Laura Possessed

by Anthea Fraser

  She frowned and lit another cigarette. Actually, she had to admit that Edward had a point about the effect her apparently strenuous afternoon had had on Laura. When she herself had arrived back from the hospital with the white-faced Peter in tow, Mrs. Baines had told her Laura had returned sometime previously and gone straight to her room. Anxious for news of Lewis’s reception of the curtains, she had gone straight up, but Laura had been uncommunicative to the point of idiocy. There was a glazed look in her eyes and she had answered monosyllabically all Caroline’s impatient questions.

  Against her will, Caroline suddenly remembered the occasions when she had felt less than comfortable in Laura’s presence—the uncanny incident of the ‘little boy’ with whom Lewis had so ridiculously identified, the trees which she had seen in the garden. She gave a superstitious shiver. Three hundred years ago Laura would probably have been burned at the stake, she thought grimly as she went to see about the evening meal.

  Laura had elected to stay in bed for the rest of the evening, and conversation during dinner was stilted, both Edward and Caroline wary of each other and still going over in their minds the unpleasant scene in the sitting-room. As soon as they had finished, she slipped upstairs to see if Peter had settled and was relieved to find him asleep and the colour creeping back into his cheeks. They had assured her at the hospital that it was the shock which had upset him rather than the actual impact of the ball which, it transpired, had fortunately only struck him a glancing blow.

  She hesitated on the landing outside Laura’s door and, hearing no sound, tapped lightly and eased the door open. Laura, too, was sound asleep, a curious little smile on her lips. Caroline stood for a moment looking at her, trying to come to terms with her resentment. The thin, pale face and the tumbled hair spread over the pillow made her seem much younger than she was, hardly older in fact than in that first, bitter memory she had at last confided to Edward.

  When she returned to the sitting-room, it was to find Edward settled for the evening in front of the television. She paused, her restlessness still tormenting her. The room felt close, and outside the last of the evening sunshine was gilding the new green leaves.

  ‘I think I’ll just take the car out for a run,’ she announced abruptly.

  Edward turned in surprise. ‘Why on earth?’

  ‘I don’t know. I feel all tensed up, and driving always relaxes me. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Okay, suit yourself.’ He turned back to the set. In the hall Caroline caught up the coat she had dropped on the monk’s bench earlier when she came back with Peter, and, feeling in the pocket for the car keys, let herself out of the front door. She stood for a moment breathing deeply. It was much milder than it had been earlier in the day, and she remembered with a sense of surprise that it was already May.

  She wound the car window down, wishing momentarily that she had a sports car and could set off roofless down the country lanes. Gradually, as she drove, she felt herself begin to relax, enjoying the breeze which lifted her hair. The sun which had lured her out had set now and the air was thickening slightly with the approach of dusk. She had no idea where she was going and she slowed down a little, contentedly cruising along and letting those in a hurry pass her by. She rounded the bend in the road by the Three Bells and suddenly all her tensions returned in full force and she jammed her foot on the brake, causing angry tooting from the motorist behind who had narrowly missed going into the back of her car. She hardly heard it, her eyes on the blue sedan parked at the end of the row. That, beyond a shadow of doubt, was Lewis’s car. Lewis was inside the pub now. She had only to go through that door to be with him. The blood was thundering in her ears. Dare she go in? She had the curtains as an excuse—she was anxious to know if they’d been exactly right.

  Perhaps it would be better to drive on. For all her sophistication, Caroline Hardy had never been into a pub by herself in her life. But she wouldn’t be alone for long. He might even suggest she come round to see the curtains for herself tomorrow. Trembling a little, she turned the car’s nose in beside the blue sedan and before her courage failed her, walked quickly across the concrete and pushed her way through the door.

