Merlyn's Magic (30 page)

But it suddenly became important that she read that
notebook of Suzie's. It could never make her hate Rand, as he had
claimed it would, but it might help her to understand him a little
better.

'I think I would like to rest after all, Mummy,' she
settled back on the pillows. 'Do you mind?'

'Not at all, darling. I'm just glad you've decided to be
sensible.' Her aristocratic features softened as she bent over Merlyn.
'I know I haven't been the best mother in the world to you and Richard,
but I am pleased about your baby.'

'There's very little chance that Rand will want to marry
me,' she told her gently.

'I didn't raise a daughter who couldn't meet a challenge,'
her mother told her encouragingly.

'Single parenthood is more than a challenge,
Mummy—'

'Nonsense! You want the baby, don't you?' She looked at
Merlyn frowningly.

'Oh yes.' Her eyes glowed like emeralds.

Her mother nodded, as if she had never doubted what
Merlyn's answer would be. 'Then it will all work out, you'll see. Your
father and I intend helping you all that we can, and—'

'Daddy knows too—? He didn't do all those years
of training either, not to be able to tell when a woman is pregnant,'
she said dryly at her mother's raised eyebrows.

'Exactly,' her mother confirmed with satisfaction. 'And
you are not to worry about a thing. Your father and I have discussed
it, and by the time the baby is old enough for you to want to resume
your career I'll be thinking of retirement, and—'

'I'm sure there will be no need for you to do that,'
Merlyn cut in with shocked dismay; she knew that her mother had
never
thought of retirement, and she wasn't going to let her make that
sacrifice for her. 'As you said, I'm sure it will all work out, without
your having to make such a drastic step,' she said lightly. 'And I'm
sure Rand will want to help out financially.'

'Do you want that?' Her mother frowned at the strain
Merlyn displayed at this last comment.

'I want my baby to know its father,' she decided firmly.
'And Rand is the type of man to want to recognise and take on his
responsibilities.' The last was added a little bitterly as she realised
Rand would probably never love her child.

'Oh, darling…!' Her mother squeezed her hand
comfortingly, tears glistening in her hazel eyes.

'I'll be all right, Mummy.' Merlyn gave an over-bright
smile. 'I'm your daughter, remember?'

'You certainly are.' Her mother straightened. 'I never
realised how much until today.'

She had never heard that proud tone in her mother's voice
before, had always felt she was something of a disappointment to her
parents, refusing the opportunity to go to university in favour of
becoming an actress. And probably a lot of parents would feel
disappointed with a daughter who was pregnant and had received no
proposal to marry the father. She suddenly realised she was proud of
her mother too.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took out the notebook
from the drawer beside her. The last month of Suzie Forrester's life.
What had Rand done to induce the self-hatred he felt? God, how she
dreaded reading about it.

The notebook was obviously different from those others
that Suzie had written as a way of expressing her feelings, a way of
venting her emotions during the terrible months of her illness. This
book had been written by a woman broken spiritually and emotionally,
and as Merlyn read page after page she realised why Suzie had been
filled with a rage that had made her hate Rand for what he had done to
her.

Suzie hadn't miscarried her baby at all, Merlyn learnt
during those first anguished pages, but had been persuaded by Rand and
her doctor that to receive the treatment she needed the baby would have
to be sacrificed. Or she would die.

There would be other babies, once she was well, Rand had
told her, persuaded her. And with a breaking heart Suzie had sacrificed
the baby she had waited so many years to conceive.

Tears streamed down Merlyn's cheeks as she read of the
terrible loss that had haunted Suzie through all the months that had
followed, her only consolation—although even that hadn't
seemed as important as the loss of her baby—had been that she
did seem to be getting better. Although it hadn't been the doctor's
treatment that had done that but the self-help she had found, and she
had wondered time and time again whether the doctors could also have
been wrong about the baby. She had never once blamed Rand, knew that he
had wanted children as much as she did, if not more, and that he had
suffered too.

