Perhaps Love Page 5

  ‘Well, I doubt that,’ he said laconically. ‘But didn’t you say they were irritating you?’

  ‘They were, but they’re not any more. Look, will you stop worrying about my eyes! That’s in the same category as worrying about my weight or calling me silly names,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘All right! I shall desist,’ he said laughingly. ‘After you, ma’am.’

  ‘What are you thinking about, Sasha?’

  ‘Last night. Today. How much I enjoyed the music. How lovely it was lying in the grass watching all the yachts on the harbour. How sweet those little lion cubs were.’ Sasha looked up from where she was sitting, leaning over the arm of the settee with her chin resting on both her hands formed into fists as she watched the sun set. ‘It’s been perfect, hasn’t it?’

  His dark blue eyes searched her face. They’d been home about half an hour and had both collapsed laughing in the lounge, protesting exhaustion until Heath had roused himself to pour them each a reviver in the form of a long, cool, cocktail which they had sipped in a companionable silence.

  He ruffled her hair affectionately and said simply, ‘I’m glad.’

  ‘Has it been … good for you?’ she asked hesitantly.

  ‘My dear, it’s been the best thing that could have happened to me,’ he said. ‘You’ll never know how much I needed this . .. break.’

  ‘I’m so glad,’ she said at last when she could find her voice. She stood up. ‘I’ll make us something to eat. But I warn you, I’m doing nothing more strenuous this evening than watching television, and that only for a while. Because it’s back to the ranch tomorrow, and I guess you know what that means—for both of us,’ she said humorously. ‘Your dear mama won’t be in the best of tempers, I guess.’

  ‘Sasha.’ He caught her hand as she went to move past him and a cold finger of fear touched her heart, because there was something in his voice—something that filled her with foreboding.

  She looked up at him mutely.

  ‘I’m not going back with you tomorrow. I’m leaving tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?’ she whispered involuntarily.

  ‘In about half an hour’s time,’ he said gently as his thumb unthinkingly stroked the inside of her wrist.

  ‘On an assignment?’ She stared at him with her heart pounding in her throat, her mouth suddenly dry and every nerve-ending in her body protesting violently.

  ‘… You could say so. I’m flying to Melbourne tonight…’ He stopped.

  ‘Well, I can drive you to the airport,’ she said uncertainly at the same time as she thought, The pain! How can I deal with this? Why didn’t I expect it?

  ‘No,’ he said abruptly, and then more gently, ‘No. But tomorrow—you could drive my car home. It’ll be more comfortable than taking the train.’

  Her mind reacted to this as if she had received a blow, but the knowledge that he was something of an expert at reading her mind made her make one last incredible effort.

  ‘So it’s goodbye,’ she said unevenly. ‘I mean, I guess we’ll still see each other …’

  ‘Not for a while. But sure we will,’ said Heath very quietly. ‘Sasha?’

  She stared up at him, her naked grey eyes wide and although she didn’t know it tinged with an faint final expectancy.

  And his fingers tightened unthinkingly on her wrist before he forced himself to loosen his grasp and smile then, but just a little as if it hurt him. ‘Thank you. For just being yourself, Napoleon. And don’t … don’t throw yourself away on just anyone, will you?’ He leant forward to rest his lips on her forehead for a moment.

  ‘I won’t,’ she promised in a voice totally unlike her own. ‘Don’t you either,’ she added gruffly.

  Heath looked at his watch. ‘I better start packing.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll give you a hand,’ the strange person who had invaded Sasha Derwent’s body said. And it was that stranger who got through the next half hour on her behalf. It was a rushed half hour too, for which she was immensely grateful but couldn’t help wondering if he’d planned it that way. But finally the door was closed behind him and the cheerful, helpful stranger departed too, leaving only Sasha Derwent, who couldn’t believe anything could hurt so much as just watching Heath Townsend leave.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next morning the sun was gone in reality, and in Sasha’s heart too. In the dark, dead hours of the night while Heath was winging his way away from her, she’d tried to console herself with the thought that he could have been right. Of course he was! She’d get over this. She wasn’t Sasha Derwent for nothing …

  And she had stopped to smile sadly as she remembered that this particular saying had been her father’s for as long as she could remember and he had used it when she had fallen over as a baby, fallen off her horse somewhat older … and when her mother had died. And she thought longingly then of her father, who had been just as devastated as she had, but had never closed her out in his own misery. If I could tell you about all this, Dad, she thought, I’m sure you’d help me see it in its proper prospective.