  A wave of heat and smoke hit her as a crescendo of sound clogged her ears. For a moment she stood blinking, getting her bearings, and a group of farmers at the near end of the bar turned round and nudged each other, whistling appreciatively. She was on the point of retreat when, across the curve of the bar, she caught sight of the back of Lewis’s head. She would have recognized it anywhere, the way the thick dark hair fringed the collar of his shirt and the broad, slightly bowed shoulders. Her heart seemed to be in her throat as she inched her way through the crowds until, rounding the bar, she came face to face with him. He was talking to a short, fair-haired man, but the force of her gaze raised his eyes to hers and for a long moment they stared at each other. Then he straightened slowly and she went the last few paces towards him.

  ‘Well, Caroline! This is a pleasant surprise!’

  She said awkwardly, ‘I was passing and saw your car, so I thought I’d just pop in and see if the curtains were all right.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. Harry, this is the lady who so kindly—what’s the expression?—“ran up” my curtains for me. Such an ambiguous phrase, I always feel! Caroline Hardy, Harry Tait.’

  Harry—of course! The friend who was staying with him, whose advent had occasioned the need for the curtains in the first place. A wave of disappointment washed over her as she turned to Harry, who was regarding her with open curiosity and approval.

  ‘How do you do?’ she said a little stiffly.

  ‘What’ll you drink, Caroline? Gin and tonic?’

  ‘Please.’

  Lewis turned to the bar and Caroline, finding Harry Tait’s eyes still on her, groped for something to say to him. ‘Will you be in this country long, Mr.—?’

  ‘Harry’ll do, my dear. Harry’ll do. No, just till Saturday, actually. Then I’m off to Brussels for some specialist reporting on the Common Market. I was just telling Lewis here how surprised we all were that he’d come back to this country and even gone as far as buying a house. He was always the most footloose of us all, but I can see that this district has its attractions!’ He winked at her and she looked hastily away and took the glass Lewis was holding out to her.

  ‘Did Laura manage the curtains all right?’ she asked hurriedly. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come myself.’

  He leant casually on the bar beside her and she was breathlessly aware of his nearness as, had she but known it, Laura had been before her.

  ‘Yes, she made a very stout effort for such a frail little thing. She looks as though a puff of wind would blow her away, doesn’t she?’ He tilted his glass and stared down at the swirling liquid. ‘Did she tell you she wants to write my biography?’

  ‘What?’ Her face spun towards him. ‘Laura does?’

  He looked up, meeting her startled eyes with a faint smile. ‘Didn’t she mention it?’

  ‘No, but I’ve hardly seen her. When I got back from the hospital—’

  ‘Of course—forgive me. I was forgetting. How is Peter?’

  ‘All right, thank God. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded on the phone. But when I got home Laura had gone up to rest and I haven’t had much chance to talk to her since. When did all this come up?’

  ‘This afternoon. She was looking through some of the scrapbooks that were piled on the floor waiting to be sorted out.’

  ‘You didn’t agree, surely?’

  ‘I rather think I did, eventually. Not that it matters much one way or the other to me, and she seemed very set on it.’

  Caroline was silent, wondering how this development would affect her own relationship with Lewis. Would they have more chance to meet if Laura were writing about him, or less?

  Lewis added smilingly, ‘I suppose I have to admit to being rather flattered.’

  Caroline said, ‘Of course, it’s the violence she’s interested in’—and
broke off, flushing.

  Lewis laughed. ‘Well, that’s put me in my place!’

  ‘I’m sorry, I only meant—Look, I must go. I told Edward I wouldn’t be long. It was—nice to meet you, Mr. Tait.’

  Lewis straightened and put his glass on the bar counter. ‘I’ll see you to the car.’

  ‘There’s no need—’ But he gave her a little push and she started to make her way back through the crowded room, her temples pounding. She shouldn’t have come—she had only looked foolish—why hadn’t she just kept on driving?

  As they came out into the cool near darkness, she said shakily, ‘I’m sorry. I spoiled your evening with your friend.’

  ‘You don’t really believe that.’ His voice was low and she felt herself start to tremble again.

  ‘Lewis, I—’ But he had taken her arm and drawn her into the patch of shadows round the corner of the building.

