Death be Not Proud (36 page)

“And what the hell are
you
going to do about it?”

I felt the shiver of tension run through Matthew's body, but outwardly he remained unnaturally tranquil.

I looked up at him urgently. “Mafhew, pleasthe – don't fight.”

“That's right,” Sam sneered. “You don't want your
boyfriend
getting hurt by the big, bad man.”

I felt a gush of warmth on my upper lip and an iron tang, strong and salty, making me feel sick. I wiped my hand across my mouth and it came away red. I fumbled for a tissue from my sleeve and held it against my face, all the while silently pleading with Matthew to stop. His eyes became veiled and the line between them deepened as he looked at me, and then
he pushed me gently towards the open door.

“Wait outside, I won't be long,” he said, and then turned to face Sam, who evidently enjoyed the spectacle of my distress. I didn't move. Matthew changed his stance, his body taut.

“It would be better if you left now, Sam; I don't want to fight you.”

“Matt'hew…
pblease
!”

Sam's head thrust forward in a show of belligerence. “Sure you don't, might spoil your delicate surgeon's hands.” He held up his hands and waved his fingers foppishly, mockingly, as if there were nothing he would have liked better at that moment than to break them. “Didn't tell you how she invited me in tonight – missed me, she did – she just had to
show
me how much.”

He made an obscene gesture. Matthew closed his eyes and the muscle in his cheek contracted as he tried to control his temper.

“Samb, stopd it. Matthew, he'th wbinding you up!”

Blood dripped from my nose, making me want to choke. I spat it in my hand. Matthew's eyes flicked open, narrowed, hardened. Sam paced the floor in front of him, keeping just out of reach.

“She has some moves on her, I'll give her that,” he leered. “Said you didn't do it for her. Said you're not
up
to it. Came to where she could get some, and man, didn't we just.” He tapped his lip and held up his torn hand. “All good, clean
fun
.”

Making a supreme effort to hold himself in check, Matthew looked as if he were on the point of combustion.

“Sam…” There was a tremor beneath the calm. “I don't want to hurt you…”

But Sam was too far gone into the game to give up now and he misinterpreted Matthew's control as fear and, like a bully, continued to goad. I clung on to Matthew's arm, making
one last attempt, my words mush.

“Mafhew, it doesnb't matter – he's not worfth it –
I'm
not worfth it…”

Matthew touched his fingers briefly to my face and I knew it was too late. Sam laughed coarsely.

“Yeah, sure, honey, you tell him,” he jeered. “Run away, Lynes, 'cos the
bitch
ain't worth it…”

He didn't stand a chance. Matthew took a quick step forward. With the heel of his hand in a movement almost casual in appearance, he engaged Sam's jaw with an audible
snap
. Sam careered backwards into the side of an armchair, shunting it across the wooden planks, lying crookedly for a moment before sliding crumpled onto the floor, holding his face. There was a momentary silence.

“Oh, Samb,” I groaned.

Matthew appeared unrepentant.

“He deserved it.”

“That'ths not whath's worrying me,” I whispered as best I could.

He looked down at me, his face softening. “There are some things I can't – won't – let pass.”

Sam moaned from where he slumped, clutching his jaw. Matthew went up and stood over him, considering, then he bent swiftly and hauled him to his feet with one hand, none too carefully.

“You've sustained a broken jaw; you need to get it seen to. Can you walk?” Sam nodded and winced, and winced again, holding his face with both hands. “Get yourself over to the med centre; they'll fix you up.”

He propelled Sam, stumbling, towards the door and shut it on him as soon as he was through it.

“He'llb make trouble…” I said, beginning to fret.

Now by my side, Matthew tilted my head towards the central ceiling light so he could get a better look.

“No he won't.”

“He willb,” I insisted. “They'll ask himb whadt habppened and he'll tell themb anbd then the pbolice…”

Matthew secured my face between his hands so that I couldn't move.

“Keep still. No, he won't. He won't say anything because he has his pride. He won't admit to having his jaw broken in a scrum over a girl, and besides, the college authorities take a very dim view of staff getting involved in fights – doesn't look good in the papers.” He pressed gently against the bridge of my nose.

