Dear Deceiver(30)

Not quite, it seemed, for something was now happening. She was being  drawn out from the horror and the screams were dying. Press on the one  who held her and they died even more. Now she would as lief have stayed  wherever she was, but her eyes were opening.

And it was no dream. She being held, against a broad chest.

' 'S'all right,' a voice was soothing. ' 'S'all right, girl. You were  dreaming.' He clicked on the bed light. Incredulously she saw that he  was wearing a striped robe and that the bedside chair held blankets and  eiderdown. 'You had a dream,' he repeated as though to a small child.  'But it's all right now. It's gone.'

Unfortunately for Haidee reality was almost as scaring. 'You haven't been sitting up with me?'

'Yes. I thought you shouldn't be alone.' He looked down teasingly and no  longer haggard. It quickened her heartbeat in a way too silly for  words. No reason to feel hot and bothered because of a man's face with  dark sideboards or because a vee of bare chest was a mere hand's breadth  away.

Uncannily he seemed to read her thoughts. 'I seem to be always reminding you. You are my wife.'

Her heart missed another beat as he let himself lazily on to the bed and  lay on his back beside her. 'You know, Suzanne, even with the darns in  your face, you're still my woman. My only woman, God help me.' The dark  head turned towards her.

'You can't mean that,' she faltered.

'Strangely enough, I do.' He lay contentedly gazing at the ceiling. 'Did I ever say that to you before?'

'Not in so many words,' Haidee said guardedly.

'No. We were never honest with each other. You had your reasons. I had  my pride. The next time I'll know better.' He paused and went on: 'A man  gets tired of being on his own. I shall find someone as unlike you as  possible. That is, of course, if you're still determined...'

It was very different from the first night when, walking home, he had  kissed her like a man slaking his thirst. Tonight he had not touched her  and yet words, attitude and admission had penetrated to her core. There  was no part of her not included. The position was compromising-there  was no doubt of that-and a little spring, his legs were bare and she  could see a crinkled scar on one shin, and yet, for all of that, she  knew, quite horrifyingly, that it would be nice to creep up close to him  and go to sleep.

'I suppose you are still...' Rory hazarded boyishly.

'Absolutely.' What a silly word-and to have said it like that, like a bullet from a gun.

He did not move. She wondered how it was she could suddenly feel how  young he was when in fact the delicate skin round his eyes was already  pulling into the lines of time.

'I'd like to stay with you tonight,' he said simply. 'Oh, don't get me  wrong. I'm not making a pass. It would just be to see you're all right.'

'I don't think so. I am all right,' she swallowed. 'There would be no reason, honestly.'

The eyes regarding her allowed themselves a glint of amusement.

'Well, let us not be dishonest,' Rory said tractably. 'That would never do, would it, Johnny?'

He let himself off the bed and walked unwaveringly to the door.

Next day beyond a headache and a stiff side to her face that made eating  difficult Haidee was almost back to normal and to her great joy  hospital was ruled out. Toby, however, with all parts of the forest put  out of bounds to him, was not so happy.

'I can take Punch for his run, though?' he appealed anxiously.

'No,' said Rory shortly.

'But that's cruel,' Toby objected. 'Dogs need exercise.'

'And woods at night need care. You've forgotten that once too often.'

It was a severe punishment, but all wheedlings were useless-not even the  last one, which seemed inspired. 'What about the poachers? Supposing  they come back. I've been watching for them.'

'The same way you watched for the owl?' Rory chipped unkindly.                       
       
           



       

'Oh, please,' Haidee put in as Toby flushed to the ears. 'I'm all right. Honestly.'

It earned her a steely glance.

'We'll do it my way, if you don't mind. And that includes taking things easy for the next few days. No trekking up to Dublin.'

'What about Mother Mary?' The intervention from Jennie's side of the room was startling.

'What about Mother Mary?' Haidee echoed.

'You've never been to see her. Are you going to?' If Rory's eyes had  been steel, Jennie's were dark pools. The more beautiful, the more  opaque. They gave not an iota away.

