couldn’t resist pointing out sharply. ‘Yesterday for instance you were supposed to take the girls out to the park, but instead you went playing golf with your brother.’
‘Oh, I see, so that’s what all this is about is it?’ Caspar challenged her. ‘No sex, because yesterday I was out having a bit of R and R with my brother.’
‘Your half-brother actually,’ Olivia corrected him coldly.
Her heart was thudding frantically fast, trying to push its way through her ribs, her skin. She felt sick, breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of her own emotions and the effort it was taking for her to control them.
Any minute now she would start breaking out in a sweat and then … then … But no she wasn’t going to allow herself to feel sick never mind be sick; doing that brought her far too close to the shadow of her own mother and the neuroses that drove her. The perpetual cycle of binging and then purging which had dominated her life and the lives of those around her.
They had been in the States for a number of weeks, initially to attend the wedding of one of Caspar’s half-brothers, but also so that Caspar could spend some time with his large and extended family and introduce his English wife and their daughters to them.
Olivia had never wanted to attend the wedding in the first place; right now she was so busy at work that taking a few days off never mind a few weeks made her feel sick with anxiety, and she and Caspar had quarreled bitterly over her refusal.
The fact that she had at the very last minute changed her mind, was not out of a desire to please Caspar, but because of her point-blank refusal to join the rest of her family in welcoming her father, David, back to his home town. Her total boycott of the family celebration, not just of his return, but also of his marriage to Honor, had caused the existing rift between Caspar and herself to deepen into a very dangerous hostile resentment.
Why had she ever deceived herself into thinking that Caspar was different, she asked herself bitterly now. That he would put her first? He was just like all the others, just like everyone else in her life. Oh, they might pretend they loved her; that she mattered to them, but the truth was … the truth was …
She closed her eyes shivering despite the warmth of their hotel room. The pressure inside her skull increased as she fought not to remember the expression in her uncle Jon’s eyes when he had talked about his twin brother … her father … How could he possibly still love him like that after what her father had done?
Some days ago Jon had telephoned her urging her to return home so that she could attend the party being thrown at Fitzburgh Place to celebrate her father’s marriage to Lord Astlegh’s cousin Honor, but Olivia had refused.
Olivia couldn’t explain to herself or even begin to unravel the complex twisting and contorting of emotions which were causing the increasingly hard to control surges of panic she was experiencing. The knife-sharp fear. The horrifying sense of dislocation, of distance from the rest of the human race.
Caspar was getting out of the bed now, his face tight with anger. Had she really once believed she loved him? It seemed extraordinary to her that she could have done. Blank numbness filled her now whenever she tried to recall the feelings she had once had.
‘Danny has invited us to join his family at the cabin in Colorado. We can ski and—’
‘No,’ Olivia refused without allowing Caspar to finish.
As she watched her husband Olivia was filled with a sense of despair and hopelessness. The love which had once tied them together and created their two daughters had gone. They were strangers to one another now. So much strangers that Caspar couldn’t even seem to appreciate the kind of back-log of work she was going to have to face once they returned, as it was.
The tension in her head reached a screaming crescendo. All her life she had had to fight against the opposition of her grandfather to her desire to follow in the family tradition and qualify as a solicitor. How he would enjoy crowing over her now if she failed.
‘I have to go home. My work …’
‘Your work. What about our marriage?’
Their marriage. Distantly Olivia looked at him.
‘We don’t have a marriage any more, Caspar,’ she told him. The sense of relief that filled her as she spoke was so intoxicating that it was almost as heady as drinking champagne. She could feel her spirits lightening, the tension leaving her body.
‘What … what the hell are you saying?’ she could hear Caspar demanding but she was already turning away from him, her decision made.
‘I think we should separate,’ she heard herself telling him.
‘Separate …?’
She discovered she was holding her breath as she detected the shock in his voice as though she were waiting … but waiting for what?
‘Yes,’ she continued calmly. ‘We will have to do everything properly, of course … legally …’
‘Of course that would be the first thing you would think about—as a Crighton,’ Caspar told her bitterly.
Olivia looked away from him.
‘You’ve always resented that, haven’t you?’ she demanded quietly.
‘What I’ve resented, Livvy, is the fact that this marriage of ours has never contained just the two of us.’
‘You wanted children as much as I did,’ Olivia retorted, stung by the unfairness of his accusation.
‘It isn’t the girls I’m talking about,’ Caspar snapped. ‘It’s your damned family. You’re like a little girl, Livvy, living in the past, clinging to it.’
‘That’s not true.’ Her face had gone paper-white. ‘Who’s the one who’s supported us … who’s—’
‘I’m tired of having to carry the can for other people’s imagined sins against you, Livvy. I’m tired of being held responsible for them just because I’m a man like your father and your grandfather and Max. I’m tired of having to carry all that emotional baggage you insist on dragging around … that “I’m a victim” attitude of yours.’
‘How dare you say that?’
‘I dare because it’s true,’ Caspar told her coldly. ‘But as of now I’m through with playing surrogate grandfather, father and cousin to you, Livvy … and I’m sure as hell tired of playing surrogate punch ball. It’s time I got a little something out of life, wrote that book I’ve been promising myself, got that Harley and rode around this country … chilled out and lived …’
Olivia stared at him as though he were a stranger. This wasn’t the Caspar she thought she had known so well, this selfish insensitive stranger with his adolescent fantasies and his total lack of regard for the needs of either his children or her.
‘I can’t imagine why I ever thought I loved you, Caspar,’ she told him, her throat raw. ‘Or why I married you,’ she added as she wondered if he could hear the sound of her dreams, her ideals, her love, splintering around them into a million tiny painful shards.
‘No?
