An Interrupted Marriage (Silhouette Special Edition) (5 page)

“Too long,” Jade said briefly. Hesitating, she added, “I wondered if I ought to say good morning to Mrs. Riordan.”

“She’s resting just now. She’ll read a couple of chapters and then drop off for a little while before lunch. I’ll come and wake her at about a quarter to twelve. It gives me time to do my aerobics, and take a walk down the drive to fetch the mail.”

It seemed everyone had their routine. “I could get the mail,” Jade said. “I wouldn’t mind a walk.”

“Oh, all right. The rural delivery van won’t be here until about half past eleven, though.”

“That’s later than it used to be.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. See you at lunch.” Flashing another dimpling smile, Ginette strolled off to her room.

Jade let herself out of the big door facing away from the sea. The concrete terrace, newly painted a terracotta colour, ended in several steps down to a wide path skirting the house.

She crossed the lawn to a gateway leading into a small fenced grove of trees and bushes, all natives, with a narrow gravelled path winding between them. The three kohuhu with crinkled, pink-edged leaves were almost twice her height, giving her a thrill of pleasure. When she’d planted them they had barely reached her waist. Another, shrubbier group with dark, wine-coloured leaves made a lovely foil, just as she’d pictured them.

Purple hebe brushed her jeans as she passed. The golden kowhai had long since finished flowering, but among the saw-edged leaves of the rewarewa she spied a red, spidery blossom. The kauri still stood straight and slender.

“For the grandchildren,” she’d told Magnus when he teased her about its notoriously slow growth habit. “And great-grandchildren.”

“Mmm,” he’d said. “I suppose by then it might be a decent-sized tree.”

Weeds had been allowed to spring up among the low creepers and ground-covers. Jade hauled some out, thinking that she’d have to get some tools later and do the job properly. But she managed to pile up quite a heap pulling them out by hand.

A distant toot made her glance at her watch. That was probably the rural delivery van, signalling that there was mail in the box at the gate.

She stood up from where she’d been kneeling on the ground, and dusted her jeans. But her hands were grubby, too, so it didn’t do a lot of good.

She walked quickly down the drive, her feet scrunching on the gravel. Sunlight flittered through the moving leaves of the trees, dancing in dappled patches before her. A fantail looped through the air about her head, then retired to chirrup at her from a swaying, slender branch, regarding her with alert, unwinking eyes. She had a sudden sense of well-being, a lift of the heart.

The red mailbox held several envelopes. None, of course, was for her, but she riffled through them all the same. Two were addressed to Miss Ginette Fairfield. Jade wondered if Ginette got a lot of mail. Was that why she’d apparently made a habit of collecting it?

She went back to the house more slowly. Coming out of the shading trees of the drive, she saw Magnus seated on a tractor that had stopped by the fence surrounding the house. He wore a faded khaki shirt and trousers, one arm resting on the steering wheel as he grinned down at Ginette, who leaned on a fence post, smiling up at him.

Ginette’s costume was a clinging pink satin leotard, worn with matching pink socks, and exercise shoes. Her breasts were rounded and full, her waist slim, and her hips trimly curved. A pink sweat-band confined her hair. An escapee from an exercise video, Jade thought, walking, unnoticed, towards them.

As she did so Ginette laughed, pulled off the sweat-band and shook out her dark curls, then stepped back from the fence. Magnus lightly jumped down from the tractor and vaulted the fence with one hand on the post.

He saw Jade, and the smile faded. Ginette, following his eyes, took another step back from him and waited.

“Any mail for me?” she asked as Jade neared them.

“Two.” Jade’s face felt stiff, but she managed a semblance of a smile. Ginette’s letters were on top of the pile, and she handed them over, noticing how grubby her hands still were, with dirt under the fingernails.

Ginette glanced down at the envelopes. “I love getting letters, don’t you?”

Did her tone sound forced? Jade quelled the thought. “You’re lucky. Do you want the rest, Magnus?”

He took them from her. “You’ve been all the way to the gate?”

“It’s still where the mailbox is.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, in this heat?”

“What do you think it will do to me? It’s not that hot under the trees. You’ve been working in it. And without a hat.”

“I haven’t been ill.”

Ginette said, “I’d better get changed before lunch. See you guys later.” She set off for the house at a quick jog, the gleaming, high-cut leotard emphasising the movement of smooth thighs and a firm, neat behind. Magnus looked after her for a second or so before pulling his gaze away.

Jade said, “A walk in the sun certainly isn’t going to cause a relapse. What were you talking about?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You and Ginette—what were you talking about?”

“Nothing much. Just chat.” He looked down at the envelopes in his hand, and began to tear one open, at the same time starting towards the house. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Yes, thank you. How long is it since Ginette came to work here?”

