Shadows at Stonewylde (41 page)

‘So I’m a prisoner here?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sylvie. It would just be very strange for you to be away for the night.’

‘What difference would it make? You sleep downstairs every night anyway.’

‘Only because you don’t want me anywhere near you!’

They glared at each other over the dinner table, the food forgotten. Now they’d reached the heart of the matter but both stepped back from the subject, unwilling to face it. Yul reached for the wine bottle and poured himself another glass, watching her face carefully. She took a deep breath.

‘If you could explain to me why I can’t take our daughter away for one night for a very special treat, I’d listen. But there’s no reason other than your selfishness, so I’m sorry but we’re going.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘I think you’ll find, Yul, that you can’t forbid me to go. Who the hell do you think you are?’

‘I’m your husband, a fact you seem to have forgotten in your efforts to cut me out of your life. Anyway, it wouldn’t be fair. What about all the other children at Stonewylde? Don’t you think they deserve a visit to a ballet too?’

‘I’m sure they do and next time I’ll arrange a party booking and take them all. But this time I’m going with Celandine and that’s it.’

Sylvie’s cheeks were flushed and her lips quivered with anger – this was so typical of his high-handedness. He regarded her with equal anger – she was the one being selfish.

‘Children don’t leave Stonewylde until they’re fourteen,’ he said stubbornly.

‘Then this will be the exception – and anyway, maybe they should. You’re always on about how we need to mix more with the Outside World and encourage more interaction. You can’t have it both ways. I shall tell Celandine in the morning and you’ll see how much it’ll mean to her. Think of that, if the idea upsets you so much – think of how she’ll love it.’

‘I don’t want you to go, Sylvie.’

His eyes were flashing dangerously and under normal circumstances she’d have backed down as she always did and let him have his own way. But that, she thought, was the problem – he’d been getting his own way for far too long.

‘I realise that but I’m still going.’

She stood up from the table and started to clear it, stacking the dishes on the trolley to wheel to the dumb waiter. The youngsters downstairs on work detail that night would deal with them. Yul rose too and took his glass and the bottle over to the sofa, where he flung himself down bad-temperedly. He watched her walking back and forth with the trolley and dishes. She was as gorgeous as ever, he thought moodily. Her silver hair swung down her back in a great silky swathe, almost brushing her buttocks. He surveyed those too, noticing how the material of her dress clung to every slim curve. He felt his desire for her growing by the second which only added to his fury. The clearing done, she stood before him watching as he drained his glass.

‘Are you intending to stay up here for a while or will you be disappearing downstairs?’

He shrugged.

‘Why not? Are you trying to banish me from this room as well as the bedroom?’

‘Not at all! I’d love you to stay here for the evening because—’

‘Well in that case I will. It makes a change to be wanted.’

‘—because then I can go downstairs and help with the quilts. We’re padding them tonight.’

He sprung up and took her by the shoulders, his eyes blazing into hers.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ he shouted. ‘Why are you treating me like this?’

‘I’m not! But I want to help the other women and I can’t leave the girls on their own.’

‘For goddess’ sake! You can rig up an intercom, the way I’ve suggested countless times. One of those baby alarm things they use in the Outside World.’

‘No I can’t! This is a huge house – even if I heard them crying it could take me ages to get up here and they’d be frightened in the meantime. You can’t leave young children on their own like that. Have you any idea how often Bluebell wakes up with nightmares? How she cries and needs comforting straight away, not in five minutes’ time when I’ve finally heard her and run half a mile to get here.’

‘You’ve spoilt her,’ he said coldly, dropping his hands and turning away. ‘You shouldn’t let her sleep in your … our bed.’

‘How do you know she does?’ She thought then of the footsteps and shadows in the dark and grabbed his arm. ‘Are you the one who comes into my room at night? Are you the one who sneaks about in the darkness and terrifies me?’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

She let go of him, unsure of herself.

‘Nothing – forget it.’

