One Reckless Night (23 page)

 
Reluctantly Zanna crossed to the doorway, switched on the main light, turned the key and threw open her door.

 
'The problem is,' she said grittily, 'that I didn't want to be disturbed.'

 
'Then I apologize for my intrusion.' He didn't sound in the least repentant. 'But I thought you'd want to have this.'

 
'My photo album.' She almost snatched it from him. 'So you took it.'

 
'I found it on the sofa and borrowed it,' he corrected her. 'So that Susan would know that it wasn't a false alarm. That you'd finally come looking for her.' He paused. 'I should have returned it before, I know, but I've had a lot on my mind.'

 
She said curtly, 'I can imagine. Well-thanks-I suppose.'

 
His sudden grin tore at her heart. 'Don't overwhelm me. I thought you'd need it when you set out on your travels.'

 
'Travels?' she echoed stupidly.

 
'To the land of Oz. Or have you changed your mind about that?'

 
'No,' she said quietly. 'No, nothing's changed.' She forced a smile of her own. 'Thank you again, really. And goodnight.' She went to close the door, but he didn't move.

 
'What have you been doing up here all by yourself?'

 
She bit her lip. 'Looking at the night sky. It-it's so different here-so much clearer than in London.'

 
'Or any other city. Blame streetlights and pollution.'

 
'Yes, of course,' she said with false brightness. 'But star gazing's over for tonight, and I'd really like to get some sleep.'

 
'I'd say you need it,' he said abruptly. 'You've been looking weary to death all day.'

 
She wanted to say, Well, hush my mouth. I thought you only had eyes for your Southern belle. But common sense kept her silent. She couldn't let him know that Cindy Wybrandt mattered.

 
He put out a hand and cupped her chin, tilting it upwards so that he could look into her eyes. 'What is it, Susie?' His voice was very gentle. 'What's wrong?'

 
Sudden rage possessed her. Oh, God, how dared he? she exploded inwardly. How dared he look at her- speak to her like that, when any moment he was going to walk away from her to the arms of his little Georgia peach, or whatever species of fruit or vegetable she was?

 
She jerked her chin free. 'I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I simply find the heat here-tiring.'

 
Jake stepped back. He said courteously, 'Then I won't keep you any longer.'

 
She watched him walk away, then she closed the door and leaned back against its heavy panels, her eyes tightly closed against the tears which threatened her.

 
She said aloud, 'How long can I stand this? How much longer...?'

 
And she could find no answer in her heart.

 
CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 
SHE awoke the next morning with a headache.

 
As she dressed she noticed the sky wasn't quite so relentlessly blue. There was a haze over the sun and a general heaviness in the atmosphere, suggesting a storm in the offing.

 
When she arrived in the dining room, she found Jake with Gordon and Susan. Of Cindy, there was no sign.

 
'For this relief, much thanks', Zanna quoted inwardly as she poured herself some fruit juice.

 
She found that the others shared her misgivings about the weather.

 
'I think I'll stick close to the house today,' Susan said firmly. 'I've some telephoning I want to do for the party, anyway.'

 
Jake looked at Zanna. 'What are your plans?'

 
'Oh, I've got plenty to keep me occupied,' she lied. To begin with she had some paracetamol to track down for this headache, she thought ruefully.

 
'The horses need exercise,' he said. 'I thought you might like to ride Celestine. If we went at once, we could be back before the weather breaks.'

 
Her heart missed a beat, but she shook her head. 'I haven't ridden for years.'

 
'It's not something you forget.'

 
'I'm not so sure.' She smiled, making a joke of it. 'I don't want to attend my own party in plaster.' Nor was she altogether convinced that horse-riding was the kind of activity her obstetrician would recommend, but she kept that to herself.

 
She turned to her mother. 'Shall I put yesterday's work on disk and print it out so you can look at it?'

 
Susan's face lit up. 'Oh, darling, what a good idea. I really feel I'm making progress at last, and it's all thanks to you.'

 
'Let's hear it for Suzannah.' Jake's tone was silky, but his dark eyes were hard and unamused.

 
Oh, for heaven's sake, she wanted to yell at him. Is this because I won't come riding with you? How many women do you need dangling on your strings?

 
Instead she stonily tore off a piece of croissant and dunked it in her chocolate.

 
When Cindy walked in a few minutes later, yawning prettily and apologizing for her lateness, Zanna was glad to have a reason to take herself off to the study.

 
Once there, she was delighted to discover that her mother was right. All the fragments seemed to be coming together into one cohesive whole at last.

 
She worked until mid-morning, then, feeling suddenly stifled, took a cup of the fresh coffee Madame Cordet had brought her out into the garden. The birds were hushed and there was no movement in the air.

 
Suddenly, over the hills, she saw lightning run swiftly and crazily, followed almost at once by the low, sullen rumble of thunder. She thought, So here it comes at last, immediately wondering with a sharp pang of anxiety if lake was back safely from his ride.

 
And at the same moment she heard him say her name quietly from the French windows behind her.

 
Irritated at her own weakness, and at the surge of relief from knowing her fears were groundless, she swung round. 'You don't have to check up on me.' Even to her awn ears, she sounded pettish. 'I was coming back inside.'

