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‘All right, if that’s the way you want it.’

‘That is just the way I want it,’ he sounded even more arrogant than ever, ‘and therefore that’s the way it will be. An obedient wife,’' he slanted a dark grey look down at her, ‘doesn’t fight her husband every inch of the way, and that’s what you’ve been doing, Kate, even before we were married. I’ve given way when I thought you had reason on your side, but this time your demand is unreasonable.’ He paused and then resumed in a very definite tone, ‘We shall do our business more quickly and more comfortably without Philip, so he will
not
be coming.’

At the Kensington house, the two bedrooms and the small drawing-room looked wonderful. Kate said so and Mrs Davies sniffed disparagingly.

‘So they should, madam. I’ve had our Ellen scrubbing away at them every day since those men left. Call themselves a firm of decorators? You should have seen the mess they made, not to mention two strips of paper in the drawing-room put on upside down. But everything’s ready now and I’ve had samples of the colours left so you can match up for carpets and drapes.’

‘The spare bedrooms are a bit small,’ Kate smiled across the dinner table at her husband. Mrs Davies’s cooking might be old-fashioned, but it was superb, and Kate, who had been hungry, now felt replete, warm and content so that everything around her was likeable, even Jerome. ‘Do you think fitted units would be better than ordinary wardrobes, dressing tables and such?’

He paused in lighting a cigarette and regarded her through a faint cloud of blue smoke. ‘You’ll please yourself, Kate. It’s your home.’

She agreed happily. ‘They’re guest rooms, so I think fitted units would look better; they’d leave more space. How funny,’ she marvelled, ‘me bothering about space as if I was used to acres and acres of it—but that’s what luxury living does for you. I remember when Shirley first came to my little flat....’

‘We will not discuss your stepsister.’ From a moderately pleasant human being, Jerome turned immediately into a dark, withdrawn tyrant, and she bristled.'

‘Why not? What have you got against Shirley? When I think of the way your family treated her—you had her investigated as if she was no better than a shoplifter, Theo left her....’

With an angry growl, he slammed down his napkin and sat back in the chair. ‘Theo did
not
leave her!’

‘He did!’ Kate scowled. ‘Shirley came to me.... He left her because she was pregnant and wasn’t looking pretty any more. She told me!’

‘Your little sister told you a great many things, Kate, and very few of them were the truth.’ He looked at her bleakly and his face was hard. ‘For instance, did she tell you that she didn’t want the child?’

‘That’s not true!’ Kate exploded, the last of her pleasant feelings towards him vanishing like silk going up in flames.

‘It was true,’ he ignored her violent protest. ‘I told you once before that you were deaf as well as blind. Shirley had made an appointment at a private clinic to have an abortion, Theo found out about it and whipped her up to Mother’s for a month. The young fool thought she’d done it because she was young and frightened! He thought Mother could talk some sense into her. When he found she’d calmed down and apparently accepted the baby coming, he gave way and brought her back to London. Only it didn’t stop there.’ He raised a hand to silence Kate’s outburst. ‘Your little sister went back to the clinic as soon as Theo’s back was turned, but fortunately for Philip, she was too late. The doctors wouldn’t touch her and, I imagine for pure spite, she landed herself on you. She knew Theo wanted the baby and that’s how she punished him for making her have it. She disappeared without a word.’

Kate sat, white-faced, and let the words run over her. They were horrible things Jerome was saying, horrible! But somehow she knew they were true. Whatever other bad points he had, he didn’t lie. He might be arrogant, insensitive and withdrawn; he might have—he
had
forced her into marriage, used blackmail to do it, he had held those negatives over her head like a sword of Damocles, he had bullied and threatened to get his own way, but he didn’t stoop to' barefaced lies.

‘You could have traced her,’ she whispered through the pain in her throat and he smiled at her, it wasn’t a nice smile.

‘Yes, I could have traced her. I’m not so nice in my dealings as Theo was. He was little more than a boy, remember, only a few months older than your sister and full of silly chivalrous notions. Yes, as you say, I could have traced her, but I was over in the States. It was a busy time and Mother wouldn’t allow Theo to bother me, we were just getting the New York Office off the ground. He tried to do it on his own, but he wore kid gloves to do it and he couldn’t be detached enough. Shirley used to send him a photograph every month after Philip was born, one of those quickie things taken in a booth. There was no way of tracing those, either.’ Jerome rose to his feet and came around the table, seizing her and dragging her to her feet, his fingers closing cruelly on her shoulders. ‘He was a nice kid, Kate, barely twenty! How would you have felt if somebody had sent you a photograph of
your
son once a month, tormented you with
that
? Did you ever meet Theo?’