‘Has someone being coming into our bedroom at night?’

‘No! No, that’s not what I meant.’

He stared at her and she looked away and wouldn’t meet his eye. Maybe he’d been right all along – maybe there was somebody else. The thought, even though he knew it was irrational, stabbed him like a shard of glass.

‘I know Bluebell sleeps with you, Sylvie, because she told me. She said now I’ve gone to live downstairs she looks after you at night when you cry in your sleep.’

Several times over the next few days Sylvie almost gave in and cancelled the trip. It was such hard work standing up to Yul. But Celandine would’ve been devastated so Sylvie stuck to her intentions and at last the time came to leave. She and the little girl stood in the stone-flagged entrance hall with their overnight bag waiting for the car to come round. They were being driven to the station where they’d catch the train to Bournemouth. Celandine was almost beside herself with excitement, hopping from foot to foot and pirouetting around on the parquet floor and old Wilton rug until she was dizzy. Sylvie peered out of the window wondering where the car had got to. It was freezing cold outside – a horrible grey January morning – and she didn’t want to miss the train and have to hang about at the station waiting for another one.

She heard the sound of sobbing and then Yul appeared on the staircase carrying a distraught Bluebell in his arms.

‘Oh Yul! I’d told her to wave from the window-seat upstairs with Granny Miranda. This’ll only make it worse for her.’

He glared at her, still furious that she was going.

‘She wanted one more kiss,’ he said coldly. ‘At least she got one earlier. You didn’t even say goodbye to me.’

Sylvie took the distressed child from him and hugged her tightly, regarding Yul evenly over Bluebell’s shoulder.

‘You stormed out of the room, Yul. You weren’t there to say goodbye to.’

They stared at each other as Bluebell’s sobs turned to gulps and then stopped. Sylvie’s gaze roamed over him, as ever struck by his sheer handsomeness; the mop of black curls falling over his angry face, his slanted deep-grey eyes hurt, his mouth hard.

‘Put her down,’ he commanded.

Frowning, she did so and Bluebell ran over to join Celandine by the window.

‘Come here,’ he said, and reluctantly she stepped forward. He reached and enfolded her in his arms, holding her tight and hard.

‘I’m sorry, Sylvie,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter with me – I guess I’m just jealous. I love you! I love you so much it hurts. I’ll miss you terribly and that’s the only reason I can’t bear you going. But I do hope you have a lovely time – I just wish it were me you were going with.’

She felt a lump in her throat at his softly spoken words which she knew came straight from the heart. It took a lot for Yul to climb down like this. She suddenly wished she’d never suggested taking Celandine. Her mother had been right all along – a romantic night away together was just what she and her husband needed.

‘I love you too, Yul. And I’ll miss you.’

He started to kiss her gently on the lips, but with a rush of their old passion it developed into a kiss of major proportions, deep and long. Celandine and Bluebell rolled their eyes at each other – they were used to this. There was a beep outside and reluctantly Sylvie pulled away. Yul’s eyes were blazing with want and need, his cheeks flushed and breathing rough.

‘Just five minutes?’ he pleaded huskily. ‘Please?’

‘We’ll miss the train,’ she smiled, stroking his hot cheek, her voice full of promise. ‘But when I get back tomorrow …’

Sylvie and Celandine sat in their plush seats listening to the orchestra tuning up. The little girl’s eyes were brilliant with joy and exhilaration. She wore her best dress of fine, pale yellow linen, with her namesakes – bright yellow starry flowers – embroidered on the bodice, and the white satin ballet shoes they’d bought that afternoon in the shopping centre. Celandine clutched a programme and was torn between wanting to look at the photos of the dancers and gazing around the theatre in wonder. This was her first time away from Stonewylde in the Outside World and it was almost too much excitement for her to bear. The bell rang and she jumped in her seat like a frog.