He was skimming the letter in his hand. It was a second or two before he looked up. “Ginette? It’s coming up to three months, I think, since the first woman left and she took over. Why?”

“I couldn’t remember when you’d first mentioned her.”

“At the time you weren’t particularly interested.”

Jade bit her lip. “I’m sorry.” Three months ago she’d begun a new treatment programme, the one that had finally worked.

“Understandable,” Magnus said briefly. “It isn’t important.”

“I’ll need some new clothes,” she said as they approached the steps to the house. “I can use my own money, but could I have the car sometime?”

“I’ll drive you,” he said, “and pay for whatever you need. I told you, the farms and the business are both doing well now. Or have you forgotten that, too?”

“No, I hadn’t forgotten. But you’ve no need to pay for my clothes. My savings account must be quite healthy.” She’d had a modest but adequate amount of money in it before she got ill.

She made to go up the steps, but he stopped her, his hand on her arm. “Do you have an account with another bank?”

“Another bank?” Jade stared. “You know I have two accounts, the cheque account and a savings one. That’s all.”

Magnus drew in a breath. “You don’t have enough in those accounts to buy more than a few undies, I should think.”

“Oh, nonsense!” she said. “It wasn’t an enormous amount, but I can certainly afford to buy some clothes. I’m sure there was at least—”

“Jade.”

His voice silenced her. She looked at him, puzzled. “Unless you used it after all,” she said uncertainly. “Did you?”

“No, I never used it. I told you, I didn’t need to.”

“Then the money must be—”

His grip tightened. “I had to take over your accounts, your bank-books,” he said. “You do understand that?”

“Yes, of course I understand.” She hadn’t been capable of attending to them herself. “There’d have been a couple of bills outstanding, but nothing big!”

Magnus shook his head. “For some time before you got ill you were taking out fairly large sums of cash. You’d just about cleaned out your savings.”

J
ade couldn’t believe it. “I don’t recall doing that.”

“No?” He raised his brows, almost as though he didn’t believe her. Then he said, “You don’t recall quite a lot about that time, I gather.” His eyes were searching.

Jade spread her hands in resigned acknowledgement. It was true. The period immediately before her hospitalisation carried hazy memories at best, and there were gaps even further back. “But—why? What did I spend it on?”

“I’ve no idea,” Magnus answered grimly. “There was certainly no evidence that you’d bought anything with it. No new clothes, no receipts for any large expenses.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, never mind. I’ll arrange for an allowance to be paid to you.”

“I don’t want—”

“You’re entitled,” he said shortly. “And as I said, we’re very comfortably situated now. No need to worry about money. Come on. You don’t want to be late for another meal.”

* * *

Before lunch Ginette had changed back into her demure green-and-white dress, and Jade had dispensed with the grubby jeans in favour of a cotton shirtwaister. The belt was a little loose, but otherwise the style tended to disguise her loss of weight. Perhaps, she thought, spreading a scone with jam and fresh whipped cream that she didn’t particularly want, Mrs. Riordan was right. She ought to eat more.

Ginette carried most of the conversation, with Mrs. Riordan interrupting occasionally to alter its direction. Magnus, who had changed from his farm gear into a white shirt and sand-coloured slacks, seemed preoccupied, and Jade was content to say very little.

Then Magnus turned to her and said, “I could take you to Warkworth this afternoon, if you like.”

Surprised, Jade said, “Thank you. How much time will I have?”

“As much as you want. When would you like to go?”

“Whenever it suits you,” Jade replied. “If I could use the phone, I’ll try to make an appointment to have my hair done.”

“You don’t need permission to use the phone,” he pointed out with a hint of irritation. “What’s wrong with your hair?” he added, looking at it.

Ginette laughed. “Isn’t that just like a man? If Jade is uncomfortable with her hair, Magnus,” she reasoned, placing a hand briefly on his arm, “it needs fixing.”

Jade said, “It’s too long. And it’s out of condition.”

Magnus shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Magnus,” his mother said, “if you’re going to Warkworth, there are one or two things you could get for me, if you would.”

“Of course. Just let me know what you want.”

* * *

Magnus was waiting when she let herself out the front door, the car already standing on the drive. He straightened from his lounging position against it and opened the passenger door for her.

The car swept down the drive and onto the road, and Jade found her breath coming out in a sigh. She had only been at Waititapu for one day, and already it was a relief to get away for a while.

She said, “I didn’t realize you still had to work on the farms yourself. Didn’t you tell me you’d installed a manager?”

“Yes, I did, next door, and he and his son run the two farms with some help from the sharemilkers on the dairy unit and a couple of farm workers. But I give them a hand if they’re short of labour or when I feel the need for some physical activity.”

