The Disobedient Wife

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Tony telephoned the next morning. He had tickets for the theatre that coming Saturday, he told her, given to him by a grateful client.

’I thought you might like to go,’ he suggested, and Kendal could imagine him sitting there behind his disorderly desk with his pleasant face hopeful—though not unduly concerned—beneath his wiry and equally disorderly brown hair.

She tottered on the brink of accepting when he told her the name of the show, but only for a moment. She didn’t want an involvement with Tony—or with anyone else for that matter—to which a date like that might inevitably lead. But, more importantly, and the main reason she resisted his offer—which was the reason she gave—was because she had left Matthew once too often during the past week—and this coming weekend she was determined that nothing was going to come between them.

The sight of him tugged at her heartstrings as she watched him put the last of three bricks on top of the others in a precarious little tower on the worn, though serviceable carpet, then clap his hands with a delighted squeal.

She was going to spend every second alone with her son. And if she did take this job in the States, she ruminated—found herself a nice place to live—she might eventually be able to work from home and employ a part-time nanny for Matthew so that they would never really need to be parted. Until then, though, she was forced to leave him as she had this week. And next week wasn’t looking much better…

It wasn’t so much that that put an uneasy look in her eyes as she replaced the receiver after speaking to Tony. It was the thought of Friday week. Next Friday, when Jarrad would be round to fetch Matthew for the afternoon, his insistence that she go with him…

The phone, when it shrilled again, startled her so much that she almost spilled the warm milk she had been pouring into Matthew’s beaker.

‘Kendal?’

Relief and something else swept over her. What was it? Disappointment? Surely not! she thought, amazed, silently berating herself for the way her voice shook when she answered her sister’s call.

‘Are you all right?’ Chrissie sounded baffled. ‘You sound…well…out of breath.’

Kendal forced a laugh. ‘Probably because I rushed to answer the phone,’ she bluffed, hoping Chrissie wouldn’t guess how much she was letting Jarrad get to her after all these months!

‘I’m going away for a few weeks! That’s what I’m ringing to tell you! I’m going to tour Europe! Isn’t it exciting? And I’m leaving in the morning!’

‘What? How? Who with?’ Kendal pressed, almost equally infected by her sister’s tangible excitement.

There was a brief pause. And then Chrissie surprised her by responding with, ‘Ralph. He telephoned yesterday—late last night! You know he’s been working for that firm abroad? Well, he’s coming back—but he’s taking a few weeks’ holiday first. And, oh, Kendal! He’s asked me to go with him! For us to get back together! He said he regrets all that’s happened and wants us to try and sort things out!’

‘That’s great!’ Kendal could almost have wept with the emotion that welled up inside her. Chrissie deserved happiness. She only hoped that this time things would work out for her and Ralph.

‘I’m sorry to be going. At a time like this when… Well, you know…when you might be getting so much hassle from Jarrad…’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Kendal was quick to reassure her. Whatever Jarrad cared to throw at her, she could handle it! she assured herself, though with more rebellion than conviction.

‘And you won’t hold it against Ralph if he does come back?’ That excited voice of Chrissie’s couldn’t hide the smallest suspicion that her older sister might harbour some grudge towards Ralph for running out on Chrissie as he had. But why should she? Kendal reflected. It was only the strain of the situation into which Jarrad’s insensitivity had plunged them that had split them up. Ralph hadn’t been premeditative or ruthless. Nor had there been another woman…

‘Of course not,’ she exhaled, the memory of Jarrad’s betrayal making it difficult to keep her voice steady. And, wishing fervently suddenly that she could protect her little sister from the weight of anything like the misery of her own heartache, she uttered, ‘Oh, Chrissie, be careful!’ She couldn’t bear the thought of her sister getting hurt a second time.

‘Don’t worry,’ Chrissie chided emphatically, but Kendal always did—and not without good cause. Chrissie’s volatile nature meant that she didn’t always deal with situations in the positive way she should, and Kendal hadn’t forgotten how desperate her sister had been when Ralph had left her last year—nor the attempted overdose that, mercifully, had failed.

They spent a few moments chatting then, with Kendal offering to take time off to drive her sister to the airport, but Chrissie wouldn’t hear of it. After she had hung up, Kendal felt remarkably depressed.

