Authors: Margaret Tanner
“Alexander,” Iris snapped, as she minced into the room. Caroline stifled a giggle, trying to visualize this haughty queen with her head stuck in the toilet bowl.
“I found peppermint tea helpful. Would you care for some?”
“No, thank you. Sudden movements or spicy smells tend to set me off in the morning. Otherwise I’m okay.”
“Pregnant women need plenty of rest.” Iris went on, and Caroline felt her cheeks burn. She lowered her head, letting her hair hide most of her face. Surely Iris couldn’t tell that they had spent half the night making love.
“It was their wedding night.” Alexander chuckled, and Caroline, through a curtain of hair, watched Bryce squirm in his seat.
“Where are those photographs that you wanted to show Caroline?” he butted in hurriedly, giving her the distinct impression that he was embarrassed. Could his father suspect how prolonged and vigorous their lovemaking had been in the early hours of the morning?
“Now, my dear, this is the football team of 1934. There’s your father.”
Caroline stared at the smiling young man and instantly saw why her mother disliked her. She was the spitting image of him.
“You’re so like your father,” Alexander said. “I can’t understand why I didn’t recognize you. The old eyes aren’t as sharp as they used to be, and memory isn’t, either.”
“Is that you?” She pointed to another grinning young man.
“Yes.” He gave a chuckle. “Haven’t I changed much, or did you pick me out because of Bryce?”
It was the latter, but she couldn’t say so. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she teased. “Still as handsome as a movie star.”
Iris snorted, but Caroline didn’t care. He was a nice old man, if a little on the vain side.
“No fool like an old fool,” Iris said tartly. “Alexander,” she raised her voice.
“We’re going to the drawing room,” Bryce interrupted. “I want to see mother’s Fundraiser of the Year award.”
“Well, of course, darling,” Iris said. “It’s a biennial award presented by the governor’s wife.”
“Yes, I know how prestigious it is. What an honor for you.” He took hold of his mother’s arm and steered her out of the room.
“I’ll see if I can get some pictures taken off these snaps,” Alexander promised. “I’m only sorry I don’t have any more to show you.”
“It was kind of you to go to so much trouble. Until today, I didn’t even know what my father looked like,” Caroline said wistfully.
“I’ll make some enquiries, if you like. On enlistment every soldier has his photo taken. There should be one of your father on his military records. You might be able to get it enlarged.”
“That would be wonderful, thank you. You know I love your son, don’t you?”
“Yes. I see it in your eyes, the way you speak to him, touch him.”
“He doesn’t love me,” she whispered sadly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but if he doesn’t now, he soon will.” he reassured. “You make a nice welcoming home for him, don’t be afraid to show your affection, and he’ll soon come around, I guarantee it. Don’t be worrying about your brother, either.” He patted her hand. “He’s a smart young man, well trained and disciplined, knows how to look after himself.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so. You take it from an old soldier. I sneaked in a few of Bryce’s baby photos. Thought you might be interested.”
“Oh, yes. What a gorgeous baby!” She stared at the photo of an infant Bryce wearing a long, lacy dress.
“I took that picture at his baptism.”
“Look at this one.” She pointed to the photo of Bryce as a toddler riding a rocking horse.
“What mischief are you two plotting?” Bryce came up to them.
“Your father’s been showing me a few of your baby pictures.”
“Dad! Caroline wouldn’t be interested in that old rubbish.”
“I am. You were a beautiful baby and a handsome little boy.”
“Mother sent me in to tell you lunch is ready.”
Caroline stood up. “Thank you for showing me the photographs. They were wonderful.” She tossed her hair back and pushed it behind her ears.
“Don’t push you hair back,” Bryce said, hurriedly stepping between her and his father.
“Why ever not?”
“Because you’ve got love bites on your neck,” he shot back in a loud whisper
“I didn’t notice.” Embarrassed heat rushed into her face as Alexander mumbled something before walking away.
“Don’t you look in the mirror?”
“Not much.” How could she tell him she rarely did more than glance in the mirror to apply lipstick.
“Don’t let my mother see them. I’ve already endured the third degree.”
“What about?”
“Us.” His mouth grew tight.
“You mean she actually asked you…”
“More or less.”
“Oh, no.” Caroline could almost feel herself breaking out in a cold sweat. “What did you say?” She clutched his arm.
“I told her to mind her own damn business.”
She gritted her teeth, forcing her trembling legs into motion. What kind of woman was Iris Harrington, asking her son about his wedding night? Now they had to share a meal together.
She plastered a smile on her face, patted her hair to make sure it covered the love bites and entered the dining room. The table was set up for royalty, all gleaming silver and crisp white linen.
Alexander sat at the head of the table carving the leg of lamb. The table was laden with bowls of crisp roast potatoes, pumpkin, carrots, onions, beans and peas, and thick brown gravy, and Caroline feared she wouldn’t be able to swallow so much as a mouthful.
Under the eagle eye of a tight-lipped Iris, she tried to do justice to the beautiful meal. That mother and son had argued was obvious, not that it seemed to affect the older woman’s appetite. She ate heartily, having ruined the meal for everyone else. How could a nice, warm-hearted man like Alexander have married an ice queen like her?
“I’ve decided to have a post wedding party for our special friends.”
“Forget it,” Bryce snapped.
“The Fontains were so hurt at not being invited to the wedding, and they’re such close friends. Ashley became distraught after talking to you yesterday morning.”
Ice cold dread washed over Caroline. Ashley Fontain was the girl Iris had wanted Bryce to marry.
“Don’t you ever give up? I’m a married man.”
