A Gift for a Lion (23 page)

Leo stood in the open doorway looking down at Marisa Fallone.

Joanna was totally motionless. If she had wanted to step out into the corridor to confront them, to accuse, her legs would not have carried her that far. Dumbly she stared at the scene of her betrayal as if etching it on her memory for ever.

He was almost naked, her anguished brain noted as if recording facts for some emotional computer His feet and legs were bare and his towelling robe, loosely pulled round him, revealed his brown chest almost to the waist.

Marisa on the other hand was covered from her neck to her feet, but as the material of her nightgown was totally diaphanous, it was more of a provocation than if she had been nude. But there was one even more striking feature of her attire.

As Marisa stepped into the corridor, she turned, placing her hand on Leo's arm in her usual intimate manner. She was wearing the most magnificent bracelet of emeralds and diamonds which flashed a rainbow of fire from her wrist as the light caught it.

'
Ciao, caro
.' The husky seductive voice came clearly to Joanna's ears. 'Don't invite me to your wedding.' She glanced down at the bracelet as she spoke lifting her wrist admiringly, and her soft laugh floated out again.

Joanna did not hear Leo's reply She had shrunk away convulsively against the support of the wall, her hands pressed over her ears with savage intensity. She could bear to hear no more.

After what seemed life an eternity, she realised that the corridor beyond was quiet and that the lights were out. It needed all the physical effort at her command to pull the curtain aside and step out into the passage. For a moment she stood, trying to calm her tortured breathing, like a small hunted creature uncertain of which way to turn.

She could not cry—that would come later. The first essential now was flight, and to put as many miles as she could between herself and Leo Vargas. Stumbling a little, like a child waking from a nightmare, she went to find her father.

The phone was ringing as Joanna let herself into the flat. Sighing, she dropped her little case, and kicked off her shoes before lifting the receiver.

As she had half expected, it was Tony.

'Hello, Jo.' His voice as usual was over-cheerful to mask his awkwardness. 'Are you doing anything tonight, because I thought we might take a look at that new Greek place that's just opened. You're a
souvlaka
fan, aren't you?'

Joanna hesitated. 'I'm a bit tired, actually, Tony. I've had quite a day.'

'Oh.' He paused, obviously disappointed but reluctant to press her. 'Yes, of course. How's the new job going, then? When will we be seeing your face in the glossy magazines?'

'In a couple of months' time, I think.' Joanna flexed tired muscles. 'Gil Weaver is using me for a spread on furs in
Cavalcade.

'Very luxurious. Sounds fun.'

'Mm,' Joanna said noncommittally, remembering the long, hot hours in the stuffy studio, the instant response that was needed for the photographer's every imperious demand, the battle to conceal every trace of irritation and fatigue from the all-seeing eye of the camera. But she would never convince Tony or her father that she was actually working, and working hard. She had realised that from the beginning. Her modelling was just 'Joanna's little hobby.' The only reason her father had agreed to her demands to seek a career of her own was his hope that it might help her to get over the events of recent weeks.

When they had first returned to London a month before, she had been too bruised emotionally to respond with anything but hostility when Tony had first contacted her, but gradually his diffident persistence had worn away the defensive shell she had built round herself.

Besides, as Gil Weaver had pointed out, a successful model needed to be seen, and it was perhaps better for her to be seen with Tony, she realised, than with another man who might make demands on her that she was emotionally unable to fulfil.

It was not altogether fair on Tony, she knew, but he did not seem concerned and she thought wryly that he probably thought if he was patient enough she would eventually come to care for him again. She herself could see no likelihood of this happening and sometimes she felt vaguely anxious about where their relationship was heading.

'Look, Jo—put your feet up for half an hour and give me a ring later on if you change your mind about going out. I'll be here.'

'Oh, Tony.' Joanna bit her lip. She was only too aware that he would be there and she wished that he was not always so readily available and attendant on her every whim. She would have felt much happier if he had been more casual in his approach, making it evident that he too had a life, independent of her. As it was, she occasionally felt cornered. 'Well, I'll see how I feel later on. And—thank you for asking me.'

She replaced the receiver and wandered into the living room of the flat. It was not a large room and it seemed smaller than ever, filled with the cheerful clutter of three girls living in close proximity together. Joanna sighed as she began to tidy up. It was a far cry from the immaculate home she had shared with her father, but she had few regrets about her decision to move into a place of her own. She had answered an advertisement for a third girl to share the flat in the first few days after her return from Saracina, born out of a desire to rid herself of every remnant of her past life. Her father had tried to dissuade her, arguing that she would recover her equilibrium more readily in familiar surroundings, but she had remained adamant.

He had been incredibly kind and considerate since their return, she thought objectively as she collected the weekend's newspapers into a pile and plumped up the cushions on the studio couch.

She knew her distress when she had burst into his room that last night on Saracina had thoroughly alarmed him. Up to then she had lived her emotional life pretty much on a superficial level and he had never been exposed to the usual wear and tear on the nervous system that most fathers of girls just out of adolescence had to suffer.