Kate opened her mouth to say that of course she’d met Theo, but the words never came, as she realised with a sick feeling in her stomach that she never had. It seemed almost impossible, but it was true. Theo had been so clear in her mind, and yet the image had all been built from a few photographs and the things Shirley had said. ‘No,’ she said dully, ‘I never met him.’ There was a wry look about Jerome’s mouth. ‘He was a bit wild and careless, but he settled down when he married. Mother said that marriage seemed to have made a man of him. Do you want to accuse my mother of lying, Kate?’

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Your mother doesn’t lie. But it can’t have been as bad as you say. Shirley went back to him.’

She peeped upwards and the face that looked back down at her was that of a stranger, hard and masklike, with white patches about the nose and mouth and a dreadful bitter look in the eyes.

‘Mmm, but on her terms.’ It was almost a sneer. ‘There were to be no more children—your little sister was too sensitive, too delicate to endure such a disgusting procedure again. Theo had to make sure that there would be no further recurrence, she insisted on it. After all, as she pointed out, he now had a son, he didn’t want more!’

‘Oh, no!’ Tears were streaming down Kate’s face. ‘Not that!’

‘Precisely that! And he did it for her,’ Jerome’s fingers were digging into her shoulders, almost crushing the slender bones, but she hardly felt the pain, all she could think of was the horror she felt. Jerome shook her and she paid no attention. ‘Can you wonder he idolised the boy,’ his voice was cold and cutting. ‘His boy, his son, the only one he’d ever have! And when he finally put his foot down and got rid of the permanent nanny Shirley had installed, when he was going to take his wife and son on holiday, she wouldn’t even let him have that. She brought the boy to you.’

‘Shirley said it was a second honeymoon....’ Kate had stopped crying and stood, cold and empty, her face paper-white. ‘Couldn’t you have stopped it, Theo’s op, I mean?’

‘Your little sister’s timing was too good,’ he was jeering at her. ‘She had it arranged very nicely. It was all over and they were back living together when I returned from the States.’

Kate lay huddled into herself on her own side of the bed. that night. Not even the electric blanket could disperse the cold which had invaded every inch of her body. She searched around in her mind for some extenuating circumstances, something, anything which would explain Shirley’s behaviour, some little excuse, any excuse for her sister’s complete disregard for anything but her own interests. Shirley had been very young, of course, and she had been a beautiful child, so that everybody had spoiled her a little. Kate’s mind went on hunting, ferreting, and she was still awake much later when Jerome came to bed. She lay in a huddle of misery, feeling the movement as he slid between the sheets. He hated her, he
must
be hating her. He wouldn’t even want to touch her!

Her misery increased because she had at last to admit to herself the unadmittable thing and she couldn’t bear it. Not to lie here beside this man, her husband; to want the comfort of his arms about her, wanting to creep closer to him, to hold him and to give him whatever comfort and solace he could find in her willing body.

This was a fine time to discover that she loved her husband!

‘Stop crying, Kate.’

‘I’m not crying.’ It was the truth. She was long past tears and it was too late for tears. Was this, then, why Jerome had married her? Not only to get Philip but to make her pay for the pain Shirley had inflicted on the Manfreds as she went on her heedless, uncaring way!

Kate thought of leaving and a bitter little smile twisted her mouth. She couldn’t leave, she knew that. Not unless he threw her out. He’d taught her all she knew about loving a man and a life without him would be a dreary waste, a cold arid desert where she would wander, for ever alone, knowing what heaven was like and never being able to find it again.

On impulse she turned over to face him, her hand going out to touch his body, and the skin felt like silk against her fingers. ‘I’m sorry,’ but even as she spoke, she knew it was useless. There was no comfort she could give him and he was in no mood to comfort her.

‘Go to sleep, Kate.’ He sounded unutterably weary, and with a little whimper of pain, she turned again, away from him, and lay quietly in the darkness, feeling very much alone and outcast.

