The Diary Of Pamela D. (14 page)

Her heart pounding uncontrollably, Pamela
hurried away from the door, not wishing to hear any more. When was
this nightmare going to end? This business with Albert Askrigg had
begun like a blight and had gradually spread to the point where
every aspect of her home life had become tainted. She couldn’t even
sleep without her thoughts turning to the lurking, menacing danger
that waited for her like the eyes of some unknown night animal in
the wood.

It was time for Theo to take her upstairs and
she waited with dread, wondering whether this one comfortable and
comforting routine would be stolen from her as well.

He acknowledged her tacitly with his eyes as
he stopped by the kitchen door and she hurried upstairs after him,
but some inner impulse caused her to change into her bedclothes
before joining him in the upstairs sitting room, and she clung to
him as she had never done before.

There was an unaccustomed tension in his
frame that sent needles of panic throughout her being. At last he
flicked the stub of his cheroot into the fire and drained the last
of his sherry. But when he led her to her room she balked, began
pleading with him.

‘Don’t leave me alone. Please! I can’t sleep.
I’m afraid of waking up and finding him in my room.’

‘We can’t stay up all
night,’ he said reasonably. ‘You’ll have to go to sleep
sometime
.’

‘No!’ she pleaded, wincing at her own tone,
which to her ears sounded like a petulant little girl. ‘I don’t
want to be alone.’

Looking indecisive, he said, ‘Well, why don’t
you go and crawl in beside my mother? I’m sure she wouldn’t
mind.’

‘But I want to be with you-’ she put her
hands over her mouth. The words were out before she’d had a chance
to think about what she said.

‘You must realise,’ he said
carefully, ‘that we can’t . . .
do
anything.’

‘I don’t care,’ she blurted.
‘I mean, I
do
care.
I mean, I don’t want to do anything. I just want-’ something inside
her, though awakened, vigilant and expectant, had gone very still.
‘I just want to be with you.’

He took a deep breath, studied her face
carefully.

‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘Give me a few
minutes to get changed and into bed.’

As he left her and went into his room her
heart began hammering uncontrollably, and she began to wonder what
a discreet amount of time was. After what seemed like several
minutes she went to his door and listened intently. Was that the
sound of sheets being disturbed as he got into bed or was he
dressing or undressing? Would his bed creak as he got into it, or
would it make any sound at all? Would-

‘When you’re done waiting, you may come
in.’

She had never really seen the inside of his
room before; only occasional chance glances. It was in near
darkness as she opened the door, moved inside, and closed it
silently behind her. He was laying on his bed, propped up against
several pillows, watching her. Like the rest of the house it was
done in rich wooden panelling, which in the dark appeared somehow
sinister. His furniture was very masculine; he had a bureau made
from reddish, dark wood, with matching dresser and night-stands at
both sides of the bedstead. The bed itself was canopied, the cover
supported by four thick wooden posts. Timidly, she crossed the
floor until she was standing beside his bed. He was wearing a
comfortable-looking pair of pajamas which in the dim light appeared
a pale wine-colour.

‘Well, you’re here now. Are you getting in so
I can turn off the light, or am I going to have to turn over and
try to sleep all night with the light on?’

She drew back the covers, which felt very
heavy, and crawled in beside him. Without thinking, as though it
were the most natural thing in the world, she went straight to him,
put her head on his shoulder, draped an arm and leg across his
body.

‘I want you to know that this is entirely
against my better judgement,’ he said, but in such a way as
contradicted his own words.

She worried that he might change his mind and
ask her to leave. But he put his arm comfortably around her and
left it there, his hand resting on the round of her hip as though
it were meant to be there. Her heart settled down altogether when
his breathing assumed the deep rhythm of sleep, and she felt
herself becoming deliciously drowsy, in a way that she had never
experienced before. That calm, bifurcated state of mind that stole
upon her when they sat together in the upstairs sitting room came
upon her now, only more deeply, with much more vivid, poignant and
real imaginings. She snuggled closer, and felt a warm sort of glow
begin inside her, spreading until it reached the tips of her toes.
She loved him. And she was with him. That was all that mattered.
This business with Albert Askrigg would all be over one day, and
she would be able to visit her friend Tessa whenever she
pleased.

