Betrayal (12 page)

Oakleigh was a good psychologist and hated the fact that when working for Gueras he was rarely allowed to see a case through. As he stood up, he forced himself to speak out again. 'You should have someone examine her daughter.'

'All right, if it will stop Lisa worrying about her. You'd think she'd got enough on her plate without inventing difficulties.'

'She isn't inventing them. There's something wrong with the child.'

Neal raised his eyebrows. 'You sound very confident. Perhaps you could tell me what the problem is?'

'You need a child psychologist for that.'

'And naturally they don't let you near children! Fine, I'll get someone else. That's all, Oakleigh. Close the door behind you, I don't want any more interruptions.'

Once he was alone, Neal flipped through the notes and frowned. She wasn't going to be easy, but then nothing worth having was. He'd once spent three years chasing a Reubens painting, three painstaking, expensive years, but now it hung on his dining-room wall and every time he looked at it the pleasure was just as great as when he first set eyes on it in someone else's house.

Naturally women weren't as satisfying as a good painting but he still felt sure that Lisa was worth a good deal of time and money. He decided to cancel his evening meeting with Bishop to pay a call on her. An unexpected call.

At seven-thirty, Lisa was trying to bathe the rigid Jessica in the kitchen sink because she hated the big bath and became even more difficult when that was used.

'What's the matter with you?' demanded Lisa tearfully. 'Most children enjoy bath time. Why won't you ever smile at me? Jessica, look at Mummy!' But Jessica lay tense and apparently unhearing, staring intently at the strip lighting over the gleaming work surfaces. Finally she was clean. Then came the nightmare of forcing her unbending limbs into the sleep-suit before cradling the resistant body in one arm while attempting to insert the teat into her disinterested mouth. Lisa hummed gently as she fiddled with the bottle, but if Jessica heard she didn't look at her mother in acknowledgement. Instead, she gazed unblinkingly at a pattern on the living-room wall formed by the light from the lampshade reflecting off the oval mirror above the fireplace. When she was eventually feeding she drank greedily, and after she'd finished did produce a smile—only it wasn't for Lisa, it was for the pattern on the wall.

'Why won't you love me, Jessica?' whispered Lisa, getting ready to take her daughter upstairs. 'What's the matter with you?' But Jessica merely arched herself against the loving arms and struggled to get free.

With her daughter finally in bed, Lisa changed out of her slacks and blouse and put on a mohair dress of pale blue that clung tightly to every curve. She liked it because it made her feel feminine again, as she used to feel before everything went wrong. Mr Oakleigh had made quite a point of the fact that she mustn't let herself go; that just because she'd had a bad experience with Toby she couldn't spend all her time in slacks and jeans in a rather childlike attempt to become undesirable.

Tonight, as she sprayed on the last of Toby's 'Ma Griffe', she realised he'd been right. She felt better already, and whilst she'd never admit it to anyone, Jessica's continuing strangeness made the evenings all the more precious because for a short time she could pretend that everything was all right, and it was a perfectly normal baby who lay sleeping in the attic room.

She knew it must be Neal as soon as he arrived, he was the only person who knocked on the door. Everyone else used the bell. 'Hello, stranger!' she smiled. 'I thought you must be abroad on business.'

'That's a lovely dress.'

'It's quite old but it always makes me feel good. According to London's answer to Freud, I have to spend a great deal of time making myself feel good!'

'I take it you missed me?'

'Of course I did. No one else ever comes to visit me!' 'A somewhat backhanded compliment.'

'It wasn't meant like that. Is that Corton-Charlemagne?' she added, glancing at the bottle in his hands.

'I understand it's your favourite?'

'It certainly is, what bliss!'

'Where's Jessica?' he added politely, going into the kitchen to find a corkscrew.

'Asleep upstairs.'

'Is she keeping well?'

Lisa hesitated. 'You don't really want me to say, do you? I know you get annoyed when I talk about her, and I'd hate to spoil the evening before it's begun.'