Haidee, setting out for the village with her shopping basket, sent a  fearful glance at the grey pile of the convent. The shape of destiny-and  suitable perhaps that it should be walled and prisonlike, the complete  opposite of the forest.

She had always felt that Glenglass Forest could have been a Cinerama  location. This morning, humming with life, it was no less so. An empty  lorry going up for its load of poles passed her and the driver waved. An  orange tractor was stationary with its engine running. Taking a short  cut to the road, she saw the blaze of Rory's bill hook on the trees  marked down for felling. It was a brilliant morning and colour swam out  of the mist, a red sweater, a bed of gold beech leaves, a scimitar of  puce mountain glistening against the blue. A Cinerama setting indeed,  but her days in it were numbered.

'And where would the pretty maid be going?' She had walked quite blindly into Paul's teasing arms.

'To inquire for you, of course,' he explained when she returned the  question. 'I know grapes are traditional, but this is the best I could  do.'

The size of the box of chocolates was embarrassing. She felt a complete  fraud and said so. Paul waved this aside. 'It was no sleigh ride, love,  and I feel partly responsible.'

It seemed like the prelude to another session of persuasion.

'Don't let's start that again,' she said gently. 'It's nice of you to worry, but I want to see it out if I can.'

'Oh yes,' he agreed surprisingly. 'I know when I'm beaten. I might say it's the first time I've lost out to trees and deer.'

'Not deer, I'm afraid,' she corrected. 'There are some I believe on  forest land, but I haven't seen any. They're very hard to find.'

'Would you like to?'

She had wanted to for so long that frankly she had given up hope. She  said so without rancour. You had to live under Rory's roof to appreciate  how busy he was. It was no wonder he had never implemented those half  promises to turn up some deer for her. Old Willie Byrne of whom the  forestry workers had spoken remained a possible source of inquiry, but  he lived several miles away.



Paul listened attentively. This was how he had been the first time she'd  met him, so good about adjusting the blind in the railway carriage, so  comfortingly knowledgeable about where they were going.

'I'll tell you what,' he said now. 'I'm leaving tonight. This time I  mean it. I can't rout out the deer for you, but I could rout out old  Willie. What say we go and see him this afternoon?'

She hesitated, not liking to dampen his enthusiasm. To know the herd's  whereabouts was one thing, to track than down unaided quite another. If  staying in Glenglass had done nothing else it had knocked some of her  fairy-tale expectations. And there was another point, one which had just  occurred to her. Willie could be as big a danger as Mother Mary. He  must have known Suzanne, perhaps he had taken her deer-stalking. How to  get round that one?

'Nothing simpler. Just be yourself,' Paul prescribed. 'Haidee Brown. Wear your glasses,' he added as an afterthought.

'Oh, honestly!' Suddenly it was quite distasteful. 'It's very  complicated. Sometimes I'm Haidee, sometimes I'm Suzanne, sometimes I'm  Johnny.'

'Forget it, then,' Paul conceded equably. 'I was only trying to help.'

It made her feel ungrateful. And to make matters worse a van passing at that moment pulled up and Rory let down the window.                       
       
           



       



'Going or coming?' he inquired pointedly of Haidee. 'Can I give you a lift?'

A child caught jam stealing could not have felt more guilty. He would  conclude she had met Paul by arrangement and if he made a scene as he  had done on Saturday she didn't think she could stand it. She gave her  explanation quickly and jerkily, her eyes like pennies.

Astonishingly, the storm did not materialize. Instead Rory swung the van  door open. 'Okay, so you want a lift. Hop in. What about you?' he  called goodhumouredly to Paul.

It was like a dream, but the climax was yet to come.

'By the way, sorry for the way I spoke on Saturday. I was feeling pretty  rough at the time, but I went too far. I admit it.' He said it almost  like an uncle, and, extraordinarily, the gesture, welcome as it was,  brought Haidee a pang. He could seem so young and so old. Did he feel  the age he sounded now?

Paul, at any rate, took full advantage of the change. He accepted the  apology with grace, commented on Haidee's lucky escape and ended with  the suggestion that she might care for a drive that afternoon. Even this  did not break the spell.