  ‘You mustn’t take any notice of Harry,’ he said softly. His hands came up to her shoulders, kneading them under the light coat. ‘He couldn’t matter less.’ And then, on a kind of groan, ‘Oh, God, Caroline!’ and he pulled her roughly against him, his mouth harsh and demanding. She gave a choked little cry as her arms flew round his neck, straining herself against him while wave after wave of scalding weakness washed over her, draining every ounce of strength and will power. At last his mouth moved onto her face, her hair, her throat, and with a supreme effort she managed to push him away.

  ‘No, Lewis! Not here!’

  ‘Then where? When?’ His hand cupped her chin and he kissed her again, holding her head rigid until he had finished.

  ‘Not now!’ She could hardly speak, but a car turning off the road had briefly illuminated them with its headlamps and recalled her to their position. ‘Lewis, Harry’s waiting!’

  ‘Damn Harry to perdition!’ He pulled her close a little less urgently, brushing his lips over her face. ‘He’s leaving first thing on Saturday. Can you find any excuse to come to the cottage?’

  ‘The curtains?’ she whispered against his mouth.

  ‘The wonderful, marvellous, quite fantastic curtains! And I haven’t thanked you for them yet, either.’

  Just round the corner from them the bar door swung open on a burst of sound and several people came out, laughing and talking as they made their way to their cars. Reluctantly, almost painfully, Caroline moved away from him. His hand reached out and held hers tightly.

  ‘When will you come?’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps after shopping, on Saturday morning?’

  ‘I won’t move from the house all day!’

  Their eyes strained toward each other through the dusk.

  ‘Good night, Lewis.’

  ‘Good night, Caroline.’ He lifted his hand and touched her hair, then they walked together round the corner and he pushed his way back into the bar. The wave of noise and light spilled out toward her as though trying to draw her back, before the door swung shut behind him. For a few moments she leant, weak and trembling, against the cold stone wall. Then she pushed herself away and walked unsteadily to the car. Once inside, she gripped the wheel with both hands and rested her forehead between them.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, God!’ It was out in the open now. No more demure, averted gazes, no more wondering whether he felt as she did. He did, and they had acknowledged their impatience to each other. The sick trembling buffeted her whole body. The passion his kisses had aroused in her was beyond her experience, aeons away from the placid, pleasurable contentment which had been her response to sixteen years of Edward’s lovemaking. This was something savage and essentially selfish, something that left her ashamed but crying out for more.

  In a dream she forced herself to put the key in the ignition and, hardly knowing what she was doing, drive slowly back home.

  Edward was propped up in bed reading when she went upstairs. He raised an eyebrow as she came into the room, but she avoided meeting his eye and he made no comment. Swiftly, trying to conceal her shaking fingers; she undressed and took a shower, gradually turning the tap until the icy needles stung her body with the impact of a hailstorm. She was still saying, ‘Oh, God!’ under her breath, over and over like an endless litany.

  As she slid between the sheets beside Edward, he reached up and switched off the light. They lay side by side in silence while their light-dazzled eyes gradually adjusted to the outlines of the darkened room. After a few minutes, Edward stretched out a hand.

  ‘Sorry, love,’ he said gruffly, ‘I didn’t mean to fly off the handle.’

  She had stiffened at his touch, her mind turbulently boiling at the memory of Lewis’s hands. She forced herself to say briefly, ‘I’m sorry too.’ Sorry for the way I betrayed you tonight, for the way I intend to go on betraying you, sorry, sorry. The word meant nothing.

  ‘Fine. ’Night.’ And Edward, innocently convinced that all was well again, turned unsuspectingly on his side and went to sleep. But Caroline lay stiff and unmoving, her eyes wide open while she made one final, halfhearted attempt to purge Lewis Castleton from her thoughts, knowing that the battle was lost before it had properly begun.

  CHAPTER SIX

  As it happened, Caroline did not manage to go to the cottage that Saturday. She slept late the morning after her meeting with Lewis, having fallen into a deep sleep just as dawn was paling the sky, and she did not even hear Edward leave the house for work. She awoke finally at nine o’clock to the sun streaming onto the bed and the telephone on the table beside her jangling stridently.

