Authors: Yvonne Whittal
The most important thing at that moment was not to allow
her imagination to run away with her, Laura told herself in an attempt
to view the situation logically, but jealousy and suspicion coursed
through her veins like a veld fire. Anton had always been a stickler as
far as taking only an hour for lunch was concerned, but with Camilla
von Dissel he suddenly relaxed that rule, stretching it to almost four
hours. No one in their right mind lingered over lunch for four hours.
What were they doing? Talking, perhaps? Making love?
'Oh, God!' she groaned when she reached the Mazda and
dumped her parcels on the back seat before sliding wearily into the
driver's seat. 'I must trust him,' she hissed at herself through
clenched teeth. 'I must have faith. If anything good is to come out of
this marriage, then I must believe in him. I
must
!'
'Believing in Anton is like believing that the storm
clouds in the sky are nothing but candyfloss,' a sceptical little voice
warned her, and when the first heavy drop of rain splashed on to the
windscreen, Laura thrust her doubts aside and swung the car into the
traffic to return to Bellavista.
It was at a party after the official opening of a new
business complex in the city that Laura finally met Camilla von Dissel.
She materialised among the hordes of people in a glittering black dress
which was slit daringly from her shapely ankles to her thighs, and her
hair, black as a raven's wing, was piled high on to her regally held
head, the soft curls fastened with a large diamond clip which Laura
swiftly calculated must have cost a small fortune.
'Darling!' she exclaimed in a low, musical voice as she
swept across the floor towards them, and several heads turned just in
time to witness Camilla embracing Anton and kissing him, European
style, on both cheeks. Laura felt indignation drumming at her temples,
but Camilla had not yet completed her act of possession. She stood
close to Anton, her hands on his shoulders, and diamonds glittering at
her smooth throat when she smiled up at him seductively. 'I've been
hunting for you everywhere, and I was beginning to feel totally
miserable thinking you hadn't come.'
Calm and seemingly unperturbed, Anton removed her hands
from his shoulders, and kissed each one in turn while he smiled down at
her with a warmth and affection that sent more than just a stab of envy
through Laura's heart. She felt like an intruder standing there beside
him, and then, as if suddenly remembering her presence, he made the
necessary introductions.
Dark eyes, cold and assessing, met Laura's as they
acknowledged each other, and instant dislike flared between them. Laura
somehow managed to conceal her feelings, but Camilla made no effort to
hide the fact that she considered Laura an insignificant nuisance and,
turning towards Anton in a manner which excluded Laura completely, she
linked her arm through his.
'Darling, I simply must see you alone,' she purred up at
him persuasively. 'There's something terribly important I want to
discuss with you, and we can't talk privately among all these people.'
Anton excused himself from Laura without hesitation and,
leaving her standing there among an ocean of strange faces, he
accompanied Camilla through the swinging glass doors, and out of sight.
'There goes a lady who drinks the milk of a viper each
morning, for breakfast,' a voice remarked knowingly behind her, and
Laura swung round sharply to find herself staring up into the thin,
intelligent face of a tall, lanky man with a familiar flashing smile.
'Alex Muir, remember?' he prodded her memory.
'Oh, yes,' she smiled, her brow clearing. 'We met at
Gordon's Bay last month.'
'Madam, I'm flattered you should remember me,' he smiled,
bowing towards her comically.
Relieved to see a familiar face, but curious, Laura asked,
'What are you doing here this evening? I mean,' she corrected herself
blushingly, 'I never expected to see you here.'
He gestured vaguely with a slim-fingered, artistic hand.
'I did the decor.'
'I thought you said you were an artist,' she frowned up at
him.
'My paintings don't bring in enough money,' he explained
indulgently. 'And I have to eat.'
An awkward silence followed, and Laura's glance strayed
involuntarily towards the glass doors through which Anton and Camilla
had disappeared. Where were they? What were they doing?
'You look as though you could do with something to drink,'
Alex interrupted her troubled thoughts, and, drawing her towards the
drinks table, he asked, 'What will it be?'
'Something not too intoxicating,' she replied absently,
wishing she could rid herself of that gnawing fear within her.