  But by morning, she had given up trying to tell herself she only had a crush on Heath Townsend. Instead, her mind seemed to have gone blank, and she packed her clothes slowly, taking extra care with the black dress, although she left the smoky grey one behind.

  And because it was raining, she drove slowly and carefully down the choked confines of Victoria Road in Heath’s car, very gradually leaving Sydney and all its memories behind her.

  And because she felt a curious numbness, even when she was far out of town with the traffic left behind and the rain stopped, she still drove at the same even speed, uncaring that she was taking almost twice as long over this drive than necessary and that her employer would be in a cadenza by now.

  For a few minutes she did ponder how Stephanie Townsend would have reacted to Heath’s imperious phone-call—apart from the fact of the inconvenience it represented. But all Heath had said was that Sasha had decided to take the weekend off and had asked him to let her know.

  Then, finally, there was no way she could any longer delay driving up the jacaranda-lined driveway to the impressive old house. But while she was prepared for Stephanie’s censure, which anyway generally masked a genuine affection for whoever it was heaped upon, she was quite unprepared for the white-faced, tearful Stephanie who rushed out to greet her.

  ‘He’s gone crazy!’ Stephanie declared furiously as she eyed the car. ‘Why did you let him do it, Sasha?’ she demanded.

  ‘Do what?’ Sasha asked anxiously as she mounted the steps. ‘Who?’

  ‘Heath! Who else?’

  ‘I don’t understand. Do what?’ she asked again.

  Stephanie stared at her. ‘Do you mean he didn’t tell you? And by the way, where have you been this weekend?’ She shrugged impatiently. ‘But you were at the party with him on Friday, at least, weren’t you? Did he say anything? Give you any kind of a hint that this was brewing?’

  ‘Stephanie, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Sasha said, but with that feeling of foreboding again in her heart.

  ‘This,’ Stephanie said distractedly, and picked up a newspaper from the wicker table on the verandah. She thrust it into Sasha’s face and waited impatiently as Sasha scanned the headlines and then trembled as she recognised Heath staring out at her from the front page.

  ‘Oh no!’ she exclaimed, going pale.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Stephanie said tartly. ‘It seems he flew down to Melbourne last night and told them he was not renewing his contract with the channel, dragged the top brass from their beds last night, mind you, to do it. And then he flew out of Australia.’

  Sasha’s knees buckled and she sat down in the nearest chair. ‘But how could he do that?’ she whispered.

  ‘He persuaded them to take some man in his place and let him take the leave that was due to him to take him up to the end of his present contract. Some man called … Havelock. Apparently he’s been doing this kind of thing overseas.’

/>   Sasha’s mouth dropped open. ‘Brent Havelock?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘Something like that,’ Stephanie said impatiently, then wiped her eyes and sniffed desolately. ‘I suppose he left a note at the flat for you to bring the car home? But I didn’t even get a note. All I got was a telegram … telling me he was going back to “pure” journalism, whatever that is,’ she added viciously.

  Oh, no! was Sasha’s most coherent thought. Then, oh God! Why did I do it? Why did I say all those silly things on Friday night at the party? And why didn’t he tell me?

  ‘Of course I know why he didn’t tell me,’ Stephanie said tearfully, unconsciously echoing Sasha’s thoughts. ‘Because when Heath makes up his mind to do anything he doesn’t consult anyone, least of all me! In case I put up a fight. Which I would have. Does he really think I don’t know what he means by “pure” journalism?’ she asked illogically. ‘I know exactly what it means. It means finding the blackest, cruellest war he can, as if singlehandedly he could right all the wrongs in this world.’

  ‘Where?’ Sasha’s voice came out as a croak.