And then a week before her death Rand had told her there
could never be another baby, that when they had taken her child from
her they had found it necessary to perform a small operation that meant
she would never be able to conceive again.

Suzie had left Rand, gone to London, hating him with every
fibre of her being for the death of her child.

Those days in London had been a nightmare, Suzie reliving again and again the loss of her child and
her inability to have any more.

The last entry in the book had been written on the morning
she died. She had made her decision, she wrote, couldn't change the
past, that had gone, but she could, and would, change her future.

By eight o'clock that night she had been dead.

At her own hand? Had she driven into that tree
deliberately, with the intention of 'changing her future'? The police
had reported that no other vehicle had been involved, and the road had
shown no signs of oil or grease where she had swerved off it, and no
mechanical or structural damage to the car other than that incurred by
the accident had been reported either.

Rand certainly believed that Suzie had taken her own life
because he had lied to her. She knew now that was the reason he hated
himself and wanted her to hate him too.

Only she didn't. Her heart ached for the pain Suzie had
known, but it also ached for Rand, for the agony he must have gone
through mentally and kept hidden from Suzie all those months after
their baby had died, for the decision he alone had had to make, knowing
that once Suzie was told the truth she would hate him. As she had.

He believed he was responsible for the death of his child
and then his wife, when all he had wanted to do was keep Suzie alive.

Rand was wrong about Merlyn completely, she did still love
him, and she wanted to see him again, if only to tell him that her
feelings for him hadn't changed and that they never would. Even if he
could never love again he deserved to know that.

God, she had let one night and day already pass letting
him believe she had read the book and despised him as much as he had
thought she would. She wasn't going to let another night pass the same
way. He had
had
no choice but to want Suzie alive.

She swung her legs over the side of the high hospital bed,
feeling a little dizzy as she attempted to stand for the first time in
four days, wishing the floor didn't seem quite so far away. Her legs
felt sore too, where the burns were still healing. But if she could
just get some clothes on she could ring for a taxi to take her to
Rand's home.

'I just came to—What are you doing?' An
astounded Christopher came to a halt in the doorway as he witnessed her
struggles to get out of bed.

'What am
I
doing?' She reminded him
that it was only six-thirty, too early for visiting hours.

He looked abashed. 'I came back to apologise for my
behaviour earlier,' he muttered.

'
You
did?' she mocked.

His cheeks flushed angrily. 'There's no need to rub my
contrition in my face,' he bit out tautly. 'All we ever seem to do
lately is argue. We're going to have another argument right now if you
don't tell me what you're doing?' He frowned as she finally managed to
get her feet to the floor. 'You're in no condition to be out of bed,'
he scowled as he came forward to steady her. 'Where are you going?' he
prompted impatiently.

'Be a dear and get my clothes out of the closet over
there.' She indicated the cupboard as she sat down weakly on the
bedside chair.

'But—'

'Please do it, Christopher,' she asked wearily. 'You said
you didn't want to argue any more,' she reminded him.

He strode angrily over to the closet, taking out the
clothes Liza had got ready and her mother had brought in to hang in
there ready for her discharge in a few days' time. 'I don't know what
wild-goose chase you're on, but—What's this?' he frowned as
he picked up the notebook that still lay on her bed.

'Nothing.' She unsuccessfully attempted to snatch the book
out of his hand. 'Christopher, don't!' she cried desperately as he
moved out of her reach to begin flicking through the pages. 'You can't
use any of that in your film,' she told him stubbornly as he whistled
softly through his teeth at what he was reading. 'Satisfied?' she
glared at him resentfully as he silently handed her back the book.

'Where did you get that from?' he asked quietly.

'Rand. Who else?' she challenged, angry with him for his
blatant invasion of privacy.

'I presume you're on your way to see him now?'

'Yes.' Once again she sounded defiant. He had had no right
to read that notebook, no right at all!

'I'll drive you,' he told her softly.

Merlyn's eyes widened. 'You will?' she said uncertainly.

