Authors: Unknown
Gerry looked at Crawford then. The shock of seeing Robin had temporarily taken out of her mind that while she had been prepared to apologise for telling him to ‘Shut up’, she had known they had in truth been warming up to a full pitched battle. When Robin had so shatteringly walked through the door, he had caused their row to be suspended. She had no doubt it would start up again the moment Robin left—but meantime she had to give Crawford full marks for restraining himself while there was a third person present. But she did take exception to his attempting to discuss her as though she wasn’t even there.
‘I haven’t seen Robin in over twelve months,’ she stated flatly, feeling the need to make her presence known, and glad to find her vocal cords were still in working order.
Robin, it appeared, was still trying to connect the way she was now looking with the way in which he remembered her. ‘Living with Teddy is doing you no good at all, in my opinion,’ he said.
Which in Gerry’s view was unforgivable, especially as he had come out with it in front of Crawford. Robin had never liked Teddy, though she couldn’t think why other than
that he might have been jealous of her at the time, but he’d had long enough to get over those feelings.
‘I take it you know Miss Barton very well?’ Crawford was asking, being intent, it seemed, on ignoring her. Intent, she thought, on finding out from Robin everything he could about her, though why he should be that interested she couldn’t think, unless he wanted more ammunition to fire at her later.
‘I know Gerry very well,’ Robin was freely admitting, seeming to know without an introduction being performed that Crawford was a man of some power. ‘In fact I thought at one time she was going to marry me.’
Gerry heard Robin’s calmly voiced statement and felt the blood roaring in her ears. Was there no end to what he would tell a stranger at a first meeting? she wondered. Then she stopped wondering about anything at all, for the dizziness she had experienced earlier was coming over her again, and she needed all her will power and concentration to keep vertical. Then even that was not enough, for she felt the room begin to sway around her, and without knowing why her eyes tried to focus on Crawford, as though instinct was telling her he was the one who would help her. Then his face was swimming too, and she caught a glimpse of his tight-lipped expression and let go of the desk with one hand stretching out towards him in mute appeal for help—then blackness closed in, and she knew no more.
When Gerry came round she was lying flat on her back with her feet propped up on a couple of telephone directories. She had no idea how long she’d been out—it could have been minutes or only seconds, but as her silken lashes fluttered apart, she saw the face of Crawford Arrowsmith bending over her and closed her lids firmly together again. She could remember nothing of what had gone on before she fainted, but instinct was telling her to lie still until she had gathered sufficient strength to deal with anything Crawford cared to throw at her.
As the mists in her head began to clear, she remembered Robin had been in the room, and sat up quickly as that remembrance brought her to full consciousness, her eyes roving round the room to see there was no one else there except her and her overbearing employer. Her movement to rise to her feet was halted by Crawford.
'I shouldn’t go anywhere in a hurry for the moment.’
His tones were quite kind, she thought, and she couldn’t help wondering if she had not yet properly come round— she must be imagining that he would use such a tone to her.
‘Where’s Robin?’ She accompanied her question with a definite movement to rise to her feet, and found Crawford’s hands on her arms assisting her to her chair—she couldn’t help but be grateful for his help, for her legs felt decidedly wobbly.
‘Feeling better?’ he asked when she was seated, ignoring her question as though she had never uttered it.
‘Yes, thank you—I don’t know how I came to do such a silly thing ...’ she began, about to apologise to him for passing out on him when he broke in.
‘That’s exactly what we’re going to find out.’ She looked at him blankly, her mind not capable at that moment of keeping up with him. Crawford read her questioning look and enlightened her, ‘I think it’s about time you saw a doctor.’
‘But I ...’
‘I know—you told me you’d seen your doctor last week. He told you, I believe, that you were as well as could be expected.’ She could hear the acid creeping into his voice and knew she wasn’t up to it if he was all set for a couple of rounds with the gloves off—she wasn’t in his weight class just now, and realised with certainty that she never would be. Then miraculously his voice softened, the acid gone, and he was saying coaxingly as one might with a small child, ‘You know, Geraldine, something will have to be done about you. We can’t have you fainting about the place.’
