Dangerous Sanctuary

Marjorie Manning shook her head. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have thought you and Lacey had much in common.’ She looked to her husband for confirmation. ‘We only come to these gatherings because Peter’s more or less obliged to do so. I feel awful about Maggie, but what can we do?’

‘Nothing,’ said Jaime firmly, accepting the glass of wine Peter had rescued for her from a passing tray. ‘But who are all these people? Should I know them?’ She indicated the crowded living-room beyond with the hand that held her glass. ‘I didn’t realise Felix had so many friends.’

‘He doesn’t,’ declared Peter flatly. ‘Most of these people are friends or associates of Lacey’s. From the amateur dramatic society, most of them. Don’t you recognise Gil Fleming, the male lead? And there’s Stephanie Collins. She’s usually his leading lady.’

‘Hmm.’ Jaime sipped her wine. ‘Well, I’m afraid I don’t go to the theatre very often.’ She shrugged. ‘But Lacey has certainly pushed the boat out. Do you think Maggie knows about the baby?’

‘Knowing Lacey, I’d say it was a definite possibility,’ answered Marjorie, with a grimace. ‘Imagine Felix being a father again, after all these years!’

‘Who’s taking my name in vain?’

The subject of their discussion suddenly appeared behind Jaime, insinuating himself into their circle, and giving his secretary a challenging look. For some reason, his glance reminded Jaime of that scene at the office several months ago, and the embarrassment she had felt then stained her cheeks anew.

‘We were just commenting on the fact that you’re about to embark on fatherhood again,’ said Peter quickly, leaping to what he thought was Jaime’s defence. ‘How long is it since your youngest was born? Twenty years?’

‘Nineteen, actually,’ admitted Felix, without rancour, and to Jaime’s relief he switched his attention away from her. ‘I know, I know. I’ll be more like its grandfather than its father. But it’s what Lacey wants, and that’s what matters.’

‘Of course.’

Marjorie’s tone was dry, and Felix acknowledged it with a wry smile. But then, turning back to Jaime, he manoeuvred her into a position where only she could hear what he had to say. ‘I suppose you disapprove, too,’ he remarked softly, bending his head so that he could inhale the clean fragrance of her hair. ‘What’s the matter? Does it remind you of what you’ve missed?’

Jaime caught her breath. ‘No.’

‘Oh, well…’ Felix shrugged ‘… I suppose you’re feeling a bit miffed because he isn’t here.’

‘Who isn’t here?’

‘Although after the way you reacted that day when I told you he was coming back, I’d have thought you’d be relieved.’

Jaime blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’

‘I don’t.’ Jaime was confused. ‘I thought we were talking about the baby.’

Felix gave her a doubting look. ‘You mean Lacey didn’t tell you?’

‘Tell me? Tell me what?’

‘That she invited Russell here this evening? He’s in the neighbourhood, you know. I believe he’s staying at the Crown while the final adjustments are made at the house.’

Jaime was glad of the press of people around her to support her suddenly unsteady legs. ‘You mean—Ben?’ she echoed faintly, realising something was expected of her, and Felix nodded.

‘She didn’t tell you?’

Jaime swallowed, managing to control her reaction. ‘I—obviously not,’ she articulated carefully. ‘Did—er—did he say he would come?’

‘He didn’t respond at all.’ To her relief, Felix didn’t seem to notice how his words had affected her, and the noise and jostling of his other guests were a constant diversion. ‘But, what the hell? There’s enough people here as it is. Did you ever see such a scrum? Goodness knows what the neighbours must think, eh?’

Felix drifted away soon after that, and Jaime resumed her conversation with the Mannings. But his words had disturbed her, and every time there was a new arrival her eyes darted anxiously towards the door. But she needn’t have worried. Although her nerves remained on edge, the man she had never expected to see again did not put in an appearance, and Lacey’s hopes of achieving a social coup went unfulfilled.

Even so, it took some determination to swallow a couple of canapés, and exchange a few more words with her hostess. Lacey made no mention of her disappointment, and Jaime had to suppress a simmering sense of resentment. No necessity now to wonder why she had been invited, she thought bitterly. All that talk about motherhood, and being friends, had had an ulterior motive. She couldn’t imagine why Lacey might think Ben would react positively to her presence, but she apparently had.

She managed to stick it out for another half-hour before making her departure. ‘I don’t like leaving Tom on his own for too long,’ she excused herself, aware that no one here knew he wasn’t waiting for her at home. In fact, she was glad he wasn’t herself. She would welcome a few minutes to restore her defences.

It was only a quarter to ten when she turned into Dorset Road, and she guessed her son wouldn’t be home much before half-past. Still, her appetite was returning now that she had left the source of her emotional upheaval, and she thought she might make herself an omelette for supper. In fact, Tom might like one too, when he got back. Although he enjoyed being invited to the Santinis’, he wasn’t too keen on Mrs Santini’s cooking. Lots of pasta and spicy sauces did not appeal to her son’s digestion, and he invariably made himself a sandwich after he got home.

To her surprise, however, the lights were on in her own living-room, and she knew a moment’s anxiety as she pulled into the kerb. There was an enormous Mercedes parked directly across the road from her house, so at least the Morrisons were home, she thought gratefully. She might need their help if she had an intruder.

Of course, Tom could be home already, she reflected, as she got out of the car and secured the lock. Angie could be with him. But surely her parents wouldn’t have allowed her to accompany Tom back to an empty house, she thought uneasily. Trust was one thing; putting temptation in their way was something else.

