Observing him, Tessa thought of the way he had chastised her about drinking a short time before. Now he had obviously forgotten that, since he had filled her glass to overflowing. What’s wrong with him? she wondered, observing him acutely. Is he drunk? Or drugged? Her guard went up once more, and she decided to remain silent, listening to an inner voice that warned her to protect herself.
Earlier Tessa had been hungry, but now her appetite had totally disappeared. Nonetheless, she began to eat, putting a forkful of chicken into her mouth. It was delicious, but he was making her feel so nervous she could barely swallow the food.
The slamming down of his fork, the sound of metal hitting glass made her sit up with a jerk, alarm flaring in her. Swiftly she looked across at him. ‘Mark, what’s wrong?’
‘This is foul. I don’t know what you’ve cooked but it’s disgusting. Pig swill!’
‘But it’s delicious,’ she exclaimed, and then instantly stopped speaking, not wanting to inflame him further. She felt a surge of panic inside, and an internal shaking took hold.
‘Don’t argue with me, you bitch!’ he yelled, his face growing red and contorted. He pushed the plate away so ferociously it slid across the glass table and fell to the floor with a crash.
Tessa did not dare move a muscle. She simply sat there staring at him, her large eyes growing wide with surprise.
‘Clean it up!’ he shouted angrily. ‘Or I’ll give you a thrashing you won’t forget.’ He half rose in his chair, raising his hand, and she leapt to her feet before he could touch her and flew into the kitchen. She found the dustpan and brush and ran back to the breakfast area.
Kneeling down, she swept the food and the shattered plate into the dustpan, and fled again, still shaking inside. A moment later, she returned with a wet dishcloth, knelt again, and washed the sticky mess off the polished parquet floor.
Unexpectedly, and so suddenly she went into a state of shock, she felt his hand gripping the back of her neck. He was standing over her, and she sensed, rather than saw, the menace in him. He tightened his grip on her neck, squeezing it roughly.
‘Please let go of me, Mark,’ she said, her voice soft, cajoling.
‘What’s going on between you and Toby Harte?’ he demanded. ‘You’d better tell me, bitch!’
‘Nothing’s going on. We’re family, we’ve always been best friends since childhood, you know that,’ she answered as evenly as possible. Staying calm and controlled was important, she realized that.
‘What I hear is that you’re more than friends,’ he hissed, squeezing her neck even harder. ‘What I hear is that he’s in your knickers and has been since you were kids.’
‘That’s not true, and you know it,’ she cried. ‘He’s my cousin, for God’s sake.’
‘Ha! Fat lot that means! Par for the course, I’d say, the way your bunch marry each other. Talk about an incestuous lot: your bloody family takes first prize.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s nothing between Toby and me—’
‘Daddy! Daddy!’ Adele squealed, running into the breakfast area in her nightgown, dragging her rag doll Aggie by its arm.
Instantly Mark let go of Tessa and rushed to his daughter. He gathered her up in his arms, held her close to him. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ he whispered against her softly curling blonde hair.
‘How’s Daddy’s special little girl? Are you all right, my pet?’
‘Yes.’ She nuzzled her face against his, then said, ‘Come see my doll, Daddy.’
‘But I can see her,’ he responded, taking hold of the rag doll she was dangling in one hand.
‘No, new doll,’ Adele said.
Tessa, who had immediately jumped up and retreated to the safety of the kitchen, explained quickly, ‘I bought her a doll today. It’s upstairs in her bedroom.’
Mark glanced at Tessa. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he murmured, and once more his voice sounded much more normal.
That’s for the benefit of Adele, Tessa thought, as she watched his retreating figure, wondering how long he would be gone. For the first time in her life she was afraid. And she did not know what to do. Her initial thought was to flee, to run out of the house and go to Toby’s flat. But Mark had Adele with him and she could not leave her child behind. Her eyes flew to her handbag on the far counter. Her mobile phone was in it, and she went to get it. But who should she call? Toby would come over immediately, and if she called Shane he would be here as fast as possible. And yet she did not want either of them to know about Mark and his treatment of her. It would humiliate her to confide in them.
