A Solitary Heart (10 page)

for her courage, but in all honesty she had not really considered

herself to be in any personal danger; when she had grabbed on to

Barry's wrist, she had done so instinctively, without thought to the

consequences such an action might possibly have for herself.

Real courage, or so it seemed to her, was what people like Matt

possessed, for she knew that he had climbed far higher than was safe

for a man of his size and weight, in full knowledge of what he risked.

Yet he had made everything seem so easy, and not once spoken of

what must have gone through his mind as he met her eyes in the tree

and made his decision to act as he had. All his comments were of the

fear he had felt for her sake, and the boy's, never his own.

'I owe you my life,' she said, not fully comprehending until that

moment the truth in her words.

His head turned, a quick, startled movement. She was obscurely glad

that he did not pass off her statement with a shrug and a flippant

reply, for she was genuinely moved and the depth of her feelings

could not be dismissed lightly.

'That little kid owes you his,' Matt said, with a slow, crooked smile.

'And the reckless, self-destructive boy I used to be owes the salvation

of his to the memory of a wise girl who taught him the meaning of

sanity, and quality of life. That's just how life is, Sian. That's the real

message in your interlocking circles. You can't talk of
owing

anybody as if it were a debt to be paid. Our humanity binds us

together with ties of decency, dedication and sometimes self-

sacrifice. There isn't such a thing as a free spirit.'

She looked away, confused and troubled by what he'd said. It showed

in the frown that drew the slim wings of her dark brows together.

'I'm not sure I agree with you,' she replied, and, though her gaze

rested on the stereo across the room, what she saw in her mind's eye

was the ghost of an abandoned, lonely little girl. 'My father's a free

spirit who always does exactly as he pleases.'

'Does he?' Matt asked, settling back to put one long arm with extreme

care along her shoulders. He stretched out his muscular legs. 'I don't

know much about him, except that he cuts a rather exotic figure in

Joshua's eye. He's quite a gambler, isn't he?'

'Yes,' she said drily, 'he's one of the best in the world. When I haven't

been at boarding schools or university, I've been visiting him at

whatever five-star hotel happens to be his home at the moment.'

The hand from the muscular arm circling her very gently tucked a

black strand of hair behind her hair, making the moment into a

caress. 'You must have been a beautiful little girl,' he said. 'I can just

see you in a pretty dress, with your hair curling down your back and

those huge, melting green eyes. If I had a daughter like that, it would

break my heart to send her away.'

'Would it?' she asked, her throat aching. If Matt gave to his children

the same profound gentleness that he had just now showed to her, he

would be an excellent father. She almost found herself envying the

woman who would become his wife.

'Yes. I also know,' he continued after a pause, 'that if I were in a job

or lifestyle that was unsafe or unsuitable for that precious little girl, I

would send her away, to some place where she could grow up safe,

and I would deny myself the selfish pleasure of letting her depend on

me too much. I can't speak for your father, of course, but self-

sacrifice comes in many different ways.'

'Oh, you're right, of course,' she said with a sigh, as she leaned her

tired, sore head back. The muscle behind her was very still. 'I know

he does love me in his own fashion, and he did keep me with him as

long as he possibly could. I certainly have never wanted materially

for anything. I just want something better for my children, that's all.

A real home where they can be happy, always knowing that they'll

have some, place to come back to if they need it. Is that too much to

ask?'

'No,' he whispered, pulling her against his chest. 'That's not too much

to ask.'

The muscle relaxants were working, and the throbbing pain in her

limbs was liquidly melting away. She yawned so widely her jaw

cracked, and drowsily considered asserting her independence by

pushing away from him. In fact, she would in a minute.

Her head sank down to rest on his shoulder, and he shifted so that she

could curl comfortably into his side. Warmth stole over her; who

would have thought that the towering, icy stranger who tore strips off

her at the party on Sunday would be such a delight to cuddle?

'Isn't it funny?' she murmured.

Matt rubbed his cheek against the perfumed softness of her hair, a

slight, stealthy movement, and asked, 'Isn't what funny?'

'All the roles we play,' she murmured, and fell asleep.

He sat for a long time with his head bent down to hers, then, when

headlights flashed through a gap in the curtains, he twisted

unhurriedly to ease her lax body into his arms. She stirred to nestle

her face into his sweatshirt but didn't rouse as he carried her into her

room to tuck her into bed. For a few moments he stood looking down

at the madonna-like beauty of her moonlit face until the voices of the

returning cinema-goers sounded at the back door.

Then he bent, and pressed his warm mouth lightly against the

luscious, still curve of her lips, and whispered, 'Wake soon, sleeping

princess.'

Sian smiled and snuggled deeper into her pillow. She was dreaming

of a midnight lover.

THE phone was ringing as Sian fitted her key into the lock at the back

door. She tried to hurry, but the mountain of bags and packages that

she'd balanced precariously on one arm slowly listed to one side.

Jane, similarly laden, lurched forward to catch .them but they

cascaded all around her.

Sian hesitated, caught between the mess on the porch step and the

distant shrill of the phone, until Jane cried, 'Go on—go on—I'll pick

all this up. It might be somebody important!'

