The Tender Flame (6 page)

Jan said wistfully: ‘I wish someone loved me as much as you love your godson.'

Hope polished the older woman's eyes. ‘It's there, Jan, I know it. It's up to you to let it happen.' But her beseeching smile turned wry when she saw the indulgent but disbelieving look Jan was giving her.

Jan was not unaware of this. She knew about her giveaway face. Had she thought about it in time she would have guarded her expression. On reflection it was better this way. Better for Linda to know the score and turn her matchmaking eye on some other, less idealistic girl.

Linda wasn't a stranger to wise words, but where David was concerned she had a blind spot.

Linda lifted the breakfast tray off the bed,
resting
it on one hip. ‘Do you feel up to Stephanie now?'

The way the question was put was very revealing. Hadn't the combined efforts of David and Linda proved adequate to the task of dissuading Stephanie from getting up to monkey tricks? Jan's thoughts dwelt affectionately on the little girl with the sweet pixie face framed in feather curls that had taken neither of her parents' dark colouring, but was the soft gold of the morning sun. To look deep into her sparkling eyes was to know that her excitable nature would all too frequently entice her into mischief.

The young lady of her thoughts came bouncing into the room, an unlikely combination of indignation and delight stamped on her features. ‘How could you get poorly, Jan? Tatty Bear didn't like it. He's glad you're better.'

Annabel had once picked Teddy up and said, ‘He's in such a sorry state he should be called Tatty Bear and not Teddy Bear,' and the name had stuck.

‘You can tell Tatty Bear from me that I wasn't too keen myself. I'm glad to be better, too. To make it up to him, just as soon as I'm up and about, we'll have to think up some special treat.'

‘Ooh, yes!' Stephanie's eyes shone like gemstones.

Annabel's eyes had been blue, David's were
brown.
Somehow they had produced a green-eyed child. Not the vivid grass green of an emerald, but the softer, more subtle green of a peridot. Her pretty child's features gave a hint of the beauty she would one day be, but it was the unusual colour of her eyes that would give her beauty its rare and exceptional quality. At four, her capacity to charm and beguile was frightening. Jan hoped that somewhere in her developing personality there was enough commonsense and wisdom for her to—a strange thought—but to triumph over her exceptional looks and remain sweet and unspoilt.

Clapping her hands in ecstatic expectation, Stephanie wanted to know what treat Tatty Bear would like best.

She should have been prepared for this one. She had spoken on impulse without giving the matter due thought. ‘Let me see . . . a trip to the zoo to see his cousins, maybe? A ride on a train, do you think? Or a picnic in Willowby Woods. Tatty Bear loves picnics.'

David, who had come in with Stephanie, said promptly and much to Jan's grudging respect and greater surprise: ‘He told me in confidence that he'd like a tidy house. Tatty Bear says he's fed up with a place that's littered with toys that
someone
has brought out and not put back.'

Jan liked the understanding that had developed between David and his small
daughter.
Stephanie was deplorably untidy and must be taught to respect her toys and return them to their proper place when she'd tired of playing with them. Annabel's excessive indulgence had sabotaged Jan's attempts at training Stephanie to be tidy. Communicating with the child through the toy bear to get her to do something she didn't want to do wasn't new to Jan. She had often used the ploy, ‘Tatty Bear says he's sleepy and it's time he was tucked up in bed,' but she had thought David would adopt a superior male attitude and consider that sort of approach to be too soft.

‘Tatty Bear says it is a tidy house,' Stephanie said, her mutiny softened by a smile. ‘He's just told me.'

‘In that case, I think we'd better take a trip to the optician's.'

Before Jan could open her mouth to say that Stephanie wouldn't know the meaning of the word optician, David had gone on to explain: ‘That's a sort of shop where you go to have your eyes tested when you need glasses. If Tatty Bear sees a tidy house, then obviously he needs glasses.'

‘Black ones like Mrs. Grant wears?' Stephanie asked, looking intrigued. She referred to the tinted lenses worn by Willowbridge's first lady.

