Storm Force

On her own admission, Debbie had had too much to drink, and had gone into one of the other rooms to sleep it off. When she woke it was the early hours of the morning, and everyone else had left. She was alone with Jay Delaney, who had made it clear he expected to have sex with her, and when she refused he had raped her.

‘I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He was like an animal,’ she had told the newspaper. ‘He said he could have any girl he wanted. That I should be flattered.

‘I was such a fan of his. I worshipped him, and I was thrilled when he asked me to the party. But he’s a sham, and a hypocrite. He’s made me feel dirty—used.’

Her pretty bruised face staring from the front page had haunted Maggie ever since.

She thought, ‘There but for the grace of God …’

Now, she drew a deep breath. She wouldn’t spare Jay Delaney another thought, she vowed silently. He wasn’t worth it, nor was any other man who preyed on women.

It was men like Robin who mattered. Men who were kind and tender—and decent.

Maggie stared at the dregs in her cup, asked herself if she wanted more coffee, and decided against it. She took another restive glance at her watch, and sighed.

Where was Robin? What on earth could have happened to him? He was supposed to have picked her up over half an hour ago, and he was usually punctual to a fault. She got up and began to prowl round the sitting-room, her uneasiness mounting. If traffic on the way to the airport was as heavy as it normally was, then they could end up by being extremely late. It was no good thinking they might be able to make up time on the journey either. Robin was a careful driver who didn’t like to take chances.

All in all, the longed-for holiday wasn’t getting off to a very good start. She had tried to telephone his home, but there had been no reply, signifying that he had set out at least.

Could the car have broken down, she wondered apprehensively, or, worse still, could there have been some kind of accident?

She shook herself. I won’t think like that, she told herself determinedly. He’s just been held up, that’s all, but he’ll be here in a minute, and until he arrives I’ll do a last check—make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.

She had just re-packed her handbag for the second time when she heard the buzzer.

‘Oh, thank heavens.’ She ran to answer the door. ‘I was really beginning to worry,’ she told him, smiling, and halted, her brows knotting. The first thing that occurred to her was that he was wearing a formal dark suit, the kind of thing he would put on for the office, instead of the casual slacks and shirt she would have expected. The second was that he looked pale and worried.

Her heart sank. Maybe her fears about an accident were only too justified.

‘Come in.’ She took his hand, drew him into the room. ‘What’s wrong? What’s happened?’

He sat down on the sofa. He didn’t look at her. ‘Maggie, I can’t go to Mauritius. I’ve had to cancel my flight.’

‘Can’t go?’ she echoed incredulously. ‘What do you mean? What are you talking about? We’ve been looking forward to it for months and …’

‘I know, I know,’ he cut in. ‘And I feel terrible letting you down like this, but you see—it’s Mother.’

For a moment, she looked at him blankly. She thought, I’m not hearing this. It cannot actually be happening, in nineteen-eighties Britain. This is some terrible joke.

Only, somehow, she didn’t feel like laughing.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She said quietly, ‘I don’t think I understand. Are you telling me your mother has imposed some kind of ban on your going—because if so, she’s left it rather late in the day and …’

‘Oh, no.’ He looked horrified. ‘It’s nothing like that. She likes you, Maggie, she really does. No, she’s been taken ill. The doctor thinks it may be her heart. She’s had to go into hospital for tests. I went with her to see her settled in, and I’ve got to go back tonight.’

Maggie swallowed. ‘Her heart?’ she queried. ‘But she’s never had any problem before, has she? Isn’t this rather sudden?’

Robin looked even more solemn. ‘Apparently that’s when it can be most dangerous. And, of course, she’s never been strong,’ he added defensively.

It was Maggie’s private opinion that Mrs Hervey could go ten rounds with an ox and win on a knock-out, but she bit back the angry words.

‘All she could think of was you,’ Robin went on. ‘She kept saying to me while we were waiting for the ambulance, “Poor Margaret will be so disappointed.” She was nearly in tears.’

‘I can imagine,’ Maggie said grimly. ‘When did all this start?’

‘In the early hours of this morning, although she did confess to the doctor that she hadn’t been feeling very well for several days. But she said nothing, tried to pretend nothing was wrong, because she didn’t want to be a nuisance.’