'I'll mix you one of my specials,' Alex offered, and seconds
later a tall glass was placed in her hand.
'What is it?' she asked after a tentative sip at the
amber-coloured liquid.
'Do you like it?'
She took another sip, and nodded appreciatively. 'It's
nice, thank you.'
'Then don't ask questions, just drink it,' he ordered,
taking her arm and leading her to a quiet corner behind the potted
ferns. 'The Countess, I believe, is a very rich
woman,'
he said unexpectedly, staring down at the drink he swivelled in the
glass between his fingers. 'Is your husband thinking of incorporating
her wealth into his company?'
'I have no idea.'
'I hear they're old friends from way back when.'
Laura stiffened automatically. 'So I believe.'
Alex looked up from his drink, and smiled. 'You think I'm
prying, don't you?'
'Aren't you?' she demanded with a haughtiness she had been
forced to adopt at times.
'I'm curious,' he admitted without apology, his hazel eyes
alert and probing. 'Why did you make no effort to stop her from
dragging your husband off somewhere where she could have him to
herself?'
Taut with resentment, she said stiffly, 'I think my
husband is quite capable of looking after himself.'
'It's not your husband I'm concerned with.'
The words were quietly spoken, but their meaning was
clear, and her resentment made way for a warmth which temporarily
melted the icy feeling about her heart. 'Let's change the subject.'
'Right,' he smiled, swallowing down a mouthful of his
drink before asking, 'Have you changed your mind yet about sitting for
me?'
'No, I haven't.'
'Won't you give it a little serious thought?'
'Mr Muir—'
'Alex,' he corrected hastily.
'Alex,' she repeated resignedly. 'Why should you want to
do a portrait of me?'
'Why
not
?' he laughed shortly.
'But it's absurd,' she argued. 'I'm not even beautiful.'
'You're a very attractive woman,' he contradicted,
standing back a little to observe her critically. 'You have good bone
structure, and a good figure, but your real beauty lies within. It's in
your eyes, in the way you talk, and in the way you move. Very few women
walk well,' he grimaced slightly. 'The Countess, for instance, sways
her posterior too much, and although it's enchantingly seductive, it's
not in the least graceful.'
'Oh, Alex,' she laughed, her misery momentarily forgotten.
'You're just saying this to make me feel better.'
'No, no, it's the truth,' he insisted adamantly above the
noise as he dispensed with their glasses and gripped her hands tightly
in his. 'I
must
paint you. I must capture what I
see on canvas. It will be one of my masterpieces— I
know
it.'
She stared up at him thoughtfully, at the untidy
sun-bleached hair which distinguished him from the rest despite his
impeccably tailored evening suit, and at the enthusiasm glowing in his
hazel eyes.
'You're really serious about this?' she asked at last.
'I'm more than serious,' he assured her with intense honesty. 'Now that
I've seen you again, I'm
desperate
. Will you sit
for me? Please?'
Beyond him she glimpsed Anton returning to the party alone
and, disengaging her hands selfconsciously, she said: 'I'll let you know.'
'My number is in the book,' Alex reminded her, and she
nodded briefly before making her way to Anton's side. 'I'm taking you
home,' Anton announced brusquely, and without offering an explanation,
he took her arm and led her from the building to where he had parked
the Jaguar.
Bewildered, Laura remained silent during the long drive
out to Bellavista. It was late, admittedly, but that was no reason why
he should have said so bluntly, 'I'm taking you home.' Not we're going
home, but
you
. I'm taking
you
home. Had she done something wrong? she wondered frantically. Stepped
on important toes, perhaps?
When the Jaguar crunched to a halt in front of the house,
Laura was weary with the effort of trying to understand. They climbed
the wide, shallow steps in silence up to the front door, the skirt of
her evening gown swishing softly about her legs, and, stealing a quick
glance at the man beside her who was her husband, yet at times like
this a stranger, she felt the nerves tightening into a familiar knot at
the pit of her stomach.
Anton unlocked the door and stood aside for her to enter,
but when he did not follow her, she turned and asked nervously, 'Aren't
you coming in as well?'
His mouth tightened as if her question had displeased him.
'I have urgent business to attend to. Lock the door and don't wait up
for me.'
