What You Made Me

She was up early, sleep being impossible, and sat down to write some letters. Her flat she could easily sub-let, but for how long? She had no idea how long Scott intended to keep her here. At the back of her mind, only half acknowledged, lay the fact that Simon now knew who his father was and had made it clear to her that if it were possible he would like to form a relationship with him. She didn’t pretend it was going to be easy—the chances were that if Scott did discover the truth and believe it he would still reject Simon, but did she have the right to deprive Simon of that one chance of getting close to his father? And who knew, in discovering the truth Scott might find a release from the burden of bitterness he obviously still carried around with him.

There was a telephone in the cottage, mercifully still connected, and she used it to phone her boss and explain that she wasn’t coming back. As she had expected he was shocked and inclined to protest, but in the end gave way, knowing that she was right when she pointed out that there were at least half-a-dozen other girls in the firm who had the potential to take her place.

‘Best secretary I’ve ever had,’ he grumbled when she explained that she had decided to stay in Yorkshire. ‘But if you’ve made up your mind—–’

‘Simon wants to stay and—I’ve been offered this job.’

‘With Computex, you say? Umm, excellent firm, doing very well right now and they’ve managed to fight off two takeover bids very successfully. Who will you be working for did you say?’

Philippa hadn’t, but she knew Sir Nigel well enough to know when he wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Scott Garston,’ she told him.

‘Umm. He’s the Chairman and brain behind the company, isn’t he? Think I met him once. Tall dark chap, sharp as a knife, but always looks unhappy. Shouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of him, so I suppose I’d better let you go.… Don’t want him making a takeover bid for Merrit Plastics.’

Philippa laughed dutifully, Sir Nigel was notorious for his shrewd business sense and she doubted that anyone would be foolhardy enough to dare to even think about taking over his precious company, much less Scott, who surely had enough on his plate with Computex. She was remembering more about the company now that the first shock of seeing him had died away. There had been a long report on them in the financial press recently, although it hadn’t mentioned Scott by name.

Simon came downstairs just as she replaced the receiver. He looked tired and pale and avoided her eyes as he found a packet of cereal and poured some into his bowl.

‘We’re staying then,’ he said, betraying that he had overheard her conversation, his voice telling her that she still wasn’t wholly forgiven.

‘It’s what you wanted isn’t it?’ Philippa asked dryly. ‘I’ll have to ring your school… it’s just as well it’s half term at the moment. I’ll have to go and see the headmaster here, see if there’s a place for you.’

‘Where will we live? Here?’

Philippa glanced round the cottage, her heart lifting. Could she persuade Scott to let them keep the cottage? Her spirits plummeted swiftly as she heard the sound of a car outside, not the Rolls this time but a bright red Ferrari. Her face burned as she watched Scott climb out of it and come towards the door.

‘I see you do remember it,’ he said coldly when she opened the door. ‘Rivers owned one didn’t he, far more impressive than the bike that was my only transport at the time—either that or grandfather’s old Bentley. You should have stuck with me, Philippa.’ He saw Simon sitting at the table and broke off to glance at him.

‘Simon and I were just wondering if you’d allow us to stay in the cottage while I’m working for you?’

His mouth twisted and her heart sank as she saw the contempt darkening his eyes. ‘What for?’ He said it quietly so that Simon couldn’t hear. ‘So that you can entertain your lovers discreetly? No. I’ve already promised this place to someone else, and besides, I want you where I can see you Philippa. I wonder what they’ll say in the village when they know you’re working for me?’

‘Probably simply that I was lucky to get the job,’ Philippa said lightly. ‘If Simon and I aren’t to stay here then.…’

‘You’ll live up at the Hall with me. That’s what I’ve come here for, to take you both up there, and of course to make sure you haven’t run out on me.’

‘Mum, I’ve finished my breakfast. I’ll go and finish packing.’

‘Not very like Rivers, is he?’ Scott asked derisively. ‘He was blond, like you if I remember. Did you ever stop to think that we might have had a child?’ he added on a savage whisper as Simon went upstairs, ‘but then you didn’t want my child did you? I couldn’t give you all the things he could. But I would have given you marriage.…’

‘Your grandfather would have disinherited you.’

‘Do you think that would have mattered to me? I loved you, damn you,’ he snarled. ‘And anyway, it would have made no difference. I left shortly after you had gone, and he did disinherit me.’ He saw her expression and laughed bitterly. ‘I had to buy Garston back from the National Trust. They were only too glad to get rid of it, it isn’t old enough to be of much historic value and it’s costly to maintain.’

‘Where did you go?’ Why was she asking him this? Why was she tormenting herself in this way?