“You felt the need this morning?”

“I offered to do an urgent fence repair because the others are busy drenching cattle. Anyway, I like to keep an eye on things.”

“So you’re still doing two jobs?”

“As a matter of fact it’s worked out rather well. When I left the partnership in Auckland and set up my own office at the house, I lost a few clients. But I also picked up some local business, particularly from farmers, because they feel that an accountant with his own farming operation just down the road from them might have a few clues about doing their books.”

“You don’t find it difficult, working from Waititapu?”

“I had clients before who were miles away from the office. Sometimes I travel to them. But I have a fax machine, and the phone and computer. Now the farms are on their feet again, I’m thinking of employing a part-time secretary....”

“I could do that,” Jade offered. “I might be a bit rusty, but I’d soon pick it up again.”

Magnus was staring straight ahead, his eyes on the road. “The thing is,” he said, “how long will you be around for? And I don’t want to put you under any stress.”

“A bit of part-time secretarial work wouldn’t be particularly stressful,” Jade said, carefully ignoring the first part of his speech. “I can’t sit about twiddling my thumbs all day. And it would make me feel better about living on your money.”

He cast her a frowning glance. “You more than earned it in the year after we were married, acting as nurse, nanny, housekeeper....”

And wife, she added silently. It hadn’t been an easy start to marriage, but she’d thought they would weather it, that their love would keep her strong. She’d been wrong. Magnus, trying to save the family farms while continuing to run his own business, providing for his family and worried sick about both his mother and his sister, had less and less time or emotional energy to spare for his wife. But it wasn’t he who had finally cracked under the strain.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said.

He flicked another glance at her as though he wanted to say something, and then had changed his mind. After a while he said, “We’ll go to the bank first, and I’ll transfer some money into your account. Will you need cash for the hairdresser?”

“I think I have enough for that,” she said.

* * *

In the event she had barely sufficient. She emptied her purse of notes and handed them over to the girl who had shampooed and cut her hair, then emerged to find Magnus waiting for her.

“Very nice,” he said, examining the shortened style. It felt light and soft, and a conditioning treatment had given it a new sheen. “Where to now?”

The hairdresser was on the main street. Many of the shops were built in colonial style with wide corrugated iron verandas shading the footpath. Some were refurbished old buildings, others new ones designed to reinforce the impression of a leftover corner of nineteenth-century New Zealand. Although the town was quite small, it seemed very busy, the road noisy with traffic.

Her ears jangling, Jade said, “You’ve done your mother’s messages?”

“Yes. You wanted clothes, you said.”

She hesitated, embarrassed. “I’m not sure how to pay for them.”

“I told you I’d put some money in your account. And here’s your cheque-book.” He took it from his pocket and handed it to her. “They said it’s okay to use it even though the account has been inactive for so long.”

“Thank you.” She stood holding it. “What are you going to do?”

“I’ve done all I need to. But there’s no hurry. We could make a time to meet at the car—unless you’d like me to come with you?”

At the hairdresser’s, she’d had to try twice before she could blurt out that she had an appointment, and she was sure the girl at the counter had thought she was odd. “I’d like you to come,” she said.

Magnus quickly hid his surprise. “Okay, if it’s what you prefer. We can use my credit card if you like.”

“That isn’t why I asked you.”

“I wasn’t saying that.” He paused, looking at her. “You have a lot to get used to again, don’t you?”

Jade nodded, grateful that she didn’t need to explain.

* * *

Magnus unexpectedly took an active part in choosing the clothes.

“I like this,” he told her, taking a sleeveless silk dress with a flowing skirt from a rack. “Do you?”

“It’s lovely, but not what I’m looking for,” she answered. A textured linen oatmeal-coloured skirt over one arm, she pulled out another in colourful stripes, a smart red-and-white dress with a slim skirt, then one of soft grey green with large pockets and a gold-buckled belt. “I’ll try these on.”

“What about this?” It was a full-skirted fuchsia cotton dress with tiny sleeves, the front demure but the back unexpectedly scooped.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

The shop assistant clipping tickets onto a pile of jackets on the counter said, “That’s been marked down. Wish it would fit me!” She was plump and dark, her nails painted blood red and her abundant bosom encased in a cascade of scarlet ruffles.

“Try it,” Magnus urged. “It’s a bargain, apparently.”

Looking at the tag, Jade privately thought that the new price was more appropriate than the crossed-out one, but it was very pretty, if a little impractical for everyday. She wouldn’t buy it, of course, but she took it from Magnus so as not to make a fuss.

When she came out of the changing room he queried, “Any good?”

“This skirt,” she said, turning to the hovering shop assistant and handing her the oatmeal one. “And...” Holding the two dresses she’d picked out she said doubtfully, “I don’t know about these.”