  ‘He didn’t say,’ Stephanie wept. ‘But you can bet your bottom dollar it will be something like El Salvador or somewhere just as bad. Oh, Sasha!’

  Sasha stared at the elegant, silver-haired woman and saw a grief that matched her own. Although in some respects Heath and his mother were too alike to be compatible in each other’s company for very long, she knew Stephanie was tremendously fond, tremendously proud of her only son. And the deep hurt and anxiety she was feeling touched Sasha despite her own pain, so that she stood up and put her arms around Stephanie.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ she whispered. ‘He’ll be back.’ Please God, let him be back, she prayed.

  ‘But I had such … plans to tell him about, Sasha,’ Stephanie sobbed.

  ‘What plans?’ Sasha said gently. ‘Tell me.’

  Stephanie tensed, then pulled away and blew her nose. Finally she patted Sasha on the cheek affectionately and made a great effort to control herself. ‘I will one day,’ she said. ‘Because you’re just like the daughter I…’ She stopped and took a breath and then went on, ‘And you mustn’t look so upset yourself. I know you look upon Heath almost as an elder brother. But you’re right, he’ll be back, pet.’ She laughed shakily. ‘What a pair we are!’ She tucked Sasha’s hand into hers and led her inside. ‘I was going to say what we need is a cup of tea, but on second thoughts, I reckon a good stiff drink is what I need. Seen your father yet?’ she asked over her shoulder.

  ‘No. I thought I’d pop over the fence after lunch.’

  ‘Good,’ said Stephanie with something of her former briskness. ‘And when you do, ask him if he’s got a minute to come up and see me. I feel as if I could do with some of his … common sense.’

  It was a strange week that followed. To all intents and purposes, the household got back to normal and Stephanie recovered her composure completely. In fact the only time she mentioned Heath was one day during their morning break as they sipped coffee on the verandah just above the rose garden.

  She said out of the blue, ‘It’s a strange thing about Heath. He bullies me shamefully, never listens to a word I say and quite breaks my heart sometimes, but I always feel a little less alive when he’s not around, as you’ve no doubt gathered,’ she added with a wry twist to her lips.

  She caught Sasha’s eye and they both grinned.

  ‘But the funniest part is,’ Stephanie went on, ‘I’m supposed to be a very enlightened woman. Some most kind person even once compared me to Emily Pankhurst … yet I really have only one burning ambition left. And that’s to see Heath find the right woman, marry her, be happy with her, and have children with her. Not only—well, it’s a little like a call of the wild, I’ve discovered—to want to see your grandchildren but because, whatever she might think to the contrary, I think he’d make a very good husband.’

  Oh, so do I, Sasha thought, but didn’t say it. She couldn’t find anything to say, she found, and when she at last looked up from her cup, it was to see Stephanie staring at her concernedly, so that her heart tripped and she wondered if she’d given herself away.

  But all Stephanie said was, ‘You know you don’t look very well, Sasha. I noticed it the other day. I think you might need a tonic. Growing girls often do.’

  Sasha winced inwardly but said gravely, ‘I think I might have stopped growing a few years back, Stephanie. I’ll be nineteen in a week or two.’

  They laughed at that. ‘True,’ said Stephanie. ‘It’s a strange thing, but the older one gets, the younger young people look to you. I expect thirty or so years hence you’ll notice the phenomenon too. All the same, you do look a bit peaky. Is there any problem?’

  Sasha thought. ‘Well, I’ve had a couple of headaches,’ she said hoping desperately this would cover her. ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ she added. ‘Maybe I am growing in a way. I’ll go and see Doctor James. But you know what he’ll prescribe, don’t you?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Liver!’

  ‘A very good source of iron, so I’m told,’ said Stephanie with a grin. ‘But you do that, Sasha. Because he’s really not such an old fogey, you know. Why, I believe he delivered you into this world!’

  ‘That’s what I mean,’ Sasha said. ‘And he is an old fogey, but I love him just the same. Although sometimes he treats me as his baby.’

  ‘I’m afraid we all do, dear. But only because we love you.’

  How right you are, Stephanie, Sasha said to herself. ‘Stephanie …?’ she began.