Wait it out. See what happens, that inner voice told her. But she understood that she must be cautious, wary, and very alert.
After fifteen minutes, when Mark had not returned to the kitchen, Tessa went out into the hall and climbed the stairs, being as quiet as possible. As she crept down the corridor stealthily, she saw that the door of Adele’s room was open, light shining out, and she held her breath until she got there. All was quiet, perfectly still inside the room. When she finally tiptoed in she saw that Adele was already fast asleep, clutching the rag doll to her and sucking her thumb.
Bending over her daughter, Tessa smoothed the fair hair from her face, turned out the bedside lamp but left the small nightlight burning.
Once she had closed Adele’s door behind her, Tessa continued down the corridor to their bedroom. The door was half open and she pushed it, peered inside. Mark, half undressed, was sprawled across the bed. Lost to the world and snoring, he was in a drunken or drugged sleep: which she did not know.
After closing the bedroom door, Tessa stood in the corridor, hesitating, debating what to do. Finally she decided to sleep on the single bed in Adele’s room, which had been put there for her or Elvira to use if there was ever a medical problem with Adele. She knew Mark would never harm their child, and so she deemed it the safest place to be tonight.
Tessa lay on top of the single bed under the duvet cover, fully dressed except for her blazer and shoes, and clutching her mobile phone in one hand.
Although she had locked Adele and herself in the child’s room, she found it impossible to relax, but over the next hour Mark did not emerge from their bedroom and everything was quiet. Silence reigned throughout the entire house.
Eventually she dozed off from sheer exhaustion; it was only at dawn, when a glimmering of light began to seep in through the windows, that she suddenly awakened with a start, for a second feeling out of sorts and disoriented. And then she remembered the events of the night before, and her husband’s strange behaviour, and she became fearful for a brief moment.
Mark had always had a tendency to be volatile–he was excitable and even abrasive at times–but it was only in the last six months that he had become verbally abusive, and this had both startled and alarmed her.
As she lay there thinking about Mark, she remembered that there had often been unspoken criticism in his attitude towards her, plus a superiority in his manner in the last few years. The latter had amused her because she was nothing if not self-confident, a trait which she knew she had inherited from her great-grandmother, Emma Harte, via her grandmother Daisy and her mother. She was not easily cowed; intimidation rolled off her back like water, and she could be wonderfully articulate if she had to defend herself. The only thing that could make her truly apprehensive was physical violence directed at her daughter. Or her.
Last weekend a quarrel had erupted between her and Mark about who would succeed her mother. It was an old subject, and they had wrangled, and in the heat of the moment Mark had lunged at her, as if to punch her in the face. She had adroitly sidestepped him, but then she had tripped and fallen down the six steps that led to the lower-level larder, situated immediately above the basement.
He had been at once chagrined, had rushed to pick her up, looking scared and worried. The result of the fall had been her heavily bruised shoulder and upper arm, which her mother had looked at yesterday, appalled, and concerned.
This was the first time her husband had gone for her in that way during their entire marriage, and she had been shaken to the core and mentally thrown off balance. Mark had a quirky personality which seemed to be coming to the fore more and more. He was not the easiest of men, but he had never displayed the slightest hint of violence in the past.
Now she contemplated the events of the night before. He might well have become really violent if she had not remained calm and in control of herself, and if little Adele had not walked into the breakfast area precisely when she did. The unexpected appearance of his adored child had evidently brought him to his senses; certainly it had pulled him up short, prevented possible mayhem.
Tessa was certain he had been drinking earlier in the evening, and also convinced he was on something else as well, some sort of designer drug, perhaps. He was definitely off, not himself in a variety of ways, and this had unsettled her. Normally he held his drink extremely well, which is why she had become so alarmed at his erratic behaviour. His eyes were glassy, actually glazed over, and he had gone through several mood swings in a very short period of time. Last night she had seen a whole new Mark.
