my son cares very deeply about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way about him. My dear, I know you must feel that it's too soon after your husband's death, and…'

  Diana shook her head pleadingly, unable to allow her to go on any longer.

  'Please, I can't…'

  'I'm sorry.' Jane was instantly penitent. 'I had no right to interfere, but I love my son very much indeed, and I like you as well Diana. I shouldn't have tried to interfere.'

  Diana bit her lip. 'You didn't… it wasn't… It isn't that I don't care about Marcus…' was all she could manage.

  Jane Simons patted her hand understandingly.

  'It isn't the farm… or you… And anyway, I think Marcus has changed his mind.'

  She heard Jane sigh. 'I can't believe that. Marcus isn't the kind of person who, having once made a commitment to someone, can go back on it.'

  No, he wasn't, and what Diana feared now was that Marcus would come back to say that he would marry her, but for their child's sake, and not because he really wanted her. She didn't want that.

  How ironic life could be—bitterly so at times.

  CHAPTER NINE

  They discharged her from hospital the next day. She went straight back to the pub, where Madge Davies greeted her with almost motherly concern.

  Heaven alone knew what explanation Marcus had given for her accident, but it certainly couldn't have been the correct one. She guessed what it must have been a little later on, over a cup of welcome tea, when Madge said consolingly, 'You must have been terrified when you thought someone was trying to break in. After living in London I suppose you do think every sound outside is threatening, but of course it was only Marcus checking up that everything was all right because he had seen your light on.

  'He said that it was the shock of him knocking on your door that made you fall, but luckily you'd forgotten to lock it and so he was able to get in. Still, you're all right now.'

  Yes, she was, thank God.

  They had told her to take things easy for a day or two at the hospital, but the house was now finished and she was anxious to move in. Her stock was already beginning to arrive, and her ad. for an assistant was in this week's newspaper; she had too much to do to waste time sitting around. Most of her furniture had now arrived, and the bookshelves were in place in the shop.

  She moved into her new home midway through the week. Ann insisted on helping her, refusing to allow her to lift any of the heavy boxes.

  The response to her ad. had been overwhelming. She had sifted through the replies, and was going to interview half a dozen of the applicants.

  She was going to have a very busy summer, she reflected wryly as she closed her back door after her helpers. First there was the launch party for the bookshop, then the summer fete, and then, before she knew where she was, it would be November and the birth of her baby would be imminent.

  Feeling restless, despite her tiring day, she went back downstairs after she had eaten and started sorting out some of the new books.

  Choosing her stock had been one of the hardest decisions she had had to make, and she only hoped she had chosen well. A large part of her space would, of necessity, be devoted to paperbacks; she was still considering branching out into cards and wrapping paper, and a chance comment by a member of the fete committee had set her thinking in another direction.

  The other woman had remarked how difficult it was for the local amateur artists' group to get hold of paints and other equipment. The nearest shop stocking what they needed was in Gloucester, and Diana was mentally debating whether she could afford to turn any of her selling space over to artists' requirements.

  The summer fete was less than a month away now, midway through September—late for a summer fete really, but Ann had explained that it also embraced their harvest festival.

  She had scheduled her opening launch party for the first weekend in September, and at Ann's suggestion had approached the Mothers' Union and the Women's Guild about catering for the affair.

  'They really are good,' Ann had told her, 'and they would be glad of the opportunity to make some money— for the restoration of the church roof. We're more than half-way towards our target, and every little helps.'

  Her baby was due at the end of November, although she had been warned that as it was a first baby it might be late. S
he was now in her sixth month, and apart from the shock of her fall she had never felt healthier.

  The books she had unpacked belonged on the top shelves of the new bookcases. The sudden surge of restless energy that had overtaken her had not abated, and she looked round impatiently for the lightweight aluminium step-ladder she had bought specially for the shop.

  She found them after some searching, tucked away in a corner of the store-room, and carried them through to the shop. The books she had unpacked were mainly dictionaries and other reference volumes.

  Holding a pile of them, she mounted the step-ladder, and started to stack them on the shelves.

  If she did marry Marcus she would have to give all this up… She was surprised how little she minded. The living accommodation was self-contained and could be let out, and she would always find someone to manage the shop for her.

  As Marcus's wife she would be needed at the farm. She felt a small curl of pleasure build up inside her as she abandoned herself to the fantasy of imagining what marriage to Marcus would be like, coming abruptly down to earth when she remembered his response to her acceptance of his proposal.

  How ironic it was that after resisting any sort of relationship at all with him, the moment she admitted to herself that she was wrong and that loving and needing him were more important than the pain she risked in those emotions, he should be the one to step back from her.

  Her euphoria left her, despair taking its place. She had been right to fear loving him, she thought miserably as she completed her task and climbed down from the ladder.

  The evening stretched emptily ahead of her. What was Marcus doing? His mother was back now, perhaps they were having dinner together, or more likely Marcus would be out somewhere on the farm working.

  The phone rang and she rushed to answer it, but it was only Ann asking if she would like to have lunch with them on Sunday. She wanted to say 'yes' but Marcus would probably be there, and the ball was in his court now. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was trying to push him into marriage—or anything else; so she refused.