He had not argued with her or tried to bluster her into changing her mind when she had insisted hysterically that they must leave at once, but had soothed and petted her as if she was a small child again. Nor had he probed too deeply into her reasons for wanting to leave the island so unceremoniously. She had been almost incoherent, she knew, but he seemed to have been able to piece together her stumbling, tearful words and draw his own conclusions.

He had made all the arrangements for their immediate departure. Joanna had moved like an automaton as she packed. The white-faced, dazed-eyed girl she occasionally caught glimpses of in the mirror seemed to have no connection with herself.

She had. acquiesced mechanically with everything he had said to her until he suggested quite gently that she should at least say goodbye to Leo Vargas, then she had drawn frighteningly close to hysteria again. Eventually he had agreed to make all the farewells that were necessary.

Joanna had hardly spoken a word during the helicopter flight to the mainland and during the plane journey to London she remained sunk in her seat, staring unseeingly through the cabin window, refusing all offers of food and refreshment.

When they reached home, she had gone to bed and slept for nearly two days, the sleep of utter physical and mental exhaustion. She wouldn't see a doctor in spite of her father's persuasions. What would he prescribe but a course of tranquillisers, which she despised as a remedy, or a change of scene, which would have been horribly ironic in the circumstances.

As soon as she felt able to pull herself together, she went to see Gil Weaver to ask if he was still serious about her potential as a photographic model.

He had pursed his lips a little, looking at the taut, strained lines of her face, and then he had agreed to give her a trial, after warning her with brutal frankness that she would need all her stamina if she was to be successful. He had ordered her to have her hair cut, and sent her to a nearby beauty salon for a course of sauna and massage to dissolve the tension from her body. Then he had ordered her back to his studio and subjected her to a gruelling photographic session which had reduced her to sheer bone-weary limpness. Finally he had told her abruptly that he could use her as a model and advised her on the kind of basic wardrobe and cosmetics she would need to begin with.

From then on she had been regularly in work with him and she had begun to get calls from other photographers as well. She was thankful for the hard work. When she was busy, it stopped her from thinking. It was only at night, as she lay wakeful in her narrow bed, listening to her flatmates even breathing, that her memories came back to taunt her.

Now that she could hear to think about it, she sometimes wondered if it would not have been better if she had forced herself to confront Leo there and then, but she told herself resolutely that she had done the right thing. He might have taken her in his arms, and she knew that if he had done so, she would have had no defence against him in spite of the wrong he had done her. Often she woke at night to find tears on her face, aching with her longing for him.

She dreamed of him often, but the dreams invariably ended in the same way, with the sound of Marisa Fallone's mocking laughter and the sparkle of the jewels flashing on her wrist. Sometimes Joanna wondered bitterly if the bracelet had even been the parting gift she had at first assumed. Perhaps Leo had merely given it to Marisa to sweeten the news of his impending marriage and had no intention of breaking off their relationship completely. What kind of man was he, she asked herself despairingly, to ask her to marry him and then go straight to the arms of another woman?

Sometimes she asked herself forlornly why Leo had asked her to marry him at all, and why he had not asked Marisa instead as Nick had so confidently predicted. Perhaps he thought that she, Joanna, would be more malleable as a wife, as it was clear that he had no intention of varying his life to conform to any domestic commitments. And it was true that he had never said that he loved her. He obviously felt he was entitled to the best of both worlds—a young and adoring wife and a favourite mistress to provide variety. She supposed that she would have been expected to turn a blind eye to his other amusements once they were married, as Nick had told her, and this hurt worst of all.

She wandered over to the window and stood looking down into the street. It was unusual for her to have the flat to herself at that time of day and she decided she would take a leisurely bath before Lynne and Fiona got back from work. Both the other girls had a number of boy-friends and on evenings when they were all going out, there was always a rush for first claim on the bathroom. Joanna decided she would probably take Tony up on his offer of dinner at the new restaurant, otherwise she would probably spend the evening on her own with nothing but a variety of television programmes she didn't want to see to interrupt the unhappy tenor of her thoughts.

Besides, she thought, her mouth twisting in an unwilling smile, it was Lynne's turn to cook the evening meals this week, and her cooking technically and imaginatively fell far below
cordon bleu
standard.

Tony made no attempt to conceal his delight at her change of heart and arrived in his car punctually to collect her. The new restaurant more than lived up to its reputation and Joanna felt more relaxed than she had done for some time as they drove home. They chatted about a number of topics, including Mary's impending wedding to Paul. Joanna had seen little of either of them since her return and she had been merely relieved when Tony had explained at embarrassed length why Mary did not feel able to ask her to be her bridesmaid.

The first awkwardness of the evening occurred when Tony parked the car outside the flat. Usually they said a swift and undemonstrative goodnight and parted, but tonight Joanna had an uneasy feeling that he had decided to try and restore their relationship to a warmer level. So she was more than half expecting it when his arm slid round her shoulder and his lips sought hers. Trying not to be too abrupt and hurtful, she freed herself, and to try and avoid the immediate embarrassment asked him if he would like to come up to the flat for some coffee.