Betrayed

‘If you say so, Miss Stoner.’ Mrs Davis was evidently not prepared to make any concessions, and Olivia pulled a face as she marched out of the room.

‘You really shouldn’t make fun of Enid,’ Andrew declared, as soon as the woman was out of earshot, and Olivia mentally drew a breath. ‘She’s been good to us, you know, and we all rely on her.’

‘I wasn’t making fun of her,’ Olivia protested quietly. ‘But—well, I do know where our bacon and eggs come from. And all this—Miss Stoner! Doesn’t she know I used to live here?’

Andrew shrugged, and Olivia thought how much more like their father he had become. When she’d gone away, Andrew had been seventeen; still a boy really, and lots of fun to be with. After all, if it hadn’t been for him, she might never have had the opportunity to go to the States. It was when he’d told her that the Kramers were thinking of getting a nanny, to look after their little girl while they were on tour, that the idea of applying for the job had occurred to her. And it had been due to Andrew’s influence that she had got it. She had had little experience, when all was said and done, and none of it professional. But when she got to know him better Stephen had confessed that he had been dreading having to employ some snooty graduate from a nursing academy, and right from the beginning Olivia and Denise Kramer had really got along.

But now, Andrew was much more serious. He was married, too. She had met his wife the day before. But Laura, as she was called, had seemed shy and self-effacing, happiest with their two children, leaving Andrew to make the decisions.

‘I expect she feels a bit uncomfortable with you,’ Andrew volunteered now, and Olivia had to make an effort to remember what they had been talking about.

‘Oh—Mrs Davis,’ she said, pouring herself a cup of black coffee, and inhaling the aroma. ‘I don’t think it’s that at all.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Perhaps she’s afraid her position is being threatened. The prodigal’s return, and all that jazz.’

Andrew snorted. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, pushing his own cup aside. ‘Why should Enid feel threatened by you? You’re hardly likely to want to get your hands dirty, are you? I mean——’ he gave her a scathing appraisal ‘—that’s hardly the outfit for swilling out the barn.’

‘And is that what Mrs Davis does?’ enquired Olivia coolly, realising Andrew was only reflecting his father’s attitude, and her brother coloured.

‘No——’

‘So why should I be expected to do it?’ Olivia regarded him steadily. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t like what I’m wearing, but it’s cool and comfortable, and washes very easily.’

Andrew’s jaw hardened. ‘I didn’t mean that, and you know it.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes.’ He blustered. ‘I mean, this is just a duty visit for you. You’ll go to Gran’s funeral tomorrow, pay your last respects, and then you’ll be off again. Back to New York, with your swish friends, and your swish flat——’

Olivia gasped. ‘How do you know I live in a swish flat, as you call it? You’ve never even seen it.’

‘No. But I’ve heard plenty about it,’ he retorted. ‘Mum reads us all your letters, you know. About what you’ve been doing, and where you’ve been——’

‘Then you must also know that for the first five years I was in New York I lived in a one-bedroom walk-up in Queens,’ declared Olivia hotly. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing swish about Queens. But I worked hard—and I saved—and eventually, eventually, I managed to buy the lease of a small apartment on the lower east side.’

Andrew’s mouth curled. ‘You saved!’

‘Yes, I saved.’

‘And what about Perry Randall? I suppose he didn’t make a contribution.’

Olivia sighed. ‘Perry helped me, yes. But it was my idea to start an agency for British nannies in New York, and it was because of its success that I was able to afford something better. Heavens, Stephen helped me as much as anyone; surely you know that? Perry just thought I was a good investment, that’s all. It—it wasn’t until later that—that——’

‘That you became his mistress,’ finished Andrew disparagingly, and Olivia had to steel herself not to slap his smug face.

‘It wasn’t easy, living alone,’ she said instead. ‘You’ve always had a family to support you. I haven’t.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ demanded Andrew harshly. ‘I was a fool. I should never have let you persuade me to ask Stephen to take you with him. I suppose I never thought you’d really go. And then, when Mum had her heart attack, Dad blamed me.’

‘Did he?’ Olivia expelled her breath unsteadily. That explained a lot. She should have realised their father would need to find a scapegoat. Much as she loved him, she was not blind to his failings.

‘Anyway, it’s nothing to do with me what you do with your life,’ Andrew declared now. ‘If you ask me, Matt was well rid of you. I never thought a sister of mine would get a reputation for sleeping around——’

‘I do not sleep around,’ protested Olivia. ‘And if you’re talking about Perry again, I should tell you that he has asked me to marry him.’

Andrew looked sulky. ‘Are you going to?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘No.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘Look, Andy, just because you still imagine that marriage is the be all and end all of everything don’t expect everyone to feel the same. I’m an independent woman; I have my own business. How I choose to spend the rest of my life, and with whom, is no one’s concern but mine.’