'If I hadn't wanted to know I wouldn't have asked. Glasses?'

'In the cabinet. Actually, I'm beginning to wonder if she's deaf. When I dropped a tray in the kitchen this morning, she never even blinked.'

'She hears music well enough but perhaps we ought to have her looked at by a paediatrician. Would you like that? '

Lisa stared at him, her eyes reflecting every conflicting emotion surging through her. 'I think she should be examined,' she said at last. 'The trouble is, I'm afraid of what they're going to find out.'

He filled the wine glasses and handed her one before putting an arm lightly round her waist. 'If there's something wrong, then the sooner we know the quicker we can do something about it. And if there isn't, you can stop worrying and get on with your life.'

'There is something wrong, Neal, and it isn't minor.'

'In which case she deserves a good specialist as soon as possible.' She swallowed hard. 'Yes, of course, and I am grateful. Only, until today you've never seemed to take my worries seriously and now that you are I feel, I don't know, as though your belief makes them more real.'

'I can assure you it doesn't! I'll make the necessary arrangements to have her looked at and we won't talk about it for the rest of the evening. Is that fair?'

'Very fair! So tell me, where have you been these past weeks?'

He could hardly tell her the truth. Most of his time had been spent either dealing with the increasing difficulties within his organisation, disposing of his former mistress, or visiting his wife and daughters—while all the time wondering if Lisa was missing him and whether his plan of leaving her temporarily isolated would work in his favour. Instead , he shrugged. 'Work and domestic affairs. Very boring, but necessary.'

'Tell me about your family.'

'I married young, a girl from the same village in Greece. After a time I realised there was no future for me out there and moved to London to set up my own business. I started out in antiques, the same as Simon. However, I diversified along the way.'

'You certainly did! Surely Naomi must be very unhappy with the way things have worked out?'

'No,' he lied smoothly. 'She likes the money and the houses my success has brought her, but as you know, she finds socialising almost impossible. She also feels that she's failed me because we have no son.' 'You think she's failed you too,' interrupted Lisa. 'I remember… ' 'Nonsense! All right, I wanted a son to inherit everything I've worked for but it isn't a matter of life or death.'

'I should hope not! And what are your daughters like?'

'Louise, the oldest, is very pretty, selfish and empty-headed. Ruth, the middle one, is bright but quite plain and totally without Louise's social skills, while Rebekah is just a small girl who finds it difficult to make friends.'

'You make them sound a highly exciting trio! Really, what a way to talk about your own daughters!'

'You asked, I thought you genuinely wanted to know.'

'I did, I'm just a bit stunned by your critical appraisal. Where's all the paternal love?'

'I'm afraid I'm not a very good father. I've been too busy working to get to know them all that well. Naomi looked after Louise and Ruth. She hasn't been well since Rebekah was born, so Rebekah has a nanny, or rather an ever-changing succession of nannies.'

'What's wrong with Naomi?'

'She drinks,' he said bluntly. 'More wine?' 'Thanks. I drink.'

'Naomi has a drink problem. That's why she rarely comes to London.'

'There are clinics she could go to.'

'She doesn't believe she's got a problem. You can't help people who won't admit there's anything wrong.'

'So that's why you've got your mistress. Kay, I think you called her. What's she like?'

Neal smiled. 'I find your curiosity quite flattering.' 'I'm simply intrigued by the way you live.'

'In point of fact we no longer see each other. She got tired of waiting for me to divorce Naomi and started seeing other men. I understood her reasons but it changed the quality of our relationship.'

Lisa stared at him. 'That's a woman you've loved you're talking about. Don't you have any strong feelings for anybody?'

'Yes.'

She quickly looked away, knowing who he meant and not wanting him to say the words because then the evening would be ruined and all the tension she'd spent months overcoming would return.

'Are you any better?' he asked quietly. 'Can you honestly say that you've been warmer in your relationships? What about poor Simon and Stephanie? What kind of love did you give them?'

