by Pamela Pope
Piers, with all the self-confidence of youth, had considered himself indestructible and had never contemplated death. What on earth had his financial advisers been thinking of not to make absolutely sure his affairs were in order? With her own legal background Meredith ought to have had the foresight to enquire herself whether he had made a will, but her outlook on life had been much the same as his and the disposal of Piers' fortune if anything should happen to him had never crossed her mind. And if it had she would have been reluctant to ask questions, in case it seemed as if she was expecting a share of it herself.
'How terrible it must have been for you when you heard about it,' Joss was saying, his voice heavy with dangerous sarcasm. 'Just think, if Piers had died in that air crash twenty-four hours later you would have inherited all this instead of Mac Loring. You would have been an heiress, head of a business empire, rich beyond your wildest dreams. Doesn't it make you want to scream at the unfairness of it, especially as you were the one who helped to build it up?'
She stared at him in horror, the implications so far-reaching it was a job to take them in, but the first glimmer of comprehension chilled her with shock. If the wedding had gone ahead that morning before Piers took off on that fatal flight to Paris she would automatically have become his next of kin and everything he owned would have passed into her hands. But why was Joss so frighteningly angry, when it hadn't happened that way?
'Joss, I didn't know anything about this, I swear ...'
His lip curled with scornful disbelief. 'You expect me to believe that? What a clever little actress you are!'
'I don't follow you,' she said. 'What difference would it have made anyway? I haven't come into any money, so as far as I'm concerned nothing is changed.'
'And how that must have upset you,' sneered Joss. 'History has repeated itself, hasn't it? Your mother trusted her money with Mac Loring and lost out, and you've been cheated of any reward for the money and work you invested in his son's company. But you are not prepared to withdraw into an offended shell and do nothing about it, are you? Oh, no!'
His eyes glittered with contempt, and Meredith gasped as she began to see the way it looked to him.
'Joss, you don't really think I came here because I'd heard somehow about all this money? You can't!'
She was horrified. How could anyone think her capable of such tactics, let alone Joss? From the first moment she had known that he didn't have a good opinion of her, the memory of that day in the New Inn when she had overheard him talking still clear in her mind, but lately she had hoped there was a change in his attitude. The revelation that he was still as deeply prejudiced was as great a shock as the news he had brought, for it added to the humiliation of their lovemaking in the hay-loft. Love! His motive had been quite the opposite. There had been no gentleness; only a kind of vindictive pleasure in being able to punish her for being who she was. Yet why did he see no good in her? He had formed his opinions long before they met, without any fairness, and through no fault of her own his antagonism had taken on a new dimension. There was a violent stinging behind her eyelids as she blinked back the tears she refused to shed.
'What other conclusion is there?' he demanded. 'Your mother wouldn't tell me where you'd gone and I actually believed you'd just taken the day off because you were upset at what had happened between us.'
'So how did you find out where I was?'
'Your father told me,' said Joss. 'He was angry and ashamed of you because he thought you'd treated me badly, but I made allowances. I thought I understood.'
'You did. That's just the way it was, I promise you.' Her voice was soft, pleading with him to accept his first evaluation. 'I honestly knew nothing of this.'
She held out the newspaper to him, wanting nothing more to do with it, but instead of taking it he caught her wrist and trapped it in an iron grip.
'Then why did you come hotfoot to Mac Loring?' he shouted. 'Wasn't there anywhere else you could have gone?'
'Mac has always been good to me. He's a very good friend, and I won't have anything said against him!'
'Friend! You have the neck to stand there in that outrageous get-up and tell me he's just a friend! Do you think I was born yesterday? I can see damn well the way it is!' His grip on her tightened and she felt as if an electric current was running up her arm. 'You lost Piers and his millions, so you've got to make do with his father. What difference does it make as long as the money is there. You disgust me!'
Meredith tried to wrench herself free, fury replacing her pathetic attempts to make him see it was all a misunderstanding. She had never been so angry in her life.
'That is a diabolical accusation and I demand an apology!' she shouted, her eyes flashing. 'And while we're slinging mud at each other just think yourself lucky I haven't accused you of rape!'
Joss laughed. It was an insulting, mirthless sound that exploded into the tense atmosphere like the report from a gun. 'That's funny! Coming from you that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!'
She managed to drag her hand away, and the imprint of his thumb on her wrist was like a red branding mark which she rubbed furiously.
'I hate you, Joss Hamblyn,' she breathed. 'I hate you more than anyone on earth!'
'You're a liar,' he said. 'There's a strange chemistry between us that you can't deny any more than I can, and hatred doesn't account for it. I've only got to touch you and there's fire in your veins. Do you think I don't know!'
She turned her back on him and went over to the window, her heart beating faster than a tattoo of drums.
'Get out!' she ordered, seething with anger and frustration, because he was too perceptive. 'Get out and leave me alone. I never want to see you again!'
There was no movement behind her. The traffic continued to build up in the street below and the pavement was alive with people scurrying home from work, all concerned with their own problems. Did any of them feel as wretched as she felt now? Meredith wondered. If so she was very sorry for them. Her head was throbbing and she was shaking so much inwardly she had to cross her arms round her waist and grip her body.