 
He shook his head. 'It's nothing to do with that.' The dark eyes held hers, compelling her to listen. 'My father's had a phone call from an associate of ours in London. It's your father. He's been taken to hospital with a heart attack.'

 
She said stupidly, 'My father? But that can't be right. He's never ill.'

 
He said gently, 'It's true, Susie, and I'm afraid it's serious. We think you should go to him. Dad's phoning the airport now.'

 
She had a sudden vision of her father, helpless in a high white bed, attached to tubes and machines. All that strength and power and brutal force shrunk away to nothing.

 
She said with a gasp, 'Yes-oh, yes.'

 
And with a blinding flash and a roar the skies above her opened, and the rain descended like a dark, smothering curtain.

 
Events after that were forever blurred. She seemed to stand still while activity ebbed and flowed around her.

 
Susan packed for her, putting the barest essentials in a bag. She heard Gordon say the car was waiting and moved obediently towards the door. Madame Cordet surged towards her and embraced her. 'Courage, mon enfant.' The sign of the cross was traced on her forehead. Then Susan and Gordon were hugging her, telling her to take care, that they'd be waiting for news.

 
She smiled uncertainly, took another step forward, and saw Jake standing with Cindy. The American girl wasn't smiling. She looked serious-concerned-as she gazed up at Jake. Her lips were moving in some quiet, private message, then she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

 
It was then that Zanna realized that he was carrying a bag too, and stopped. 'No.' Her voice cracked. 'There's no need. I can manage...'

 
'Don't be a fool.' He took her arm and marched her out, down to the car, under the shelter of the chauffeur's umbrella. 'Did you think we'd let you go alone?'

 
He put her into the rear passenger seat and got in beside her. Through the rain, Zanna could just make out the worried faces, the hands waving goodbye. She lifted her own hand, nodded and smiled as the car moved forward.

 
She remembered little of the ensuing journey. They seemed to whisk through the airport and onto a plane. Once they were airborne, Jake ordered a small brandy and made her drink it. She thought afterwards it might have made her sleep.

 
Reality returned when their taxi drew up outside the hospital.

 
'You don't have to come in with me.' She halted in front of the glass door. 'I'll be all right. You should- get back. You have-obligations. It was kind of Cindy to let you bring me this far.'

 
'We won't talk about that now.' His hand was under her arm again. It occurred to her that without his support she might have fallen to her knees. He added almost harshly, 'And you're not sending me away. Not this time.'

 
At the desk they learned that Sir Gerald was in a private wing, in Intensive Care. It seemed to be miles away, and the last part of the journey was by lift. As the doors opened Zanna saw a group of people standing, waiting for her.

 
Jake was still holding her, but Susan and Gordon seemed, somehow, to be beside her too. In her mind she heard Madame Cordet's words: Courage, mon enfant.

 
And she knew, even before the doctor spoke, that she was going to need every scrap of courage-because she had come too late, and the strange, bitter, contradictory man who'd been her father was dead.

 
She was taken into a room with comfortable chairs and flowers on a low table. They brought her tea and told her how sorry they were. They said it had been a massive heart attack not long after he'd arrived at his office that morning. That he'd recovered consciousness briefly just once.

 
'He was thinking of you, Miss Westcott.' The sister was being comforting. 'He said "Susie" twice. That is your name, isn't it?'

 
She said, 'Yes,' and forbore to tell them that her father had never used it, that he had been calling for someone else and that she was glad it was so. Because they would never understand.

 
The only person who could understand was here beside her, and when they left them alone he held her in his arms and let her weep at last for all the bleak and wasted years.

 
And for this little while, she thought as she clung to him, she could pretend that he was hers.

 
The study was dim, the heavy curtains still drawn across the windows as a mark of respect. Zanna pulled them open, the rings rattling along the poles. Even with the sunlight pouring in the room seemed oddly empty, its life-force removed. But then the rest of the house was just the same.

 
It had been a quiet funeral at the local parish church, just as Zanna had wanted. Later, she understood, there would be a memorial service in London.

 
The new chairman of Westcott Holdings had come, of course. He'd been Sir Gerald's deputy but she doubted whether he'd ever enjoyed much of his conndence. He had a difficult time ahead of him, she thought. There were already rumours of hostile takeover bids.

 
Among the crowd from Westcotts she'd thought she'd seen Tessa Lloyd, but when they'd emerged from the church the other woman was nowhere to be seen, so she'd decided she must have been mistaken.

 
 
She'd invited the mourners back to the house, of course. There'd been coffee, and alcohol for those who wanted it, and plates of tiny sandwiches and vol au vents, and all the other nibbles that seemed appropriate to the occasion. Gradually they'd shaken hands with her and left, one by one, most of them returning to London.

 
And now, apart from the housekeeper, Mrs Hanson, who was occupied in the kitchen, she had the house to herself.

 
At her own suggestion, Jake had not come to the funeral. In fact she'd not seen him for a couple of days, and she thought-no, she corrected herself, she hoped- he might have returned to the South of France. Once he'd gone, she could start dealing with the pain.

 
He had taken her from the hospital that evening to a hotel, where he'd reserved a suite. He'd ordered a meal for them and she'd eaten some of it, then gone to her room. And some time in the night, when she'd been trying to weep quietly, he'd come in and lain on the bed beside her, held her again until she'd cried herself to sleep. And when she'd woken in the morning, he was still there.