Kingdom of Shadows (79 page)

His flat intrigued her: the roof-top views, the evidence of music and books everywhere, the untidiness, the well-equipped but shabby, ill-stocked kitchen. It was very obviously a man’s flat. There were few signs of Kathleen there. There was also no evidence of a spare room.

Neil pushed open the door to the bedroom. ‘You can sleep in here. I’ll kip down on the sofa.’

Clare frowned. ‘I’m putting you to an awful lot of trouble.’

‘Not at all. Hang on. I’ll find you some clean sheets.’ He smiled. ‘Paul won’t ever find you here.’

She returned the smile uncomfortably. ‘No, I don’t suppose he will.’

He dived into a drawer and produced a pair of dark blue sheets. ‘Where is your stuff?’

‘My stuff?’

‘Your suitcases.’

Clare laughed out loud this time. ‘I’m travelling light. This is it.’ She indicated the bag on her shoulder.

‘What, no lines of porters with bundles on their heads? No camels? No pack donkeys? No servants?’ He sounded scandalised.

She shook her head.

‘No dog?’

‘No dog.’ The expression on her face made him bite back the comment he was about to make. For a second the mask had slipped and he glimpsed the loneliness and uncertainty.

‘How did you get to Edinburgh?’ His voice was more gentle.

‘I stole my parents’ car.’

‘Stole it?’ He looked at her carefully. ‘Literally stole it?’

She nodded.

‘Then you really did have to escape?’

She nodded again.

‘And where is it now?’

‘Outside your office, on a meter.’

Neil glanced heavenwards. ‘Bloody hell, woman! Anyone can see you’re no good at being devious. I tell you what. We’ll dump it somewhere tonight, then you can put the keys in the post to your parents. As long as you keep it, they can locate you through the police.’

‘The police!’ Her face went white.

‘If they really want to find you, all they have to do is report it stolen.’

Clare bit her lip. Abruptly she sat down on the end of the bed. ‘Oh God! What am I going to do?’

He sat down beside her. ‘You are serious about leaving Paul? Absolutely sure?’

She nodded.

‘There will be no going back once we go into print.’

‘I am sure.’

‘OK. I had to check.’ He turned to her, and putting his hands on her shoulders, gave her a little shake. ‘Why did you ever marry the bastard?’

‘I don’t know.’ Her eyes flooded with tears and she looked away from him, embarrassed, desperately groping in her pocket for a handkerchief. ‘I thought I loved him, I suppose –’

‘But you didn’t?’

She shook her head mutely.

‘And now you love someone else?’

Again she shook her head.

‘Then what opened your eyes?’

‘Seeing what it is like to be really in love, and seeing what he’s prepared to do to me. He’s never loved me. Not for a single moment.’

‘Seeing what it’s like to be in love?’ He frowned. ‘You mean someone you know is in love?’

She bit her lip, and slowly she nodded. ‘Yes. Someone I know is in love.’

Someone whose feelings she could share and watch and feel as though they were her own.

She looked up at him wearily. ‘I’m afraid of Paul.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

Neil swore under his breath. Impulsively he pulled her to him, his arm around her shoulders. ‘There’s no need to be any more. With a bit of luck you need never see the bastard again!’

Her face, wet with tears, was close to his. He could smell her perfume – the perfume he remembered from Duncairn, the smell of the cool fragrance on her hair and her skin.

Suddenly he realised how much he wanted her; how much he had wanted her since the first moment he had set eyes on her. Slowly he leaned towards her and kissed her on the mouth. She didn’t move. She sat absolutely still, every muscle taut, her eyes closed as if she was terrified even to breathe. He frowned, then gently he tried again, this time putting his arms around her properly, drawing her close to him. Her mouth opened almost unwillingly beneath his, but still she didn’t struggle, nor did she try to push him away as he eased her gently back on to the bed. He kissed her face exploratively, gently probing, touching her eyelids and nose with his lips and tongue, running his fingers through her hair and down the line of her neck. Then slowly he began to fumble with the zip of her dress.

She lay still, not daring to move, her emotions in complete conflict. Half of her wanted to get up and slap his face and run, the other half wanted him to hold her, to make love to her, to make her feel wanted and alive, if only for a few brief moments. The hesitation was her undoing; she was realising that the feel of his hands was pleasant, even exciting. She felt him ease the straps of her bra off her shoulders, then his hands were on her breasts and she gasped as a knife-edged flicker of excitement shot through her.

