Act of Betrayal (13 page)

You must be out of your mind. Who is this fellow?' She said

quietly, 'The man I love. Uncle Martin— please beJiappy for

me.' There had been another long silence, then he'd muttered an

ungracious assent to their visit and rung off, leaving Laura

mystified, and more than a little troubled. She tried to comfort

herself that the sight of her obvious happiness would mollify

him. But it hadn't turned out like that at all. In fact the visit

had been pretty much of a disaster from start to finish. Jason

and her uncle had descended from cool civility to a wary

antagonism, until Laura felt like the buffer state between two

nations preparing to declare war.

She was bewildered by their reaction to each other. Alone with

Jason in their room, she tried tentatively to justify her uncle's

reactions. 'He's always been so good to me, so generous,' she

told him unhappily. 'Getting married like this—he must feel as

if I've slapped him in the face.' Jason Was sitting on the edge

of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. He gave her a wry look.

'So—you think if we'd waited, asked his permission, had the

ceremony in the local church with him to give you away—that

would have made all the difference?' 'It might,' she said. He

shook his head, shrugging off his shirt. As always, the sight of

his lean body turned her mouth dry with excitement. 'You're

fooling yourself, my darling. There's no way I could ever be an

acceptable husband in your uncle's eyes, for all kinds of

reasons.' After lunch on Sunday when Jason had gone for a walk,

she found out what some of those reasons were. 'He's no good,'

her uncle had said brutally as they faced each other.' He's a

down-at-heel artist with an eye to the main chance, and in you

he's got a meal ticket for life. That's all you'll ever be to

him, Laura. I'm surprised your own commonsense didn't tell you

that.' She said fiercely, 'It's not true. You have no right to

say that.' ' I have every right, my dear.' He looked older

suddenly. 'I'm very fond of you, Laura. I've always tried to do

my best for you. Your marriage has been a shock—a blow and I

won't deny-it. Why you've admitted yourself that you know nothing

about him— his family, his background, and these things matter,

although you may not think so.' He paused. 'Naturally, he's aware

that you receive an income from the company under your father's

will.' ' I told him, yes, but it isn't really important. Jason is

going to be a success in his own right. His paintings sell.' She

tried to smile. 'You make him sound like a fortune hunter, and me

like some nineteenth-century heiress.' 'Joke about it as much as

you want.' He stared at her, his chin jutting angrily. 'But I

tell you it's the Caswell name that attracted him to you,

whatever romantic dreams you may be harbouring. He probably

thought you were Celia,' he added sharply, and she flinched.

'That's an awful thing to say.' 'I'm trying to be

realistic—something that's apparently beyond you. But I'm

warning you, Laura, honeymoons don't last for ever.' And hers,

she thought, was over almost before it had begun. She tried to

dismiss everything that Uncle Martin had said from her mind, but

it wasn't that easy, she discovered. Some of it lingered in

unexpected corners, festering there, making her wonder and doubt

even. She and Jason had a joint savings account. They were living

at his small flat, making do, planning for a bigger place or even

a small house, so there was no reason in the world for her to

have snapped at him when he asked her casually once if there'd

been any provision for an increase in her income on her marriage.

'Of course not.' There were two spots of colour on her

cheekbones. 'My father was only the junior partner in the

company. My cousin's the wealthy heiress, not me.' Even in her

own ears the words sounded barbed and accusing. Jason had stared

at her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing, then without

another word he'd got up and gone out. He'd come back very late,

sliding into bed beside her where she lay, pretending to be

asleep. But he hadn't been deceived for an instant. He'd pulled

her into his arms with a force that brooked no denial, and made

slow, fierce, calculating love to her until she was pliant,

mindless with the promise and torment of ecstasy ruthlessly

withheld. 'Ask me,' he'd said savagely against her lips, his

hands grazing her with delicious cruelty. 'Beg me, you little

bitch.' She had no pride, no will to resist. Her plea was

whispered thickly from her throat, and his response was almost a

snarl as he drove them both over the edge of passion to a

culmination of shattering pleasure. A long time afterwards, lying

with her head pillowed on his shoulder, she told him shyly how

wonderful it had been. His voice was almost laconic. 'As your

paid stud, I try to give satisfaction.' 'Jason,' she protested,

moving sharply, lifting herself on one elbow to look down at him.

' I didn't mean that. I didn't mean anything . . . ' 'No?' The

dark face was enigmatic. 'Then that's all right.' But it wasn't,

as she realised afterwards. It was the first crack in the fragile

shell of her security. Not long after that she had discovered she

was going to have a baby. She'd expected Jason to be as thrilled

as she was, yet his reaction had been muted, almost negative.

Needing reassurance, she'd asked, 'Jason you're not sorry.' He

took her in his arms, his face frankly rueful. 'No but I hadn't

intended it to happen so soon, and now may not be the best time,'

he'd added, half to himself. 'Why?' She was instantly concerned,

knowing that another exhibition was being planned. He kissed her

lightly, 'Nothing that need concern you. You concentrate on

looking after yourself, and our baby.'

