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Well, she would make it otherwise. Jon loved Alison, and their marriage deserved a chance which it wouldn’t have if the pernicious influence of someone like Matt Lincoln was allowed to take hold.
Drew Wakefield, she thought bitterly. Matt Lincoln. Birds of a feather, pursuing their destructive way through other people’s lives, uncaring of the chaos they left behind.
Only this time—somehow—she wasn’t going to allow it to happen. Scandal and bitterness weren’t going to ruin her family’s lives, she vowed silently, not if she could help it.
She thought savagely, ‘To hell with you, Matt Lincoln!’ then shivered suddenly as if a cold hand had brushed against her in warning.
CHAPTER TWO (#u8c4f8b0b-78e4-57bb-9471-f3d846108295)
‘MATT LINCOLN’S address?’ Felix stared at her in amazement. ‘What on earth do you want that for?’
Kate moved her shoulders evasively. ‘Do you think you can get it for me?’
‘I daresay I can. It’ll be on file somewhere at the office, and if not, Lorna Bryce from Features was involved with him for a while. She’d know,’ said Felix. ‘But wouldn’t it be easier just to call National Television?’
‘Perhaps,’ Kate’s voice was noncommittal. ‘I’m hoping it won’t be necessary to call him at all.’
‘I’m sure you are,’ Felix said a mite caustically. ‘Leave him to the Lornas of this world, darling. He’s out of your league.’
‘Don’t be so rude, Felix,’ Maria, who was crocheting by the fire, interrupted placidly. ‘Kate’s a lovely girl.’
‘Have I ever denied it?’ Felix gestured dramatically. ‘So why throw her to the lions?’ He grinned at Kate. ‘Or do you like living dangerously, after all, and if so, what are you doing with boring old Clive?’
‘You’re a nosy swine,’ his wife said in amiable condemnation. Her eyes shrewdly noted Kate’s obvious embarrassment. ‘I’m sure Kate knows what she’s doing.’
Do I? Kate wondered dismally.
She had spent a miserable restless night trying and failing to decide on a particular course of action, and had wasted a working day too through her inability to concentrate properly.
All she knew was that some sort of confrontation was inevitable. Simply telling Jon what she had seen and letting him sort it out at whatever cost would be an unbearably sneaky thing to do, she thought. And seeking out Matt Lincoln at the television centre through layers of protective commissionaires and secretaries didn’t appeal to her either. Her courage would have dwindled long before she reached him.
Her request to Felix to find out his home address—his telephone number was, naturally enough, exdirectory—had been made on the spur of the moment. And she wouldn’t use it. It was purely something to be held in reserve, because first thing tomorrow she was going to talk to Alison.
It wasn’t a prospect she welcomed. She had been Alison’s chief bridesmaid, but that had been as a matter of form, she thought wryly, and hadn’t prompted any real intimacy between them. Nor had they become any closer since. She had tried, but apart from the fact they seemed to have little in common, she had always sensed a slight reserve about her sister-in-law.
And after tomorrow, I suppose I’ll be lucky if she ever speaks to me again, she told herself ruefully.
Every metre of the following day’s bus and tube journey to the modern estate where Jon and Alison lived, she kept telling herself she didn’t have to go through with it, that she could always turn back and allow whatever was going to happen to go right ahead without any interference from her.
The houses were attractively terraced, built on three sides of a square overlooking a lawned area with shrubs and a striking piece of modern sculpture. The individual gardens in front of the houses were more relaxed, several holding a scatter of children’s toys, but the overall impression was one of quiet because most of the houses were occupied by working couples.
It occurred to Kate, not for the first time, that Alison might not find it merely quiet, but lonely during the daytime with the neighbouring wives out at jobs, or absorbed in their young families.
Perhaps she couldn’t altogether be blamed for wanting to resume her career. Housework, shopping and decorating could hardly fill all her time, Kate thought with sudden compassion.
As she walked up the path, the front door opened, and Alison appeared, smiling rather warily. ‘Surprise, surprise!’
‘We all missed you the other night,’ said Kate. ‘I thought I’d come and see how you were.’ She saw Alison look puzzled, and elaborated, ‘Your headache.’
‘Oh, that.’ Alison stood back to allow Kate past her into the house. ‘It wasn’t serious, just annoying.’
‘I thought from what Jon said it was a migraine at the very least.’
‘He exaggerates,’ Alison shrugged. ‘Sit down and I’ll bring some coffee.’
‘You must have known I was coming,’ Kate joked, unfastening her jacket.
Alison’s smile was wintry. ‘I did. I watched you walk all the way round the central lawn. Do you know you’re the only person who’s come into the close this morning?’
Kate could believe it. While Alison was busy in the kitchen she glanced round the sitting room. It was immaculate as always, the furnishings and curtains looking brand-new, fresh flowers on the coffee table in front of the hearth, and a faint smell of lavender wax in the air.