'Stephanie hated me, that's quite different.' 'And Simon?'

She stared down at her feet. 'I wasn't very kind to him,' she admitted reluctantly.

'Then there was Toby. I know that in the end he treated you appallingly, but did you ever love him? And if not, why did you marry him? Was that fair to either of you?'

'I didn't have any choice!' she shouted. 'Do you honestly think I wanted to marry him? I'm not that stupid. Of course I never loved him, and I never pretended to. I lusted after him at the beginning, and if I'm honest that was mostly because I knew Simon and Stephanie disapproved, although perhaps I'd have fancied him anyway. But love? No, I never loved him.'

'Then why the marriage?' pressed Neal, his brain racing as he tried to reconcile what he was hearing with what Bishop had implied at the time.

'He blackmailed me into it. I was expecting Jessica and he wanted us to be married before she was born. I didn't and so he… Well, let's say I didn't feel I had any choice.'

'What did he do?'

'Sorry, that's private. It's over now. In another six weeks I'm free of him.'

'And free of whatever it was he had on you that made you marry him?'

He regretted the words immediately. Lisa went chalk-white and seemed to shrink into herself , wrapping her arms round her body protectively. He wanted to take hold of her, carry her up to her bedroom and make love to her there and then. To blot out whatever she was thinking with his body; bind her to him with his lovemaking and his protection, but he knew that it wouldn't work. It was too soon.

Instead, he sat beside her and took one hand in his. 'Listen, Lisa, when you feel able to talk about it, make sure you talk to me. I can handle anything Toby Walker may have dreamt up to frighten you, and then you'll really be free. But until you're ready to trust me, just remember that I'm here. I'm extremely fond of you and I hope that in time you'll become equally fond of me.'

She knew that she never would. She was grateful to him and felt safe when he was around, as though nothing and no one could touch her while he was near. But at the same time, he himself made her uneasy. Whilst protecting her from the rest of the world he seemed to offer a threat of his own, a danger that she didn't understand and didn't want to. There were fleeting moments, on her own, when she wasn't even certain that she liked him, but in his presence that was always forgotten.

'Right,' he said briskly, sensing her change of mood, 'it's time for me to leave. I'll get in touch with someone at Great Ormond Street about Jessica in the morning. Incidentally, there's a charity ball next month in aid of the N.S.P.C.C. I'd like you to come with me if you would. Princess Margaret will be there.'

Lisa smiled. 'If I do come I'll practise my curtsy first.'

'It will do you good,' he urged. 'You haven't been having enough fun lately. Speaking of which, next time I see you we must discuss your shopping arrangements. A credit card in your name but charged to my account would be the best solution.'

'I'm not Kay,' said Lisa quietly. 'I don't want your credit cards.' 'Think of all the things you could buy Jessica at Pinky Blue's!' he reminded her, and for the first time saw a spark of interest in her eyes.

Well, it didn't matter if she started with the child. She'd soon get hooked on buying for herself; they all did eventually.

Contenting himself with a light brush of his lips against hers, he hurried off to the waiting car, leaving Lisa with a great deal to think about.

Chapter Nine

Dr Phillips was middle-aged with fair hair turning grey and eyes that were kind but alert. Lisa, sitting down opposite him with Jessica on her lap, sensed that he would at least listen to her and was grateful to Neal for arranging the appointment so quickly.

For his part, Dr Phillips noticed how tense the young mother was and also registered that her eight-month-old daughter was sitting totally limp on her lap, like a bundle of clothing rather than a small child.

'Hello, Jessica!' he said kindly. The little girl's head stayed flopped on her chest and she gave no indication that she'd heard him. He glanced down at the notes before him, mostly from Lisa's own psychiatrist, and then back at Lisa.

'How long have you been worried about Jessica?' he asked gently. 'Since she was born.'

'Why was that?'

