Dark Paradise (4 page)

'I told him I'd think about it.' There was a note almost of smugness in Alison's voice. 'What do you think about that?'

Kate shrugged. 'What's more to the point—what is Jon going to think about it?'

'Jon will just have to get used to the idea.' Alison's flush deepened. 'After all, marriage these days isn't a terminal condition. There is supposed to be life afterwards. And I'm going to go out of my skull if I have to spend many more days looking out of that window, watching people walk round the close!' She managed a little laugh.

Kate swallowed, 'Yes, I can understand that. But— but I thought it was your idea to give up your job when you got married.'

'It was, but I must have been insane,' Alison said with sudden sharpness. 'I suppose I thought…' She stopped. 'Well, that doesn't matter. One of the few benefits of being shut up alone here all day is that it gives you time to think, to realise what a fool you've been.' She took a breath. 'I should never have left Matt in the first place.'

Kate didn't like the sound of that. It implied that there had been more to their relationship than work.

'But we both realise it was a mistake,' Alison continued. 'And this Caribbean trip will be a good chance to make sure that we're—still on the same wavelength.'

Kate drank some coffee. 'Isn't the method rather a drastic one?' she enquired pleasantly.

It was Alison's turn to shrug. 'Perhaps. But Jon has his career. Why shouldn't I be allowed mine?' She paused. 'I thought you of all people would understand, Kate. After all, you have your flat, your work, your independence. Don't tell me you're dying to give it all up for a flowered pinny the moment your publisher man pops the question!'

There were undercurrents here beneath the mockery which Kate did not feel capable of fathoming.

She said, 'No, I can't say that. But on the other hand, I'm not sure I'd be contemplating a trip abroad with another man before my first anniversary either.'

Alison's giggle jarred. 'What a fuddy-duddy you are, after all, Kate! Haven't you ever heard of open marriage? It's far more interesting than the sort of prison most men want to shut you up in.'

'Do you feel as if you're in prison?' Kate set her empty cup back on the tray.

'Yes, if you must know,' Alison said shrilly, 'I do!'

Kate felt her way carefully. 'Have you told Jon how you feel? Perhaps…?'

'Of course I've told him, but it hasn't made an atom of difference,' Alison said angrily. 'He's always been spoiled, of course. He's had your mother, the classic happy drudge, waiting on him, and he thinks all women should be like her. Well, he's wrong!' Her voice rose sharply.

The biting reference to her mother caught Kate on the raw, but she controlled a hot rejoinder. She said, 'If Jon's views of marriage are old-fashioned, I think you need to go further back than that. His own mother walked out on him, if you remember.'

'I hadn't forgotten,' Alison said rather sullenly. 'And I can't say I altogether blame her, if Jon's father was as ridiculously possessive as he is.'

Kate was beginning to feel sick. Every word that Alison uttered seemed to be bad news. She tried to imagine Jon's reaction when Alison told him what she was contemplating, but failed completely. For his wife to resume work at National Television would have been sufficient blow, knowing how he felt about Matt Lincoln, but this proposed trip to the Caribbean opened up a whole new dimension, she thought, horrified.

She said calmly, 'I've never regarded my stepfather as being overly possessive, but then other people's marriages are generally a closed book.'

'How true,' Alison agreed. 'You're quite a philosopher, aren't you, Kate?'

Kate looked at her steadily for a moment, then she said, 'You don't like me, do you, Alison? I wish I knew why.'

'Oh, but you're wrong,' Alison said, smiling. 'It's a great comfort to know that while I'm away with Matt, Sister Kate and the family will be around to give Jon consolation. Would you like some more coffee?'

'No thanks.' Kate got to her feet, buttoning her jacket. 'I really have to be going.'

'What a shame,' Alison said politely.

The breeze had risen she found when she got outside, and the initial brightness of the day had clouded over, and she shivered as she walked along, conscious that Alison would be watching every step she took. She kept her head down and lengthened her stride.

She found she was shaking inside as she stood at the bus stop for what seemed an interminable time. Alison's attitude bewildered her. Boredom might have made her sister-in-law resentful of the confines of marriage, but was that any real reason to rush on disaster as she seemed bent on doing? What had happened to the love she must have felt for Jon? Could that really have dissipated so quickly? And even if marriage hadn't lived up to Alison's illusions, surely after so short a time there was still something left to build on?