She waited until her sister-in-law had set down the tray and poured the coffee, then she said, trying to sound casual, ‘Jon says you’re thinking of getting a job.’
The spoon Alison was using clattered into the saucer. She said, ‘That’s right.’ There was a brief pause, then she said, ‘As a matter of fact I might be getting my old job back.’
Kate stirred her coffee. ‘With National Television?’
‘With Matt Lincoln,’ Alison said quickly and flatly.
‘Oh,’ said Kate, rather helplessly.
‘It came right out of the blue,’ Alison went on, a faint colour stealing into her face. ‘Apparently none of the girls who’ve been working for him since I left have been the slightest bit of good. And he has an important assignment coming up in a couple of weeks—in the Caribbean. He wants me to go with him.’
Kate drew a deep breath. ‘He does? And what did you say?’
‘I told him I’d think about it.’ There was a note almost of smugness in Alison’s voice. ‘What do you think about that?’
Kate shrugged. ‘What’s more to the point—what is Jon going to think about it?’
‘Jon will just have to get used to the idea.’ Alison’s flush deepened. ‘After all, marriage these days isn’t a terminal condition. There is supposed to be life afterwards. And I’m going to go out of my skull if I have to spend many more days looking out of that window, watching people walk round the close!’ She managed a little laugh.
Kate swallowed, ‘Yes, I can understand that. But—but I thought it was your idea to give up your job when you got married.’
‘It was, but I must have been insane,’ Alison said with sudden sharpness. ‘I suppose I thought …’ She stopped. ‘Well, that doesn’t matter. One of the few benefits of being shut up alone here all day is that it gives you time to think, to realise what a fool you’ve been.’ She took a breath. ‘I should never have left Matt in the first place.’
Kate didn’t like the sound of that. It implied that there had been more to their relationship than work.
‘But we both realise it was a mistake,’ Alison continued. ‘And this Caribbean trip will be a good chance to make sure that we’re—still on the same wavelength.’
Kate drank some coffee. ‘Isn’t the method rather a drastic one?’ she enquired pleasantly.
It was Alison’s turn to shrug. ‘Perhaps. But Jon has his career. Why shouldn’t I be allowed mine?’ She paused. ‘I thought you of all people would understand, Kate. After all, you have your flat, your work, your independence. Don’t tell me you’re dying to give it all up for a flowered pinny the moment your publisher man pops the question!’
There were undercurrents here beneath the mockery which Kate did not feel capable of fathoming.
She said, ‘No, I can’t say that. But on the other hand, I’m not sure I’d be contemplating a trip abroad with another man before my first anniversary either.’
Alison’s giggle jarred. ‘What a fuddy-duddy you are, after all, Kate! Haven’t you ever heard of open marriage? It’s far more interesting than the sort of prison most men want to shut you up in.’
‘Do you feel as if you’re in prison?’ Kate set her empty cup back on the tray.
‘Yes, if you must know,’ Alison said shrilly, ‘I do!’
Kate felt her way carefully. ‘Have you told Jon how you feel? Perhaps …?’
‘Of course I’ve told him, but it hasn’t made an atom of difference,’ Alison said angrily. ‘He’s always been spoiled, of course. He’s had your mother, the classic happy drudge, waiting on him, and he thinks all women should be like her. Well, he’s wrong!’ Her voice rose sharply.
The biting reference to her mother caught Kate on the raw, but she controlled a hot rejoinder. She said, ‘If Jon’s views of marriage are old-fashioned, I think you need to go further back than that. His own mother walked out on him, if you remember.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten,’ Alison said rather sullenly. ‘And I can’t say I altogether blame her, if Jon’s father was as ridiculously possessive as he is.’
Kate was beginning to feel sick. Every word that Alison uttered seemed to be bad news. She tried to imagine Jon’s reaction when Alison told him what she was contemplating, but failed completely. For his wife to resume work at National Television would have been sufficient blow, knowing how he felt about Matt Lincoln, but this proposed trip to the Caribbean opened up a whole new dimension, she thought, horrified.
She said calmly, ‘I’ve never regarded my stepfather as being overly possessive, but then other people’s marriages are generally a closed book.’
‘How true,’ Alison agreed. ‘You’re quite a philosopher, aren’t you, Kate?’
Kate looked at her steadily for a moment, then she said, ‘You don’t like me, do you, Alison? I wish I knew why.’
‘Oh, but you’re wrong,’ Alison said, smiling. ‘It’s a great comfort to know that while I’m away with Matt, Sister Kate and the family will be around to give Jon consolation. Would you like some more coffee?’
‘No thanks.’ Kate got to her feet, buttoning her jacket. ‘I really have to be going.’
‘What a shame,’ Alison said politely.
The breeze had risen she found when she got outside, and the initial brightness of the day had clouded over, and she shivered as she walked along, conscious that Alison would be watching every step she took. She kept her head down and lengthened her stride.