“Didn’t they fit?” Magnus asked.

“Yes, and they both look good,” she admitted, “but I only wanted one.”

The assistant said, “They’re about the same price, so that won’t help you make up your mind.” Smiling at Magnus, she said, “What does your husband think?”

“Take them both,” Magnus responded on cue.

“No.” Jade shook her head. “If I regain the weight I’ve lost it’s a waste.”

“What about the other dress?” Magnus asked.

She’d left the fuchsia cotton hanging in the booth. “I haven’t tried it,” she admitted. “I’ve no use for it, really.”

The assistant persuaded, “It’s the sort of dress you could wear anywhere. Day or night. And it doesn’t have a snug fit. I’m sure you’d find it useful.”

“Try it,” Magnus urged her, drawing back the curtain. Taking the other garments from her, he added to the shop assistant, “We’re taking both of these.”

Jade made to protest, but she didn’t want to argue in front of the woman who was now folding up the dresses and the skirt.

“Come on.” Magnus reached up and took down the fuchsia dress from the hook, holding it out to her. “I want to see it on you.”

She flashed him a look that brought his black brows up. Taking the dress, she stepped into the booth and pulled the curtain across between them, rattling the brass rings. She thought she heard a faint breath of laughter as she began unbuttoning her blouse.

The dress flattered the line of her shoulders and neck, complementing the uncluttered new hairstyle, making her skin appear creamy and warm, and moulding the rounded swell of her bust. The midsection skimmed her ribs and waist, and the hem of the gracefully flared skirt lightly brushed her legs.

She turned to look over her shoulder in the mirror, seeing how the back dipped almost to her waist, framing smooth skin and the faint hollow of her spine. It might have been made for her.

The curtain moved as Magnus opened it a few inches.

She was facing him, her eyes startled and wary, but his gaze was apparently riveted on the view in the mirror, before he turned it to her face, then thrust the curtain aside and let his eyes lower, examining the length of her body. He took a step back, and said, “Yes. Definitely, yes.”

The shop assistant, her curiosity evidently having got the better of her, hovered at his elbow.

“There!” she said with satisfaction. “He was right, wasn’t he? It’s
lovely
on you!”

“I don’t think—” Jade started.

He shook his head. “I’ll give it to you,” he said. “A coming-home present.”

“Been away, have you?” the assistant enquired.

“Yes,” Jade said after a moment. “For a while.”

“He must have missed you.” Casting a teasing glance at Magnus, the woman added, “I’d make the most of it, if I were you. Were you in hospital?”

“Why do you say that?” Jade asked sharply.

“You said something about regaining weight.” Smiling at Magnus again, she said, “Though some of us would kill to be as slim as she is.”

Magnus wasn’t looking at her, but at Jade’s suddenly whitened face. He stepped forward, and said dismissively to the woman, “Thank you.” He gave her a smiling nod and jerked the curtain closed again.

Jade would have moved back, but his hand was on her arm. “Are you all right?” he said, his voice low, his eyes frowning.

“Yes.” There was moisture on her upper lip. “It’s hot in here.” She drew a shaking hand over her clammy forehead. “I want to get changed.”

“Turn around.” He was turning her as he spoke, his hands firm but gentle. He slid down the short zip at the back of the dress.

“What are you doing?” She twisted to face him, and the loosened dress slipped off her shoulders. She snatched at it, holding it over her breasts.

“Helping you,” Magnus answered tersely. “Don’t be coy,” he said under his breath, evidently conscious of the flimsy curtain between them and the woman in the shop. “I’ve seen you undressed before, remember? Or don’t you?”

Her pallor was replaced by a quick flush. She presented her back to him again, letting the dress slide to the floor as she grabbed her bra and fumbled it on. Before she could fasten it, his fingers had grasped the catch and were doing it for her.

She bent to retrieve the dress, but Magnus said, “I’ll get it.” She moved out of the way and he picked it up, smoothing it over his arm as Jade reached for her blouse, and then he pushed her shaking fingers aside and did up the buttons.

He handed her the skirt she’d been wearing, and she said, “I can manage now.”

“Sure?”

“I’m all right.” She dropped the skirt over her head and groped behind her for the zip. Magnus, his eyes on her face, nodded and went out. She heard him say that he’d pay for all her purchases with his credit card.

* * *

“Is there anything more you need?” he asked her as they left the shop.

“I’ll just stop at a chemist’s,” she said, “and meet you at the car.”

He looked down at the two carrybags she’d insisted she could manage herself. “I thought you needed an entire new wardrobe.”

“I have more than I need, now. And more than I can afford.”

“You can afford it,” he said firmly. “I can. I told you, money isn’t a problem, Jade.” He took her arm and they began to walk.