Arian (37 page)

Gerald concealed his triumph as he faced Eline Davies over the vast expanse of carpet in the sitting room of the Frogmore residence. He was fully aware of Sarah, her face dark with anger, watching the interview in silence.

‘I think she might do something foolish if you don’t go back.’ Eline was intent on pressing home her point, just in case he didn’t get the message. ‘I’ve never seen her like this before, so lacking in spirit. You really must go to her.’

Gerald stroked his chin as though he was considering what she’d said and Eline rushed on, nervous but determined.

‘I shouldn’t interfere in other people’s marriages I know, but I’m so worried.’

‘You did right to come,’ Gerald said at last. He smiled, determined to impress this woman with his sincerity. She was, after all, telling him to do just what he wanted to do. Sarah would just have to take it or leave it. She had served her purpose, had provided him with funds, unlimited funds, by her trust in his business acumen not to mention the generous allowance she made him, and now he found her possessiveness getting too much to bear. He wanted to be with Arian and Eline was giving him every excuse.

‘I will go home, I’ll talk to her at least.’ He was aware of Sarah’s sharp intake of breath and he glanced at her apologetically. ‘There’s nothing else I can do, is there? She is my responsibility, after all.’

Later he would lie to Sarah, tell her this was only a temporary measure, that soon, when Arian’s health was improved, he could once again be her lover. He’d better not burn any boats.

‘Perhaps you will share my cab?’ Eline was nothing if not persistent and that was all to the good. Gerald rose at once and bowed to her, excusing himself from the room.

Sarah followed him upstairs as he knew she would and he took her in his arms at once. ‘It won’t be for long,’ he said. ‘I promise you that, but how would it look if I ignored Mrs Davies’s entreaties?’

‘I don’t care how it would look,’ Sarah said petulantly. ‘I just want you here with me, that’s all.’

‘And if Arian
were
to do something foolish, how would we both feel then, my darling?’ Gerald spoke persuasively, his lips against her hair. ‘I’ll be back before you know it, my sweet. I can’t live without you, you know that.’

‘Can’t live without my money, you mean,’ Sarah said acidly. Gerald drew away from her at once, his expression stern.

‘I will not touch another penny of your money, Sarah.’ He had put just the right amount of injured innocence into his voice and Sarah was regretful, her arms going around him, her eyes pleading.

‘I’m sorry, Gerald, I didn’t mean it. I love you, you know I do and you love me, don’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Gerald said, ‘but there’s such a thing as duty, you know. Arian is sick. How can any decent person ignore such a responsibility, inconvenient though it might be?’

‘I know.’ Sarah, he saw, was ashamed. Inwardly he smiled. She was so easy to manipulate but then, so were most women. Not Arian however, at least not until now. Triumph filled him. Right now his wife needed him and the thought was a heady one.

Quickly he packed a bag and then, taking Sarah in his arms once more, he kissed her soundly. He could afford to be generous with his flattery – he was getting away from her. It had suited him to live with her for a time, to make sure of his power over her, but enough was enough and now he was going home.

Arian looked dully out of the window. The rain was sliding into the garden, dripping monotonously from the trees, echoing her own feelings of despair and futility. Gerald had been home for more than a month now and they had fallen into a pattern of behaviour that was more reminiscent of an old, devoted couple than a pair who were together out of a sense of convenience and duty.

She went to his bed and did his bidding as a good wife should. She had been grateful for his presence, his strength, his love that had seemed like a balm in her days of black moods and fearful depressions. He had brought her out of the dark horrors with patience and understanding and even though she still couldn’t feel happy with him, at least she no longer felt threatened by some unspeakable sense of disaster.

The business under the expert hands of Eline Davies was beginning to prosper once more. Some repayments had been made to Gerald, as well as arrangements for further monthly instalments.

Arian suspected that a great deal of effort was being injected into the sale of catalogue goods by both Eline and her husband. She was grateful and yet she had no urgent need to be involved herself; it was more their business now than hers.

She was content to stand back from life and allow everything to pass her by. It was good to have nothing to worry about, no debts, no challenges, nothing.

Her mind, these days, felt calmer. Acceptance of the inevitable, Gerald’s power over her, seemed to help but her body, strangely, was weak and vulnerable. She had no energy, no will to live.