She was happy for her sister, of course she was. But the thought of a few weeks without her wasn’t a prospect she was looking forward to very much. She was glad, though, that she had managed not to let her own anxieties about Jarrad trickle through, because she didn’t want to worry Chrissie, and she was relieved that she had managed to send her sister off with almost as much enthusiasm as Chrissie herself.

Chrissie rang Kendal briefly from the airport the following afternoon. Then every day for most of the following week Kendal kept herself occupied with Matthew and her work for the Arkwrights, popping round once or twice to water Chrissie’s multitude of plants.

As the week progressed, though, she found herself growing more and more agitated, and by Thursday she was uncustomarily snappy. She knew it all centred around the fact that the following day was Friday, when Jarrad would be calling round.

Dropping Matthew off with the dependable, indispensable Valerie, she spent the morning in a turmoil, wondering what excuse she could give to Jarrad about not accompanying him back to the house with Matthew.

She couldn’t face going there. Perhaps, she eventually decided by way of a compromise, she might suggest they went out somewhere—the three of them. Somewhere where there were people, where she wouldn’t have to be alone with Jarrad. The power of his physical attraction—and after all he had done—still terrified her, and she realised that she was still much too vulnerable to go anywhere with him alone.

He arrived grossly and unexpectedly early, just as she came off the phone from making a succession of futile calls about some wall covering she was trying to get hold of for the Arkwrights, at the end of a morning that had seemed to race by. It still wasn’t time, though, for Valerie to bring Matthew back, as it had been arranged that she would do so at two o’clock, and Kendal started as Jarrad strode in without knocking, just like the last time, through the open patio doors.

‘You’re early,’ Kendal accused, the telephone clattering back onto its rest evidence of the aggravating morning she had endured.

‘I wouldn’t dream of incurring your wrath by even daring to presume to be, darling,’ he murmured, the very sight of him taking her breath away.

He had obviously come straight from the office, the immaculate silver-grey suit and white shirt enhancing the tan that gave a vitality to those already healthy features. She wondered if he had been on holiday somewhere with Lauren, then told herself she didn’t care.

‘Well? Are you both ready?’

So he expected her to drop everything, did he? Just like that!

A toss of loose red waves signified her agitation. ‘Do I look it?’ she asked crisply, and felt his gaze tug over her uncombed hair and flushed features, then move disconcertingly to the rather gaping V of her cotton shirt.

‘You’ll do,’ was all he said drily, and then, with a glance towards the lounge door, ‘Where’s Matthew?’

Kendal caught her breath. Of all the nerve…!

‘He isn’t back yet. I—’

‘Back from where?’ he interrupted, his tone inexorable. ‘The minder’s again? Or have you palmed him off on your little sister this time?’

‘I don’t palm him off on anybody!’ she threw back, furious. She loved Matthew. More than anything. Anyone! ‘And, if you must know, Chrissie’s gone away with Ralph! They’re back together! So you see, Jarrad, you didn’t quite succeed in destroying them completely—even though you tried! And, yes, Matthew’s with Valerie,’ she finished more calmly, in spite of the daunting menace in his face that told her he didn’t like being reminded of what his cruel actions had done to her sister’s marriage.

With those black brows drawing together, all he simply said was, ‘What—still?’

‘Yes, still,’ she said pointedly, looking up at him with challenging defiance. It was her business how she ran her life! ‘I told you. You’re early. I asked her to have him back here by two.’

‘Then where is he?’ He frowned down at the thin gold watch gleaming against the dark hair of his tanned wrist. ‘I make it nearly twenty-five to three.’

Puzzled, Kendal glanced down at her own watch. ‘I make it twenty past one…’

‘Then one of us obviously needs a new timepiece,’ he remarked, with both hands coming to rest on the table.

Kendal’s frown deepened and, jumping up, she ran into the lounge, sending an anxious glance towards the video clock.

Fourteen thirty-three? Jarrad was right! So where in the world was Matthew? Valerie? She was already over half an hour late!

Kendal felt the tension building with the fear inside her. Had she had an accident? The woman was a mother herself—highly recommended by another young mum Kendal had worked with—and was nothing if not reliable. ‘She’s never, never been late…!’