Dismayed, she stared after him, and only when the Jaguar's
tail lights disappeared down the drive did she lock the door and go
upstairs.
What urgent business would require his attention at this
late hour? she wondered suddenly, dropping her wrap and evening purse
on to the chair beside the window and pulling down the zip of her
dress. Was it business? she wondered with sudden scepticism, or did
Camilla's waiting arms have something to do with the urgency of this
late-night mission?
'That's right! Torture yourself with your suspicious
thoughts,' the voice of her conscience reprimanded her as she stepped
out of her evening dress and hung it up in the wardrobe, but disturbing
visions entered her mind, making a mockery of her determination to
think no ill; visions of Anton and Camilla locked in each other's arms,
their bodies close in a passionate embrace, and suddenly the room
swayed about her, inducing a wave of nausea that sent her staggering
through to the bathroom. She tried to control the spasms that wrenched
her stomach, but couldn't, and for the first time since her childhood,
she was violently sick.
Weak and exhausted, she finally emerged from the bathroom
with barely enough energy left to get into bed and, with the immediate
circumstances forcing her problems into the background, she promptly
went to sleep.
She experienced a second flicker of nausea at the
breakfast table the following morning, causing her to shun her usual
bacon and eggs, and settling instead for a cup of black coffee.
Fortunately Anton was too busy shutting himself away behind the morning
newspaper to notice her physical discomfiture, and Sally was hurrying
through her own breakfast before leaving for school. She must have
eaten something at the party which had not agreed with her, Laura
decided, and this led to further disturbing thoughts. What time had
Anton finally returned home last night? What had been the true nature
of the urgent business he had mentioned?
Anton slapped the folded newspaper down on to the table
with a force that made her glance up at him with a guilty start, almost
as if she suspected that he might have read her thoughts.
'I'll be home late tonight, so don't wait dinner for me,'
he told her curtly, pushing back his chair and rising to his feet,
then, with a brief nod, he was striding from the room.
'What's wrong with Uncle Anton?' Sally asked when they
heard the Jaguar roar down the drive.
'Nothing—why?' Laura prevaricated, her nerves
settling slowly into their correct order.
'He's different,' Sally announced frowningly. 'He's nearly
always too busy to come home for dinner these days, and we hardly see
him at weekends.'
'I think a man in his position must have tremendous
problems to cope with,' Laura replied carefully.
'Well, I hope he solves his problems soon,' Sally said a
little angrily, getting up from the table to kiss Laura's cheek. 'See
you this afternoon.'
Laura watched her go and, sighing, she drew the newspaper
towards her, curious to know what Anton had found so interesting, but
there was nothing there except an announcement that, after a legal and
financial tussle resulting from the untimely death of the Chairman of
Avron Enterprises, the directors of the company had decided to sell to
the highest bidder.
This did not affect Anton, surely? Not unless he intended
placing a bid, of course, and if his bid was successful it would
naturally result in added responsibilities. Did she have cause for
concern, or was she merely leaping ahead into something which might
never arise, and which Anton would rightly consider none of her
business? From a medical point of view, Graham Abbot had long since
given his valued opinion that Anton was heading towards a physical
disaster, and suddenly Laura felt sick with anxiety. Nothing could be
done, of course, until it was known for certain what Anton was
planning, and the only one to discover this, without stirring up
Anton's wrath, would be Graham Abbot.
Laura suddenly had an idea and, with Anton's eventual
approval, she arranged a small, intimate dinner party for the Thursday
evening to which she invited Graham and Gina Abbot. Graham, naturally,
understood Laura's predicament, and agreed readily to do his best to
discover Anton's intentions with regard to Avron Enterprises, and to
dissuade him if necessary.
The evening was also intended to recapture some of their
happier moments together before Camilla arrived on the scene, and Laura
planned it with care, making certain that the menu consisted mainly of
Anton's favourite dishes. Jemima too became fired with enthusiasm, as
if she sensed the need for the evening to be a success, and when Sally
complained about not being allowed to join the dinner party, it was
Jemima who told her firmly, 'You will eat in the kitchen, Miss Sally,
and no nonsense!'