The fact that he had called her by her first name was not lost on her, but any surprise she might have felt was superseded by the thought of what was behind his determination that she should see a doctor. She thought for a moment or two before coming to her conclusion. So that was it! He wasn’t particularly concerned about her personally—not that he had any reason to be—but it irked her that his sole reason for wanting her to go down to the medical centre was that as head of Arrowsmiths, he wasn’t prepared to have one of his employees pass out without having the cause investigated.
Raising her eyes, she looked at him. He was standing near to her leaning the backs of his thighs against her desk as he looked down and returned her glance.
‘I suppose if I refuse to go along to the medical centre, you’ll have the doctor come up here to see me?’ she said wearily, wishing she had the strength to fight him but feeling as though she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her.
Rising to her feet, she was glad to find her legs were stronger and more able to support her, while the wild idea came to her of leaving the office and staying in the cloakroom for fifteen minutes and then returning saying the doctor had given her a clean bill of health. The more the idea grew in her mind, the more she liked it.
‘I’ll go now,’ she said, preparing to leave the office, and was stopped when Crawford leaned down, picked up her handbag and handed it to her. If he thought she had given in very easily, it didn’t show in his face, and though she didn’t need to take her handbag to the surgery, she thanked him just the same, and made for the door.
It was a little disconcerting to find him walking beside her before she was many yards down the corridor. She carried on walking, hoping he would revert to his normal stride which would have him turning the comer before she was anywhere near it—she hadn’t the strength to hurry.
But it seemed Crawford wasn’t in any hurry either. Unspeakingly he escorted her to the ground floor and kept close to her side until they came to the doors at the rear of the crowded car park. Good, she thought, when his steps slowed, he must be going out. All she had to do was to carry on walking, wait a few minutes round the comer, then, when she was sure he wouldn’t be coming back, she could return to her office and he would never know she had been nowhere near the surgery.
But when they were level with the doors where they would part, she felt his hand take her elbow, and since she wasn’t walking very quickly, felt herself being gently turned round to face him.
‘This way,’ he said quietly, the set of his face brooking no argument.
‘But the surgery is that way,’ she reminded him, pointing in the direction she had been walking. ‘I thought you said I was to see the doctor.’
‘That’s true. You’re going to—and good though Dr Butterworth is, I think we’d better have your own man take a look at you.’
‘You mean ...’ Gerry felt waves of dizziness wash over her again, though this time it was caused more by the breathtaking high-handedness of the man than from any illness he imagined she was suffering from.
‘I mean, Miss Barton, that I’m taking you home, and home you will stay until you’re completely recovered.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ she argued, but there was no fire in her argument—she knew she was beaten, for all she tried hard. ‘I’m perfectly well,' she protested, and couldn’t think why she felt like bursting into tears.
‘You look it,' Crawford told her edgily, almost pushing her through the doors and into the car park. ‘You haven’t a scrap of colour in your face, and if you weren’t so screwed up with playing nursemaid to this fellow you live with you’d have done something about yourself long ago.’
She wanted to rail at him, to snap and fight, to stand her ground and tell him she wasn’t going anywhere with him. His remarks about the ‘fellow she lived with’ washed over her head, even the thought of Teddy’s shock when she saw her being brought home by her employer suddenly didn’t seem to matter any more. She felt tired— wanted to give in to the feeling that was swamping her, the feeling that it was a relief to be looked after for a change. It was pure guilt at that thought that had her coming to a halt and looking up at Crawford as he stood, still with his hand on her elbow.
‘I don’t want to go home,' she almost whispered, her eyes misting over with the weakness of tears. ‘Teddy will be upset.’
Crawford looked back at her, a spurt of fire flickering in his eyes at her words. Then covering any anger he might have been feeling, he urged her over to where his car was parked, permitting himself to say no more than a terse, ‘Then I’m afraid
Teddy
will
damn well
have to
be
upset! ’
It had been a mistake to close her eyes, Gerry thought as the car left Arrowsmith Electronics behind. The engine was positively purring and lulling her to sleep. There was no chance now, she knew, of reverting to the cool, calm P.A. she had tried to show Crawford she was, but she struggled against the soporific comfort of the car, determined to be sitting upright and not to alarm Teddy when they reached the cottage.
