Tomorrow's Bride(22)

       
           



       

'And remember, you're old enough-----' he might have been deaf for all  the notice he took '-and obviously experienced enough, to know that  married men, whatever their protestations, are seldom there when you  need them. When the going gets tough, that's when they rediscover all  the benefits of married life-the safety of it, the comfort. That's when  they hurry back to their wives and children.'

'Get out.' There was nothing you could tell this man; his pigheadedness  was so total that for a moment she forgot her misery. 'Get out of my  house and out of my life.'

'Yes.' Now his calmness was a foil for her anger. 'I can see now I was  wrong to come.' His laughter was self-deprecating. 'It's amazing,  amusing too, how bruised pride can undermine the most level-headed man.  Not that my relationship with you has ever been level-headed-mad,  deranged might have been more apposite-but that taunt... the suggestion  that you were ashamed of that night we spent together in Paris... If it  hadn't been for that, things could have been so very... Ah, well.'

He sighed, turned for the door, and stopped. 'I confess, Leigh, that was  the bitterest cut of all. Especially in view of what I know now.'  Firmly he strode through the hall and, barely aware of what she was  doing, she followed, watched him place his hand on the doorknob.

'I'm speaking to you as a lawyer now, Leigh. Prepare yourself for a  rough ride. Once they become public, these things are inevitably  humiliating-matters are made public which should concern only two  people, and of course the gossips won't let it die. So, you may find  you're not as tough as you thought you were.'

He eased open the door. 'Already the Palais is buzzing with speculation,  and it won't be long till the media are in there too. I wish I could do  something to help, but I doubt if there's much anyone can do. If I had a  desert island somewhere I'd be happy to lend it to you, but...' He  smiled wanly, shrugged. 'I hope to God you find it all worth it in the  end.' He tipped her chin upwards, looked down into her eyes for what  could have been a lifetime. 'Goodbye.' The door closed behind him. 'My  love.'

She dreamed she had heard him whisper those words as he disappeared, but  that was sheer self-delusion and she had over-indulged in that for more  years than she cared to admit.

It was then that she began to shiver, long, racking rigors which  reminded her of her barely dry hair and scantily covered frame. But even  when she had dressed and had turned the heating to boost she could not  control her shaking.

She managed-just-to get through the meal with Jane, but her friend  insisted on leaving early, after seeing her into bed with a hot-water  bottle and a supply of aspirin.

'Now, you see you take things easy tomorrow,' Jane ordered before  closing the bedroom door. "This kind of flu clears quickly, as a rule,  so long as you catch it early. And you promise you'll call me if you  need any help tomorrow?'

But when she was alone, staring numbly into the darkness, Leigh knew  that her symptoms had little to do with the flu virus; much more likely  she was heading for a complete breakdown. After all, she thought  hopelessly, it had been incubating for the last five years.





CHAPTER EIGHT



ESCAPE was much easier than Leigh would have guessed possible, a matter  which in less fraught circumstances might have been the cause of some  concern. She visited the doctor, who, obviously sensing the emotional  tension simmering so dangerously just below the surface, agreed all too  readily that his patient was suffering from nervous exhaustion. What was  more surprising was that Kyle, far from trying to dissuade her,  appeared totally divorced from the problems which her going away would  engender.

'I'm sorry, Kyle, leaving you in the lurch like this, especially with Anna away, but I feel I must have a break.'

'What?' Her explanations might have passed him by. 'Sorry, Leigh, what did you say?'

His lack of interest struck at her, adding to her present low  self-esteem, and brought the all too ready tears pricking again. 'Just,  as I said, I'm going to have to take sick-leave. I'm … ' Her voice  wobbled.

'Oh.' For the first time he looked at her with recognition. 'Well, if  you must, of course... How long did you say you're likely to be away?'

