A Bad Enemy (22 page)

Suddenly she knew she couldn't face Gerard's questions. She slipped out of the library, and went upstairs to her room. She sat down on the edge of the bed and tried to make sense of what had happened, but it was impossible. She felt desperately tired, and infinitely wretched.

She tried to imagine living with Jake, sharing a roof with him in a marriage which would be no marriage at all, until he decided it should end. She shivered. It was a horrifying prospect—almost as bad as the thought of never seeing him again, which seemed the only alternative.

The fact that she would be losing her home and the sheltered life she had frankly enjoyed seemed an irrelevance. Nothing mattered except that she loved Jake—and that he, in his turn, could not have expressed his indifference more plainly.

'
Little as either of us wants this marriage…'
The remembered words stung at her brain.

'But he wanted me,' she thought fiercely. 'I can make him want me again.'

She stared across the room at her mirrored reflection. Worry, sleepless nights and sheer wretchedness had drained most of the colour from her face, and she had dark shadows under her eyes. She gave a little soundless sigh. It was hardly an appropriate time to begin a campaign to attract Jake back to her physically, but what else could she do? Tell him that she loved him? She could imagine his reaction only too well. Gerard's cynical comments flicked at her, but she had to admit he was right. No man in Jake's position was going to believe any such confession.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there, going over the same ground again and again, trying to find a solution and failing, but the tap on the door made her jump.

She got up, her heart beating quickly and unsteadily, and crossed to open it, wondering, hoping that it might be Jake.

But if was Mrs Peterson, still rather red-eyed, but trying to smile.

'Lunch Is served, Miss Lisle.' She paused. 'It's just you, and Mr Gerard. Mr Allard left about twenty minutes ago. He didn't want to disturb you because he thought you were probably resting, but he asked me to give you this.' She handed Lisle an envelope, and turned away.

The envelope weighed heavy in her hand. Wonderingly, Lisle opened it, and the diamond ring slid out and lay in her palm like a world of frozen tears.

She was very quiet during lunch, and if Gerard noticed that she was merely pushing the food round her plate, at least he made none of his edged comments. In fact, he seemed subject to frequent bouts of introspection himself, she thought, stealing a glance at him as Mrs Peterson came to clear the table and bring coffee.

At last he said abruptly, 'I've been thinking, Lisle, that I'd better get back to London myself. There are meetings scheduled which I ought to attend. You could come with me, if you like, and stay at the flat. I shouldn't imagine you'd want to be on your own here just at present.'

She was frankly amazed. Gerard didn't normally show so much consideration, and he had never extended an invitation for her to stay with him before. After only a momentary hesitation, she accepted. She still had letters of condolence to reply to, but that could be done as well from London as the Priory.

She could keep occupied in London too, she thought, and stop thinking for a while. There would be art exhibitions she could visit, quite apart from the growing imminence of Christmas. She could manage some shopping as well.

And Jake was in London too, although with things as they were between them it was difficult to read any kind of advantage into that. She bit her lip at the thought.

And if all else failed, she could always job-hunt, she told herself without a great deal of hope. Or there were training courses she could apply for. She was far from being some kind of brainless idiot. There would be— had to be something she could do.

Apart, of course, from marrying Jake.

When lunch was over, she went upstairs, urged rather impatiently by Gerard and threw a few things into a case. As she worked, she looked around her, wondering how she would feel if the Priory was never to be her home again, and knowing with deep, sobering certainty suddenly that it didn't matter—that nothing mattered except Jake and her love and need for him. That she would give anything if he would love her in return, only now it was impossible. That will—that awful, awful will had been driven like a wedge between them, the very opposite effect, she knew, to that which had been intended.

She whispered silently, 'Oh, Grandfather!' and the dammed-back tears began, slowly at first, and then with agonising swiftness, trickling between the fingers she had pressed childishly to her face, as if hoping to hold back the flood of misery.

She still wasn't entirely sure why she was weeping, but it was a catharsis she had badly needed, and as the last gasping sobs died away, and she was able to dry her eyes and bathe the worst ravages from her face, she realised she was feeling a little better, slightly less confused and bitter.