Why didn't he go? All the ingredients of a violent storm pulsed between them, the deadly words they had already flung at each other only sparks that threatened to ignite and cause a far worse scene. She couldn't look at him any more.
'Why did you have to come here, Meredith?' Joss asked, at last.
His tone had changed. There was a note in that rich, low voice she had never heard before, and it tore at her emotions. His tactics were altering, as if against his better judgment he wanted to believe she was in the right after all, but she was not going to be fooled into lowering her defences even a fraction.
'I had to get away from you,' she said.
His soft-soled shoes made no sound on the thick carpet and he came up behind her with the stealth of a panther, swinging her body towards him so suddenly she was unprepared.
'What were you afraid of?' he asked savagely. 'Wasn't I lit to touch you after your precious Piers? Or were you afraid of the passion I can rouse in you?'
She went rigid, rejecting the automatic response that surged through her at his touch; despising herself for the miserable weakness that threatened to overwhelm her.
She jerked back her head. 'Don't flatter yourself. The only passionate feeling you arouse in me is revulsion. Let go of me!'
She tried to fight against him, but her struggles were as useless as the fluttering of a trapped bird. One hand cupped the back of her head so that she couldn't escape the pressure of his mouth as it came down on hers with punishing hardness, and there was no mercy in him. She clenched her fists and thumped his back until there must have been bruises, but it made no impression other than to increase the strength of his hold on her, and gradually her fingers slackened. The more she tried to extricate herself the weaker her resistance became, and a craving to yield made her catch at his hair with feline wildness, but she was too aware of the danger to let her body relax even momentarily
against his. He knew her weakness; would take advantage of it. Keeping her mind as detached as possible from the treacherous betrayal of her senses, she lifted her knee and drove it against him. He let go of her instantly.
'That's the kind of cowardly trick I would expect of you,' he said, after a second of icy silence. 'You haven't the courage to accept the truth that's staring you in the face. You need me, but you think you need money more. To hell with you!'
'I don't want anything you've got to offer, even if you were free to offer it,' she raged.
But Joss had wheeled round and was heading for the door without another word.
Completely stunned, Meredith wasted precious moments staring after his departing figure and heard him take the stairs at a run. Then she rushed after him, leaning over the carved oak banister to call his name because there was no chance of catching up with him.
'Joss! Joss!' If he heard her tormented cry he took no notice. 'Joss, I love you!'
The front door slammed and Meredith collapsed on the floor, her hand trailing forlornly over a carved cherub adorning the post at the top of the stairs, and she began to sob. He was a conceited, cruel, two-timing devil! Of course she needed him. He had become the mainspring of her life, the most vital thing that had ever happened to her, but no way would she ever share him with another woman. And she would never forgive him for the bombastic insults he had hurled at her.
She sobbed for some time, unable to check the flow of tears that Joss had unleashed, and crouched there on the landing carpet she knew she would never be hurt so badly again. It was the last time she would ever give her heart to a man. From now on she would concentrate on picking up the threads of her discarded studies and make a career for herself. She had finished with love for ever.
She went to the bathroom and changed. The Aztec pants suit which had inflamed Joss even more was rolled into a ball and pushed into a waste paper basket, and she stood under the shower until every memory of his touch was washed temporarily away. Then she dressed in a neat grey dress with a white Puritan collar that gave her a feeling of cleanliness and made her look a picture of youthful innocence. It was certainly not the kind of dress to inspire any unwanted overtures, and as she dried her hair and coiled it severely she knew she must never relax her guard for a minute, even with Mac Loring.
She understood now why Mac had been so mysterious, so anxious about the reason for her visit. The papers he had been looking at when she arrived must have been to do with the inheritance and he must have been very suspicious. Of all the untimely coincidences! Naturally he would think her full of resentment, knowing as he did how close his son had come to marrying her, and it was to his credit that he hadn't allowed his suspicions to diminish the warmth of his welcome, but she could see why he had done nothing to encourage her to return to the Piers Loring Group. Her presence there would have been acutely embarrassing once it was known that everything she had worked alongside Piers to achieve now belonged to his father.
She would have to leave the house before Mac got home. After Joss's accusations it wasn't right that she should stay under his roof, although she had no worries at all about her safety. It was the interpretation other people would put on her stay that had to be considered and she was not going to risk incurring any more slander.
She hurriedly packed her bag, wrote a note to thank Mac for his hospitality and assure him she was all right, then slipped out with only a brief word to Dorothy. Her car was in a garage at the back of the house and she drove out without any idea where she was going.
There were hotels, of course but she didn't want to stay in one if she could help it. Much better to find something slightly more permanent if she was going to stay on in London and look for a job. She drove around aimlessly for a while, her brain not functioning with its usual clarity. On street corners the placards now announced the destiny of the Loring Group in huge letters and newsvendors shouted it to the world. The value of shares in the company had dropped drastically. Poor Mac! No one ever seemed to have any faith in him. Meredith had left the paper Joss had brought on the coffee table, so she bought another, but only to read the advertisements for accommodation. She didn't want to read another word about the main story.