She would have to ask Toby about drugs. As a high-powered media executive running a television network, he probably knew quite a lot about them, and if he didn’t, Gideon surely would. She knew that neither of her cousins would go anywhere near drugs. They had always needed to be in control, of themselves and others, and anyway they were too ambitious, driven and work-oriented to indulge in substances of oblivion. But in their line of business they would have a certain amount of information at their disposal.
She wondered, suddenly, if she ought to confide in Toby, after all. He was the closest to her, except for Lorne…but they were tight because they were twins, and Lorne might easily tell their mother about Mark and how he was behaving if she took him into her confidence. A still tongue, a wise head: that had been her motto for years. Tell no one…
Little Adele murmured in her sleep, and turned over restlessly, and Tessa threw off the duvet, swung her feet to the floor and almost stepped on the mobile phone which must have fallen out of her hand during the night.
After looking down at Adele, smoothing her hair gently from her face, smiling with pleasure, and filled with love for this gorgeous child of hers, Tessa covered her with the eiderdown then stepped across the room.
Unlocking the door, she went along the corridor, being scrupulously careful not to make a noise. It was unusually quiet. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was just a few minutes past six.
Moving carefully, Tessa paused at their bedroom door, opened it gently, and looked inside. Mark was still passed out on top of their bed, sprawled diagonally across it, almost in the same position as last night. Hardly daring to breathe, she closed the door as quietly as possible and continued down the corridor to her own suite.
This was a set of private rooms she had insisted on designing herself. She had fought Mark about it, finally winning. It consisted of a fully equipped office, a small gym, a large and luxurious bathroom, plus a huge dressing room where her clothes hung in well-organized perfection. Also housed there were her shoes, handbags, scarves, shawls, and other accessories. It was her private domain and it gave her a great deal of pleasure; she loved to have everything neat, orderly, and scrupulously arranged, being a perfectionist in all things.
After a quick shower, Tessa blow-dried her hair and then sat down at the dressing table to put on make-up. A short while later she went to one of the closets and selected a tailored grey pin-stripe suit and a pale blue man-tailored cotton shirt. Within minutes she was hurrying downstairs to the kitchen. After putting on the coffee, she quickly stacked the dishwasher with a few remaining items from last night’s cooking, turned it on, threw out the coq au vin, which had congealed overnight, and then made herself a slice of toast.
She was halfway through her first cup of coffee when Mark suddenly appeared in the kitchen. His blondish-brown hair was still damp from the shower, and he was freshly shaved, dressed in a white shirt, which was open at the neck, and dark blue trousers. He carried the jacket of his suit and a dark blue tie as well.
He hesitated fractionally when he saw her, his step seeming to falter, and then he recouped and came towards her, a feeble smile playing on his face.
After putting the jacket and tie on one of the stools at the island counter, he came around to her side, and stood looking down at her, forcing the smile to become a little wider. ‘Good morning.’
When there was no response from her, he said in a low, contrite voice, ‘I’m sorry, Tessa darling. I can’t remember exactly what happened last night, but when I woke up not long ago I realized I’d probably behaved badly.’
Still she remained silent.
He stared at her, all of his attention on her. ‘I did, didn’t I? Behave badly, I mean. Please tell me what happened? I’m so troubled…we had a row, didn’t we?’
‘No, we didn’t,’ she said, speaking at last, levelling her steady gaze at him, her face icy cold, her eyes the colour of steel.
‘Oh,’ was all he could say, obviously taken aback. He moved away, went and poured himself a cup of coffee, and carried the mug back to the island. He stood next to her, drinking it. After a split second, he murmured, ‘I thought we’d had a quarrel, because I found myself on top of the bed, almost fully dressed, and obviously the bed hadn’t been slept in…and you were gone.’