He nodded abruptly. 'I can't persuade you not to go?' He
quirked his brows.

'No!'

'Then I may as well make sure you get there safely,' he
shrugged.

This unexpected display of kindness from Christopher
brought tears to her eyes. 'Thank you!' Merlyn gave him a shaky smile.

'Don't thank me,' he muttered. 'I still think you're
making the biggest mistake of your life—'

'Oh don't,' she laughingly silenced him. 'Don't go and
spoil it!'

He gave a terse inclination of his head. 'Do you need any
help getting dressed?'

Colour highlighted her cheeks. 'I'll manage,' she mumbled
awkwardly. Although she wasn't quite sure how; she already felt stiff
all over, and as weak as a newborn kitten.

Christopher turned in the doorway to observe her laboured
movements. 'Sure, you'll manage,' he drawled. 'Give me a call if you
get into difficulties.'

'Into difficulties' in no way described the next ten
minutes as she tried to dress herself, omitting the silky nylons Liza
seemed to have put in; her mother would have realised she couldn't bear
anything on her legs just yet. But through contortions and sheer
will-power she managed to zip on the brown skirt and pull on the
matching jacket over a cream blouse.

'Well,' Christopher surveyed her when she appeared in the
doorway, swaying a little, her expression one of triumph because of her
achievement, 'the most I can say about you is that you're decent.
Almost.' He straightened her blouse in the waistband of her skirt,
undoing several of the buttons on her blouse and refastening them where
she had matched them up incorrectly with the holes. 'You wouldn't win
any prizes in a beauty contest.' His hand beneath her elbow helped
support her as they began the slow walk down the corridor to the exit.
'But I suppose you'll have to do.'

'Thanks!'

He shrugged. 'I've never believed in giving false
compliments.'

'I can tell that!' she spoke between gritted teeth, each
step an agony.

'Well I—'

'Miss Summers, where do you think you're going?'

Merlyn rolled her eyes expressively at Christopher before
leaning back on the wall to turn and face the young nurse who eyed her
scandalously as she bore down on them in the hollow-sounding corridor.

'Mr Drake is just taking me—'

'He isn't "taking you" anywhere,' she was informed
briskly. 'You shouldn't be out of bed. And you certainly shouldn't be
dressed.' She gave Christopher a disapproving glare, knowing he had to
have helped Merlyn get as far as she had. 'I know for a fact that you
haven't been discharged—'

'I'm only going out for a short time,' Merlyn protested.
'I'll be back.'

'This isn't a hotel, Miss Summers. We do not allow
patients to come and go as they please—'

'She is a private patient, and she doesn't need anyone's
permission to take herself out for a few hours,' Christopher was the
one to tell the young woman with cool disdain.

The nurse bristled indignantly. 'Nevertheless, there are
certain rules that still have to be adhered to—'

'Then you adhere to them,' Christopher said, taking a firm
hold of Merlyn's arm to start walking towards the exit again. 'You
would have made a perfect prison warden,' he added disparagingly.

'I'm sorry.' Merlyn turned to give the other woman a
sympathetic grimace as she gasped her outrage at his insulting tone.
'He doesn't really mean to be rude—'

'Don't I?' he grated, turning to face the gaping nurse
while swinging the door open for Merlyn at the same time. 'We're
leaving now,' he challenged. 'Both of us!'

The nurse was galvanised into action. 'If Miss Summers is
choosing to discharge herself there are certain papers that have to be
signed, and—'

'I told you, I'll be back,' Merlyn called out to the other
woman as the door swung shut behind them. 'You were a little hard on
her, Christopher,' she scolded as he helped her into the passenger seat
of his car. 'She was only trying to do her job—'

'She was trying to prevent you from leaving when you've
chosen to go!' The car engine only had time to roar into life before he
pressed his foot down on the accelerator, the red sports car speeding
away with a grinding of stones beneath its wheels.

'Christopher!' Merlyn complained as she was thrown back in
her seat.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'I've just never been able to stand
that kind of restraint being put on my actions.'