“Ow,” I said, more in anticipation of pain than in actual discomfort.

“Mm, this'll be sore for a few days but nothing's broken – which makes a change. Let's get you cleaned up.”

He steered me into the same armchair Sam had fallen against and went into the kitchen, where I could hear him opening and shutting cupboards, followed by a suppressed oath. He came back with a clean tea-towel, cold with water, and wrung out so it didn't drip.

“You must be the only person in college not to have ice, peas –
anything
– in their freezer.”

I continued to hold the blood-soaked tissue to my face as I looked at him in surprise. He took it from me, replacing it gently with the tea-towel.

“Whabt freezer?”

He rolled his eyes. “I'll be back in a minute,” he said, taking a plastic bag from the kitchen and disappearing out of the apartment. He must have run, because he returned in what seemed like less than a minute, the bag stuffed full of snow. I heard him in the kitchen again, then he came back with half
the snow in a plastic bag wrapped with a dry, fresh tea-towel, creating a makeshift ice pack. He knelt on one knee beside me.

“Here, try this; it'll take the swelling down.”

I found it difficult to breathe out of my left nostril, but the ice pack felt cool on my burning skin. “Ankoo.” I swallowed some blood. I lifted the pack away.

“Whabt he said's nobt true.”

He frowned and took the ice pack from me and put it back on my face.

“Don't talk. I know it isn't; give me some credit for knowing you – and him.”

I pushed his hand away. “I dibn't invite hibm in.”

“Stop talking.”

I needed him to understand. “He sorbt of febd me…” I mumbled into the tea-towel. Matthew's eyebrows rose. “
Sort of
fed you?”

I pushed the tea-towel away again – it hurt too much to move my lips against it; this time Matthew let me. “Well, I dibdn't wanbt him to, he just sobrt of took ovber and then…”

“So you've eaten?”

Matthew put the pack back so that it covered as much of my swollen mouth and nose as possible. The bleeding had trickled to a stop.

“Mmm – 'es.”

“In that case, he did you one good turn, I suppose; you'll find it difficult to eat for the next twenty-four hours.”

Situation normal
, I thought.

He took my hand and placed it over the ice pack. “Hold that in place and don't move. And don't talk,” he added, rising and going back into the kitchen, coming back with a small cooking bowl of water and a roll of kitchen paper.

“Mafew – wbhy are you here? Wbhat about Ellen – how
is she? Shouldn't you be wiv her?”

He hunkered down next to me again, placing the bowl in front of him, the water shiny and sloppy as it settled. He tore off a couple of sheets of paper, folded them into a wad and dipped it in the water. He started to work on the rapidly drying blood on my chin, wiping down my neck, changing the side of the wad to a clean area as he went.

“Ellen's going to be fine – she's in better shape than you are right now.” He tipped my chin up to get at the blood underneath it. “She sometimes has a problem with her heart which needs careful intervention, but she'll be all right for now. She asked after you, by the way.”

I regretted pulling a face, as my lip split again, seeping fresh blood.

He took the ice pack away and used fresh, wet paper to soak the blood streaked up the side of my face where I had smeared it with my hand.

“I couldn't get hold of you. Harry confirmed he brought you here, but you weren't answering your cell or picking up your messages so, when you didn't answer, I came back. Didn't you have it switched on?”

“Es, I dibd.” I tried to look over my shoulder to where it lay on my desk, but he brought my face back with his fingers to continue working on it.

“There, that's most of it off, except around your mouth and nose, but that's too swollen at the moment. I'll change the ice pack.”