As her body adapted itself for the coming child, Laura found her

personality had changed too, and not for the better either. In

those first months along with morning sickness, she found herself

increasingly weepy and aggressive. And the fact that Jason was

working so hard in the studio didn't help. He'd had his portrait

of her framed, and she thought 'Laura alone' as she stared at it,

tears dripping from the end of her nose. A couple of times she'd

telephoned him at the studio and there'd been no reply, and this

had puzzled her. When he returned in the evening, she'd probed

gently asking how his work had gone, only to be told brusquely,

'Fine' in a way which discouraged further enquiries. But it was

when he began disappearing for longer and longer periods during

the evenings that she began to get seriously disturbed over the

situation. On the doctor's advice, they had ceased to make love

until Laura's pregnancy was firmly established, but that didn't

mean she'd stopped needing comfort and affection, all the things

he'd talked about when he married her, and as the days passed,

her feelings sharpened into grievance. She tried to find out

where he was going, but it was like running headlong into a brick

wall. Her questions were neatly turned aside, and she was left

none the wiser. At last, her sense of grievance spilled over into

a row. She'd been feeling slightly off colour all day, and when

after their meal, Jason stood up reaching for his coat, she'd

said sharply, 'Where are you going?' ' I have to go out.' 'So

I've noticed. You're making quite a habit of it.' Her voice was

bitter. He gave her a long, considering look. 'Being married

doesn't mean spending every minute of every day together,' he

told her evenly.

'And it doesn't mean I want to be left on my own night after

night either,' she said angrily. 'I'm having your baby in case

you've forgotten.' 'I'm hardly likely to do that.' His own voice

was acid. 'Not only am I not allowed to touch you, but I get

vivid descriptions of all the sufferings you're being subjected

to.' She'd just been going to tell him she wasn't feeling well,

and ask him not to leave her, but at that she stiffened. 'I'm

sorry. I didn't realise I was being a bore.' 'You're not,' he

said. 'Just a little self-obsessed, but I suppose it's natural.'

'You're damned right it is,' she said off the top of her voice.

'Particularly when I have a husband who does a vanishing trick

nearly every evening. Why won't you tell me where you're going?

Why does it have to be such a secret?' His mouth was hard and

set. 'Because I don't want you to be involved. Anyway, I haven't

time to argue about that now. I have to go.' 'But I want to be

involved.' She lifted her chin stubbornly. 'I'm your wife, Jason.

I have a right to know about your life. You've got to tell me

where you go.' There was a long silence, then he sighed, lifting

a shoulder in a brief defeated shrug. 'Very well, if you feel you

have to know. I go to visit my father who is ill.' She was

stunned. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. She said

weakly. 'Your father? ButT-thought you had no family . . . You've

never mentioned . . . ' She paused helplessly. 'And now you say

you have a father living. Why didn't you tell me?' He said

curtly, 'Because I'd cut myself off from them, for reasons I'm

not prepared to discuss with you. I never intended to have any

contact with them again, so if you're cherishing ideas of a cosy

circle waiting to welcome you into it, think again. It's not

going to happen.' 'You haven't told them you're married?' She

stared at him, and when he shook his head, she drew a quick

furious breath. 'You're ashamed of me in some way.' 'You're

talking like a fool,' he said coldly. I feel a fool.' Her hands

clenched into fists. 'All this time, and no hint, no word. You

said "them" so I take it you have a mother too.' 'Yes.' Just the

quiet monosyllable, no attempt at explanation or elaboration.

'Brothers and sisters?' 'None nor aunts, uncles or cousins. Are

you satisfied now? Do you know enough?' Her voice had risen with

her questions, and he was almost shouting in reply. 'Of course

not. How could you have kept a thing like this from me?' 'Quite

easily, under the circumstances.' His voice flattened.

'Understand this, Laura, the split with my parents is permanent,

and the fact of our marriage makes not the slightest difference

to that. If it were all to happen again, I would act in exactly

the same way. And before you even ask—no, you may not come with

me.' He shrugged into his coat. 'I'll be as quick as I can.

You're looking tired. You'd better have an early night.' She was

left, staring at the closed door, unable to believe what had just

passed between them. She couldn't even begin to guess at the

nature of the rupture between them which had left Jason so

bitter, but it frightened her just the same. She'd never dreamed

how hard he could be, how unforgiving. For a long time she sat,

gazing into space, in front of the gently hissing gasfire, trying

to come to terms with what had happened. She stirred at last,

aware that she'd been sitting in an awkward position and her back

was aching badly. She got up stiffly, preparing to clear the

remains of their meal from the table, and a dull pain struck at

her, making her clench her teeth. There was other discomfort too,

and she knew with a sudden chill that she was bleeding. She had

to get help. Moving slowly and carefully, she made her way across

the passage to the opposite flat. Lucinda, the West Indian girl

who lived there with her husband answered the door, her smiling

face sobering into concern as she looked at Laura. 'Hey, honey,

this is no good.' Lucinda's arm went round her, supporting her.

'You come and lie down, while Henry 'phones for Dr Murdoch.'

Everything faded into a blue of pain and distress. She knew she

was in an ambulance, became aware of flowered curtains and a high

hard bed. Heard a girl's voice say, 'Just something to help you

sleep, dear,' and felt the quick stab of an injection in her arm.

When she woke up Jason was there. His face was drawn and he