And yet . . . and yet . . .

What
did
Theo feel towards her? If only he
would just
tell
her. He felt
something
, that much was obvious. But
what? If he loved her then it was a type of love she didn’t
understand. True, he had initiated their comfortable routine,
nights, in the upstairs sitting room. And, true, he had allowed her
into his
bed
, a
place where only married people were supposed to sleep together.
But certain things didn’t add up. Why had he kissed her, only to
leave her wondering why he had done so? It was obvious, even to
her, that he could have her whenever he wanted. But he neither led
her on nor used her. Nor had he proposed or given any indication
that he ever would. Yet he had made it obvious that he wouldn’t
have sex with her because they weren’t married. Which raised the
obvious question: What did it mean that he was allowing a young
girl to sleep in his bed, when in the morning the entire staff, his
mother and everyone else, would know?

At last an answer occurred to her but it was
not one that made her happy or feel good about herself or give her
any hope of having some sort of life with him. He was allowing her
to sleep with him because he thought of her as a child. Why else?
That meant that everyone else thought of her as a child as well, so
that it was safe for her to sleep with him.

At once she felt a deep sense of
disappointment and a slight urge to get up and go to her own room.
But she was very tired, the bed was warm, his body was warm and
comforting against the soft, yielding length of her own. What would
it feel like, she wondered, if this hard, uncompromising man beside
her were to be kindled into passion, if he were to decide to make
her his own for life, if he was to put his child into her?

The thought sent a
delightful thrill through her, making her loins tingle with an
anticipation of shared pleasure. It was both an exhilarating and
frightening thought, wondering what it would be like to be
his
, and at the same time
what it would mean to be taken by him.

Sighing, tumbling downwards towards slumber,
she reasoned that if he had let her get this far into his life,
there was always the hope, always the possibility that he would let
her the rest of the way in. Clinging to that hope as though it were
all that was making life bearable, she released her hold on
wakefulness and clung to his side as though he were the only solid
object in the sweeping tide of her life, aware all the while that
somewhere, out in the wood and the night, Albert Askrigg too,
watched and waited.

-7-

When Pamela awoke, Theo was already up and
dressed, sitting on a chair by the window, elbow on the wide sill,
chin on his fist, ostensibly staring outside. It was apparent from
the disfocus of his gaze, however, that his attention was turned
wholly inwards. But when Pamela stirred he turned to her
abruptly.

‘Come, get dressed. We’re going out for a
bit. There are some matters I feel we should discuss.’

She bit her lip apprehensively, wondering at
the resolve in his demeanor. What could it mean? That last night
had been a serious mistake? That he was going to fire her? Sealing
herself off from such thoughts for the present she quickly left his
room, went into her own and dressed herself to match him as closely
as possible. He was wearing the cableknit sweater she so liked on
him, and she had purchased one as similar as possible, acting on an
unconscious desire to somehow make herself belong to him.

They received several speculative glances as
they made their way through the house to the front door. Instead of
going to where the vehicles were parked in the drive, Theo led her
to a garage to the right of the house that until now Pamela had
never seen opened. When he unlocked the door closest to the house,
grasped the handle and heaved, the counterbalanced door groaned on
its hinges as though it hadn’t been opened in years, and she
followed him inside. Once her eyes adjusted to the comparative
darkness she gasped in surprise. There were two cars, an MG
convertible and a beautifully restored Morgan. Besides these were a
number of motorbikes, most of them in various stages of
restoration. To her relief he bypassed the motorbikes and made his
way straight to the MG. Putting down the top, noting her
hesitation, he jerked his head towards the passenger seat.

‘Come.’