'Silly little things. She didn't know how to feed properly for one. In the end I gave up breast feeding and she did better with the bottle, although that still has to be held at very odd angles before she'll drink!' She stopped, waiting for him to tell her that this was common, but he didn't.

'Go on,' he encouraged.

'Also, she didn't like being cuddled. She never responded to my touch or the sound of my voice. And although her eyes were open virtually from birth, she never looked at me. She still doesn't. She'll look at bright lights or patterns but never at people.'

'She's very young,' he murmured, keeping his eyes on Jessica.

'I know, and it isn't that I want her to be talking or crawling or anything, but somehow she doesn't seem to be with me. It's as though she isn't part of what's going on around her. I suppose that sounds stupid to you.'

'Not at all. Is she always limp like this?'

'No, she's usually the complete opposite! If I want to change her… '

He stood up and walked round behind Lisa's chair. 'In a moment we'll get you to change her nappy. Right now I'm going to drop a pile of books. Whatever happens, try not to jump, all right?' The books fell to the floor with a loud bang, but Jessica didn't react. 'Nothing?' asked the doctor.

'Nothing,' confirmed the nursing sister who'd placed herself so as to observe the child's reaction.

'Right, now if you'd pick her up and… ' As he spoke he gently rustled some papers on his desk and Jessica lifted her head, trying to trace the source of the sound.

'She heard that!' exclaimed Lisa in surprise. 'I'd begun to think she was partially deaf.'

'No, she certainly isn't deaf. Does she make any noises?' 'She cries!'

'When you talk to her, does she croon back , babble at you, or attempt her own kind of speech?'

'No, when I talk to her she refuses to look at me.'

'Let's see what happens when you change her, shall we?'

Lisa's heart sank. She was beginning to wonder if her own incompetence was responsible for Jessica's hatred of being changed but tried to keep relaxed as she took her over to the couch.

As soon as she tried to undo the stretch suit, Jessica went rigid from head to toe. Her limbs locked and although Lisa struggled to ease the tiny legs from the garment it was impossible because Jessica's knees were unyielding and she tried to kick her mother away without once letting her limbs relax.

'Don't worry, Mrs Walker, at least we can see what you mean!' said the doctor lightly. 'I'll try my luck while you have a rest.'

'She hates strangers,' said Lisa quickly. 'When people look in her pram, she screams and screams.'

'Does she now? And I suppose a lot of people look in the pram because she really is exceptionally beautiful, isn't she, Sister?'

'The most beautiful child I've ever seen,' said the nurse with total honesty.

'Now, let's have a proper look at you, Jessica,' murmured Dr Phillips as he tried to manipulate the tiny limbs. She went perfectly still and then started to scream. She screamed dementedly, going blue in the face from lack of oxygen, but he failed to undress her and change the nappy .

Eventually he walked over to the light with her in his arms, turning her lovely face towards his own. 'Hello, Jessica!' he repeated, watching as the huge deep-blue eyes with their sweeping black lashes slid away from his direction to stare off into the distance. He tickled her lightly under the chin. Immediately she arched her back and tried to pull away from his grip.

'I wondered if it was because she's only got me,' said Lisa hesitantly, worried by the silence in the room.

'I think not. Jessica, look at the rattle.' But Jessica wasn't interested in the rattle. Instead she twisted away and reached out for the catch on the window. The doctor moved closer so that she could grip it, and at once she smiled with pleasure, totally absorbed in the feel of the metal.

With an inward sigh the paediatrician tried to loosen her grip but she held on fast, screaming in fury when he finally managed to get her away and hand her back to Lisa. She continued screaming, pushing her hands at her mother's face as she attempted to get free.

'Please take her next door, Sister. Let her play with the sand and water,' he instructed.

'She won't play with anything,' said Lisa. 'Water might well interest her.'

As he began to write some notes, Lisa bit on her bottom lip. It was the first time anyone had shown the slightest bit of interest in Jessica's strange behaviour and now she was even more worried because she sensed that Dr Phillips was concerned too.

