any notice of his qualification. She sought the clasp of her handbag, and opening it she looked inside for her cigarettes. She felt she needed one.
But before she could take out the packet, he lifted an onyx cigarette box off his desk and offered it to her. She took a cigarette gratefully, and allowed him to light it with his gold lighter. When she had inhaled deeply, and allowed her nerves to relax a little, the full implication of his words came flooding back to her. She looked up at him, puzzled, and shook her head.
‘I … I don't understand. Naturally, Johnny will repay every penny of the money he took.'
‘The monetary angle of all this is of concern to the accountants, not to me.’ His voice was curt.
‘But what other price could we pay?’ She was baffled.
‘Not “we”,’ he replied softly. ‘You.'
Emma stared at him. Then she got to her feet shakily, and moved away from him involuntarily. For what possible purpose did Damon Thorne want her? Surely, after all this time, he could not still …
‘No,’ he said harshly, as though reading her thoughts. Don't imagine for one moment that I'm even remotely interested in you sexually!'
He said it contemptuously, his mouth twisted, and Emma felt something inside her curl up and die. His eyes flickered appraisingly over her, insolent in their intensity, as though discounting the unknowingly appealing picture she made in her slim-fitting dark green suit, and white blouse. Although she was not a beautiful girl in the strictest sense of the word, her eyes were huge in her small, piquant face, and her mouth was full and generous. It certainly could be said she was more than pretty, she was attractive.
‘Then what do you want?’ she asked, twisting her gloves. ‘I'm a nurse, not a secretary.'
Just at that moment, a telephone pealed on his desk. Reaching forward, he lifted the receiver and said: ‘Thorne. What is it?'
He spoke for a moment, it was a technical matter, and Emma took little notice, but then as that call ended, the inter-communication system to one side of his desk buzzed. Swearing softly to himself, he pressed down a button. ‘Yes?'
Jennifer Weldon's voice was cool and modulated. ‘The secretary is here from the Ministry, sir,’ she said. ‘His appointment is for eleven-fifteen and it is already eleven-twenty.'
Damon Thorne glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. ‘Tell him I'll be another fifteen minutes yet,’ he said uncompromisingly.
‘But, Mr. Thorne …'
‘Tell him, Miss Weldon.'
‘Yes, sir.'
He flicked up the button again. Emma had composed herself. The initial shock of his decision was wearing off but he still had not told her why he needed her.
He looked across at her. ‘As you were saying,’ he said, smoothly, as though uncaring of the fact that he had just made the minister's secretary wait for personal reasons. ‘You're a nurse, and it's in that capacity that I require your services.'
Emma swallowed hard. ‘I see.’ Although she didn't see at all. Could he possibly be ill? He didn't look ill, but he might be suffering from one of those awful diseases which revealed no noticeable symptoms at the beginning. She felt a trifle sick.
Damon Thorne returned to his own side of the desk and lit another cigar. Then, when Emma refused to sit down again, he said:
‘You must know I've been married.'
Emma nodded. Of course she knew. Had he not married Elizabeth Kingsford only weeks after their separation? And had not the knowledge torn her apart?
‘Well, I have a daughter, Annabel. She's six and a half.’ Emma nodded again. She knew this also. Despite their separation she had sought information about him avidly.
‘Something you may not know, something we have not publicized, is the fact that she's blind.’ He watched the reactions she gave; the widening of her eyes, the compassionate curve of her mouth. ‘When her mother was killed in the car crash, Annabel was with her. Elizabeth was driving too fast, the corner was too sharp, Annabel received a blow on her head, and when she regained consciousness, she couldn't see. It's as simple as that.'
Emma shook her head. ‘I'm sorry,’ she said inadequately. ‘Will she ever see again?'
‘Specialists think it may be possible, I haven't their faith.’ He spoke heavily. ‘In any case, it's too early to tell. She's too young for any major surgery to be performed on her. I wouldn't agree to that.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘So that's the problem. The nurse-companion who has been with Annabel eighteen months now, since the time of the crash, is leaving to get married. I need a new companion for the child. I dislike strangers in my home; you, at least, would not be that. Is it agreed?'
Emma felt bewildered. She needed time to think about something like this. To go and live in the same house as Damon Thorne, to see him often, to care for his daughter; it was the last thing she wanted to do. But what choice had she? Either she did this, and saved Johnny imprisonment, or she refused and Johnny would have to take his chances.
‘I … I have a job,’ she said, prevaricating. ‘I'm a staff nurse now. I expected to be a Sister by the end of the year. I don't know what to say.'
He smiled his derisive smile. ‘Oh, I think you'll agree,’ he said callously. ‘After all, if you don't, things are going to be pretty unpleasant for your brother.'
‘You're despicable!’ she exclaimed hotly, unable to prevent herself.
‘Cynical is the word,’ he said mockingly. ‘And if I am, you have only yourself to thank, haven't you?'
Emma turned away, unable to look at him any longer. He didn't know what he was saying; he didn't know what he was asking.
‘It seems I have no choice then,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘I … I shall have to give my notice in at the hospital. They'll expect a month's notice …'
‘Give them a fortnight,’ he said, abruptly. ‘I'll pay your salary in lieu of the other two weeks. If there are any complaints refer them to me.'
Emma swung round. ‘You think money can buy everything!’ she cried angrily.
He shook his head. ‘I know it can't,’ he said seriously. Then shedding the mood, he continued: ‘I don't know why you're behaving so angrily. You ought to be grateful to me. Instead of spending the rest of the winter in this cold climate, you'll be basking in the sun in the Bahamas.'
‘The Bahamas!’ Emma was astounded.
‘Of course. I live there now, didn't you know? Well, perhaps you wouldn't at that. Like Annabel's health, it's not for publication.'
WHEN Emma returned to the flat which she shared with Johnny, he was waiting for her. Since their parents’ death four years ago, they had lived in this small flat near Earl's Court, for their old home had had to be sold, and they had not
