Bachelor's Wife (13 page)

'No,' her answer was rapid and certain.

'Good,' he said, 'I might well have ended up telling him to leave my wife alone.' And while she stared at him in amazement, he thought briefly before explaining, 'I rather think friend Madge is a better judge of character than you are.'

'You know nothing about Trevor Coleman, or his character,' Perry found enough strength to hotly defend him.

'I know he has you scared of him,' Nash bit back, making her eyes nearly pop as he let her know he didn't think much of men who frightened women, haying no idea that when she was eighteen he had scared the life out of her. And anyway, she wasn't afraid of Trevor! Of telling him her secret maybe, but... 'I know he lacks a certain decisiveness when it comes to making up his mind about proposing to my wife,' he went on. And if she wanted to be flattened with embarrassment, which she didn't, he made no bones in telling her, 'And from your point of view he can't be any great shakes as a lover, otherwise you wouldn't have been so ready to go to bed with me as you were.'

'You pig!' she snapped, her face crimson, tears of mortification very close to the surface.

For a moment there was complete silence in the room, Perry's swallowing gulp as she fought for control breaking it. Then, as he had done last night, Nash took her hand in his. She wanted to tell him to go, to leave her alone, but was afraid to speak, again until she was sure she wasn't going to cry.

'I am, aren't I?' His quietly agreeing to her short statement she thought him a pig had her tears drying. But she wanted to get off the subject of him as an expert lover, and fast.

'You didn't bring last night's paper as you promised,' she accused, changing the subject rapidly. 'Who said I didn't?'

He released her hand to dip inside his jacket pocket to show he had brought the cutting with him. A cutting he had obviously not been going to show her unless she asked to see it.

She took it from him, not certain now that she did want to see it. Slowly she unfolded it, saw the headline he had last night told her about, 'The whereabouts of the mysterious Mrs Nash Devereux revealed'. Perry read on, unconscious that her hand was again held by a much larger one. Despair was with her when she reached the end, the cutting fluttering from her hand to the bed cover, her worst suspicions confirmed.

'Oh, Nash,' she said mournfully, tears she could no longer control streaming down her face. 'If—if they'd taken it all from the marriage certificate they couldn't have been more word-perfect, could they?'

One moment Nash was sitting on his chair by the bed, and the next he was balanced on the bed beside her, an arm about her as he pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.

She held on to him simply because, lacerated by her thoughts as she had been all day, it was the last straw to see in print that Perry Bethia Grainger, a seamstress, had married Nash Devereux just over six years ago. She needed

the comfort afforded by that strong firm shoulder as she just sat there and wept.

With a gentleness she found unbelievable Nash cradled her to him, only releasing her when at last her tears dried. When, his eyes still kind, he took out his large handkerchief, mopped her up, and as if she were a six-year-old, ordered her to, 'Blow.' -

Her water-washed eyes looked apologetically back at him as he studied her face, the mopping up operation completed. 'I'm sorry,' she said softly.

'The apology is mine,' he told her, making no move to take, his arm from the back of her. 'I didn't want to see you in tears,' he admitted slowly, 'but perhaps they'll have some healing effect.'

Bemused that she actually did feel very much less tense than she had, as much as by the fact that Nash saying he hadn't wanted to see her in tears indicated a weak spot for a woman's tears she would never have attributed to him, she accepted that he was right. Even with his arm around her she was much less knotted up inside than she had been.

Belatedly, it came to her that for a girl who had a fiancé, she shouldn't be cuddling up to Nash this way, and had to wonder then what it was about him that seemed to make his arms a natural haven. Charisma? she wondered.

Whatever it was, Nash had it by the ton. And fight at this moment she was in danger of revising her opinion that she didn't like him very much, for he had shown her a side of him she hadn't thought existed.

'I'll be all right now,' she said, straightening away from him, suddenly very much aware, ridiculously, that in her hospital nightshirt, no make-up and with her hair a mess, she must look a sight.

'That sounds very much as though I've just been issued my marching orders.'

'Well, you must have loads of things you want to do,' she answered, feeling she might have sounded a little ungracious after the way he had patiently borne seeing her flooding the place.