‘I think we’ve been promising ourselves this for a long time,’ he murmured. He ducked his head to let his lips find her nipples.

She opened her eyes as he sought out her mouth again, and suddenly she found herself clinging to him. She dug her nails into his shoulders, pulling him against her, thrusting her hips towards his, for the first time in her life driven by a strange blind frantic desire. She forgot where she was; she forgot who she was; she forgot that she hardly knew this man and that for the time she had known him she had disliked him intensely. All she knew was that she wanted him as she had never wanted anything or anyone in her life before.

It was over as quickly as it had started. Clare turned away from him, drawing her knees up towards her stomach defensively. She was shaking like a leaf.

Neil sat up. He was tucking his shirt back into his trousers when he realised that she was crying.

‘Hey, what’s the matter? It was good wasn’t it?’ He felt suddenly guilty.

She nodded miserably.

‘So, what the hell are you crying for?’

‘I don’t know.’ Slowly she dragged herself upright. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’

‘Through there.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘What’s wrong, Clare?’ He caught her hand and swung her towards him. ‘Didn’t I come up to expectations?’ His guilt and the sight of her white, stricken face made him angry. ‘It was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Off with the husband, and on with the new. Let’s amuse ourselves with – what am I? A bit of the rough? In between Old Etonians?’ He stood up and strode over to the window, throwing up the lower casement. A blast of ice-cold air blew into the room.

Clare was buttoning her dress. With shaking fingers she fumbled with the buckle on the belt. ‘It’s not like that!’ Suddenly she was angry too. ‘You have an awfully low opinion of yourself, haven’t you! Why the chip on the shoulder? Doesn’t your beautiful Irish lady rate you as a lover?’

She stormed towards the bathroom door. There wasn’t a lock. With a sob of frustration she jammed a stool against the door then she sat down on the edge of the bath and turned both taps on full.

Neil was sitting at the kitchen table when she came out at last. He had opened a bottle of wine. He pushed a glass towards her. ‘Beaujolais Nouveau,’ he said. ‘You won’t get vintage anything in this house. If you give me your car keys I know someone who is going across to Glasgow tonight. He’ll drive your parents’ car across and leave it near Queen Street station. With a bit of luck that will put them off the scent. They’ll think you’ve gone somewhere by train.’

Clare sat down and picked up the glass. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was flat. ‘Do you want me to find somewhere else to stay?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s up to you.’

‘I’d like to stay here.’ She was terrified suddenly of being alone.

‘Stay here then, but don’t expect bloody kid gloves.’

She gave a watery smile. ‘I won’t.’

‘You still want me to put out a statement to the press?’

She nodded. ‘Nothing’s changed.’

‘No?’ He looked at her closely. Then he stood up. ‘No, perhaps you’re right. Nothing has changed.’ He picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘Right. I’ll take your car over to Patrick right now. You might as well stay here and tidy up. Make up the bed for yourself.’ The slightest inflection on the word yourself told her exactly where she stood and she coloured slightly. ‘I’ll be back later,’ he went on. ‘Then we can go up the road for a tandoori.’

He was holding out his hand for the keys as Clare fumbled in the pocket of her coat when the front door of the flat opened. Kathleen stood staring at them for a full twenty seconds before she stepped inside and slammed it behind her.

‘So,’ she said. ‘Bloody Neil Forbes! I tell you I’m going to be away a couple of nights and you can’t wait, can you, you lousy shit!’ The cards had warned her: the tower. Twice – and then again the priestess – the woman with the psychic eyes.

Kathleen stood staring at them, her hands in the pockets of her heavy camel coat.

‘Kath –’ Neil’s tone was warning.

‘Kath –’ she echoed, mocking. ‘Oh Kath, you’re not going to make a fuss, Kath! You would never have known, Kath! Don’t be a spoilsport, Kath …!’ She walked over to the bedroom door and stared in. The bed was still rumpled where they had lain; their shoes lay discarded at the foot of it, the clean, blue bed sheets had fallen, still folded to the floor.

Neil put on his jacket. ‘If you don’t like it, you know what you can do.’ He pulled open the front door. ‘I’ll see you later.’ His tone was as bored and curt as when he had addressed Clare.