At last he looked up and cleared his throat. 'Mrs Walker, Jessica is very young and at this stage there are several disorders that may be causing her to behave in the manner we've witnessed. However, she is definitely showing signs of a disorder known as infant autism.'

'Infant what?'

'Autism. Autistic children are totally unable to forge emotional relationships in the normal manner and—like Jessica—are anxious to avoid direct eye contact, although it's been discovered that at a later stage they do look at people, but in swift sideways glances that are easily missed.'

'Do they grow out of it?' asked Lisa nervously.

'As I said, we know very little about the condition, and I wouldn't like to say for certain that this is Jessica's problem. However, if it is then the answer is no. They do not grow out of it.'

'You mean she'll never respond to me?'

'Autistic children seem totally unaware that other people exist,' he explained as gently as possible. 'They live in their own world, and it's one we can't penetrate. But you must remember that she may be suffering from some other form of mental disorder and… '

'You mean she's brain damaged?'

'Until your daughter is nearer the age of two we won't be absolutely certain of our diagnosis, but if she is autistic we can't ever tell you how or why it happened.'Some specialists believe it's inborn, the result of brain damage or even a chromosomal abnormality; others think that it could be the result of life experience, some sort of trauma immediately after birth. Personally I don't think this is true. I'm quite sure that your daughter has been cherished from the moment she was born, and quite probably the damage occurred in the womb… '

She didn't hear any more. All she could think of was Toby kicking her, kicking his unborn daughter and turning her into a mentally handicapped child. 'But she looks so normal,' she blurted out. 'I mean, she's lovely. You said so yourself. If she was brain damaged, wouldn't it show?'

'That's another reason why I suspect infant autism. For some reason these children are outstandingly attractive. Indeed, as they grow older they can look exceptionally intelligent. It's totally misleading, of course, and somehow makes it much harder for people to accept the diagnosis.'

'But you're not sure, are you?' pressed Lisa, suddenly wishing she'd never made such a fuss about Jessica. If she'd waited the baby would probably have grown out of it all, and then she'd have been spared this nightmare of an examination.

'I'm not sure she's autistic but she is mentally handicapped. Her responses are totally wrong. You saw how she ignored the falling books but listened when paper rustled. That's not normal. You've been worrying about her since the day she was born, and you were right.'

'Surely she might get better? Perhaps she's just a little slow.'

'But she isn't slow. Physically, she's doing very well and she can sit up without support.'

'What happens when autistic babies grow older?'

'It varies according to the degree of autism. Unfortunately this term covers a vast range of difficulties. It isn't a text book disorder. No one can ever tell you how an autistic child will develop because they're all different.'

'Then how do you ever know you've made the correct diagnosis?' 'When Jessica's old enough she'll be tested against a standard set of nine criteria for diagnosing infant autism, two of which are common to all affected children.'

Lisa decided she didn't want to know what they were. 'Will she ever learn to walk and talk?' she asked desperately.

'She'll certainly walk. She might well have you running after her non-stop twenty-four hours a day if she's one of the hyperactive kind, but talk—well, not really. She'll probably speak but it won't make sense. She'll latch on to certain words or phrases and use them indiscriminately. She may echo your words in the wrong context, but she'll never progress beyond a fairly early form of communication.'

She listened to his words and felt tears rolling down her face but was unable to do anything about them. Dr Phillips pushed some tissues towards her, wishing he could offer comfort but unwilling to lie about a handicap that he found usually totally destroyed the life of the family concerned, until the child was finally sent away.

'Will she become more loving?' she asked, thinking that if she could only cuddle her child then she wouldn't mind everything else. It was the rejection that was so difficult to accept.

'No,' he said softly. 'They're always very aloof.'

'I hate him,' muttered Lisa after a short pause. 'It's all his fault. I'd like to kill him for what he's done to her.'

