CATHY WILLIAMS - The Price Of Deceit

‘No children,’ he mused, with enough thick irony in his voice to make her flush with anger. ‘No husband. What happened to the misguided lover?’

She didn’t have to think too hard about that one. She remembered the fictitious lover whom she had hurled at Dominic when he had demanded a reason from her, a reason for leaving.

‘That’s none of your business,’ she muttered, looking away and staring at the playing-fields, where more girls were playing hockey in the distance.

It had never struck her before, but now she thought, how strange, to surround myself with children, children who represent everything that I no longer have—hopes, dreams, a life ahead to be filled with everything I shall never be able to attain.

Would Dominic Duvall ever know just how successfully he had wrecked her life? She would never forgive him for that, even though she knew that the fault for it all lay in her own hands, because she should never have become involved with him in the first place. Not in the way that she had, not fuelled by motives which had seemed so right at the time, but in the end had proved so misguided.

‘Did the grand reconciliation never take place?’ he asked, sarcastic and amused, which made her even angrier. ‘Poor little Katherine Lewis. Or maybe you’re one of those ever-hopeful women, still walking along the garden path, optimistically thinking that she’ll get her man in the end, if only she can hold out for long enough.’ He laughed under his breath, a cruel, jeering sound. ‘Is he still holding out the promises he made to get you back?’ he asked, looking down at her with a smile that was as hard as ice.

‘This is irrelevant,’ Katherine said, trying to sound brisk and instead only managing to sound defensive.

‘Oh, but I’m merely trying to piece you together. Natural human curiosity. You asked me about what I’d been doing over the past six years. Well, I’m merely speculating on what you’ve been doing.’

‘I must get back to the school,’ she said, turning away, but before she could walk off she felt his fingers snap around her arm.

‘What for?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘To tidy desks?’

‘You may think that what I do is boring,’ she snapped, ‘but teaching is as essential as what you do. A person’s usefulness in life isn’t judged by the amount of money they earn. And kindly remove your hand from me.’

He removed his hand and she drew back, aware with horror that she was shaking like a leaf.

‘Dear me,’ he said, coolly amused, ‘I do hope my questions haven’t upset you.’

‘You hope nothing of the sort, Mr Duvall. And, no, your questions haven’t upset me. They’ve annoyed me.’

She fervently wished that that were the case, but she knew that she was deeply unbalanced by this sudden appearance in her life of the one man whose image she had spent years trying to erase.

‘Do you normally tremble when you’re annoyed?’ he asked, politely curious.

‘No,’ she answered icily, ‘I don’t. Perhaps it’s just that you were the last person in the world I expected or wanted to confront. No one likes to be reminded of past mistakes, do they?’

His lips thinned and she had to steel herself not to take a step backwards. Had she forgotten how threatening he could be? His green eyes could assume the wintry, terrifying depths of the ocean, and that leashed power which always hovered so close to the surface reminded her that he was not a man to be crossed.

‘Least of all when they’ve learnt nothing from them,’ he countered with dangerous calm. ‘Did your lover hold out promises to you on condition that you buried yourself here, teaching? Tell me, what makes a woman give up a life of excitement in exchange for the sedate, the unthreatening?’

Of course, she had always suspected that her real life would arouse only his contempt, but hearing him say so made her stiffen.

‘Is he worth it? You must introduce me to him.’

‘I happen to like it here,’ she said evenly. ‘And since you feel so free to ask me questions about my private life, you won’t mind if I ask you a few about your own? How long did you wait after we broke up before you married?’

‘Would you like to hear that I gave our dead relationship a suitable period of mourning?’ He laughed aloud at that. ‘I met Fran ise six weeks after I left London and I married her two months later. Disappointed?’

‘What happened to her?’

There was a thick silence, which only lasted seconds but was long enough for her to wonder whether anger had pushed her into asking something which really was none of her business. She wished that she had not asked; she wished that she had simply walked off. The last thing she wanted to do was reveal to him the depth of her interest in his life, reawakened after so long a slumber.

‘Fran ise was involved in a fatal accident nine months ago,’ he said abruptly.

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘How kind of you,’ he grated.

‘I meant it! It must have been very hard on Claire, and on you as well.’ Was this why he appeared so bitter at the mention of his ex-wife’s name? The deepest pain, she knew, was the pain caused when love was prematurely extinguished. She tried not to contemplate the hurtful fact that that ring, still lying at the bottom of that pond in Regent’s Park for all she knew, had been the mistake which he had rectified.

‘I don’t think that strolling down memory lane is serving any purpose, do you?’ he asked, and the mask of cool self-control had settled back on his face. ‘You say that Claire is doing well, but is she keeping up with the other children?’

Relieved that they were once again back on home ground, she visibly relaxed and began to discuss Claire’s progress.

She was accustomed to talking about children and their performance at school. It was a subject with which she felt comfortable. She only realised that they were strolling back to the car park when she found herself standing next to a black BMW. By which time she had regained all of her lost self-control, and could actually lift her eyes to Dominic’s face without that numbing loss of composure which she had experienced earlier on. She even managed to smile, which was something she considered quite a feat, given the circumstances.

‘I tend to get a little carried away when it comes to discussing the children,’ she heard herself say in a very normal voice, the sort of voice she would have used for any parent, half apologetic, half amused, wholly sincere.

‘So I see.’ There was speculation in his eyes and she wondered uneasily what he was thinking. ‘Your career obviously suits you.’

‘I like children,’ Katherine said, in a voice which did not invite comment. ‘Why did you decide to move to the Midlands?’ she asked, changing the subject.

He pulled open the car door and paused.

‘Because, next to London, Birmingham has the most potential for my company,’ he said, and she could tell from his manner that he was still speculating about her, trying to match up the two halves of the personality which he had seen.

‘All part of the master plan to conquer the world?’ she asked lightly, and for the first time, when he laughed, there was none of that metallic edge to his laughter.

‘I have to fill my time somehow,’ he said, his eyes still intent on her face, and for reasons which she could not explain to herself she felt in real danger now. She didn’t want to be reminded of that lethal charm beneath the aggression. That was even more disturbing than the bitter dislike.

She folded her arms and said nervously, ‘Well, I must get back now. If there’s anything you wish to discuss about Claire’s work, then do feel free to contact me.’ She backed away slightly from the car. ‘After half-term, Mrs Gall, who’s been off with appendicitis, will be returning, and there’ll be a ballet option. You should have received a letter from the school about that.’ He was still staring at her, and she felt herself getting hot and confused all over again.