'I'm not sure.' Firmly she banished her basic inclination, determined to  stick to generalities. This was not, not the moment to throw in the  towel, to give up everything she had striven for over the years. Later  on, when she was in a calmer frame of mind, then would be the time, if  she decided, to hand in her resignation, to make up her mind that Europe  was scarcely big enough to hold both her and Patrick Cavour. Time  enough then to look for something else. North America, perhaps. Even the  Antipodes would hardly be distant enough. Eventually she spoke again.  'At least two weeks.' And maybe even two months, she promised herself.                       
       
           



       

'That's all right, Leigh.' Kyle appeared to be pulling himself together.  'Besides, quite apart from sick-leave, you haven't had a holiday this  year, and-----' he looked at her more closely '-you don't look your  usual assured self, I must say.'

'No.' Again she struggled with her threatening emotions. 'Well, if you  agree... I'm on standby for a flight to Heathrow later today. But.. .are  you sure you can manage on your own, Kyle? If you like, I could ring an  agency before I go and-----'

'No, don't do that. In fact, I've just decided that I'm going to close  the office for a spell. Things are quiet this time of the year, and if  they pile up, so what? You're not to worry. Promise.'

'Yes, I promise.' It was easy to do that when she had lost all  interest-in her job, her employer, in the very fate of Europe. Even the  fear of Kyle on the rampage through her immaculate filing system failed  to move her.

'You'll let me know how things go?' Although he smiled faintly, there  was no doubt it was an effort. 'I can't afford to lose you. You know  it's you who keeps the whole thing together.'

'I'll let you know. As soon as I can.'



Her arrival back at the vicarage in Great Whencote, the place where she  had been born, where she had spent the greater part of her life,  coincided with the most perfect spell of late summer weather. It was all  so peaceful and undemanding that she knew her decision had been the  right one. If there existed on the face of the earth a place where souls  could be restored, then this corner of rural Gloucestershire must  surely have been it.

'You do know your mother is coming home next week?' Her father, seeming  for once to be aware of what was going on around him, crumbled the last  morsel of bread on his plate then assiduously pressed it together with a  few slivers of cheese into a pellet which was popped into his mouth.

'Next week?' Leigh raised her head in surprise, pushed her chair back  from the well-scrubbed kitchen table. 'But I thought she had another  month? At least, that's what I gathered from the last letter I had from  her.'

"That was the plan, but-----' David Gregory's smile was almost  mischievous '-she almost hinted she was feeling homesick. Strange, isn't  it?' His expression grew more sombre. 'All these years she has seemed  to dislike living here. But maybe-who knows?-this spell apart might have  been good for both of us. I know I've missed her, and I shall tell her  so.'

'I should do,' she said gently. 'We all like to hear these things.  Anyway, it does seem as if she's enjoyed herself, and the climate has  obviously suited her.'

'Mmm. Well, that's another reason for hoping the weather holds for  another week or two. It would be a pity if she were to come back to the  chilly weather we had last month. Speaking of that, why not make the  most of it and treat yourself to another spell in the hammock this  afternoon? You look better already. You know, I was quite concerned  about you when I met you at the station-so white and all eyes...'

'Mmm. I know.' Abruptly Leigh rose and began to collect the debris of  their simple meal. 'Thought we'd got a panda to stay when I looked in  the hall mirror. The after-effects of that virus I was telling you  about. And I think I'll take you up on that-indulge myself while I can.  There's nothing quite like settling down in the hammock with a good  book, knowing perfectly well that you'll be drowsing before you reach  the bottom of the page...'

'A wonderful feeling,' he agreed abstractedly as he picked up a  newspaper and frowned over the crossword. 'I'm going to settle down in  the study for an hour... Are you feeling inspired, Leigh? Perhaps you  can solve this. It should be so easy, and it looks like "moped", but...  "Something for which the leg-weary cyclist pined." Why...'

"There is something called a mo-ped, Father.' Leigh smiled affectionately. 'It's a sort of underage motorcycle.'