The flat which Gerard used in London, and which now belonged to him, was in a much older building than Jake's, and was a pleasant mellow place. Gerard reminded her where everything was, and gave her a quick tour of the kitchen cupboards before he went to the office.

Left to herself, Lisle made up the comfortable bed in the spare room with linen she found in the hot cupboard, and brewed herself some coffee, before she tidied up a little. The flat was clean, but rather cluttered, and she wandered about familiarising herself with her surroundings. There were, of course, the inevitable signs of female occupation, including a large flask of perfume in the bathroom. Lisle removed the stopper and gave an experimental sniff, grimacing slightly. It was musky and cloying and not her style at all, although it would probably have suited Carla Foxton beautifully.

She wondered if Gerard missed her very badly. Not a word had been said between them about the end of the affair, or his subsequent beating, but then Jake's presence had been an inhibition.

She remembered Janie's comment that Gerard blamed Jake for the whole sorry business, and told herself that she must have that out with him. They had been civil to each other during the lead-up to the funeral, but no more, and on the few occasions when they had been in each other's company for any length of time, Lisle had sensed tension.

She didn't want them to become great friends—she was sufficiently a realist to know that would probably never be possible—but she felt strongly that they should be able to deal with each other without covert hostility being an element in the relationship.

But when Gerard returned that evening he was in a foul mood, and it was evident from his muttered remarks that Jake was the prime cause of his annoyance. Lisle asked a few casual questions, and discovered that Gerard had been testing, perhaps unwisely, how much weight the Bannerman name still carried in the company, and had been totally dissatisfied by the answers he had received.

'And Grayson is definitely resigning. It's no longer just a rumour,' he told her.

'Oh, I'm sorry.' The old order was changing, and no mistake, she thought rather forlornly.

'And I may join him,' Gerard muttered. 'I've no intention of being a glorified office boy for very much longer.' He gave a moody laugh. 'Who'd ever have thought that Grayson and I would end up on the same side?'

Lisle said quietly, 'Does it have to be a question of sides? Couldn't you all work together for the good of the company—as Murray wanted?'

'My word, there's a pious thought,' Gerard mocked. 'May I remind you, my sweet, that not all Murray's wishes have had your undivided support? Or don't you count the present little local difficulty?'

She tried to smile. 'I think that's slightly different. What do you want to do about dinner? I looked in the
fridge, but there didn't seem to be a great deal…'

'No, there isn't.' Gerard seemed to rouse himself from a temporary abstraction. 'I thought we'd eat out—Italian, maybe.'

'That would be nice,' she said rather flatly. She had been hoping—absurdly, she realised—for some message, however brief from Jake. If, of course, he knew she was in London. The way things were, Gerard might well not have told him. And she jibbed somehow at asking him directly. Gerard was no fool, and any forlorn question, of that nature might arouse his suspicions about the true state of her feelings.

When two days had passed without a word from Jake, she was sure Gerard had said nothing to him. But at the same time, she told herself that if he had taken the trouble to phone the Priory, Mrs Peterson would have told him where she was. It seemed he had not done so, and the neglect chilled her.

Although it should not have done. What else could she have expected—a full-scale wooing with flowers and dinners for two?

Lisle did all the things she had defiantly promised herself that she would, but it made no difference. No amount of activity could stop her from thinking.

At the end of the week, she decided to swallow her pride and telephone him. After all, he had told her not to make him wait too long for an answer, even if she still wasn't sure what that answer ought to be.

As she dialled Allard International and waited for the number to ring out, she found she was rehearsing things to say—'Are you sure you want to go through with this marriage?' buzzed in her head, and, 'Please—can't we at least be friends?'

Oh dear, she thought despairingly, I sound so pathetic. Why don't I crawl round there on my knees and beg him to take me?

