Act of Betrayal (21 page)

some in the 'fridge when I first arrived.' Laura swallowed. T

really couldn't put you to all that trouble . . . ' she began,

but Clare interrupted firmly. 'It's no trouble at all. I'd love

some company. I've left the children with some friends for the

weekend so that I could come down and get my part of the house

straight. The decorators left yesterday and I'm dying to show it

all to someone.' She grimaced. 'Lugging boxes around loses its

savour after a very short time. I'm dying for an excuse to take a

break. Please?' Almost before she was aware what she was doing,

Laura had reached for the door handle, and was following Clare up

the path towards the front door. But they didn't use it. Instead

Clare led the way round the side of the house. I have my own

entrance,' she threw over her shoulder. 'The ladies who owned the

place previously had the former stable converted into staff

accommodation I gather they had various married couples looking

after the house and grounds for them and it needed very little

doing to it to make it suitable for the children and myself.' She

opened a green door on a small vestibule smelling of fresh paint.

'See completely self-contained.' Laura looked around her with

bewilderment. 'You're not living in the house itself?' She spoke

the thought before she could stop herself, and paused,

embarrassed. I mean . . . ' 'Hardly.' Clare looked neither self-

conscious nor affronted. 'Jason is reasonably indulgent towards

the children, but that doesn't mean he's prepared to have them

underfoot all day long.' Laura said feebly, ' I suppose not.' She

followed Clare into the kitchen. It wasn't large, but the new

units gleamed and a stainless steel sink winked beneath the

window. 'It's all rather pristine at the moment, but the kids

will soon give it that lived in look.' Clare opened the 'fridge

door. 'Which is it to be , coffee or lager?' 'Lager, please,'

Laura said with a mental shrug. There was no reason on earth why

Clare Marshall should offer her hospitality, or why she should

accept it, yet here they both were, incredible though it seemed.

She took the tall cool glass which Clare proffered with a brief

word of thanks. There was a pause, then she said, 'You'll find it

very quiet here after London.' 'Perhaps.' Clare gave a slight

shrug. 'I'm looking forward to being settled, however. And I

expect to be busy. Oh…not looking after the cottage. My duties as

housekeeper are going to be purely nominal from what I can

gather. Jason's already arranged for a daily woman to come in

from the village. But I'm starting work again, as soon as the

studios are complete.' 'Work?' Laura looked at her enquiringly.

'Why, yes. I used to work as an architect with Tristans'. Didn't

you know?' ' I think I heard it mentioned.' Laura drank some more

of her beer hastily. 'Well, I'm on the design strength again,'

Clare said cheerfully. 'Only, I shall work from here instead of

going into the new offices because of the children.' 'You

mentioned studios . . . ' Laura ventured after another pause.

'They're the next project,' Clare said briskly. 'They're going to

be at the other side of the house where those old outbuildings

and that tumbledown greenhouse are now one for Jason and one for

myself.' She grinned. 'And has there been some skin and hair

flying over the layout. Just like the old days when we both

started at Tristans'. We never agreed even then.' Laura forced a

smile in return. 'It must have been stimulating,' she managed to

say lightly. 'It had its moments.' The reminiscent expression in

Clare's eyes made Laura's heart clench in the painful ugliness of

jealousy. She pushed back her chair and stood up, 'Well, thanks

for the beer. I must be going . . .' 'Oh, not yet.' Clare rose

too, firmly back in the present. ' I want to show you round. Have

you ever been here before? Did you know the Misses Dainton?'

'Only by sight. They didn't go out a great deal.' Laura cast a

surreptitious glance at her watch. A swift tour of Clare's flat

and an even swifter departure, she thought. She could always say

she was meeting someone at the Wild Goose. She still found it

hard to believe that she was actually here in the cottage

chatting to Clare as if they were recent acquaintances who might

become friends, as if no deep seas of bitterness existed to keep

them on opposing shores. As she followed Clare upstairs, she

found herself thinking, 'Why is she doing this when she has as

little reason to like me as I have to like her, both of us

interlopers in the other's life?' 'None of the rooms up here are

large,' Clare was saying. 'So I decided to take the smallest,

which is really a boxroom, and let Jason and Elizabeth have

whatever space was available.' A single bed in the boxroom, Laura

noticed, with a dainty sprigged bedcover to match the curtains

and wallpaper. Could this be Clare's way of hinting to her that

she didn't intend to spend many of her nights in this cramped

space? Past the constriction in her throat, she said, 'Your

children have nice names.' Clare shrugged lightly. 'Rather

conventional, really. Jason was named for his father, of course.

And my mother's name was Elizabeth. They'll be taking up

residence next week when I've had time to unpack some of their

toys and other things to make it home for them. Then they can

spend the rest of the summer making friends with their new

surroundings before Jason starts at the village school in

September.' Laura's lips felt wooden. ' I hear it's a very good

school.' There was a framed photograph of the children standing

on a chest of drawers, a studio portrait, the two dark heads

posed close together, the cast of their features unmistakable.

She felt a little moan welling up inside her, and had to clench

her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands to

regain her self control. 'I've heard so too,' Clare said

cheerfully. 'In fact I'm hoping that I can ignore the fact

there's a trust fund set up for their education, and use the

local facilities. I hate the idea of waving them off to boarding

schools, however good.' She glanced at Laura. 'Are you all right?