Maggie’s lips parted, then closed again. She knew an overwhelming impulse to seize Robin by his neatly knotted conservative tie and say, ‘Your mother has turned being a nuisance into an art-form. She is greedy and selfish, and terrified of losing you. She’s taken a stock situation from fiction—a cliché that I’d pencil out, screaming, if I came across it in a script—because she knows that I’ll recognise it as such and you won’t. It’s her way of telling me that I can’t win. That she’s prepared to use the ultimate weapon against me—delicate health.’

‘You’ve gone really pale.’ Robin reached out and patted her hand, rather clumsily. ‘I knew how concerned you’d be. I tried to think of some way of breaking it to you …’

‘Passing on this kind of news is never easy.’ Maggie kept her voice neutral with an effort. ‘How long does your mother expect to stay in hospital?’

‘It’s difficult to say, and of course, I have to be on hand in case she needs anything.’

Maggie steeled herself. ‘And the doctor’s quite sure it is her heart? After all, your mother doesn’t have a great deal to occupy herself with when you’re not there, and it’s easy to—build up symptoms in one’s own mind—imagine things …’

Robin’s pleasant face hardened perceptibly. ‘Just what are you implying? Do I infer that you think my mother has invented this attack, because she’s bored in some way? How could you? If you’d seen her—seen the pain she was in—the brave way she was trying to cope. Maggie, I know you’re disappointed about the holiday, and I am too, but this really isn’t worthy of you.’

There was a silence, then Maggie said quietly, ‘No, perhaps not. I apologise.’ She forced a smile. ‘So much for Mauritius, then,’ Or anywhere else out of your mother’s clutches.

‘Oh, but you can still go,’ he said quickly. ‘The hotel reservation is waiting, after all. It would be a pity to waste it. Mother said so. She said, “Margaret deserves to get away for a rest, somewhere in the sun where she can relax and meet new people.”‘

‘How kind of her.’ Anger was beginning to build inside Maggie, and she fought to control it. ‘But I wouldn’t dream of going without you.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps, if your mother’s condition turns out to be less serious than you fear, we could get a later flight. As you say, they’ll keep our room.’

Perhaps the shared room was the crunch as far as Mrs Hervey was concerned. Maybe if we’d booked separate rooms, or even different hotels, she wouldn’t have taken quite such drastic action.

‘I wish I could be as optimistic.’ He gave her an anxious, rather pleading smile. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry about all this. But there’ll be another time.’

Oh, no, there won’t, thought Maggie. Your mother will see to that. This was in the nature of a trial run—to see how you’d react. Now she knows she can pull the strings whenever she wants and you’ll dance.

‘Of course there will,’ she smiled at him, calmly. ‘Now I’m sure you want to get back to the hospital—check there haven’t been any developments. It was good of you to come over and explain in person.’

He looked aghast. ‘But that was the least I could do. Mother insisted.’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve checked with my insurance, and we won’t be out of pocket over any cancellation. Family illness, you know.’ There was another awkward silence, then he looked at his watch. ‘Maybe I should be getting back, at that.’ He gave her an unhappy look. ‘You do understand, don’t you? You know how much I was looking forward to being with you.’

‘Yes.’ As he got to his feet, Maggie rose too, and kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘I understand everything.’ She paused. ‘Give your mother my regards, and tell her I’m sure she’ll be feeling much better soon.’

‘Thank you.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder for a moment. ‘You’re a wonderful girl, Maggie. A wonderful friend.’

She watched the door close behind him, then slowly and carefully she counted to twenty before picking up her empty cup and throwing it with all her strength at the fireplace. It smashed instantly, sending shards of pottery and dribbles of cold coffee everywhere.

She said, ‘And that’s that,’ and began to cry, hot heavy tears of rage and disappointment. She sank down on her knees on the rug, arms wrapped across her body, and sobbed out loud.

She wasn’t crying for the loss of her sunlit, tropical holiday. She was grieving for Robin, and the life with him she had hoped for—planned for. Because she knew with paralysing certainty that even if he were to walk back through that door and propose marriage here and now, she would not accept.

She supposed she should be glad that Mrs Hervey had shown her hand so early in the game. Perhaps one day, she would even be grateful that she had been given the chance to walk away from a potentially monstrous and destructive situation, but not now. Now, she felt stricken, as if her life lay in as many pieces as her ill-used cup.

She wept until she had no tears left, and the harsh, hiccupping sobs gradually died away into silence. She went on kneeling, staring into space, wondering numbly what to do next.