“Only under sufferance.”
“For God’s sake, Mother.”
“There’s always divorce.”
“Iris!” Alexander admonished her with just the one word.
“After a decent interval, I mean. Bryce would pay you handsomely for your, um, trouble, Caroline.”
“Trouble?” Caroline leapt to her feet. “Your grandchild is trouble?” she screamed. “You evil, hateful old witch.” She marched up to her mother-in-law.
Iris got to her feet, trembling with rage. “How dare you! You, you ungrateful little guttersnipe.”
Caroline heard a sudden gurgling sound. She swung and saw Alexander topple to the floor clutching his chest.
“Hell!” Bryce dashed over to his stricken father. “Call an ambulance, quickly.”
Caroline sprinted towards the phone and dialed the emergency number.
The next few minutes would stick in her mind forever. While Bryce knelt down next to his father, Iris marched up and down like some demented martinet.
“This is all your fault, you little gold digger. Forcing my son into marriage. Ingratiating yourself with my husband. You dirty little trollop.”
While Iris vilified her, Bryce said nothing to defend her and she knew for certain that their marriage was doomed. His face turned chalk white, his lips drew into a thin angry line. His eyes were dark with worry for his father and rightly so, but for her, his wife
, he felt
nothing.
The ambulance arrived and stabilized Alexander, who had regained consciousness.
“What’s all the fuss about? I don’t need to go to hospital.”
“Of course you do. I’ll drop Caroline off at my apartment first then bring mother to the hospital.”
Drop Caroline off at
‘m
y apartment
,’
he had said, not
‘a
t home.
’
She felt worse with every passing minute.
When the ambulance took off with its siren blaring, so did they. The ten-minute drive was silent, fraught with animosity. Caroline got relegated to the back seat while Iris reigned like a queen in the front next to Bryce.
“You don’t need to drop me off. I’d like to go to the hospital, too.”
“Stay away from my husband,” Iris snapped, and Caroline could do nothing else but slump in her seat and keep her mouth shut.
Bryce escorted her up to the apartment and saw her inside. “Hey, I know you’re upset. It was a hell of a shock for all of us. We’ll talk things over when I get back. I don’t know when that will be, though.” He gave her
a
quick, passionless kiss on the cheek, swung around on his heel and left.
Her legs trembled so much they could barely support her weight. She somehow made it to the bathroom and vomited her heart out.
After washing her face and cleaning her teeth, she undressed and staggered into bed. The taste of vomit stuck in her throat, rank and sour, but this was nothing compared to the way she felt in her heart. Hurt and betrayed.
Bryce had ignored his mother’s vitriolic attack on her. Of course he was worried and upset about his father, but at least he could have told his mother to shut up and stop assassinating his wife’s character.
She curled up in the fetal position, moaning in anguish. Would Mr. Harrington be all right? Please, God, help him. Help all of us.
The bed felt cold, overlarge, without Bryce sharing it with her. Once he calmed down, would he still blame her for his father’s collapse? Would it be one more obstacle for them to overcome?
Bryce didn’t arrive home until four o’clock in the morning. She glanced at the clock when she heard him in the bathroom.
“How’s your father?” she asked as he slid into bed.
“He’s going to be okay, thank goodness. They’ll keep him in for a couple of days for observation,” he said wearily. “But it was a close call.”
She wound her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t hurt your father for the world.”
“I know. We’ll talk about it later. I need to get a few hours sleep before work.”
“Take the day off.”
“I can’t, Geoff is away until Wednesday. Please, don’t badger me. I’m dog tired.”
***
Just before eight o’clock Caroline got out of bed. Bryce still slept. His face was pale, his jaw covered with black stubble, and her heart bled. He looked exhausted. Still in her nightgown, she went out to the kitchen and turned on the percolator. She took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a pink and white candy-striped top.
Returning to the bedroom, she leaned over the bed and shook his shoulder. “It’s nearly eight-thirty.”
“What?” he said groggily, trying to focus his eyes. “I feel hellish.”
“I know. I’ve got the percolator on. I’ll cook you some breakfast while you take a shower.”
“Just toast, thanks. I don’t have time for anything else.”
When he came out to the kitchen fifteen minutes later, showered and shaved, her heart turned over. Pale and drawn, he still looked impressive. Love welled up inside her, and she feared it would tumble out if she opened her mouth.
“I’ve rung the hospital and Dad spent a comfortable night.”
“I’m glad.”
She poured his coffee, and he propped himself at the island bar to drink it.
“Would it be okay if I visited your father?”
“I suppose so, as long as you don’t go at the same time as my mother.”
“She blames me for your father’s attack, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“And you? Do you blame me, too?”
“No, but you shouldn’t have argued with her.”
“She insulted me.”
“You were a guest in her house. You should have…”
“You do blame me,” she interrupted furiously. “I would have put up with the insults to me, but not to our baby.”
“Hell, I’m not in the mood to argue.” He pushed his half-eaten toast away. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Whatever you like.” He got up and strode towards the door. “Don’t wait dinner for me. I’ll grab a bite on my way to the hospital.”
After he left she tidied up the apartment. She could have given it a thorough going over, even though it was clean, but didn’t dare. No point falling foul of Bryce’s housekeeper. She already had enough enemies without making a new one. Iris Harrington, Ashley Fontain and her parents. They all wanted to bring her down. She had landed in a nest of vipers.
She rang Kerry, hoping they could meet for lunch and have a few laughs. No cheer there. Kerry was distracted and upset because Trevor had received his call-up papers weeks ago and burned them.