Both Jan and Linda found it necessary to subdue giggles, but a shadow crossed David's features and a bleak and bedevilled look came
to
his eyes.

It must be the after-effects of her illness because usually she was brighter than this. Of course Stephanie's reference to Mrs. Grant would stir unpleasant memories. Louisa Grant's son, Stephen, had died in the car crash that had injured Annabel.

For the first time Jan felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He wasn't totally uncaring. His handling of Stephanie proved that he was capable of giving love; having the wit to communicate through Tatty Bear had uncovered a streak of sensitivity that was rare in men. Deserting a wife wasn't punishable by law, but it came to Jan that it was a misdeed that would likely haunt him for the rest of his life.

‘When can I get up?' Jan asked.

‘As soon as you feel able to,' David replied. ‘But not to work. I'm standing no nonsense. Until you've got your full strength back, I insist that you put your feet up and do nothing.'

‘When I've got my strength back, I'll retaliate. The days of the dictator boss have gone.'

She was laughing; he wasn't.

‘When you're strong enough to retaliate, you won't be here.'

‘What do you mean, I won't be here?'

The look in his eye told her he wasn't hoodwinked by her pretend non-comprehension. His tone was dry with
exasperation.
‘The moment you're fit enough to travel, I'm sending you back home. I gave you your marching orders before you became ill. Had you forgotten?'

‘No,' she replied with dignity and truth, plus a controlled spurt of anger. ‘I hadn't forgotten. I was hoping you had though.' She didn't add ‘for Stephanie's sake,' but her eyes glanced to where the child was playing with childlike lack of concern. She didn't look up from the all-important task of making a neckerchief for Tatty Bear out of her handkerchief. Children can be very cruel at times. She consoled herself with the thought that Stephanie hadn't properly understood that she was being sent home. It couldn't be because she didn't care.

Somebody cared. Linda cared.

‘I wouldn't be too hasty if I were you, David. Think twice before you decide that you can cope on your own.'

‘I've no intention of coping on my own.'

‘You weren't counting on me?'

‘No. I'm on the look-out for a woman. Someone mature and sensible.'

‘That's all right then. And now I'm going to phone Hugh to tell him that I'm on my way home.'

‘Now?'

‘Dear boy, you look surprised.'

‘I am. I didn't think you'd be rushing off in such a hurry. I thought you might stay long enough to tide me over . . .' He frowned. ‘Can
we
talk this over in private?'

‘Certainly. But you won't change my mind.'

The private conversation was not related to Jan, but not long after it took place, Linda draped her car coat over her suitcase, and sought Jan out to say goodbye.

‘You are doing it on purpose, aren't you, Linda?'

‘What do you mean? I told you that now you'd perked up I was going home.'

‘You said you were thinking about it, which implied soon, tomorrow or the next day. It wasn't a decision of desperate urgency. You're shooting off at a moment's notice because you think if David is left to cope while I'm still wobbly on my feet, it will give him a taste of what looking after Stephanie is all about, and that he might change his mind and let me stay.'

‘I couldn't have put it better myself,' Linda admitted on a little laugh.

‘Thank you, anyway, for the kind thought.'

‘Kind, but not very bright? You're right, of course. If David has made up his mind to send you home, neither my tongue nor my absence will make him change it. You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you? I haven't been able to influence him about the other matter, and goodness knows I've tried. Oh, he does infuriate me!' She stopped, but only to draw breath and not to chain her tongue. ‘With a name like his, you'd think he'd stone to death the Goliath of Local Opinion that's damning him.'

It
always came back to that.

‘Perhaps he hasn't the right stone,' Jan said carefully, knowing it would seem that she was siding with local opinion. As indeed she was. She had condemned him along with everyone else.

Linda gave an impassioned gasp. ‘But he has!'

‘If it's a misconception, if that's what you're hinting at, then why doesn't he throw that stone and shatter it?'

‘Because stones have a habit of reverberating. This one definitely would. The most innocent party would get hurt.'