For answer he dropped a light kiss on her forehead the way he had last night. 'Be good, Perry Devereux,' he said, 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Perry Devereux indeed! she thought after he had gone; but not for much longer. Though her light head had a lot to answer for in that, at that moment, it didn't make her cross that he had called her by that name. It had, she thought tiredly, rather a pleasant ring to it.

Her smile came naturally again before the day was finished. Still lacking in appetite, she found her appetite tempted when her supper was wheeled in, in the shape of smoked salmon, cauliflower cheese with mashed potatoes, and blackcurrant cheesecake.

'It was delivered from outside,' said the girl who had brought it in.

'I know,' Perry gurgled even before she found the note that was attached to the most exquisite arrangement of primroses,
'Bon appetit.
N.,' it said. 'My husband sent it in.'

CHAPTER EIGHT

FEELING tired enough to believe she wouldn't have any trouble in getting to sleep, Perry refused the offer of a sleeping tablet and consequently- wakened frequently during the night.

She had to admit that since Nash's visit she felt less panicky, less strung up. But that didn't stop her from worrying about Trevor, of how he must be feeling.

After another fraught wakeful session, dawn about to break, she came to a decision, her conscience at last telling her what she must do. She closed her eyes once more, common sense advising that her plan could not be put into action until the doctor had been on his morning round.

Nurse Johns bustling in with her usual enthusiasm had Perry opening her eyes to discover she felt rested, and though still very tender in places, very much better.

'Ah, that's what I like to see,' the nurse chirruped. 'Nice clear eyes and looking ready for breakfast.'

'I'm starving,' Perry lied, looking away from her favourite nurse as she started on her plan to appear perfectly fit when she told the doctor she wanted to sign herself out of his care, his hospital.

'Excellent!'

Her temperature taken, Perry tried to sound casual as she asked, 'Ninety-eight point four?'

'Nearly normal anyway,' Nurse Johns replied. 'You'll be able to have that bath today, I'm sure.'

Perry wanted her bath before she saw the doctor, not afterwards. But left with a bowl of water and the necessary equipment she was able to give herself a thorough wash when Nurse Johns was called away.

Disturbed to find that so, little physical effort, the

twinges from her bruises with each movement, had exhausted her, she lay back, knowing she would need the few hours' rest before the doctor came, to rebuild her strength.

When Nurse Johns returned, busying herself with tidying up, Perry forced a brightness to reply to anything she had to say. But she waited until she looked ready to depart, ,then as casually as before, asked:

'By the way, any idea where my clothes are?'

'Fed up with nightclothes already?' the nurse smiled. 'They're not far away. Though if you're thinking of sitting out in your day things after the doctor has been I wouldn't advise it. A couple of days in bed, not to mention a bump like the one you suffered, can be more weakening than you imagine.'

'I feel fine,' Perry protested, knowing the truth of what was said.

'That's the ticket,' said Nurse Johns as she disappeared through the door.

By the time Dr Boardman, with Sister and Nurse Johns in attendance, came to see her, she was feeling well again.

She had even convinced herself it was ridiculous to lie there occupying a hospital bed someone else might want to use. That her determination to leave the hospital that morning had anything to do with the way she decided she felt, she didn't give a thought to as she waited patiently as the doctor ran his rule over her before proclaiming that she would be as right as rain in a couple of days.

Anticipating a sticky time, she had a stubborn look on her face as the moment came to tell him she wasn't waiting those couple of days.

'I feel well now,' she told him, sending him a smile because she had been so well looked after and would hate any of them to take it personally. 'In actual fact I— er-' she stumbled on embarrassed but determined, 'I've decided to go home this morning.'

Dr Boardman began to shake his head, and seeing a

'you must learn to walk before you can run' dialogue coming, she invented crazily on the spur of the moment and hoped nobody remembered the date of her marriage reported in the newspaper.

'It's my—our wedding anniversary today.' And this time hoping the doctor had read, and remembered reading of the reconciliation Nash hoped for, she further perjured herself when she saw that though still looking doubtful he was no longer shaking his head. 'It's very important to me that—that I'm with my husband tonight,' and going red at what that statement implied, she rushed on, 'that—that I dine with him in our home like the night we did when we got married, I mean.' She came to a halt, unused to lying, knowing she had come to the end of her inventive powers.

For long moments Dr Boardman said nothing, but just stood and surveyed her from over the top of his glasses while she hoped and prayed he had a soft heart and that she wouldn't have to leave the hospital without his blessing.