‘It’s just to warn the people the ballet’s starting soon,’ explained Sylvie, smiling down at her. ‘They won’t let anyone in once the ballet’s begun in case they disturb everyone and make too much noise finding their seats.’

Celandine nodded.

‘We ought to do that when we have our dramas and dances and the Story Webs,’ she said. ‘People always come in late making too much noise.’

Sylvie laughed and smoothed her daughter’s long silvery curls. This had been such a good idea and despite wishing Yul were here, they were both having a really lovely time. When they’d checked into the grand hotel earlier she’d found a huge bouquet of flowers waiting in their room. It was a really sweet gesture of Yul’s and not one that she’d imagined him making. The little card had read ‘
To my beautiful Sylvie – I can’t wait to carry on where we left off. See you soon xxx
.’ She wished the four of them had come here together as a family, although Bluebell was probably still too young. Next year, she thought with pleasure.

The final bell rang and the lights started to dim; Celandine squeaked with excitement, fidgeting in her seat. Just then someone started to push down the row. The only empty seat was the one next to Sylvie and she took their coats off it and held them on her lap, waiting for the person to squeeze past her. There were whispered apologies and a ‘
ssh
’ from behind as he plumped down into the vacant seat. Sylvie glanced at Celandine as the red velvet curtains with their gold tassels glided slowly open, smiling to see her open-mouthed rapture at the scene on the stage. The music exploded into such a great noise that the little girl jolted with fright, never having heard a full orchestra before. She gaped at the brightness of the costumes and the leaping feet of the dancers as they began the colourful opening scene of
The Nutcracker
.

But Sylvie jerked violently when without warning, pushing under the coats that still lay on her lap, she felt a hand on her knee. She swung around in the darkness and in that heartbeat second realised that Yul must have engineered this and carefully planned such a surprise. She began to smile, amazed at his ingenuity, but when she saw the face next to hers her heart leapt in her chest with horror. She couldn’t see him clearly in the semidarkness but the heavy jaw was the same as was the well-cut blond hair. He smiled at her shock and squeezed her knee.

‘We meet again!’ he whispered.

Sylvie was speechless, her mouth dry. Her heart pounded like a piston and then she realised what he was doing and tried to push his hand away under the coats. He gripped her tightly.

‘Don’t make a silly fuss, Sylvie,’ he whispered.

‘Get your hand off me!’ she spat, and was shushed by several people in front and behind. She glanced desperately at Celandine, who fortunately was totally engrossed in the vivid scene on stage. Sylvie tried again to push him off, wriggling her leg and shoving at his arm.

‘Don’t jig about, Sylvie, or you’ll get me worked up. Just sit still like a good girl and watch the ballet. I’m not doing you any harm and I won’t go any further – unless you want me to, of course.’

She sat in numbed misery throughout the first act. True to his word, Buzz kept his hand on her knee, his fingers like branding irons on the thin nylon of her stockings. Several times Sylvie thought she should just get up and whisk Celandine away, but every time she glanced at her daughter and saw her breathless joy she didn’t have the heart to ruin such a perfect experience. She battled with herself over what to do for the best – cause a huge upset and disturbance or keep quiet until the first interval – and the longer she allowed the situation to continue, the more difficult it became to stop it. She felt Buzz turn to watch her on several occasions but she looked resolutely ahead, her cheeks burning and throat dry, determined to ignore him. She decided they’d leave during the first interval, not wanting to engage in any kind of skirmish with him.

As Tchaikovsky’s wonderful music filled her head, Sylvie remembered her terrible recurring dream where Buzz assaulted her in the hospital bed as she lay strapped down and helpless. She felt ashamed to have dreamt such an awful thing and couldn’t stop thinking about it with the man himself so close to her. She was acutely aware of everything about him – his bulk, for he was a big man, the smell of his expensive aftershave, the brush of the soft material of his suit against her arm. Her flesh crawled at his proximity and the feel of his hand on her leg, lying there so intimately but casually while her daughter sat beside her, innocent and unaware of what was going on.