‘Only too true.’ Tessa let out a sigh. ‘However, we didn’t have a row, Mark, but you did behave very badly indeed. You came home in an extremely belligerent mood, and tried to pick a fight. Your behaviour was extraordinary, very strange, in fact, and I thought you were not only drunk but on something. You were, weren’t you?’
He shook his head vehemently. ‘No, no, not at all. I’d had a couple of drinks, that’s true, but if you’re implying I’d taken drugs, or some kind of…substance, then you’re totally mistaken. Totally.’
‘But there was something terribly wrong with you! Your eyes were glazed over and your manner was most erratic’ Deciding to let him have all the gory details, she told him everything that had happened the night before. And when it came to his physical attack on her, how he had held her neck in a vice-like grip when she was on the floor, she pulled no punches.
It was quite apparent to Tessa that he remembered bits and pieces, because he nodded his head several times, obviously recalling certain things but not others.
His shame and remorse hung heavy on him. ‘Oh my god! Tessa, I’m so sorry, so terribly sorry. All I can think of is that I took some cold pills on the train. Perhaps they had a bad effect on me, especially since I did have a few drinks afterwards. You see, I thought I was coming down with the flu, and I bought some cold pills at the station…swilled them down with Scotch. It was stupid. I was stupid.’
Although he was obviously upset and ashamed, and wanted to make amends to her, Tessa instinctively knew that he was lying. About the cold pills, at least. It was such a phony story it took all her self-control not to laugh out loud. But she remained absolutely cool, and unresponsive to his protestations of innocence and his sudden abundance of contrition.
‘Who did you meet yesterday?’ she asked after a few sips of coffee. She stared at him over the rim of the mug, her silvery-grey eyes penetrating, challenging.
‘I told you, darling. A client.’ Mark went and sat down opposite her and put the coffee mug on the countertop.
‘But you didn’t say who the client is. What’s his name?’ she pressed.
‘Oh, I thought I told you before. His name is William Stone, and he’s apparently filthy rich. I’ve designed a house for him…he calls it the house of his dreams.’
‘And where is this dream house?’
‘In the Midlands. I thought I’d told you that.’ He frowned at her.
‘Did you drink with him before you left? Maybe that would explain your disastrous condition.’
‘What do you mean?’
&
nbsp; ‘If you drank with your Mr. Stone and then drank on the train, maybe you were drunker than you realized.’
‘Possibly.’ He shook his head, and leaned across the counter, taking her hand in his. ‘Listen, Tessa, I’m truly sorry. This whole thing has been painful, very painful indeed, for me to listen to. Please, darling, say you accept my apology. I promise it won’t happen again. You know I adore you. Upsetting you is the last thing I want to do. I love you, Tessa.’
She stared into his face, remained absolutely silent. Despite his bloodshot eyes he looked surprisingly boyish this morning. Perhaps it was the pink flush on his cheeks or maybe his open shirt, but he did look young and appealing. It had always been part of his charm, that collegiate look of his, and his sincerity. Although she was never quite sure if that was really genuine; sometimes it struck her that it was entirely fraudulent.
Finally nodding her head slowly, Tessa said, ‘I forgive you, Mark.’ But will I ever forget? she asked herself, and then to him, she added, ‘But it can’t happen again. If you ever become physically violent with me, as you did last night, I’ll leave you. Divorce you. I won’t stand for that, you know. And neither will Paula and Shane.’ She had thrown their names into the mix just to remind him of exactly who she was, and who it was that stood behind her. If nothing else, he understood the meaning of money and power, of immense clout, as he usually referred to it.
Mark smiled in relief, and reached out. He took her hand again, brought it to his mouth, kissed her fingers. ‘I’m truly, truly sorry. And it will never, ever happen again, I promise you, Tessa.’ His eyes did not leave her face, as he added, ‘I’m so utterly ashamed of myself. Contrite.’
The sound of the key in the back door made them both sit up a little straighter, and Tessa exclaimed, ‘Oh it’s Mrs. Jolles. Elvira asked her to come in early today.’
‘Why’s that?’ Mark asked, frowning.