‘Neil –’ Clare suddenly realised that he was going to leave her alone with Kathleen – but already the door had banged behind him and they could hear his footsteps running down the long flights of worn stone steps to the windswept Canongate below.

Kathleen gave a cold smile. ‘Typical man! Running out on the mess,’ she said. ‘Are you planning on moving in, because if you are, don’t bother. I’ll get him back.’

Clare sat down at the table. She snatched up her glass. ‘I’m only staying a couple of days, until I find somewhere else.’ Her hands were shaking again.

Kathleen looked down at her coldly. ‘You’d better make that someone else, as well.’

‘There’s nothing between us.’ Clare couldn’t look at her.

‘No?’ Kathleen gave a sneering laugh. ‘Do you think I don’t know when two people have been screwing? It’s written all over your faces.’

Clare blushed. ‘It … it didn’t mean anything.’

‘No!’ Kathleen’s face was hard. ‘I don’t suppose it did! Well, keep it that way. Quite a triumph for Neil, to lay someone like you, considering how much he loathes you.’ She walked over to the desk and pulling open a drawer took out an envelope. In it was her train ticket, the reason she had to come back to the flat before walking down to Waverley. She pushed it into the pocket of her skirt. ‘I’ll be back on Monday,’ she said. ‘Enjoy him while you’ve got him.’

Clare stared at the door for a long time after Kathleen had left, then slowly she walked back into the bedroom. She felt sick and degraded. She stood staring down at the bed. She had never slept with anyone but Paul before. What had possessed her to do such a thing? Neil had made no secret of the fact that he despised her; he had promised her nothing apart from a short-term bolthole from Paul. He was probably at this moment crowing over his victory with his friends in a pub somewhere … And yet he had given her something. His hands on her body had released something she had never known she possessed. She had felt passion and hunger for a man for the first time in her life. Her lovemaking with Paul had been a shadow of this. She sat down on the bed and put her hand on the rumpled sheets where Neil had lain, slowly becoming aware of the fact that her body was still glowing and satisfied, awakened for the first time in her life. This was how it had been for Isobel. This was the feeling that she had been willing to throw away everything for – that and love. She frowned. Neil had asked her if she had ever loved Paul. She had never loved anyone at all. Not as Isobel had loved Robert …

When Neil returned she was still there, lying on the bed, her eyes closed, her arm across her face.

He stood looking down at her. ‘Are you all right?’

She nodded silently.

‘Your car is on its way to Glasgow, and the keys will be mailed back to your mother from there.’

‘Thank you.’ She felt the bed sag as he sat down next to her. He pulled her arm away from her face. ‘I take it you sent Kath on her way?’

Clare turned away from him. ‘She left, but not without having the last word.’

‘That sounds like Kathleen.’ He laughed quietly. ‘So, did you manage to stand up for yourself?’

Slowly she sat up. ‘You make it sound like some sort of test.’

‘Maybe.’ He folded his arms, looking at her hard. ‘Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been running away from something. Even that first time at Duncairn. I don’t know what from, but you were running then, and then that time in Suffolk, I could see it in your eyes, and again at the hotel the other day. And it’s not just Paul Royland you’re running away from, is it?’

She swung her legs to the floor and sat there, hugging her arms around herself miserably. ‘I don’t know who else it would be.’

‘Yourself, perhaps. Can I give you a piece of advice? Trite, perhaps, but I think good advice, nevertheless. If you stop running from yourself, you’d find you didn’t have to run away from other people any more. I don’t think the real you is a passive victim of circumstance. I think she’s a fighter. And I think she took the first step in that fight right here on this bed.’ His face was very serious, then suddenly he grinned. ‘End of lecture. Are you hungry?’

She nodded with a faint smile. ‘Neil.’ It was only the second time she had called him by his first name. ‘Will you answer one question?’

‘What?’

‘Do you loathe and despise me?’

‘That’s two questions.’

‘No. Be serious. I want to know.’

‘No and no. Satisfied?’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Then why ask? Come on, let’s go and get something to eat. We have a manifesto to draw up, remember? The Clare Royland Unilateral Declaration of Independence. Don’t worry about what other people are thinking about you, Clare. The important thing is to know what you think about yourself.’