Or was Matt Lincoln's power over her really so absolute?

Kate couldn't be sure, but she told herself the fact that Alison hadn't instantly accepted his offer had to be a hopeful sign.

'Just as long as my interference doesn't push her into doing something stupid,' she thought gloomily, as the bus finally trundled into sight.

When she arrived back at the house, Maria was waiting for her.

'Felix phoned,' she said, holding out a slip of paper. 'With the information you wanted.'

'Oh,' Kate accepted it gingerly. 'That was quick work.'

'I think he had the impression that there was some sort of crisis going on,' Maria said drily. 'Is there?'

'Something of
the
kind,' Kate admitted. 'I wish I could tell you about it, Maria, but—but it's a family matter.'

'But not, thank God, the sort that Felix clearly imagines,' said Maria, an underlying note of laughter in her voice. She gave Kate's flat young stomach a long and meaningful look.

'No, of course not.' Kate was appalled. 'My God, I hardly know the man!'

'That could be best,' Maria nodded. 'That girl Felix mentioned—Lorna Bryce—apparently she was almost cut to ribbons when he finished with her, and Felix reckons that ordinarily she's quite a tough cookie.' She turned away, adding almost as an afterthought, 'Clive may not set the world on fire, but he doesn't leave charred remains behind him either.'

In the studio, Kate stood staring down at the piece of paper in her hand, sorely tempted to tear it into a hundred infinitesimal fragments.

But that wouldn't solve anything. She had no idea how deep the problems between Jon and Alison were, but she knew that this offer from Matt Lincoln could not have come at a worse time. If Alison were to accept, Kate was sure it would finish all hope of them ever working out their difficulties together. The marriage would end bitterly.

And she didn't believe for one moment that Alison was as indispensable as she had been led to believe. Matt Lincoln was an experienced and cynical man. He would know a discontented wife when he saw one, and know exactly what kind of lure to offer.

Drew had known too, she thought painfully. '
You have an exceptional talent'
she remembered. And '
There's this amazing quality of innocence about you, Kate
..'

Tell a woman what she wants to hear, and she'll follow you anywhere, she thought.

And this was how Matt Lincoln was treating Alison. But why? Because he'd only discovered when it was too late and she was married to someone else that he really cared for her? Kate's mouth curled. Never in a million years, she dismissed. If he cared, then his first thought would be for her happiness—not a selfish desire to plunge her into the kind of ugly recriminations which were inevitable if she went away with him.

It was more probable that he wanted to boost his ego by proving to himself that he was irresistible. That he only had to beckon and even a bride of a year would run.

Distaste rose like bile in Kate's throat. But she knew what she had to do. For once in his life, Matt Lincoln was going to have to think again before causing havoc in people's lives. Slowly she opened her purse and slid the slip of paper inside.

The block of flats the taxi brought her to was a surprise. She had expected somewhere far more opulent and showy, but this place with its warm red brick, its balconies and windowboxes was positively old-fashioned, she thought as she paid off the driver.

She asked, 'Are you sure this is the place?' and he gave her a look, half indulgent and half irritable.

'Do me a favour, love! The name's on the wall over there if you don't believe me.' And he drove off.

Kate went in through the revolving doors. She stood for a moment assimilating her surroundings. Stairs on the left, she noticed, and lifts straight ahead.

'Can I help you, madam?' There was a long desk on the right, she saw, with a modern looking switchboard, and a uniformed man looking at her enquiringly.

She said lamely, 'I'm just visiting someone…'

He nodded politely. 'Of course, madam. If you could give me the resident's name, and tell me whether or not you're expected.'

The building wasn't as old-fashioned as she thought, she decided drily.

She said, 'I've come to see Mr Matthew Lincoln, and no, I'm not expected.'

'Then if I might have your name, miss, I'll just check whether it's convenient.' He sounded courteous but inexorable.

Kate swallowed a defeated sigh. 'It's Marston—Kate Marston.'

She stood, waiting and listening while he dialled and gave the message. He replaced the receiver and looked at her and she waited to be told that Mr Lincoln was not at home, or Mr Lincoln was busy.