'It seems to me,' he said at last as she waited with baited breath, 'that if I say no to your request, the start you've made to recovery is going to take a setback.' Wordlessly she stared at him, not daring even to smile. 'Are you going to promise me to take plenty of rest if I let you go, Mrs Devereux?'

'Oh yes, yes,' Perry said eagerly, her smile coming readily.

'In that case Sister here had better telephone Mr Devereux to tell him he can...'

'No!' She saw mild astonishment at her sharp 'No' in all three faces looking down at her and hastened to explain, finding she hadn't used up her powers of invention after all, 'I want it to be a surprise. Besides,' she thought to add, 'my husband is out of town today and won't be back until early this evening.'

Victorious, but in quite a lather at all the whoppers she.

had told when everyone trooped out, she was smitten too by conscience about Nash. She faced that he had been good to her while she had been in here. He needn't have bothered about coming to see her, for one thing, let alone see she had a private room. He had said he would visit her today, about the same time as yesterday, she judged. Would he be angry when he arrived and found her gone? Or, which was more likely, would he think thank goodness for that, and then sit back waiting for the divorce petition to reach him?

She frowned to realise that all thoughts of the divorce had gone from her mind while she had been in hospital, then her brow cleared. She had had too much else to worry about, hadn't she?

Nurse Johns came in with her clothes and helped her to dress, her manner saying that while the professional side of her disapproved of Perry's leaving before she was properly ready, the heart of the woman that beat beneath her uniform thought it the most romantic thing she had heard in a long day.

'You sit there,' she said when, keeping the fact that she felt whacked to herself, Perry was ready. 'I'll just go and see about your taxi.'

Fortunately Perry didn't have far to walk to the taxi, but having refused the use of a wheelchair she found she was glad to have Nurse Johns supporting hold on her arm. Then she was in the taxi, listening to her nurse instructing the taxi driver firmly not to just deposit her and drive off, but to see her safely indoors.

Warmly thanking Nurse Johns for all her care, Perry waved to her despite her creaking muscles as she raised her arm. And only when the hospital was out of sight was she able to breathe a sigh of relief, and lean forward to instruct the driver where she wanted to go.

'They said at the hospital that it was Belgrave Square I was supposed to take you to,' he grumbled lightly.

'Must have got me mixed up with someone else,' she

said, careful not to meet his eyes in the driving mirror. Belgrave Square must be where Nash lived.

He was kind, her taxi driver. Though whether it was because she was looking as all in as she felt, or that he was just following Nurse Johns' instructions, she didn't know. But he helped her to the front door and even inserted the key she had got out ready when paying him inside his taxi.

At the sound of the front door being opened, Mrs Foster limped into the hall, and after one look at Perry she came as fast as she could towards her, and her ample arms were round her, giving her a hug.

'Oh, love, I've been so worried about you!' she exclaimed. And standing back, she cried, 'You don't look well enough to be out of hospital. They must need the beds very badly to send you home looking so poorly!'

'I'm fine, Mrs Foster,' Perry told her with more determination to be fine than with truth, 'honestly.'

'Well, you're not tackling those stairs until you've had a sit down and a cup of tea,' Mrs Foster insisted, 'that's for certain.'

Inevitably during the fifteen minutes she sat in her landlady's living room, the subject of Nash had to come up.

'I couldn't believe it when he told me he was your husband,' said Mrs Foster, to which Perry sent a silent 'thanks a million, Nash',, until it came to her that with almost everyone else seeming to know, probably it was just as well. She wouldn't want Mrs Foster hurt that she was the last to know. 'I mean, you've never said anything in all the time you've lived here.'

Feeling guilty, and not liking the feeling, Perry placed her empty cup and saucer down on the table in front of her. 'I was trying to forget it,' she said gently, and saw an understanding in her landlady's face that came from her experience of life over the years.

'These things happen,' she shrugged, 'separation, divorce. But he's such a nice man.'

Perry smiled, because there just wasn't any answer she was up to making to that. She got to her feet, thanking Mrs Foster for the tea, declaring she felt ready for anything, and asked if she could use the phone. She might as well get it over with now as go up to her flat to brood on it and have to come down and make the call anyway.