She found she was shaking inside as she stood at the bus stop for what seemed an interminable time. Alison’s attitude bewildered her. Boredom might have made her sister-in-law resentful of the confines of marriage, but was that any real reason to rush on disaster as she seemed bent on doing? What had happened to the love she must have felt for Jon? Could that really have dissipated so quickly? And even if marriage hadn’t lived up to Alison’s illusions, surely after so short a time there was still something left to build on?
Or was Matt Lincoln’s power over her really so absolute?
Kate couldn’t be sure, but she told herself the fact that Alison hadn’t instantly accepted his offer had to be a hopeful sign.
‘Just as long as my interference doesn’t push her into doing something stupid,’ she thought gloomily, as the bus finally trundled into sight.
When she arrived back at the house, Maria was waiting for her.
‘Felix phoned,’ she said, holding out a slip of paper. ‘With the information you wanted.’
‘Oh,’ Kate accepted it gingerly. ‘That was quick work.’
‘I think he had the impression that there was some sort of crisis going on,’ Maria said drily. ‘Is there?’
‘Something of the kind,’ Kate admitted. ‘I wish I could tell you about it, Maria, but—but it’s a family matter.’
‘But not, thank God, the sort that Felix clearly imagines,’ said Maria, an underlying note of laughter in her voice. She gave Kate’s flat young stomach a long and meaningful look.
‘No, of course not.’ Kate was appalled. ‘My God, I hardly know the man!’
‘That could be best,’ Maria nodded. ‘That girl Felix mentioned—Lorna Bryce—apparently she was almost cut to ribbons when he finished with her, and Felix reckons that ordinarily she’s quite a tough cookie.’ She turned away, adding almost as an afterthought, ‘Clive may not set the world on fire, but he doesn’t leave charred remains behind him either.’
In the studio, Kate stood staring down at the piece of paper in her hand, sorely tempted to tear it into a hundred infinitesimal fragments.
But that wouldn’t solve anything. She had no idea how deep the problems between Jon and Alison were, but she knew that this offer from Matt Lincoln could not have come at a worse time. If Alison were to accept, Kate was sure it would finish all hope of them ever working out their difficulties together. The marriage would end bitterly.
And she didn’t believe for one moment that Alison was as indispensable as she had been led to believe. Matt Lincoln was an experienced and cynical man. He would know a discontented wife when he saw one, and know exactly what kind of lure to offer.
Drew had known too, she thought painfully. ‘You have an exceptional talent,’ she remembered. And ‘There’s this amazing quality of innocence about you, Kate …’
Tell a woman what she wants to hear, and she’ll follow you anywhere, she thought.
And this was how Matt Lincoln was treating Alison. But why? Because he’d only discovered when it was too late and she was married to someone else that he really cared for her? Kate’s mouth curled. Never in a million years, she dismissed. If he cared, then his first thought would be for her happiness—not a selfish desire to plunge her into the kind of ugly recriminations which were inevitable if she went away with him.
It was more probable that he wanted to boost his ego by proving to himself that he was irresistible. That he only had to beckon and even a bride of a year would run.
Distaste rose like bile in Kate’s throat. But she knew what she had to do. For once in his life, Matt Lincoln was going to have to think again before causing havoc in people’s lives. Slowly she opened her purse and slid the slip of paper inside.
The block of flats the taxi brought her to was a surprise. She had expected somewhere far more opulent and showy, but this place with its warm red brick, its balconies and windowboxes was positively old-fashioned, she thought as she paid off the driver.
She asked, ‘Are you sure this is the place?’ and he gave her a look, half indulgent and half irritable.
‘Do me a favour, love! The name’s on the wall over there if you don’t believe me.’ And he drove off.
Kate went in through the revolving doors. She stood for a moment assimilating her surroundings. Stairs on the left, she noticed, and lifts straight ahead.
‘Can I help you, madam?’ There was a long desk on the right, she saw, with a modern looking switchboard, and a uniformed man looking at her enquiringly.
She said lamely, ‘I’m just visiting someone …’
He nodded politely. ‘Of course, madam. If you could give me the resident’s name, and tell me whether or not you’re expected.’
The building wasn’t as old-fashioned as she thought, she decided drily.
She said, ‘I’ve come to see Mr Matthew Lincoln, and no, I’m not expected.’
‘Then if I might have your name, miss, I’ll just check whether it’s convenient.’ He sounded courteous but inexorable.
Kate swallowed a defeated sigh. ‘It’s Marston—Kate Marston.’
She stood, waiting and listening while he dialled and gave the message. He replaced the receiver and looked at her and she waited to be told that Mr Lincoln was not at home, or Mr Lincoln was busy.
He said, ‘If you’d like to take the lift, miss. It’s the second floor, and the door on the right-hand side of the corridor.’
She said dazedly, ‘I—see. Thank you.’
She took a deep breath as she pressed the button for the second floor and heard the smooth whine of the doors as they closed. There was no going back now.
The palms of her hands felt damp, and she wiped them surreptitiously on her skirt, trying to marshal her thoughts, decide on the best tactic to use.