It was an anti-climax to be told that Jake wasn't there. She replaced the receiver and sat for a moment, thinking. She had got the definite impression, from Gerard, that Jake wasn't expected at Harlow Bannerman for the next few days, but perhaps he was mistaken.

At least Harlow Bannerman was familiar territory, she thought. There was nothing to prevent her going there in person and confronting him. Or at least going there on the ploy of seeing Gerard, or visiting her former colleagues in public relations.

She dressed with care in a high-necked russet wool dress, topping it with her favourite suede coat. As she adjusted the collar, she remembered that she had worn it, for courage, that first night when Jake had come to fetch her.

She looked cool, she thought dispassionately, and sufficiently glamorous. Cosmetics had helped to disguise the effects of daylight fretting and sleepless nights.

As a last touch, she took her engagement ring from the dressing table drawer and replaced it on her finger.

It took all her confidence to get her into the building. The receptionists welcomed her effusively, and promised to phone ahead to Gerard's office to tell him she was on her way up.

But the first person she saw as she stepped out of the lift was Oliver Grayson. He was looking preoccupied, wearing a slight frown, but when he saw Lisle his face cleared.

'What a wonderful surprise! Is this a social call—or is there something we can do?'

She returned his smile rather more guardedly. 'I came to see Gerard—only I've just realised I don't know where his office is any more now that he's no longer in Sales.'

Oliver's smile faded. 'It's easy to lose track of people nowadays,' he commented acidly.

'So I hear.' Lisle drew a deep breath. 'I understand that you're leaving, Oliver. I'm truly sorry.'

He shrugged. 'These things happen, my dear. I've enjoyed my years at Harlow Bannerman, but the situation I was familiar with has now gone. And I'm not short of offers. A change may not be such a bad thing.'

'You're very philosophical,' she said gently.

'There's no point in being anything else,' he returned. 'It's my choice, after all. As a matter of fact, one of the best offers I've had came from Allard International U.S. I met one of their executives—a man called Sorensen—when he was over recently, and we got on well together.'

'I thought it was the Allard International connection you wanted to sever.' Lisle could not hide her surprise.

Oliver gave her a twisted smile. 'Not altogether. I admire the man if not his methods, and I envy him too—in a number of ways. We had the makings of a good business relationship at first. Perhaps if I'm on the other side of the Atlantic, it can be revived to some extent.'

'I hope so.' Lisle held out her hand. 'Good luck, Oliver.'

He gave her a brooding look. 'Shall I wish you the same, my dear?'

'Perhaps happiness might be more appropriate.' She made herself smile. 'I'm—I'm lucky already.'

Gerard's new office was a small compartment tucked away in a corner of the managing director's suite. The desk was littered with papers, and a drawer of the filing cabinet stood open, but there was no sign of the occupant.

Lisle peeped in, then made her way back to the main office, where two secretaries were audio typing as if their lives depended on it.

Lisle kept her voice casual. 'My brother's out of his office. Perhaps I could have a word with Mr Allard while I'm waiting.'

'I'm afraid you've misled him, Miss Bannerman. He was here earlier, but he's gone for the day now. But I'm sure Mr Gerard isn't far away, if you'd like to wait in his room.'

Lisle could hardly believe it. For the past hour she had been psyching herself up for this encounter, and now it wasn't going to take place. She wanted very badly to stamp both feet and swear, but she did neither of course.

She said calmly, 'Of course I'll wait,' as if it couldn't matter less, and went back into Gerard's room. It really was very small, she thought, as she settled herself on the only spare chair. Barely room for his desk, and filing cabinet, and the inevitable overflowing waste paper basket.

She glanced at her watch. She'd given him five minutes, then make some excuse and vanish, thus saving a lot of embarrassing explanations, she decided.

In the meantime, there was a newspaper pushed carelessly into the top of the basket, and she leaned forward and retrieved it, opening it casually.

It was folded at the racing pages, and she looked down Gerard's selection for the previous day, wondering wryly whether any of them had won.

She began to turn the pages in a desultory manner, thinking how odd it was that the world kept revolving on its axis just the same, in spite of her unhappiness.