‘Never except today.’ She hadn’t realised she had spoken aloud until she heard that harsh, sceptical drawl from the doorway, and she swung round, green eyes ablaze.

‘I suppose you think I arranged this deliberately just to antagonise you?’ Anxiety made her snap as she brushed past him, heading straight for the phone on the table.

‘To antagonise me, perhaps not,’ he accepted. ‘To stop me seeing my son, I wouldn’t, however, put anything past you.’

She ignored his remark, tapping out the number of her child minder’s home just as the front doorbell rang.

‘So she’s condescended to bring him back!’ Jarrad’s mood was black as he strode out of the room, taking it on himself to answer the door.

‘Mr Mitchell?’ It was a man’s voice, cold, very official, drifting along the hallway, and Kendal dropped the phone, feeling the grip of icy fingers around her heart.

‘Yes.’

‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ Already she was at the door beside Jarrad, facing the young policeman—and the policewoman—standing there, looking serious, on the doorstep. ‘There’s been an accident!’ Oh, God…!’

‘No, Mrs Mitchell.’ The man looked at her gravely. ‘It is Mrs Mitchell, isn’t it?’

Numbly, she could only nod.

‘For heaven’s sake, get on with it, man!’ Jarrad prompted impatiently, looking grim yet in command too, still in control, even in this situation.

The policeman visibly tensed, obviously recognising the authority in the older man, though his training wouldn’t allow him to be browbeaten. ‘Do you think we could come in, sir?’ he said, with the sort of deference everyone paid to Jarrad Mitchell.

And then, somehow—Kendal wasn’t sure how—they were sitting in the lounge, and all she was aware of was Jarrad standing there beside her, his hard, clipped voice demanding, ‘Well? Are you going to tell me what’s happened to my son?’

CHAPTER THREE

SNATCHED!

Kendal stared at the small circular brown stain on the worn carpet that seemed to be swimming in front of her eyes. There had been endless questions, and more police, the second lot more interrogative than the first.

But they had all gone now, leaving her to cope with the numbing realisation of what had happened.

Matthew kidnapped. Abducted. Her little baby snatched away while he was supposed to have been in Valerie’s care, when she had thought he was safe, secure…

‘Here.’

She stared sightlessly at that familiar masculine hand holding the thick glass tumbler in front of her, at the dark hair feathering the tanned wrist.

‘Drink it,’ he ordered. ‘It will make you feel better. Or at least put some life back into you.’

Because she had nearly fainted, she remembered—almost collapsing from the shock when the policewoman had told her, and she had recovered herself to feel Jarrad’s arm supporting her, his voice murmuring soft assurances. Empty assurances, she thought, because, of course, what could he do?

She took the glass he thrust at her now and drank, coughing at the burn of brandy on her throat.

Mrs Humphries, the police had said—referring to her child minder—was still in shock, distraught, unable to comprehend how it could have happened. Matthew had been playing in the front garden, with the gate locked, she had told them. Her back had only been turned for a moment, but when she had looked round again he was gone.

But how could he be gone? Kendal agonised. Her baby stolen? Taken away. Just like that. True, it was only a low gate, but Matthew was shy of strangers, and if someone had tried to lift him over he would have screamed…

‘That’s better,’ she heard Jarrad say as she took another sip of the burning spirit. ‘That’s my girl.’ And as he took the glass from her she thought how soft his voice was, surprisingly gentle. She hadn’t heard him speak to her like that in over a year.

‘What are we going to do?’ A ton of granite seemed to be pressing on her chest, and the eyes she turned to his were sore and puffy, their dark anxiety almost an entreaty to him, as though he had powers that she didn’t, as though he could make everything all right.

‘We’ll have to wait and see what the police come up with.’

He turned away from her, dumping her glass down on the narrow bay windowsill, and stood, staring out at the ash tree in the colourless communal front garden, its branches swaying today in a keen breeze.

‘Wait and see!’ Propelled by a new surge of adrenalin, Kendal sprang to her feet, coming halfway across the room. ‘I can’t just sit here and wait while someone’s out there doing heaven knows what with my son!’