up the spilled coffee while her mind ran round and round like a small animal trapped on a wheel. She could always vanish, she supposed. She had done it once two years ago, and she could do it again. But to do so would be to hurt Julie who didn’t deserve it, and more importantly, it would grieve Chas.
Lisa caught her breath at the thought of him in a wheelchair. He had always been such a strong, positive man. This new weakness would irk him terribly, she knew, and found herself wondering exactly when it had happened.
At the same time, she told herself fiercely that she wasn’t to feel guilty. If her disappearance from Stoniscliffe had had even a remote connection with Chas’s stroke, then Dane would have mentioned it. A mirthless smile curved her mouth. Boy, would he have mentioned it! So she wasn’t to blame herself, although she knew that her conscience would trouble her. Chas had been ill and needing her, and she hadn’t known. Why hadn’t Julie told her? she asked herself almost despairingly, and then shook her head at her own foolishness. Julie would have been obeying orders.
Chas would have wanted her to return to Stoniscliffe under her own steam, at her own wish. He wouldn’t take kindly to any sort of pleading on his behalf from anyone. Not even from Dane.
So that was yet another secret she had to keep, because Chas had never known the real reason why she had left Stoniscliffe in the first place, and that was the most important secret of all. No one knew the truth except herself, and the man who had just left her crouched, trembling like a child, in a corner of her own sofa.
She went across to the telephone and dialled Jos’s number. Myra answered almost at once, and her voice bubbled down the phone as she recognised Lisa.
‘Did you enjoy the trip? Are you worn out? Come to supper tomorrow night and tell me your version.’
‘I’d love to, but I can’t.’ Lisa hesitated. ‘Is he in a good mood, Myra?’
‘Fair to middling. Why, is there something wrong?’
‘In a way. I have to go away for a few weeks, that’s all.’
‘That’ll be enough,’ Myra said blankly. ‘What’s happened?’ She paused. ‘You’re not—ill or anything?’
Lisa guessed the real question behind the tactful words. ‘No, nothing like that. I have to go up north to organise a family wedding. My stepsister is getting married, and there’s a panic on.’
She could hear Myra talking to someone at the other end, her voice muffled and then Jos spoke.
He said sharply, ‘What is all this, Lisa? Myra says you’re going up north. You have to be joking!’
‘I wish I were.’ Lisa rapidly explained about the wedding. ‘But there’s more to it than that,’ she went on. ‘I’ve just found out that my stepfather had a stroke at some time, and that he wants to see me.’
‘Oh, hell!’ Jos was silent for a moment. ‘You realise that all this couldn’t be happening at a worse time.’
‘Please believe that if I could get out of going, I would,’ she said unhappily. ‘But they’re all the family I’ve got, and I owe them a great deal. Certainly I owe them this.’
‘Then obviously you must go, but for heaven’s sake get back as soon as you can. They have short memories in this game,’ he said grimly. He paused. ‘You said they were all the family you’ve got. Wasn’t there a brother as well? I seem to remember Dinah mentioning him.’
‘There was and there is,’ she said. ‘But I don’t regard him as a brother. It was Julie I grew up with.’
‘Lucky Julie,’ Jos commented. ‘Tell the stepfather he did a good job. And phone me as soon as you get back.’
‘That’s a promise,’ Lisa said, and replaced her receiver. Her hand was sweating slightly and she wiped it down the skirt of her dressing gown.
She would have to write to Dinah and she could pay Mrs Hargreaves and give her any necessary instructions in the morning. There was no great problem there.
The towering, the insuperable, the shattering difficulty was getting through, firstly, tomorrow, and then the days after that. If it hadn’t been for the wedding she might have been able to do a deal—to say to Dane, ‘I want to go back. I want to see Chas, to spend some time with him, and I’ll do it on the understanding that you go and stay far away from Stoniscliffe while I’m there.’
But because of Chas’s paralysis, Dane was going to give Julie away. He had to be there, and so there was no bargain to be struck.
Not that Dane struck bargains anyway, she thought. He made decisions and carried them through to his own advantage. If he negotiated, he expected to be on the winning side, and generally was. She had never seen him bested by anyone, although at one time she had dreamed dreams of doing it herself. But not any more. He had shown her brutally and finally that against him, she could not win, and she still had the emotional scars to prove it.
But she wasn’t going to think about that now. She couldn’t let herself think about that because otherwise she would turn tail and run away somewhere—anywhere, and Dane would know then exactly what he had done to her, and triumph in his knowledge.
She was restless, pacing round the flat like an animal in a cage, and she had to make herself stop, and fetch the hairdryer and sit down and do something about her ill-used hair which was going to dry like a furze bush if she wasn’t careful, and contribute nothing to her self-confidence. There was something soothing and therapeutic in sitting there, brushing the warm air through her hair, and restoring it to something like its usual smooth shine. She wished she could smooth out her jitters as easily.
She didn’t sleep when she went to bed, but she told herself that she wouldn’t have slept anyway. She’d had no exercise or fresh air to make her healthily tired.
There was too much to do in the morning to give her time to think. She packed and tried to eat some breakfast, while she gave a surprised Mrs Hargreaves her instructions. Then she found Dinah’s tour schedule and wrote her a hasty explanatory note, addressing it to the current theatre.
She dashed out, posted the letter, and as she walked back from the box on the corner, she saw there was a car parked in the street outside the flat. She lived over a shop—a boutique really where they sold small pieces of antique furniture and jewellery, catering for the connoisseur market, and of course the car could have belonged to one of the said connoisseurs, but somehow she didn’t think so.
She stood for a moment, her hands buried in her coat pockets, and stared at it, and wished she was able to turn round and walk away again as fast as she could. It was dark and sleek and shining and looked extremely powerful. It proclaimed money and a quiet but potent aggression.
Dane was waiting at the top of the stairs. He swung impatiently to meet her.
‘I was beginning to think you’d run out on me.’
‘I had to post a letter.’ Lisa despised herself for the defensive note in her voice. She had nothing to apologise for. She wasn’t late; he was early. She took her key out of her pocket and Dane calmly appropriated it and fitted it into the lock.
‘Thank you,’ she said between her teeth, and went past him into the flat.
‘If you’re ready, I’d like