Her brother scowled, and got up from the table. ‘If you’d married Matt, and had a couple of kids, you wouldn’t be talking that way. It’s—it’s ungodly!’

‘Oh, really!’ Olivia found it difficult to contain her anger. So far as Andrew, and her father, were concerned, a woman only had one role in life. And if she deviated from that role, she was both selfish and wicked.

‘Anyway, I’ve got to be getting on,’ said Andrew, placing his chair squarely against the table. ‘Some of us have work to do.’

Olivia rode the jab. ‘All right,’ she said, cradling her cup in her hands, and looking up at him over its rim. ‘I may come and join you later. Where is everyone, by the way? Sara’s bed was empty when I woke up. I thought she’d be down here.’

‘I dare say she’s about somewhere,’ replied Andrew reluctantly. ‘I heard Mum say she was going to gather some vegetables, and I think Sara went with her. Why don’t you go and join them? They probably need your help more than I do.’

‘Oh, Andy!’ His almost childish desire to get his own back broke through Olivia’s reserve. Unable to sustain her anger against him, she got up from the table, and ignoring his instinctive withdrawal, she gave him a swift hug. ‘We’ve got to forget the past,’ she told him gently, looking into hazel eyes that were several shades darker than her own. ‘I have missed you—all of you—terribly. But—well, there were reasons why I couldn’t come back before now. Please—believe me.’

Andrew’s sun-browned features were wary. ‘Don’t think you can get round me, the way you got round Dad,’ he exclaimed, but she could sense he was weakening. ‘Oh—all right,’ he muttered. ‘I missed you, too. But that doesn’t mean I forgive you for staying away so long.’

He left, after bestowing a rather awkward kiss on her cheek, and Olivia gave a wistful smile as she seated herself at the table again. Slowly but surely, she told herself firmly. Eventually they would all come round. They were her family, weren’t they? And in spite of everything, they loved her. She had to believe that.

Which was more than could be said about her grandmother, she thought ruefully. It was obvious where Harriet Stoner’s loyalties had lain, and they had not been with Olivia. She had been a potent reason to stay away from Lower Mychett. So long as Harriet Stoner was alive, Olivia would always have felt the outsider, the cuckoo in the nest.

Not that she could totally blame her grandmother for that, Olivia admitted. And, in all fairness, she had not been the only reason Olivia had stayed away. Her dread of seeing Matthew again, of rekindling all the pain and anguish she had felt at leaving, had provided a far more powerful deterrent. And she had been right to take those precautions, she conceded uneasily. Even now, the chemistry was still active, and avoidance seemed the only cure.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u604fcc91-46c1-5499-ab8a-9f03372b77d2)

A SHADOW darkened the open doorway, and Olivia, who had been lost in thought, looked up almost guiltily. She was so used to being active. The agency she had founded, and which she now ran with the help of an American woman, Agnes Reina, demanded a lot of her energy, and it was rare that she found time to simply sit and meditate. Consequently, there was a look almost of culpability in her eyes when she turned her head, and the man in the doorway raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

‘All alone?’ he asked, propping his shoulder against the jamb, and surveying her intently. ‘What’s the matter? Has someone been upsetting you?’

Olivia’s nerves jangled. In tight jeans and a cotton shirt, that was open part-way down his chest, Matthew looked even more attractive today than he had done yesterday. His dark hair was ruffled, as if he had used his fingers instead of a comb, and his cool grey eyes were narrowed and disturbing.

‘No more than usual,’ Olivia answered at last, having taken a few moments to get her reactions to him under control. It wouldn’t do to let him see how he unsettled her. And she was realising, belatedly, that by agreeing to stay on after her grandmother’s funeral she was committing herself to more than just a family reconciliation.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked now, pushing himself away from the door, and stepping into the room. ‘What have they been saying? Talk to me. I want to know.’

Olivia looked away from his demanding gaze. ‘Why should you care?’ she countered, picking up her coffee-cup again, only to find it was empty. Damn, she thought impatiently, pushing the cup aside. She would have welcomed having something to do with her hands. But she wasn’t going to attempt to refill it. Not with Matthew watching her, and her nerves governing her movements.

‘I don’t know—but I do,’ Matthew responded evenly, swinging out a chair from the table, straddling it, and folding his arms along the back. ‘That’s why I came over, actually. I thought I’d better come and see if you needed any support.’

‘No. No support needed,’ said Olivia jerkily, and, unable to sit still under his calm appraisal, she got to her feet. Then, picking up the pot of coffee, she carried it busily to the sink, taking off the lid and pouring its contents down the drain.