'Of course you can, you know that.'
^;

Perry dialled Trevor's place of work, all thought of what she was going to say to him going from her mind as she waited for the call to be put through to him.

'Perry?' His voice didn't sound very welcoming.

'Trevor, I...'

'Where are you?' he cut her off.

'Home, at my....'

'I'll come round.'

Staring at the phone as it went dead, she knew apprehension. Trevor had sounded in a filthy mood, he hadn't even asked her how she was!

Mrs Foster came out of her living room as she replaced the receiver. 'All right, dear?' she enquired.

'Trevor's coming over,' Perry told her quietly.

She saw Mrs Foster's face was sombre as she guessed, 'He didn't know about Mr Devereux either, did he?' Perry shook her head and saw, understanding back in Mrs Foster's face again as she said, 'You go on up. I'll let him in.'

She didn't have to wait long in order to let Trevor in. Before Perry had got herself half way composed, she heard him at the door. Heard him coming up the stairs, and he was then bursting in through the unlocked door before she could get to answer it.

Pale, shaking when she saw the ugliness in his face, she knew before she started that he had no interest in any explanation she had to make.

'You deceiving little tramp!' he snapped, slamming the door after him, taking no heed that she looked rocky on her feet. 'A fine fool you've made me look!'

'Trevor, I—I meant to tell you, to explain...' was as far as she got.

'Everybody's laughing at me behind my back!' he shouted at her, coming over and wrenching at her arm, making her wince as he caught one of her tender spots, and unheeding he ranted on, 'Mr X, that's what they're calling me at the office!'

'How could they know?' she tried, none of his colleagues known to her.

'How could they know!' he repeated as though he thought she was stupid. 'Because I was misled enough to think I was engaged to you—told them at work I was engaged to a Perry Grainger. Told them your middle name because it's so unusual. I even told them the sort of work you do!'

'Oh,' said Perry, her head starting to ache as his down-turned mouth took on a sneer.

'Oh! Is all you can say, is it? No apology at the laughing stock you've made me!'

'I'm sorry, Trevor. Honestly, I'm so very sorry.'

'Not as sorry as you will be, my girl,' he threatened. And at that moment all resemblance to the Trevor she knew, the Trevor she knew and loved, disappeared as he yanked her off her feet and half threw her on to the settee.

Wide-eyed, disbelieving that this furious-looking man, that ugly expression on his face, just couldn't be the man who had asked her to marry him, she fought dizziness as she pleaded:

'Listen to me, please listen!'

'What for?' he snarled, his lips going moist as his eyes roved her. 'I've heard all from you I want to hear. "No, Trevor. I can't, Trevor," ' he mimicked nastily. 'Wanted to keep your virtue until we were married, did you?' he sneered. 'And all the time your virtue had been had by another man—more than one, I shouldn't wonder!'

Still unable to credit it—this couldn't be her Trevor?— Perry tried to get up from the settee, only to find she was pushed down again as he joined her, his hands grabbing roughly at her jacket.

'Well, let me tell you, Perry Grainger
Devereux,''
he spat the last word, 'I'm not asking you to give in this time. This time I'm taking what's mine, And you can forget anything I ever said about wanting to marry you. Why should I? I don't need a preacher to give me permission to take what you've been withholding from me!'

His meaning was only too clear, and she saw there was no trying to reason with the madman he had become. Her body shaking, she tried to move out of his range. Panicking, wildly she tried to push past him. But her strength weakened, puny, was useless against the maniac that raged inside him.

She felt her jacket pulled uncaringly from her as Trevor caught her and threw her back on to the settee, heard her blouse tear-as she tried to fight him off, heard herself pleading, 'Trevor, don't—I can explain...'

'Explain it to your husband,' he rasped, his hands brutally tearing at her skirt. 'Reconciliation!' he scoffed. 'He won't want to know you when I've finished with you.'

Perry opened her mouth to plead again, but breath went from her as the weight of his body landed heavily on top of her. And then all thought of pleading with him went as breath returned and instinct had her using it all with what strength she had to start screaming.

'Shut up, you bitch,' Trevor grunted, transferring one hand from her clothing to smother her mouth.

His head came nearer as his hand left her mouth, and then several things happened at once. Before his mouth could touch hers the sound of a door being crashed in reverberated through the room, while simultaneously she