There were two that sounded fairly suitable, and she tried unsuccessfully to phone the first one from a phonebox. The second was an address in Knightsbridge, and it seemed more sensible to drive round there and see for herself. It turned out to be a furnished bed-sit of a superior standard which justified the high rent being asked, and Meredith took it, congratulating herself on being so lucky for once.
'When do you want to move in?' the austere grey-haired woman asked.
'Now, if that's all right with you,' said Meredith.
The woman scrutinised her, taking in the neat dress and hair, and must have decided she looked the sort who could be trusted. She only hesitated briefly, asked for a week's rent in advance, and gave her the key.
'Left home in a hurry, did you?' she asked, as Meredith wrote her out a cheque.
Meredith gave her a scathing smile. 'I was disowned by my parents, raped in a barn, and cheated of a million pounds by the man who once double-crossed my mother,' she said, with dry humour.
The crinkled lids lifted to reveal sharp eyes that stared in disbelief.
'Oh, well, just so long as you're not in any trouble,' said the woman.
And that, thought Meredith, was the way to dispel doubts; just tell the truth. Not that Mac had really cheated her, an more than Joss had raped her, but the basic facts sounded too extraordinary to be anything other than a joke.
She rang her mother as soon as she had chance. Julia wanted to know what was going on, but she kept details to the minimum, not even telling her that she had seen Joss. She hardly thought he would mention it, so the less said the better. But the sound of her mother's voice played strange tricks with her emotions and she was suddenly very homesick; very much alone.
Yet not so much alone as Mac Loring. Meredith found sheets and blankets in a cupboard and began making up her bed, hoping the mattress had been recently aired, and as she looked round the room, which was cosily furnished for good old-fashioned comfort rather than elegance, she compared it with the house in Belgravia. Mac was already living luxuriously, but she had a mental picture of him in a few months' time, spending his fortune on pleasures that would buy him only fleeting happiness. He wouldn't be short of company for there would be no shortage of people helping him to spend it, but in the end he would still be lonely. She felt very sorry for him.
'I would have hated to have all that money,' she said to herself. 'It would have been so awful.'
She had enough troubles as it was, without acquiring any more, and by the time she went to bed she was too dazed by the rapidity of events to stay awake and worry any more.
She spent the next few days trying to acclimatise herself to the new situation, going through spells of complete dejection which could only be banished by seeking the company of old friends, and gradually she began to think of Joss less often during daylight hours. It was at night the pain was so bad. Then she would remember the pressure of his mouth on hers, the heat of him against her, and she would grow warm with longing for him, in spite of all her cool resolutions to forget. The feeling she had for him was scorching and destructive, yet at the same time charged with a yearning so deep she could see no way out of the resulting confusion. Living alone was perhaps not the best remedy, but she would have to get used to it.
It was at the end of the following week that Meredith had a very unexpected visitor. She had been out all the morning at an interview for a job with a big financial company, and though she had a good chance of getting it she was by no means sure she would be able to settle there. She was trying to come to a decision when there was a knock at the door. Thinking it was the young man from the room opposite who was beginning to make a habit of popping across to borrow things, she drew her lips into a prim line which changed to the rounded shape of surprise wh
en she saw who it was.
For a second she didn't recognise her. The short hair had grown longer and she was very suntanned, but there was no mistaking the eyes which were enough like her brother's to make Meredith gasp.
'Ellen!' The two girls faced each other a moment, then clasped hands excitedly. 'Oh, Ellen, how wonderful to see you! When did you get back? How's Ian? And the children ...'
'You sound exactly like your mother!' Ellen laughed, coming into the room. 'She told me where you were and I thought it was time someone came and looked you up.' She gazed around. 'This is nice. I like it.'
Meredith boiled the kettle and made tea, talking all the time. Ian, it seemed, would be fit to travel in another two weeks, but Ellen had been so lost without the children the hospital had agreed that it was all right for her to return earlier.
'If you could have seen Kirsty's little face when I arrived,' she said. 'I don't think Oliver knew what was happening, but I'm sure he was just as excited in his way. It was just wonderful to get home—I can't begin to tell you how wonderful.'
'I'm sure it was,' Meredith agreed, and was beset by a strange envy such as she had never experienced before. She didn't begrudge Ellen a thing, but the thought of being so rapturously welcomed home brought a lump to her throat.
Over a hastily prepared lunch they talked without ceasing, mostly of the miraculous recovery Ian had made, and Ellen's praise for the hospital couldn't have been greater.
'No one believed he would pull through,' she said. 'And he wouldn't have done if it hadn't been for those wonderful doctors and nurses. I was telling your mother…'
They talked of Howard and Julia, of Shaun and Gary, of almost everyone in Edencombe, it seemed, except one.
'Meredith,' Ellen said at last, 'you haven't said a word about my brother. What's happened between you? And why are you here?'
The sound of his name made Meredith catch her breath, yet she had known questions were bound to come. It was a temptation to open her heart to Ellen, who was one of the most sympathetic people she had ever met, but it was not her way to unburden her troubles on others, and anyway Ellen wouldn't want to hear any criticism of her brother. However, there had to be some sort of explanation.