He said, 'If you'd like to take the lift, miss. It's the second floor, and the door on the right-hand side of the corridor.'

She said dazedly, 'I—see. Thank you.'

She took a deep breath as she pressed the button for the second floor and heard the smooth whine of the doors as they closed. There was no going back now.

The palms of her hands felt damp, and she wiped them surreptitiously on her skirt, trying to marshal her thoughts, decide on the best tactic to use.

The lift stopped, and she got out and walked along the corridor. The lighting was subdued, and the carpet under her feet felt thick, muffling her footsteps.

She stopped outside Matt Lincoln's door and subduing an urge to run away very fast and very ignominiously, she lifted a hand to ring the bell.

But before she could do so, the door opened abruptly.

Matt Lincoln stood staring at her, the dark brows lifted questioningly. He was casually dressed . this evening, with faded blue denims encasing his long legs, and a black woollen shirt unbuttoned to reveal the strong column of his throat.

Kate moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She said, 'Mr Lincoln, you won't remember me, but…'

'I remember you perfectly,' he said sardonically. 'You're the bridesmaid with an equal aversion to dancing and to me. What an unexpected pleasure. Won't you come in?'

He waved her into the flat, his mouth slanting mockingly at her obvious reluctance.

The room he showed her into seemed enormous, with pale walls and acres of olive brown carpet. Two big sofas upholstered in an abstract design of brown, orange and gold faced each other on either Side of an imposing fireplace, and a huge antique desk, heavy with carving, stood beneath the window, but there seemed little occasional furniture and no clutter. A massive shelving unit occupied the length of one wall, part of it housing sophisticated hi-fi and television equipment, including a video tape recorder, and the rest crammed with books.

'At the flick of a switch, it transforms into a bed,' Matt Lincoln said smoothly. 'And mirrors come popping out of the ceiling.' He grinned maliciously at her startled expression. 'Relax, Miss Marston. This is my home, not Bluebeard's chamber. What the hell were you expecting?'

She said stiffly, 'I'm sorry if I gave the impression…'

He made a gesture of impatience. 'Forget it. Can I get you a drink?'

She shook her head. 'No, thank you. This—this isn't exactly a social call.' She swallowed. 'I expect you're wondering why I'm here.'

'I am indeed,' he said. 'But I'm sure you're going to tell me. Do you want to sit down, or is it the kind of thing that needs to be said standing?'

There was music playing softly in the background, nothing she recognised, a persuasive mixture of drums and guitars and some kind of wind instrument.

He said, 'Do you want the music turned off, Miss Marston? I guarantee that I won't ask you to dance again.'

She looked at him with fierce contempt. 'Very amusing! You find everything a great joke, don't you, Mr Lincoln?'

'No,' he said. 'And that particular incident even less hilarious than most. Anyway, we've established that you don't want a drink, and you don't want to sit down. I, on the other hand, intend to do both.'

She watched him pour a measure of Chivas Regal into a glass. He lifted the tumbler towards her with heavy irony. 'I drink to your good health, Miss Marston,' he said. 'I imagine that's a safer proposition than our better acquaintance.'

He sauntered across the room and flung himself down on one of the sofas, casually insolent, leaving Kate on her feet and stranded in the middle of the room—as he'd no doubt intended, she thought furiously.

'Lost for words, Miss Marston?' He watched her over the top of the glass, the blue eyes examining her with frank arrogance—stripping her, she realised with mortification, slow colour creeping into her face. 'Now that must be a novelty.'

She lifted her chin, her hazel eyes flashing disdain at him. 'It doesn't take a lot of saying, Mr Lincoln. I'd like you to leave Alison alone.'

There was a long loaded silence, then he said, 'I think you'd better explain exactly what you mean.'

Kate swallowed. 'Please—don't let's be hypocritical. The fact is I saw you together at Peré  Nicolas.'

'A public restaurant,' he said. 'In broad daylight. No big deal.'

'No,' she said steadily. 'But I've seen Alison since— and she's told me everything.'

'Then perhaps in turn you could enlighten me.' He sounded almost indifferent, and she had to control a little spurt of temper.