What could Linda mean? The most innocent party was Stephanie. If, somehow, David had the means to justify his actions, how could that harm his daughter? Surely it would be to her benefit to have a father who was accepted by the local community?

‘I've said more than I should already. Please don't ask me to explain,' Linda beseeched. ‘Goodbye, love. Don't overdo things at first.'

‘I won't. Goodbye, Linda. Safe journey. And thank you for coming to look after me. I'm very grateful.'

‘Bless you for being so sweet. I'll give you a tinkle to let you know I've arrived safe. 'Bye.'

* * *

Stephanie was in bed. The effort of getting up
had
taken its toll more than Jan was prepared to admit, and she didn't intend to be long behind her. She replaced the telephone receiver after taking Linda's promised call, a thoughtful expression on her face. Not because of something Linda had just said, that conversation had been the usual light inconsequential telephone talk, but because her mind had reverted to Linda's earlier words when she had strongly hinted that David wasn't the villain people made out. She was too tired to puzzle it out now. She would think about it tomorrow.

* * *

She thought about it tomorrow and the next day and the day after that, at the supper table, she was still thinking about it.

‘Is your indifference passing unfavourable judgement on what is definitely one of my better culinary efforts?'

‘No.' She picked up her knife and fork and resumed eating. ‘It's delicious. I feel a terrible fraud letting you do everything. Can I take over again tomorrow, please? I'm quite well now.'

These last three days had given her a glimpse of the David whom Linda knew and loved. Back to the puzzle. It would have been better if Linda hadn't said anything, rather than pique her curiosity in this frustrating way.

If
there was something that David could say . . . She wasn't aware of it but her chin gave an involuntary little shake. No. She must keep quiet. She mustn't interfere. But . . .

The ‘but' was stronger insistence than she could bear. ‘David?'

‘Yes?'

His voice was too sharp for comfort. She didn't know that he had been quietly surveying the conflict of emotions disturbing the serenity of her features.

‘Nothing,' she said backing down. ‘It's none of my business.'

‘Good. Let's keep it that way.'

The temperament of Grandmother Ashton in her rose to the surface at the taunt in his voice. The above-the-table lamp glanced across her hair as her chin tilted, bringing the red highlights into play. The tranquil green left her eyes and the storm-warning brown bounced with points of angry light.

‘It's not good enough. Don't you see, you are damning yourself by your own silence. If you don't talk you won't be able to live here in peace and comfort, and no matter where you move it will be the same, because the gossip and the whispering behind your back will follow you. You've got to speak up to shut them up.'

‘How did you find out?' he said in such an ominously quiet voice that all the fire in her turned to ice. Except that ice doesn't feel, and
even
in fear of him she was still quivering with emotion. ‘What a nice person you are,' he mocked, the tone of his voice an insult. ‘An indiscriminate gossip, and a snoop! You must have rifled the desk and pried into papers that are no concern of yours.'

In her entire twenty years, Jan had never knowingly pried into affairs that were none of her business. She had only encountered the Sheraton desk to dust it and slide the unpaid bills waiting for David's attention into a small drawer that was separate from the main part of the cylinder-top desk. The key that operated the roll-back front sat permanently in its lock, but Jan had never been tempted to turn it. How could David make such an accusation?

‘No!' she said in vehement denial.

His eyes narrowed. His anger matched her own. ‘Don't add lies to your other transgressions. How else could you know?'

She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. After all she couldn't defend herself. She couldn't say that she didn't really know anything, but she'd gleaned from the little Linda had told her that it wasn't all as it seemed. She couldn't implicate Linda.

She blinked her eyelids to seal in the tears that were two parts vexation and one part of something that was beyond analysis.

‘You've got to speak up,' she said through wretchedly stiff lips. ‘For Stephanie's sake.'

‘For . . . ?' He threw back his head and—
damn
him—he laughed! Laughed! ‘That was a near thing. Thinking you knew, I could well have let something slip. But you
don't
know.'