While he was in the kitchen I took the opportunity to scoot into the bathroom to survey the damage and wash the blood off my hand. I looked a mess. The gash in my top lip bulged, and dried blood still caked the area between it and my nose, already discolouring with a bruise. Now only faintly
pink, my cheek looked as if I had spent an hour too long in the sun. Other than that, the ice pack had started to reduce the swelling and the rest would heal a great deal quicker than Sam's jaw. The blood-soaked collar of my shirt did my face gruesome justice so I took it off and ran a basin of cold water and left it to soak. Taking a last look at my face, I became conscious of missing one little pearl of the pair of earrings Nanna had given me ages ago, the tiny gold base plate where it had been naked and glinting dully in the light. Throwing a towel around my shoulders, I went straight through to the sitting room and started frantically searching the floor where Sam had struck me, my face throbbing as I bent over.

“Are you looking for this?” Matthew held the pearl between his fingers. I almost snatched it from him, mumbling a relieved “Fank you.” I explained, “My granbmother gave themb to me.”

“Then that makes them doubly precious,” he said. “Here, let me take it and I'll get it mended for you.” He took in my semi-naked state and the goose pimples roughening my bare arms. “I'd better get the fire made; it's going to be a cold night and the college heating's not up to the job.”

The first flames were licking the dry kindling hungrily as I pulled my pyjama jacket over my arms. Matthew had his back to me as he fed the fire more wood.

“Emma, I don't think Sam will bother you again.” He put another stick on. “But how about I take you home anyway? It'll only be a few days earlier than we planned.”

He swivelled on one knee to gauge my reaction. For a moment I thought he meant back home to Stamford and, when I realized he didn't, the relief was immediately replaced by horror.

“Nobt like this – I won't see
anyone
likbe this. I'll stay here,
thanks; it's going to be difficult enoubgh to meet your family withoubt being all mashed up. It shoubld only take a few days to heal, shoubldn't it? It looks worse than it is.” I drew breath through my right nostril. “Anbd besides, where are you goinbg to be?”

Matthew joined me by my chest of drawers as I did my top button.

“Mashed or not, I'll be happier if you're not on your own. I've some work I need to get done so I won't be around much and anyway, it'll give Pat someone to mother.”

“I donb't need mothering, thankbyou very mubch, especially not by your
daughter-in-law
. I can look abfter myselbf. And when I
do
meet thebm, I want to have the advabntage of not looking like I've jubst been dug up. I don't wabnt to see anyone for a
week
.”

He grinned down at me. “Indeed; well, you'll have to see me, even though it might not be as much as I would wish.” He kissed the tip of my nose very, very gently.

“I'll mabke an excebption for you,” I conceded.

He laughed. “Oh, wilth youb. Howb veby kind ob you,” he teased. “Are you going to put on a bathrobe, because you are looking very tempting like this.”

I looked down at myself but I wasn't exposing anything I shouldn't. “I'bm perfectly decent,” I protested.

He sighed. “Perfect – yes; decent – no, not the way I'm feeling. Right then, bathrobe and ice pack – in that order.”

I managed a giggle. “Is the ice pack fbor you or fbor mbe?”

 

I curled up next to him on the sofa, as he insisted on holding the ice-pack on my face for me.

“So what did you do to make Sam lose it?”

I looked as maligned as I could, given the bulky cloth being held to my face. At least my lip was less puffy, making talking easier; Matthew had given up trying to keep me quiet. He pulled me closer to him and I rested my head on his chest. “Emma, you know what I mean – what was the catalyst?”

I had been thinking about that. “I tolbd him that I love you and why.”

“That was it?”

“Basic'lly, yes – stubpid idiot. I've been trying to tell him for ages that I'm nobt interested in him, but he woulbdn't listen.”

Matthew was quiet for a minute, then he said softly, “He can't help being in love with you, Emma.”

I twisted around in his arms to look at him, ignoring the discomfort as the bag momentarily scraped my lip before he lifted it away.

“Whabt sort of love is it that he habd to hit me?!”

He smiled sadly. “A desperate love, and I know how
that
feels.”

I didn't want him likening himself to Sam in any way, shape or form.

“But you didn't hibt me.”

“No, I threatened worse.”

“But you dibdn't
mean
it and you dibn't
do
anything.”

“That may be so, but I've had centuries more than Sam in which to practise self-control; and, besides, stop making excuses for me, Emma, I don't deserve them, and neither does Sam, for that matter.”