'Mrs Walker, no one's to blame.'

'What do you know about it?' she demanded. 'Jessica's father hit and kicked me only a few weeks before she was born. I nearly lost her then. Can you honestly sit there and tell me that he didn't do it?'

'Children like this are born to… '

'I don't care about the others! We're talking about Jessica, and it's his fault. He damaged her before she was born; she's never had a chance and she never will!' She began to rock backwards and forwards in her misery, sobbing quietly to herself as the anger drained away until only despair at her new knowledge remained.

The doctor sighed and looked at his watch. 'I'm very sorry,' he told her gently . 'I'd like to see Jessica once a month from now on, just to see how she progresses. We'll send you a card with your next appointment on it.' She nodded, too choked by tears to answer. 'Is there anyone who could come and take you both home?' he continued anxiously.

She fumbled in her bag for Neal's number. 'If I could ring… ' Her voice tailed off as she began to weep again. 'See to that , Nurse,' he instructed, and the young probationer put her arm round the slight figure and led her through to where Jessica lay on her stomach, splashing her hands in a soggy pool of sand and water with obvious relish.

Her extremely vocal displeasure at having this pastime removed echoed down the corridors of the hospital as Lisa clutched her tightly to her chest and wondered what she'd do if Neal couldn't come and take them home. When he arrived half an hour later she was still crying. Jessica had gone limp again, which made it easier for Neal to take her in his arms and pass her across to Mike, who watched the distraught Lisa with sympathetic eyes.

She let Neal put an arm round her and turned her face against his chest, trying to muffle her sobs as she clutched at the lapels of his light grey suit. 'I'm afraid she's had a bad shock,' the sister explained, outlining what Dr Phillips suspected. Neal nodded and led Lisa out to the car before instructing Mike to take them all to his Chelsea flat.

She didn't take any notice of where they were going. She didn't even check on Jessica when Mike lifted the carrycot out and carried it up to the top floor, placing it carefully on the small single bed in the second bedroom.

'That's all,' Neal said curtly when Mike remained standing in the hallway.

'Will you be wanting me later?' His eyes were drawn again to the tear-stained Lisa.

'No, I'll do the rest of the driving myself. Bishop wants you.'

Only the sound of Bishop's name brought Lisa back to reality. She raised her head swiftly as though suddenly aware of a second man's presence and fearful it might be Bishop himself. When she saw Mike she smiled fleetingly, a smile noticed and resented by Neal who almost shut the door on Mike's foot.

'Feeling better?' he inquired, hearing Jessica start to scream and silently cursing her timing.

'Not really, but I don't suppose I will. Did they tell you what was wrong?'

'Sit down while I make some coffee,' he responded, wondering what was the best line to take over the child's disability.

Lisa followed him into the tiny but immaculate kitchen. 'It's Toby's fault,' she said dully. 'Dr Phillips said it can be caused by brain damage. I should think he kicked her enough times to damage more than her brain. I'd like to kill him myself ,' she added.

'I doubt that. Besides, are they sure that's what caused all this?' 'They're not sure of anything!' she said bitterly. 'They won't even say with certainty that she's autistic, although they didn't offer any reassuring alternatives. No, they didn't say Toby caused it, but I know he did.'

'So what happens now?'

'Nothing! I take her along once a month while they watch her progress, or lack of it as the case may be.'

'And then?'

'He didn't say. I don't think he wanted to talk about what happens to autistic children. He probably thought I'd heard enough for one day. I tell you one thing, she isn't going into a home. She'd hate it.' Neal thought that Jessica was unlikely to notice any difference in her surroundings wherever she was but didn't say as much. Instead he contented himself with pulling Lisa closer to him, while running one hand soothingly up and down her arm. 'Whatever happens, remember that I'm here. If you need a nanny or trained nurse to help you cope, I can make sure you get the best there is. And if a home should turn out to be the best thing for Jessica—if not for you—we'll find the finest one.'