She awoke one morning and knew that she was very sick. It wasn’t her mind, or her spirits – she was really physically sick. She struggled to sit up but it was too much of an effort and she sank back against the pillows. Her throat hurt and when she tried to focus her eyes, she felt them blur as though she was going to faint.

Gerald came into the bedroom, his hair damp, his cheeks glowing from washing. He was so robust, so healthy that somehow she couldn’t bear to face him and she turned her head away.

‘Arian, what is it?’ He came to the bedside and looked down at her and then he turned on his heel and hurried out.

Arian tried to lift her head, to tell him she didn’t want him to call anyone, she just wanted to be left alone. It was no use. She couldn’t speak and she fell back against the pillows, her eyes closed. What did it matter if she died alone? Wasn’t that the way she’d always lived?

She must have drifted off into unconsciousness because when she opened her eyes again she was aware of a tall figure standing in front of her, blotting out the sun from the window.

She shaded her eyes with her trembling hand and looked up in sudden recognition. ‘Eddie.’ Her voice was a croak. ‘Oh, Eddie.’

He hesitated for a moment and then took her wrist in his hand, his touch light.

‘Arian, I’ve just come back to Swansea and I find my old love sick in bed. That’s not a very good welcome, is it?’ He turned to look over his shoulder.

‘This means complete isolation of course – it’s scarlet fever. Didn’t you realize how ill she was? How long has she been like this?’

‘Eddie,’ she whispered, ‘I’ve not been well for a very long time.’ He leaned close to hear her whispered words.

‘It’s the scarlet fever,’ Eddie smiled down at her. ‘You’ve obviously allowed yourself to get run down. You’ve not taken care of yourself properly, have you? I’m afraid I can’t be of very much help either. I can give you something for the pain and discomfort but this is something that has to take its course.’

She tried to smile up at Eddie but his image was fading. She closed her eyes and sighed softly, giving herself up to the darkness that washed, comfortingly around her.

When she woke, it was dark. There was a lamp burning somewhere in the room and Gerald was beside the bed, bathing her face with tepid water. Eddie was there too, looking down at her anxiously.

She studied him. He’d changed over the intervening years but only a little. Once, when he had been her lover, his features had been softened by love and passion. Now, he was older and his face had hardened. He was no longer a boy but a man.

He moved forward and put the back of his hand against Arian’s forehead. ‘Don’t try to talk. I want you to rest as much as you can. The fever will break tonight and after that, well, we’ll see.’

In the bed that she shared with her husband, Arian lay wide eyed, staring up at the cracked, whitewashed ceiling. She was thinking of Eddie, imagining them together, rolling in the fields, full of joy and laughter. But then her father was there, his horsewhip raised in anger, and he was bringing it down again and again on Eddie’s shoulders. Arian cried out.

She heard Gerald open the door. He came into the room quietly. The bed creaked as he sat down beside her and she felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek.

‘It’s all right, my darling, it’s all right. Look, I’ve got cool water for you to drink and I’ll bathe you to keep the heat down. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I love you, Arian, you must believe that.’

He was tenderness itself. Perhaps, after all, he did really care. Why else was he bothering? She had nothing to offer him – she was a dismal failure, destroying everything around her, bungling anything she tried to do. He should wash his hands of her and go back to Sarah Frogmore.

For only a few moments her mind was lucid, then the dreams came, the nightmare images, devils conjured up from hell, and demons with blazing eyes and torches set a fire that burned her body. There was grit in her eyes, hot and burning into her skull. She was in hell.

‘Is she going to die?’ Gerald had never felt so lost in all his life. Sickness was a stranger to him. He never felt ill and he had never before witnessed anything as terrifying as the sight of Arian tossing and turning on the bed, her eyes wide open and staring.

‘I don’t know, that’s the honest answer.’ Eddie Carpenter was a stocky man, quite heavily built with premature grey streaking his hair. ‘She’s very weak, hasn’t been eating enough by the look of her.’ He paused and ran his hand around his collar as though it was too tight for him.

‘Can’t you try leeches or something?’ Gerald felt desperately inadequate and his anger turned itself towards the doctor.