  She pushed back her heavy hair and reached for it, with the half-formed hope that it might be Lewis, but the brisk masculine voice said succinctly, ‘Caroline? Richard. How’s Laura?’

  ‘Laura?’ She was still struggling free of the last strands of sleep. ‘Much the same as when you last phoned. Up and down.’

  ‘Um. Okay if Gilly and I descend on you for the weekend?’

  ‘Oh—I—yes, of course.’ As long as she could lose them tomorrow morning. Tomorrow—Richard was talking and she forced herself to attend.

  ‘. . . so we can be with you around six.’

  She frowned, having lost the thread. ‘This evening?’

  ‘Most assuredly this evening. And by the way, don’t worry about making up two beds—we shan’t use them. ’Bye, Caroline, see you later.’ The phone clicked in her ear. Slowly she replaced the receiver and lay back again. Damn Richard! Why should he be so free when everyone else was bogged down with some responsibility or other? Bogged down? She? In view of what she was planning? She stared resentfully at the ceiling. She was conventional enough to have the prospect of her affair with Lewis marred by the voice of conscience and fleetingly envied Richard his apparent lack of it.

  She swung her feet to the floor and stretched luxuriously, mentally going over the planned weekend meals in view of the additions to the household. She would go into Ledbrook this morning and do most of the weekend shopping, leaving only a few things over for tomorrow, to serve as an excuse to get out of the house to meet Lewis.

  Laura was still at the breakfast table when she reached the dining-room. Caroline sat down and poured herself a cup of black coffee. ‘And how are you today?’

  ‘All right, thanks.’

  ‘No ill effects after your tiring afternoon?’

  ‘No. How’s Peter?’

  ‘He seems all right. He’s curled up on his bed with a comic. By the way, that was Richard on the phone. He and his—girl are coming for the weekend.’

  Laura’s face lit up. ‘Oh, lovely! What time will they get here?’

  ‘About six, he said. I must get Mrs. Baines to air the bed.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘What’s all this about your writing Lewis’s biography?’

  Laura’s eyes shot to her face. ‘How did you hear about that?’

  Damn, damn, damn! ‘I had to go out last night and happened to bump into him with his friend.’

  ‘Harry Tait. Yes, they were together in Biafra a few years ago. In f
act, Lewis saved his life.’

  ‘Really? Did he tell you that?’

  She looked vaguely puzzled. ‘I suppose he must have done.’

  ‘It wasn’t mentioned last night, but I dare say it’s hardly the thing that comes up in ordinary conversation. Tell me, what made you pick on Lewis?’

  Laura smiled slightly at her choice of words. ‘I think it was actually Edward who suggested him when I first said I was thinking of basing the book on a central character who’d come up against a lot of violence. Then, when I looked through Lewis’s scrapbook yesterday, it all seemed to come so fantastically alive—almost as though I’d been there myself and could recognize different scenes. I knew then that it was something I had to do. The worst part was trying to convince Lewis!’

  ‘I can imagine,’ Caroline said drily. ‘And when do you propose to start work?’

  ‘Probably tomorrow, I think.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ The word jolted out of her in alarmed surprise.

  ‘Oh, of course, I can’t now, with Richard and Gilly coming.’

  ‘Did Lewis suggest tomorrow?’ Caroline enquired carefully.

  ‘Yes, he said Harry would have gone by then. I’ll have to let him know.’

  Caroline went on drinking her coffee, her mind churning. He must have forgotten all about the arrangement when he suggested she should also go round. How cozy it would have been if both she and Laura had turned up on his doorstep! Fortunately Laura would not now be going, but she didn’t intend to let her visitors stand in her own way.

  They arrived, breezy and unapologetic, at eight o’clock, thereby ensuring that the dinner had dried up in the oven. Caroline bit back what she considered her fully justified annoyance and welcomed them civilly but Richard, putting her gently to one side, went straight to his sister. He took both her hands and studied her face anxiously.