‘To America. I had a godfather there. He loaned me the money to start the company. I planned to take you with me, but you didn’t know that did you? I had it all planned. He’d loaned me enough money for mother’s operation and she was going to go and live with a friend, you and I were going to make a new life for ourselves in the States, I knew there was no way my grandfather was going to let me have Garston, no way at all. Once I let him see how much I wanted it, he was determined to keep it from me. I used to think there was nothing of him in me, but I learned differently when you tricked me, I learned the hard way how the iron enters a man’s soul, corroding him with bitterness. He punished me by withholding from me what he thought I most wanted; take care that I don’t ever find out what you treasure most, Philippa.’

‘God, you’re hard.…’

‘I’m what you made me,’ he corrected cruelly, ‘Do you feel proud of your handiwork? Does it give you a thrill to know that you and you alone are responsible for what I am today? When you left I had nothing.…

‘I laughed when I heard Rivers had ditched you and married someone else. Can you believe that?’

‘Very easily,’ Philippa told him dryly. She was both fascinated and revolted by what he had become. Knives of fear and panic twisted in her stomach and she wanted to protest that he was wrong to feel so bitter; that she had acted purely out of love for him and nothing else. Where had it all gone so wrong? His grandfather had been so sure he would marry Mary, it hurt to think that she had given him up for nothing. Perhaps if she had been older she would have seen that he could never be a man to do another’s bidding but she had been young and very, very frightened. She had thought of herself as some dreamy novelette heroine, sacrificing her own happiness for that of her lover, but all she had done was sacrifice both of them… no, all three of them, she thought, remembering Simon’s pale, unhappy face.

‘I’ll have to get in touch with Simon’s school and arrange to sub-let our flat… I’ve already spoken to my boss, but.…’

‘You can do all that from the house. I’ll drive you down to the school this afternoon. Simon can come with us. Does he know whose son he is?’ he asked stunning her. It was several seconds before she could get her breath.

‘Yes,’ she managed, telling the truth. ‘He does know.’

‘And he’s forgiven you?’ His lips twisted. ‘It seems to me that Simon and I have something in common, you’ve cheated us both.’

More in common than he could possibly know, Philippa thought half-hysterically, glad when Simon came back downstairs, his eyes brightening when they fell on the car parked outside.

‘Can I go and have a look at it?’ The question was for Scott and not her, Philippa realised bitterly, wondering how on earth Scott was blind enough to ignore the almost startling resemblance between them when they were together, and wondering how long it would be before less prejudiced eyes did see it.

‘You can look, but don’t touch.… I don’t want that wrecking as well,’ Scott cautioned dryly, watching Simon’s thin face flush.

‘If you’re ready, we’ll go,’ he told Philippa, ‘I’ll send someone down to collect your stuff later.’

She had no option but to follow him outside, Simon bounding ahead of them, admiring the sleek lines of the car from every angle and then bombarding Scott with questions about its performance once they were installed inside. For once Philippa was glad of her son’s excited chatter. It kept Scott’s attention away from herself, and only she knew of the inner tightening of her nerves as Garston Hall approached, its chimneys visible over its protective circle of trees and then the front façade itself.

It hadn’t changed, the same grey weathered stone still standing foursquare, the diamond leaded windows staring out towards the hills. Two wings protruded from the main block of the house, and Philippa remembered that these had been closed off when she had visited the Hall before. Now the windows sparkled and curtains flapped gently in the breeze. She half turned to Scott, about to voice her surprise, but he forestalled her saying coolly, ‘One of the benefits of owning your own company—and a profitable one at that. I’ve been able to re-open both wings. One of them now houses the head office of the company, the other is used for any business associates I might have visiting me, and there’s also a leisure complex there for the use of both staff and guests. The main block I have retained for my own use.’

‘You live there alone?’ What on earth had prompted her to blurt that out?

‘Why? Thinking you might take up where you left off?’ His eyes slid to Simon, who was listening to their conversation although his face was averted. ‘Not completely. My mother lives with me and her companion, as to the rest…’ his mouth curved in a humourless smile, ‘sometimes I live alone and sometimes I don’t, does that answer your question?’

CHAPTER THREE

‘THIS way.’ Scott preceded them across the flagged area at the front of the hall, indicating a door in the East wing which was new to Philippa. Simon lagged behind, scowling darkly, and Philippa suppressed a rush of sympathy. Poor Simon; what had he expected, that Scott would immediately recognise him as his son? It was unfortunate that Simon should have seen his birth certificate, and the blame lay with her for naming Scott as his father in the first place, but she had been so distressed after Simon’s birth, so lonely, so aching for Scott’s presence, that she had given his name quite automatically, still drowsy from Simon’s birth, barely aware of what she was doing.

