Sara Craven - Dark Summer Dawn

‘Do you have sugar?’ She made her voice cool and social.

‘You’ve a bad memory, Lisa,’ he said sardonically. ‘How many years did we live under the same roof, and how many cups of coffee did you pour for me? No, I don’t have sugar, and never have done.’

‘Too many,’ she muttered.

‘Well, that’s one thing at least we can agree on,’ he said. He strolled forward, trapping her between his body and the worktop behind her. He put out a hand and tilted her chin, studying her face critically.

His touch sent every nerve-ending in her body screaming. She wanted to strike his hand away. She wanted to use her nails and teeth to free herself like a cornered animal, but it would be no good, she knew. He was the stronger, and he would not hesitate to use his strength.

He said silkily, ‘You don’t change, do you, Lisa? I remember you all those years ago—a little hostile creature, all hair and eyes.’

She smiled, a little meaningless stretching of her lips. ‘How odd you should say that. I was thinking much the same about you. Oh, not the hair, of course, but the hostility—and the eyes. They haven’t altered at all. They’re still cold.’

As cold and as cruel as January, she silently added, meeting their greyness, noticing how their bleak light remained unsoftened by the heavy fringing of dark lashes.

Dane said, ‘Cold?’ and smiled. ‘Is that what you really think? Surely not.’

Her breathing quickened a little. ‘You wouldn’t like to hear what I really think. Now if you want this coffee, you’d better let me make it.’

He flung up his hands in mock capitulation and moved away, and Lisa felt limp with relief.

When she carried the tray through to the living room, he had resumed his seat by the fire and was smoking a cigar. She felt a sudden surge of nostalgia as the scent of the smoke reached her. Chas had always smoked cigars and their faint aroma had hung round the house at Stoniscliffe whenever he was there, as if it was Christmas every day, Jennifer had said, laughing.

She put the tray down. ‘What happened to the cigarettes?’

‘I gave them up about eighteen months ago.’ He gestured to the cigar. ‘Do you object to this?’

‘No, of course not.’ She subdued an impulse to add it was the least objectionable thing about him, and poured the coffee instead. ‘Why do you ask?’

He gave a slight shrug. ‘It doesn’t fit in with the image here. A masculine intrusion into a purely feminine environment.’ He paused. ‘Or at least that’s the assumption I’m making. Perhaps I’m wrong.’

‘Perhaps you are,’ she agreed.

He glanced around, brows lifted. ‘You don’t live alone?’

‘I don’t live alone.’

Dane was very still for a moment, then he moved abruptly, tapping a sliver of ash from the tip of the cigar. ‘Of course not. May one ask where he is?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ she said calmly. ‘Perhaps now you’d like to tell me what you want from me.’

‘Not a thing, sweetheart—now or ever.’ His voice bit. ‘Let’s get that firmly established, shall we? I haven’t come blundering in on your idyll on my behalf but on Julie’s.’

‘Julie’s?’ She was startled, her eyes flying to the creased letter.

His gaze followed hers and his mouth tightened. ‘It looks as if I’ve made a wasted journey. Nevertheless I’ll say what I’ve come to say. Julie’s panicking because she hasn’t heard from you. She’s desperate for you to come home and help with the wedding. She wants to know why you haven’t written or phoned.’

Lisa said, ‘I only got her letter today. I’ve been away—abroad. I only returned yesterday.’

‘The contents don’t seem to have impressed you very much.’ Dane was leaning back in the chair, watching her from beneath lowered lids.

‘You and I both know,’ she said tautly, ‘that there is no way I’m ever going back to Stoniscliffe. You’ll have to stall Julie—find some explanation that will satisfy her.’

‘I can’t think of one,’ he said. ‘And even if I could, I doubt if it would satisfy Chas. He can’t wait for you to come—back.’

She noted ironically the small hesitation and wondered whether the word he’d stumbled over had been ‘home’.

‘How is he?’ She wasn’t merely trying to change the angle of the subject under discussion. She really wanted to know. Letters were pretty unrevealing, and she had kept hers amusing and busy, providing excuse after excuse for not returning to Yorkshire.

‘If you really wanted to know, you would have gone to see for yourself,’ Dane said harshly. ‘How the hell do you think he is—trapped in a wheelchair for the rest of his life!’

‘A wheelchair?’ She gaped at him, her head reeling in disbelief. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He had a stroke,’ Dane said curtly. ‘It’s left him partly paralysed. He can walk a few yards with difficulty and use one hand.’

Lisa shook her head. ‘He said he hadn’t been well, but he never even hinted …’

‘Why should he? If you’d cared, you’d have gone to see.’

‘That’s your reasoning, not his.’ She glared at him.

‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘He always was too soft with you—too ready to make excuses. He wouldn’t write and ask you to come back because he’s terrified of pity. He’s a strong man who’s suddenly found a physical weakness he can’t command or overcome, and it’s been a struggle for him. He has a nurse living in, but he doesn’t ask for help or sympathy from anyone else. He’s counting on Julie’s wedding to bring you back to Stoniscliffe. I could have told him it was a forlorn hope.’

‘That’s not true!’ Her throat felt thick and tight. ‘I—I love Chas.’

‘So you’ve always protested. According to you, you asked for nothing better than to be a daughter to him and a sister to Julie. Well, now’s your chance. Live up to your words.’

‘It isn’t as easy as you think.’ She was arguing against herself now, not him, although he wasn’t to know that. ‘I have a career—commitments.’

‘As you’ve already made clear.’ His mouth twisted a little. ‘Couldn’t you convince him that you also have a commitment to Chas—a prior commitment? Unless, of course, you no longer see it that way. As for your so-called career,’ he shrugged, ‘I imagine it would survive a slight hiccup like Julie’s wedding.’

‘You can sneer all you want,’ she said furiously, ‘but it’s my life. It isn’t the sort of success you would recognise, but I’m happy. What did you expect me to do—become a “little typist” like my mother?’

‘When you can capitalise on your considerable assets? Hardly.’ Dane looked her over. ‘You must have one of the best known faces and bodies in the country. How does the man in your life like having to share you with the fantasies of thousands of others?’

She shifted her head. ‘He survives.’ She’d deliberately led him to believe that there was such a man, so there was no point in screaming at him that her face and body belonged to herself alone, that in front of the cameras she played the role Jos had written for her, no more no less, and all it needed now was for Dinah, who was away on tour in the Midlands, to walk in and blow the whole stupid pretence sky high.

‘I’m sure he does more than that.’ His eyes seemed to linger on her mouth, on the deep vee where the lapels of the dressing gown crossed. ‘Even with your hair in rats’ tails, you’re quite something.’

Lisa felt herself shrink inwardly, but there must have been some physical movement as well, because he threw up a hand. ‘Don’t be alarmed. I said I wanted nothing from you, and I meant it. All I need is your co-operation for a few weeks.’ He paused, then added cynically, ‘And you won’t be out of pocket over it. I’ll make it worth your while.’