In the morning, her pain had subsided to a dull ache and although she still felt bad, the daylight helped. During her shower and while she was dressing, she looked at what was to be her life and shuddered. It would be a chill, hopeless hell. It would be interspersed, of course, with bursts of hot passion, but passion without love wouldn’t be a very satisfactory thing; there would be no tenderness, no companionship. While she had thought that she hated Jerome, that sort of life was survivable, but not now. Now she wanted more, and she would never get it. She would just have to make do with what she had, because it was better than living without him. She nodded at her reflection and went sedately down to breakfast.

Jerome was already there, calmly eating bacon and kidneys, and the face he raised to her was dark and withdrawn. He was wearing his mask. Last night she had seen sorrow and hurt in his eyes, but this morning those same eyes were quiet and unfathomable.

‘How soon can you be. ready?’ It was an impersonal question.

‘I’m ready now.’ She took a sip of scalding coffee and felt better for it, raising cool green eyes to his. ‘While we’re in London, I’d like to see Helen, if there’s time.’

‘Mmm.’ He returned his attention to the paper and spoke through it. ‘We can extend our stay for another day, if necessary.’

The shopping helped as well. Even the mundane purchase of carpets, curtaining and bedroom units helped to take Kate’s mind away from her private grief. She drew his attention to a carpet sample in a dark moss green with a looped pile. He fingered it briefly and frowned.

‘The other sample is of a better quality.’

‘I know,’ she wrinkled her forehead, ‘but this is just the right shade. Why can’t we have it, even though it doesn’t cost as much and it probably won’t wear as well? It’s for a guest bedroom and it won’t have a lot of wear, and with what we save on this, we can buy that beautiful Chinese washed thing 1 thought would be too expensive. That would look lovely in the little drawing-room.’

‘Are you becoming thrifty, Kate?’ She breathed a soft sigh of relief. Jerome was sounding nearly human again. Tolerable!

‘I’ve always been thrifty,’ she scolded gently. ‘I was born with a cheeseparing disposition.’ She stopped abruptly because she had been going to say that Shirley had always said so. He said it for her.

‘That’s what Shirley always said?’ And she nodded dumbly.

They lunched in a small French restaurant near Marble Arch and afterwards continued the buying spree until four o’clock, when he put her in a taxi, giving the driver Helen’s address.

‘Won’t you come?’ She was hesitant.

‘No, not this time. I’ve one or two things to attend to. I’ll call for you at six. Will you have finished your girlish gossip by then?’

‘Oh, I think so,’ and she gave him what she hoped was a radiant smile as he closed the door of the cab and stepped back on to the pavement.

Helen was at home arid in high spirits. She dragged Kate into the big shabby studio room and pushed her into the velvet-covered chair which was used for sittings.

‘You’re my good luck piece.’ Helen sounded on top of the world. ‘Hang on there while I make some coffee. Don’t go away whatever you do. I’ve sold two pictures,’ she chortled as she came back in, balancing the coffee mugs on a old palette, ‘and I had a phone call from your ma-in-law. She wants a miniature of Philip and she’s invited me up there later in the year to do it. What do you think of that?’

Kate put her sorrow aside for the moment to enter into Helen’s joy. ‘That’s marvellous! Which ones did you sell?’

‘That one of the Moor, the winter scene, do you remember it? And the one of the ponies, and I’ve been offered a really impressive place for my next showing, not up a furtive little back street like the last one. I tell you, Kate, I’ve broken through at last.’ She beamed and heaved a contented sigh. ‘Five years,’ she marvelled, ‘and at last I’ve made it. Just think of the difference it will make. Good brushes; new, really new canvases and with a bit more luck, no more waitressing at the cafe on the comer.’

‘Toulouse-Lautrec....’ Kate began, but her words were brushed aside.

‘Yes, I know, but he wasn’t waitressing. He didn’t have to stagger round with plates of steak and kidney pud, and I bet nobody ever pinched his bottom when he was trying to clean a table.’ Helen shook her head violently. ‘He was a customer.’ Then she giggled. ‘Think what a mess he’d have been in today! No nice white tableclothes to draw on. I’d like to have seen him staggering home with a melamine top! How are you anyway? You’ll have to forgive me, but I get so carried away with success that I forget my manners. You look a bit drawn, love. Anything wrong?’