Once they were inside the building and Scott was describing the work his company was engaged on Simon’s attitude changed. As far as Philippa was concerned it was all way above her head, although she couldn’t help admiring the way what she remembered as vast, empty rooms had been transferred into a luxury office suite. A smiling receptionist acknowledged their arrival and from there Scott had shown them round the other offices, Simon drinking in every word he said, asking questions which brought a quick frown of surprise to Scott’s forehead and a curt, ‘He’s extremely bright,’ in an aside to her when he saw that Simon’s attention was elsewhere.

‘What did you expect? That because he was my child he would be dim?’ How angry he was making her with his hateful assumptions. Couldn’t he see what was screamingly obvious to her? Couldn’t he recognise himself in Simon?

‘This is where most of the real work is done.’ It was a large room running the length and breadth of the wing, on the second floor, full of banks of computers and other pieces of equipment all totally incomprehensible to Philippa, but Simon was pouncing on them with glee, studying them with a keen-eyed fascination that drew smiles from the two young men working busily among the equipment.

‘This is where we test out the new equipment. It isn’t manufactured here of course. That’s done in our factory near York, but we perform most of the field tests on the equipment here.’ Simon interrupted with several questions which Scott answered, both of them involved in a discussion far too technical for Philippa to begin to follow. ‘You’re interested in this sort of thing I take it?’

‘He’s interested in anything he can take apart and put back together again,’ Philippa said wryly, remembering the first time she had come home and found their ancient television set in bits.

‘Umm, not something he’s inherited from Rivers,’ Scott remarked acerbically to her whilst Simon’s back was turned. ‘As I recall he was quite happy to play the playboy on what daddy had earned.’ Before she could make a retort, he added, ‘We’ll leave Simon here and I’ll show you my own suite, it’s on the next floor.’

She had expected something even more luxurious than the suite of offices on the ground floor but to her astonishment Scott’s office was almost monastic in appearance. Another office led into it, and this would be hers, he told her, gesturing to the banked telephones and the word processor on the desk. ‘My previous secretary couldn’t stand the isolation of working here, and I need someone experienced enough for me to rely on. I have to go abroad quite frequently, and it will be up to you to take care of things when I’m gone.’

‘You trust me to be able to?’

There was a wealth of fine irony in her voice, but Scott didn’t take her up on it, merely saying, ‘You come very highly recommended. You’ve worked for Sir Nigel, who’s reputed to be one of the hardest-headed businessmen around. I don’t think he pays you simply to sit around looking pretty.’

‘How long do you intend to keep me here?’ Philippa demanded, reminding him that she wasn’t here of her own free will. ‘Until you can find another secretary?’

‘As long as it takes,’ he told her unequivocally, ‘and remember, Philippa, whilst you’re here you’ll fulfil any role I give you, that was part of the deal.’

What exactly did he have in mind? Philippa wondered as he showed her the Directors’ dining room and the conference room which lay beyond his own. Last night when he had given her his ultimatum she had seen in his eyes a look which had stripped her body of every shred of clothing she had worn, and which had committed even worse outrages against her, but she had put his violence down to his shock at seeing her, dismissing it in the calm light of morning as no more than a trick of her fevered imagination. Now she wasn’t so sure. Scott ached to humiliate her as he thought she had once humiliated him and she would be a fool if she tried to deny that fact.

‘I’ll show you the other wing. It’s this way.’

A long gallery connected the two wings, and the doors which Philippa remembered as once opening on to the main body of the Hall and the family’s living quarters had been sealed off, apparently, because the wall was now blank, presumably to ensure that Scott had privacy when he retired to his own part of the house.

‘Did you plan to do this when you… when you left for America?’ she asked him, feeling slightly foolish when he turned and subjected her to an ice-cold, acerbic glare.

‘I wasn’t in any mood to plan anything,’ he flung at her bitterly. ‘I was aching too much from what you had done to me, Philippa. No, it was only when my grandfather died that I realised I might have a chance of getting the Hall back. I was doing quite well then, but it wasn’t until two years ago that the company was doing well enough for me to buy it.’

They had reached the door at the end of the gallery and he pushed it open, standing back so that she could precede him. The doorway was narrow and Philippa felt the hairs on her arms stand on end as she brushed past his suit-clad body, the violent response of her nerve endings to his proximity so totally unexpected that it threw her off balance, both physically and mentally, and she was glad that she had her back to Scott for the few seconds it took her to get herself back under control.

What was the matter with her, for heaven’s sake? She wasn’t seventeen any longer. She had met many handsome and sexy men since she left Garston but none of them had affected her in the way that Scott had just done. Neither had he eleven years ago, but then she had trusted and loved him with innocence and inexperience, now she was immediately wary of the undeniably physical response of her body to his, her sense relaying to her the total maleness of him, the faintly arousing scent of his body whenever he came close to her, the diabolical ease with which her mind supplied her with an image of his unclothed body, even to the extent of adding the changes that time would have brought, turning’ him from a boy to a man.

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