Her doubts were clarified, however, as she crossed the pavement. The front door opened, before she had a chance to use her key, and her son stood on the threshold. Tom’s normally fair skin was flushed with colour, and Jaime’s heart sank at the obvious connotation. They must have heard her coming, she thought, and decided to meet trouble head-on.

‘You’re early, Mum.’ Tom’s first words were not encouraging, and Jaime could tell by the nervous twitching of his lips that that was not what he really wanted to say. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be home for at least another hour.’

‘No, well…’ Jaime stepped past him into the hall, keeping her temper with difficulty ‘… it wasn’t as exciting as you seem to think, and as you were on your own—–’

‘Oh—I’m not on my own, Mum—–’

‘No. I suspected that,’ said Jaime tightly, watching him close the door with controlled irritation. ‘How dare you, Tom? How dare you lie to me?’

‘Lie to you?’

Tom looked blank, and before Jaime could sense the significance of his response another voice interrupted him. ‘I’m afraid I’m to blame,’ said the man, who had appeared in the living-room doorway. ‘I suggested I might stay and wait for you.’

Jaime was glad she was standing by the banister. It gave her something to reach out and hold on to. Otherwise, she was quite convinced she would have keeled over, the shock of seeing Ben Russell was so great.

And it was Ben who had propped his shoulder against the frame of the living-room door. Of that, she had no doubt. But he looked very different from the way she remembered him, and she sensed that the years between had not been entirely kind.

Ben had been—was—the younger of the two Russell brothers, but right now he looked more Philip’s age than his own. In height, there had never been much to choose between them, but Ben had always looked harder, more muscular, definitely the more physical one of the two, as a member of her father’s bar staff had once rhapsodised. He certainly looked harder now—harsh, would have been Jaime’s description. He was thinner, for one thing, and the thick swath of dark brown hair was lightly threaded with grey. His face, too, which bore the darkness of his years spent in a tropical climate, nevertheless showed a certain pallor—a sallow cast underlying his skin which pouched around his eyes. But his eyes were still as green as ever, a curious jade-green, that with their distinctive fringe of lashes had caused many hearts to flutter in the days when he had appeared on television. But, although she knew he must be thirty-eight now, he looked ten years older, and despite the chill of apprehension that had gripped her at the sight of him a reluctant stirring of compassion momentarily kept her dumb.

‘Uncle—Uncle Ben came just after you left,’ put in Tom stiffly, still smarting over his mother’s accusation. ‘I said you wouldn’t be back until later, but—well, we got talking, and the time just seemed to fly.’

Jaime collected herself with a supreme effort. ‘You mean, you’ve been here for the past two hours?’ she exclaimed, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, and Ben flipped back the cuff of his leather jacket. In jeans and scuffed boots, he would have made quite an impression at Lacey’s party, thought Jaime in passing. How ironic that he should be here, when she had been alarmed that he might turn up at the Haines’s.

‘To be precise, I’d say an hour and a half at most,’ he replied tersely, after consulting the plain gold watch circling his wrist. There were hairs on his wrist, dark hairs sprouting up between his cuff and the strap of his watch, and Jaime’s eyes were glued to them, as she tried to calm her nerves. ‘I didn’t mind. I had nothing better to do.’

Except attend a party that was supposed to be celebrating a baby’s conception but was really in your honour, thought Jaime silently, resenting his assumption of control. ‘I mind,’ she stated, aware that her appraisal of him had by no means been a one-sided affair. She turned to Tom. ‘Leave us, will you, sweetheart? I’d like to speak to—to—our guest privately for a moment.’

Tom looked troubled now, his earlier indignation giving way to a belated sense of responsibility. ‘Don’t be mad, Mum,’ he said, giving Ben an appealing look. ‘Why don’t we all go into the living-room and talk? It— well, it’s not very nice out here, and Uncle Ben’s been ill—–’

‘Do as your mother says, Tom.’ Ben’s quiet command silenced the boy, and Jaime knew a renewed sense of resentment at the ease with which he achieved his objectives. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one another, and I think it would be better if we had a few private words.’

Tom hesitated, but it was only a momentary resistance. ‘You will say goodbye before you leave, won’t you?’ he requested anxiously, and then, conscious of his mother’s disapproval, he dragged his feet along the hall to the kitchen.

Jaime waited until the kitchen door had closed behind her son before stepping back and opening the front door. ‘I think you’d better go,’ she said, hoping he was not aware that she was clinging to the handle as if it were a lifeline. ‘I don’t know why you came here, and I don’t want to know. I just want you to get out of here!’

Ben’s thin features tightened, but he made no move to obey her. ‘Isn’t this a little juvenile, Jaime?’ he suggested, straightening his spine. ‘We’ve known each other too long—and too well—to ignore the other’s existence. All right. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here tonight, but I was curious. And when Tom found out who I was—–’

Jaime quivered. ‘Are you going to leave, or must I call the police?’

Ben expelled his breath on a heavy sigh. ‘You wouldn’t do that,’ he said flatly, his shoulders lifting in a dismissive gesture, and with an inward sense of desperation Jaime closed the door again.

‘You have no right to come here,’ she enunciated clearly. ‘No right at all.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘Did you tell your wife where you were going?’

‘Maura’s dead,’ he replied shortly, and now his face had taken on a distinctly grim expression. ‘In any case, why should you think I don’t have the right to see my own nephew?’

‘He’s not your nephew—–’ she began, but his savage words overrode her.

‘Yes, I’ve heard that story before,’ he bit out harshly. ‘But if he isn’t Philip’s son, then who the hell is he? Because—my God!—the likeness is unmistakable! He’s the image of my father as a young man!’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.