The car started with a little difficulty, as
though it had been sitting for some time. But once started it
seemed to settle in, and he eased the clutch out gently, allowing
the car to roll forward, gingerly letting it get used to being run
once more. Once on the open road he accelerated slowly, then drove
at a comfortable speed, not too fast for comfort but quick enough
to demonstrate his easy mastery of the vehicle and the road.

‘I’m not going to say that
last night was a
complete
mistake,’ he said without preamble, causing a worm
of anxiety to bore into her heart. ‘But sleeping with a woman I’m
not married to, in my mother’s home, is simply not in the book.
Therefore, to keep things on the up-and-up, I’m going to ask that
you marry me. We’re going right now to Bradford to buy you a
wedding and engagement band, if that’s all right with you. So, what
do you say? Will you marry me?’

She should have been elated, but the distant
manner in which he imparted this information, making questions
sound more like statements in the bargain, made her feel keenly let
down. Surely it wasn’t supposed to be like this? She ventured a
surreptitious look at him but he seemed a million miles away, as
though a reply from her was of little or no consequence.

When she didn’t answer, he frowned. ‘You must
realize that we cannot continue simply sleeping together. I need an
answer.’

She felt as though she were foundering as a
voice that seemed as though it belonged to someone else said
hesitantly, ‘Yes.’

‘Good,’ he said, as though satisfied. ‘That’s
settled then.’

Upon reaching Bradford they stopped at a
restaurant for breakfast. After placing their order Theo stared out
the window in silence for some time. Belatedly noticing her mood,
he muttered, ‘Sorry, I’m not being very good company, am I? Is
something wrong?’

There was, of course, but she was afraid to
say anything that might jeopardize their being together. As she was
wont to do, she said words that were out of her mouth before she
even knew what she was saying.

‘What were they like?’

‘Mm?’

‘My parents. You told me you met them.’

He took a deep breath, his expression belying
mistaken comprehension of her mood.

‘I told you I
spoke
with them.’ Watching
her carefully, he said, ‘Are you sure you want to hear this? I’m
afraid that what I learned is far from pleasant.’

Though a foreboding feeling touched her
heart, a feeling that promised to leave her feeling riven and
desolate, she nodded.

‘Very well. But I warn you, it might be
better for you not to know.’

‘I
have
to know,’ she said very
quietly.

He paused, reluctant to speak, and was then
spared for the moment where their food arrived. It was apparent to
Pamela that he used this time to organize his thoughts, to
carefully consider and weigh what he was about to tell her. When he
began speaking, however, she felt as though she had been physically
struck. His tone of voice, too, was brutal, and the words he spoke
left her feeling as bleak and empty as a wilderland.

‘To begin with, to give you some idea of what
kind of people your parents are, you are not your father’s
daughter. The two of them told me that your mother deliberately got
herself pregnant with you by a man she used to meet in a bar, just
to get back at your father because he was sleeping around. Neither
of them wanted you. From the start your mother thought of you as an
interloper and a burden, and your father hated you because you
weren’t his . . . ’

Only half listening, Pamela
felt as though her life was cursed, that her soul was turning to
cold ashes. Some perverse inner voice told her that the moment Theo
was done, he would get up and walk out of her life forever,
abandoning her to her fate. When he finished, however, he said very
quietly, ‘You shouldn’t have asked me . . . What am I
saying?
I
shouldn’t
have told you. Come, finish your tea. We have better things to do
than dwell upon what can’t be changed.’

She responded to the
unmistakable note of kindness in his voice, however small, and let
him take her to a jeweller where he bought her a wedding and
engagement set, and a plain, white gold band for himself. She chose
a set that was relatively inexpensive, but told him that she had
chosen it
because
the diamonds were small and deeply recessed into white gold
bands that seemed a close match to his own. She told him that the
other women were forever having to remove their rings and put them
in a glass over the sinks when doing housework, largely because the
stones were sharp, stuck out, and caught and snagged on everything.
With a shrug he accepted this as being practical, but added, ‘Once
we’re married, don’t expect to be wearing a maid’s
uniform.’