  ‘Yes, pet?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Well, I only wondered if you ever grow out of feeling—sort of unsure of yourself?’

  ‘No,’ said Stephanie after a long pause. ‘Up until quite recently I thought, yes. Then I discovered that in one field at least, human relationships—well, no.’

  She’s thinking of Heath, Sasha thought. Isn’t it curious that we should both be thinking, always thinking of Heath? Dear God! How long does it take to forget Heath?

  She said, ‘I thought not.’

  ‘Sasha?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You’re growing into one of the loveliest young women I’ve ever seen. Physically and mentally,’ Stephanie said sincerely. ‘Remember that, when you feel a little unsure, won’t you? And don’t…’ she hesitated.

  ‘I won’t,’ said Sasha with a mischievous grin, and thought, heavens, I’m also growing into a consummate actress! ‘I mean, I won’t fall for the first or the second or the third man I meet. So don’t worry.’

  Stephanie looked at her curiously. ‘How did you know I was going to say that?’

  ‘Oh well,’ Sasha said airily but turning faintly pink, ‘that’s the kind of advice I seem to be getting these days. I’m sure it’s very good advice,’ she added hastily to cover the slight cynicism in her voice.

  Stephanie was thoughtful for a minute, then she grinned suddenly. ‘One forgets,’ she said, ‘what bothersome old bores one’s elders can be. Oh well,’ she stretched, ‘should we get back to work? Or should we take the rest of the day off? I’m quite in the mood to be lazy.’

  It was Sasha’s turn to look curious, for this was not quite in character with the Stephanie she knew. She said, ‘I think we are as much behind as we could get, aren’t we?’

  ‘Blossom, you’re quite right. All right, drag me back to work, you slavedriver!’

  Mike Gibson rang up the next morning. His parents owned a property in the district and he and Sasha had got to know each other through mutual friends about twelve months ago. She often wondered what had been the turning point for Mike, because for many months it had been a simple, uncomplicated friendship, spent mostly in the company of others. But lately it had changed and Mike had adopted a subtly proprietorial attitude towards Sasha, so that now most of their dates were tete-a-tete and she got the distinct feeling she had allowed herself to drift into becoming Mike’s ‘girl’ without quite knowing how it had happened.

  But two
things moved her to alter that impression as she spoke to him on the phone. The first was the faintly petulant note of chiding in his voice as he attempted to grill her about the weekend she had spent in town. Almost as if she was a witness being cross-examined. The second thing was the uncomfortable memory of Heath’s summing up of Mike, which although she hadn’t admitted it at the time—the first time, rather, she thought, and went pink—had nailed him rather accurately.

  So that all this, together with the memories Mike was evoking with his persistent questions, made her brusquer perhaps than she intended to be. ‘You don’t own me, Mike,’ she said coldly into the phone at last. ‘I went into town because Heath needed me and I decided to stay the weekend. Quite simple really. And it’s not as if we had a date that I broke, is it?’

  There was a short silence on the other end. Then he said thoughtfully, ‘I’d beware of Heath if I were you, Sasha. I know you work for his mother and all that, but—’ he hesitated, ‘well, it’s very easy to get a sort of … tarnished reputation, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘No, I don’t, Mike!’ she said indignantly. ‘Are you accusing me . ..’ She stopped-short and closed her eyes. Oh God! she thought. If only he knew how right he was. And here am I. ..

  Mike’s voice cut across her thoughts. ‘I’m not accusing you of anything, Sasha. All I’m saying is you have to be careful with a man like Heath who has a reputation for …’

  ‘Gobbling up little girls like me?’ she said sweetly into the phone, although her eyes were bright with rage. ‘Well, let me tell you something, Mike, Heath wouldn’t harm a hair of my head—unfortunately. But if ever he crooked his little finger at me, I’d go like a shot!’

  She heard the smothered exclamation at the other end of the line and smiled. ‘What was that you said?’ she asked innocently.

  It was a moment before he replied. ‘Look, Sasha,’ he said finally, ‘you’ve taken this all wrong.’

  ‘Have I?’ she said flatly.