‘Leeches are very useful in some cases. In many cases,’ Eddie corrected himself, ‘but not in this one. Look, even if she gets over this, Arian’s going to need careful nursing. She should have plenty of liver to enrich her blood, she certainly doesn’t need blood taken from her.’

‘Well, you’re the doctor, I suppose.’ Gerald’s acceptance was grudging.

‘Yes, I’m a very tired one, and I’ve a wife and children who’ll be worried about me, too. I’d best slip home for a while but I’ll be back. In the meantime, just keep her as cool as you can.’

‘Will that work?’ Gerald picked up the bowl and moved to the door.

‘As good as anything else. You could try praying if you’re that sort of a man.’

When the doctor had left, Gerald returned to the bedroom with fresh water and sat down beside Arian. ‘I’m going to take care of you, I won’t let you die. Do you hear me, Arian? I’m not going to let you die.’

It was morning. The pale sun was streaking the sky. Arian’s eyes were clear. She felt weak but she knew that she was over the worst of the illness that had plunged her into the gates of hell.

She became aware of Gerald beside her, leaning over her. His face was grey with fatigue, a rough stubble graced his normally clean-shaven chin. He’d been crying.

She reached out a hand and he took it gently as though he feared his touch would hurt her.

‘Arian …’ his voice shook. ‘Thank God, the fever’s broken.’ He fell down on his knees beside her and touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. ‘Tell me you’re going to be all right, just tell me.’

‘I am, Gerald, I’m going to get better, I promise.’ She tried to smile but she was far too tired. ‘I’m going to have a little sleep,’ she whispered, ‘but stay with me, Gerald, don’t leave me.’

‘It’s nothing short of a miracle.’ Eddie Carpenter stared down at Arian as she slept peacefully, her breathing even. His mouth stretched into a triumphant smile. ‘The crisis is over. She’s pulled through.’

‘Between us, we did it, doctor.’ Gerald felt so tired he could hardly think straight but it had all been worth it. Arian was not going to die.

‘I didn’t do anything, old boy. It was all your work. You must love your wife very much.’

The words penetrated the mists of Arian’s mind. She sighed softly as if carrying a great burden and then, once more, peacefully, she slept.

The scourge of the fever spread a dark cloud over Swansea. There was scarcely any family who was not affected by the epidemic. In the peaceful hillside house on Honey’s Farm, Fon and Jamie O’Conner sat at Patrick’s bedside listening to the awful rasping sound of the child’s breathing.

Fon held the small hand. It was brown from the open air and calloused; for, young as the boy was, he helped his father on the farm – a little man if ever there was one.

‘We’re losing him.’ Jamie bent over the boy, his eyes moist with tears. ‘God, Fon, we’re losing him.’

‘No!’ Fon protested but her words fell into a sudden, ominous silence. The laboured breathing had stopped. Patrick O’Conner, Jamie’s first-born son, was dead.

Sarah Frogmore stared at her reflection in the mirror that hung over the fireplace in the large sitting room and sighed. Her expression was petulant and there was a frown between her finely drawn brows. She was, she thought bitterly, growing old. Well, not old exactly but too old to be alone, too old to go looking for a fine young man to fill her dreams. In any case, there was one man she wanted so much that it hurt to think about him.

Gerald Simples had been only a dalliance at first, a sop to her passionate nature, a fulfilment of her desires. He was tall, handsome and with a quality of ruthlessness that had always fascinated her, even way back in her youth.

Her face softened as she thought of Sam Payton – he had been ruthless all right. Sam had drawn her into all sorts of escapades, even going so far as kidnapping a child and holding him for ransom. Sarah had gone along with it all, like the blind fool she was when it came to men.

In those days she could have her pick, and often did. She smiled now at the recollection of the men who had coloured her life, not many of them rich and respectable but all of them a boost to her self-confidence.

Good lovers she’d had aplenty, able and eager between the sheets. Any that were failures, she had shrugged off very quickly.

She touched her hair. She had a sensuous nature, she couldn’t help it. It was the way God had made her, if there was a God at all.

One failure she was stuck with. She was married to him. Abruptly, she moved away from the mirror, unable to face herself. She was deceiving Geoffrey, lying to him, telling him that Gerald Simples was nothing more than a steward. He accepted this. He’d met Sarah’s ‘aunt’ and, predictably, liked the old lady, believing she was a steadying influence on his wife.