To get to Little Layton they had to drive along the route she had come along earlier that morning, and it was only when she saw her familiar cream-coloured A35 that she remembered about her puncture.
‘My car,’ she said, pointing it out as they passed it. ‘I forgot all about it.’
‘I’ll have it attended to,’ Crawford told her, his tone telling her not to argue. ‘Give me your car keys.’
Meek as a lamb, and not understanding at all the ease with which she obeyed his command, Gerry fumbled round in her handbag and handed him the keys. I’ll fight him tomorrow, she thought, for today, she was beginning to realise, she would have to give in to him. Her head had started to ache—she just wanted to be left alone.
When they arrived in Little Layton she directed him to the cottage and willed herself ready to summon up a smile when she saw Teddy—she’d have to get the strength from somewhere. She was sure Crawford would drop her off at the gate; there would be no need for Teddy to know she had fainted.
But for all her resolve her body was not quick enough to obey her when Crawford pulled up outside Honeysuckle Cottage, and he was round at her door, opening it and assisting her out before she could get further than putting her fingers over the door handle.
‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she said, going through the gate and ready to close it behind her knowing he wouldn’t be coming any further.
She found her gratitude totally ignored as he came through the gate with her and placed his hand once more beneath her elbow to escort her up the path. Gerry had a feeling that whatever she said, Crawford would do exactly as he pleased, so she wasted no further energy—she wasn’t surprised when they reached the unlocked back door to find Crawford had followed her in.
There was no sign of Teddy when they went into the kitchen. Gerry circumnavigated the clothes horse that was propped up airing several nappies, and went through the living room to check, calling Teddy’s name softly as she went. All was quiet—a sure sign Teddy was out. She’d probably taken the twins for a breath of fresh air, she surmised, and turned to go back into the kitchen to find Crawford staring as though mesmerised at the clothes horse and its contents.
‘You have a child?’
He looked winded somehow, his voice sounding sharp and accusing in her ears. But before she could reply a dizziness she couldn’t control washed over her and she clutched at the object nearest to her, which happened to be Crawford, glad to have the support of his hard body against her as she fell forward and rested for a brief moment until the world righted itself once more.
‘I’m ... sorry,’ she managed, hating that she was feeling weepy again. ‘I ...’
She got no further, didn’t even protest when a strong arm came beneath her legs and she felt herself hoisted aloft and held against him as, held securely, she was carried up the stairs that led off the kitchen and he went to investigate the rooms upstairs.
What he thought when he looked into the room that housed the two cots, complete with their Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse transfers, in the twins’ room, she had no idea, for all she could do was lean her head weakly against him and be glad of his solid chest beneath it. Crawford closed the door to the twins’ room and opened the door that led into the room she shared with Teddy.
‘Which bed do you sleep in?’ he asked, his voice sounding short, as though he was having some trouble in controlling his emotions.
Her imagination was taking off, she realised as she indicated the bed nearest the door. Why she should feel that small tingle of regret when his arms left her as he placed her gently down on the bed, she couldn’t think.
‘Can you manage to get into bed by yourself?’
Gerry hadn’t got as far as thinking of actually getting into bed, though the idea had infinite appeal. Perhaps if she were to lie down for a while her head would stop its throbbing.
'My head hurts,’ she confessed, which she had to admit was no sort of answer.
And in the midst of pain she felt his hands gentle in her hair as he removed the confining pins, muttering something that sounded like, ‘It’s likely to with your hair screwed back like that!’ Her hair fell down about her shoulders, springing into the deep waves in joyous release, softening the look of her, making her seem vulnerable and untouched. She knew Crawford was looking at her. Even with her head pounding away, she was aware of a tenseness between them, but couldn’t for the life of her look at him. And then his fingers were coming down to unbutton her blouse and she realised with a start of shock that he had every intention of helping her into bed.