You're very pale.' Laura said, 'It's very warm up here. No air.'

Clare said with compunction, ' I haven't had time yet to open the

windows, and you're rightnit is stifling. Here.' She took Laura's

arm and guided her down the steep flight to the ground floor. T

know what you need.' She produced a key from her pocket and

unlocked a door facing them. 'Some brandy.' She steered Laura

firmly over the threshold and across a stone-flagged hallway, and

pushed open another door. 'In you go.' It was a large room, at

least double the size of any she had just visited. Oriental rugs

gleamed like jewels on the stone floor, and attractively

mullioned windows were provided with cushioned seats from which

to look out at the gardens. A leather chesterfield stood facing

an imposing stone fireplace, and one wall was fined with glass

fronted bookcases in dark oak. Laura said hoarsely, 'Whose side

of the house is this?' 'Jason's.' Clare was unlocking an antique

corner cupboard, and extracting a bottle. 'Like it?' Laura

moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. 'It's beautiful.

Look I must be going really. I don't need any brandy. I'm feeling

better already.' Clare's gaze was critical. 'You look like a

ghost. Sit down while I fetch a glass and oh damn,' she broke off

in vexation. 'That's my telephone. I'll be back in two seconds.'

She put the bottle down on a low table in front of the

chesterfield and vanished. Laura thought, 'This is my chance to

vanish too.' She felt wretched and ill at ease, yet underneath

there was an odd excitement too. Bluebeard's wife, she thought,

and smiled a little bitterly, as she turned towards the door. She

stopped short, the breath catching in her throat. He was there

inevitably. Standing in the doorway watching her. Trapping her…

He said, ' I thought I recognised the other car.' He strolled

forwards, his ironic gaze studying the brandy. 'Is this a private

party or can anyone join in?' She said almost inaudibly, l felt

ill …Clare offered…' 'Then I can do no less. Where is Clare by

the way?' 'The telephone … ' ' I see.' There was the sound of

approaching footsteps, and he glanced over his shoulder. He said,

' I got back early. I'll look after Laura and see her on her

way.' 'Fine.' Clare sounded almost casual. 'When you want

to eat there's cold chicken and salad in the 'fridge. 'Bye.' In

the ensuing stillness, Laura heard the communicating door close,

and the sound of the key being turned. She said hoarsely, ' I

have to go. You…you must wonder what I'm doing here.' 'Not

particularly.' He shook his head. ' I imagine you were driving

past, and your curiosity got the better of you. I hope my

inopportune appearance hasn't spoiled the guided tour.' She said

with a creditable assumption of coolness, 'I've seen all that I

want to see. And now I'd like to be on my way.' 'Without your

medicinal brandy.' He shook his head. 'That would never do. Or

would you prefer to join me in a whisky and soda?' ' I don't want

a drink at all.' He was still blocking the doorway. She said,

'Jason , please I want to leave now.' 'And I want you to stay.'

He sounded faintly amused. 'Impasse. And not for the first time.'

'But hopefully for the last.' She walked to the chesterfield and

sat down, smoothing her skirt over her knees with a gesture that

she realised too late was purely nervous. She stared straight

ahead of her at the massive fireplace and its empty grate. 'Do we

have to keep playing these games? Doesn't it bother you that she…

that Clare will be wondering what we're saying to each other?

That this could be hurting her?' 'Frankly, no. I don't regard it

as any of her concern,' he said bitingly. Her head turned slowly,

and she stared at him. 'Just what kind of a man are you?' Her

voice trembled. 'Do you think that providing a roof over their

heads expensive school fees is all that it takes? That it

entitles you to lock them all into a separate part of the house

to pretend that they don't have any feelings. Is that what would

have happened to me if I'd stayed married to you? Would I have

been locked away in the end in some little separate compartment

labelled "wife"?' He shook his head. 'No need, my darling. You'd

already locked yourself away in a place where no-one could reach

you. Oh, once or twice, I thought I'd finally broken through the

shell and reached the loving, trusting girl I believed might be

there inside it, but it was all myth, wasn't it, Laura? You

wanted to be alone. You never really wanted me or our marriage or

you'd have fought for me when that lying old hypocrite started

dropping his poison in your ear. But you listened. You swallowed

every bloody word, because it was your excuse to be out, to

retreat back into your ivory tower to be "Laura alone" again.'

She pressed her hands over her ears, terrified at the fierce wave

of words breaking over her. 'Don't…it isn't true.' His voice was

cruel. 'And what would you know about the truth? I'll show you

the truth.' He strode across the room and grasped her arm, his

fingers biting into the flesh as he hauled her to her feet. Her

voice broke on a sob. 'Jasonfor God's sake, let me go.' He said

savagely, 'In my own good time. Not feeling faint again, are you,

darling? Perhaps I'd better take the brandy with us, in case I

need to revive you.' His arm clamped round her waist, hurting

her, as he lifted her off her feet as if she'd been a small child

and carried her to the door. One of her sandals dropped to the

floor and was left. Her clenched fists pummelled at his shoulder.

She tried to scratch his face. 'Put me down, damn you, you

bastard.' He stopped, changing his hold on her without releasing

her. Laura found herself, to her horror, tucked under his arm,

her head dangling helplessly towards the floor as he carried her