Margaret Way - It Happened in Sydney

Please, God, let that be so!

Sonya ran to the kitchen, where she poured a glass of water. “What’s David’s number?” she asked when she returned. Swiftly she unknotted Marcus’s tie, then the top button of his shirt. Next she put the glass into his hand. “Medication?”

“I’m fine, Sonya,” he insisted. “Please don’t fuss, my dear.” Marcus blew out his cheeks.

“I’ll get David.” Sonya ran to the landline in the kitchen and rang the number. Fear was pouring into her. She didn’t like the look of Marcus, no matter what he said. She should be ringing the ambulance whether he forbade it or not. David would most probably still be with Emma.

He answered on the fourth ring. “It’s Sonya,” she said, not trying to control her anxiety. “I’m at the house with Marcus. He’s taken a sick turn. He won’t let me ring the ambulance. He forbids it. He wants you. I’m going to ring his doctor.”

“Leave that to me,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll be there in under ten minutes. I’m not far away.”

When Sonya returned to the drawing room Marcus was still on the sofa, his torso slumped back, his right leg extended.

“Sit up straight, Marcus,” Sonya advised, going to him. “David is coming. He’s going to ring your doctor. They’ll be here shortly.” She held his hand within her own. “I love you, Marcus,” she found herself saying. “You’re a lovely man.”

They were still sitting, holding hands, when David strode in, followed by the doctor. David stood over them, his expression grave. The doctor went straight to his patient. He made a quick check. “I’m getting you to hospital, old man. Just to be sure.”

“I don’t want to go, Bart,” Marcus insisted. “I want to sit here with Sonya for ever.”

“Trust me, Marcus,” the doctor said. “You’re better off in hospital. David has already called the ambulance. If I’m not mistaken it’s turning into the drive.”

“We’ll follow in my car,” David said, watching Sonya gently withdraw her hand from his uncle’s. On the fourth finger of her left hand was a magnificent diamond engagement ring, a spectacular central stone flanked by dazzling smaller stones.

Acute anxiety for his uncle was overlaid by a bitter torrent of anger. He could hardly bear to look at her. There was the proof. She’d snagged Marcus hook, line and sinker.

“What are you all thinking of?” Marcus was trying hard to smile. “I’ll be as right as rain in another half-hour.”

“You’ve not been looking after yourself as well as you should have, Marcus,” Bart Abbott said. “You’ll have to spend the night. I want to run a few tests.”

THEY were only granted a few minutes alone with Marcus before he was whisked away. Sonya was greatly heartened by the fact he looked a little better and he was safely in hospital where he belonged.

David completely ignored her.

“I can get a cab,” she said, when they were out in the night air.

“You’ll get mugged wearing that ring,” he said curtly. “Come with me.” He took hold of her arm.

The contempt in his voice made her blood boil. “Take your hand off me, David,” she ordered.

He brought them both to an abrupt halt. “Don’t start here. Don’t start now,” he warned. “I’m taking you home. I have no choice. I never leave a woman on her own at night. Besides, Marcus would confidently expect it of me to see you home. I need to do everything in my power to keep his fiancée safe.”

“No fiancée,” she flashed back.

“I would think that damned great ring is a sure sign of an engagement,” he challenged harshly. “Once we’re in the car I can take another look. Perhaps it’s the grandest friendship ring of all time.”

“Maybe it was meant that way.” She was angry enough to say anything.

He hit the remote, unlocking his car. “Get in.”

It was useless to protest. He meant business. “Aren’t you interested in hearing my side of the story?” she asked as she tried to buckle her seat belt, all fingers and thumbs with nerves.

With a muffled exclamation he did it for her, then he started the engine, turning a taut profile. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked with severity.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorted, refusing to give him the psychological advantage. “You’re all churned up and it isn’t only Marcus’s sick turn, upsetting as it is. It’s the ring that’s bugging you. So does he have a heart condition or what?”

He didn’t answer until they were out onto the road. “Not that I know of,” he said tersely. “Bart is right. Marcus hasn’t looked after himself in years. We all thought he was committing a form of slow suicide after Lucy died. I know he’s had to have a course of B12 injections. Iron. Ah, what the hell? The sick turn is bound to have happened because he’s worked himself into a lather over you.”

“That’s right, blame me. It’s not unexpected like Marcus giving me the ring was. You need a scapegoat. He’s only fifty-five, isn’t he?” she challenged angrily. “He isn’t seventy or eighty!”

He threw her a scathing glance. “I ask you. Would seventy or eighty have been too much mileage on the clock for you? What about ninety? Would you have said yes, then?”

She drew in a ragged breath. “I haven’t said yes now. I really don’t appreciate being insulted. Marcus asked me in for a few minutes. We went into the drawing room. I sat down. Next thing, Marcus reached into his pocket, and before I could manage a word he’s shoving a ring on my finger.”

He made a sound of utter disbelief. “That must have shocked you out of your mind, Sonya darling.”

The darling was a dark insult, but her heart gave a crazy jolt. “This is no time for us to fight, surely? I’m very fond of Marcus. He’s a good, kind man, but I didn’t ask him to fall in love with me. It took me a while to even see it coming.”

“But you did see eventually, Sonya,” he jeered. “You knew you had him in the palm of your hand. Now you’ve got the pay-off.”

She was so angry she felt like jumping out of the car. “Here, have it!” she cried tempestuously as she wrenched off the ring. “It weighs a ton. You have it. It’ll be a lot safer with you.” She put it into the glovebox.

His smile was one of outright mockery. “You’re lost to the stage, Sonya. But tell me, is there any history of psychotic behaviour in your family? You have to have one, even if they’re tucked well out of sight.”

“Oh, I’ve got one all right,” she answered through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t know about the sort of people I’ve had to live with, David Wainwright with your life of privilege, loved and admired on all sides. You wouldn’t know much about the kind of relatives I have.”

“Professional con artists, I suspect,” he said when it was cruel. “A crime family, maybe? Some in prison?”

“Why don’t you just drive?”

She had the door of the Mercedes open before he had come to a complete stop.

“That was stupid,” he reprimanded her, getting out. “I’ll see you to your door.”

“You stay here.” Her hostility was in plain sight. “I’m in shock.”

“Me too. But while Marcus is out of commission, I’m responsible for the safety of his fiancée,” he said with suave contempt.

She threw up her shining head. “What part of ‘I’m in shock’ don’t you understand?”

“Let’s go up,” he said, moving purposefully towards her.

Had she resisted, she wouldn’t have been in the least surprised had he thrown her over his shoulder.