She hurried down the hall as fast as her protesting muscles would

allow, swung around the corner and lunged for the receiver. After all

her scrambling, it would probably be for Jane, she thought in

amusement, as she snatched up the handset and said breathlessly into

it, 'Hello?'

There was a click and a crackle, then a man's voice, wonderfully

familiar, came down the line, 'Sian?'

'Daddy!' she exclaimed in surprise and pleasure, as she dropped into

a nearby stuffed chair.

'Sure, and what other man would be calling for you, darling?' Devin

said teasingly. 'Might there be some little secret that you've been

keeping from your old Dad?'

'Quite a few, now that I come to think of it,' she retorted with a grin,

while a delighted glow spread all over her. He never failed to make

her day when he called; she was crazy about him, fool that she was.

'But nothing along those lines. How are you?
Where
are you?'

He paused, but she must have imagined it, and promptly put the

reason down to long distance when he said, 'London. I was just

checking to see if your birthday present had arrived yet.'

'Yes, thank you,' she replied, touching the heavy antique gold

necklace that she wore. It appeared deceptively plain but the

craftmanship was exquisite, of Egyptian design, the smooth sculpted

plates linked on the underside. The necklace had arrived by courier

and was accompanied by a heavy cream card on which was the name

of a company of an English insurance company, and must have cost a

fortune. 'It arrived a few days ago, and it's simply gorgeous. I love it

very much—I hardly ever take it off. Jane's threatening to take a pair

of metal-cutters to it.'

'How is the little scamp?'

'She's fine. She's still wondering when you're going to take her

ballroom dancing.'

'Well, you can fell her for me that the answer's still the same: not

until she's grown an inch or two. I'm too old to get done for child

molesting.'

'Forty-six isn't old!' Not that he even looked his age. With his elegant

slim figure, unlined face and just a sprinkle of distinguished grey at

the temples of otherwise jet-black hair, Devin Riley could easily pass

for ten years younger. She could just picture him at seventy, leonine

and gracefully light on his feet, charming his grandchildren with the

same fairy-tales he used to tell her when she was small.

'It's old enough, daughter, it's old enough. So, tell me what you've

been doing with yourself.'

Sian obligingly settled back and regaled him with various anecdotes

from the last few weeks. She stifled a pang when she described the

graduation ceremony he had not been able to attend, concentrating

instead on his roar of laughter as she told him of the scene in which

she dumped a laden plate down the front of a guest at the recent

party, and how he grew silent over the incident about rescuing the

little boy from the tree the day before yesterday, even though she

took care to edit out the frightening bits.

Without bothering to explain that the party guest and Matthew were

one and the same, she finally concluded, 'Joshua's older brother has

invited us to his place in Chicago for the weekend, then it's down to

work for those who have summer jobs. I've already said that I

couldn't go to Chicago with the others since you're flying in for a

visit. Do you have any idea how long you can stay?'

Again there was a pause, and Sian was sure she hadn't imagined it

this time as it was such a lengthy one. 'That's another one of the

reasons why I called, actually,' he told her. 'I'm afraid that I won't be

able to come after all.'

'Oh, Da, no,' she said, unable to help herself as crushing

disappointment settled on to her shoulders. First her commencement

ceremony, then her birthday, and now this.

'I know, poppet. I wanted to be there as well, but it can't be helped.'

'But why ever not?' she asked, and hated herself for the asking. How

many times over the past had they enacted the same scene? How

many times did she tell herself that never again would she beg for his

company, when it was obvious that he was too involved in his own

life to make the time to share the important parts of hers? But this

time, as ever, she had believed that things would be different. 'Surely

if you've double-booked yourself, you could cancel your other

engagements just this once?'

'I'm afraid not, darling.' The thread of disappointment that leadened

the Irish lilt in his voice was really good, she thought bitterly. He

could sound so sincere, so he could make her believe all over again,

just when she'd erected her strongest barriers, that she was the most

precious and important thing in the world to him.

'Well,' she said flatly, 'if it can't be helped, it can't be helped. Maybe

next time, huh?'

'I'll be there with bells on, I promise. And in the mean time, there

isn't a parent alive who could be more proud of their child than I am

of you.'

'Yeah,' she whispered, Opening her eyes very wide. But the tears

spilled over anyway. 'Well, you tell Malcolm "hi" for me, will you?

And tell him he'd better be looking after you. How is he, anyway?'

'Fine,' he said of his partner and old friend. 'Just fine.'

He sounded so odd. 'Da, is anything wrong?'

'Of course not, poppet,' her father replied more strongly. 'We just

have a bad connection.'

'All right, then. Take care of yourself.' But then, didn't he always?

'Sian -'

'Yes?' she asked, as he hesitated.

'Nothing,' he said with a sigh. 'I just love you, that's all.'

'I love you too, Daddy.'

And that, she thought coldly as she replaced the receiver, was the

whole problem. Despite everything, she still loved her father.

Maybe love belonged to a secret society, a magical few who were

imbued with the depth of personality that could cope with

disappointment and disillusionment, then rise above them to emerge

unscathed and without bitterness. Maybe there was some flaw in her

that made her incapable of loving without clinging on.

She didn't know. But what terrified her enough to make her break

into a cold sweat was that, if she could be so hurt by loving someone

like her father, how much greater would be the pain if she were to