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squirm with guilt as she informed him that she knew exactly why he
had married her.
Adrian stirred again and Mary dropped her hand from his arm. It was
a moment of profound silence as they looked into one another's eyes,
while Mary waited, fully aware of the opening she had provided for
her husband to hint her more cruelly than ever before. Her lips
moved; an almost soundless plea was uttered.
'Don't deny it, Adrian. Please don't deny it.' And as she continued to
hold his gaze she saw some of the bitterness leave his face.
'I won't deny it,' he said at last. 'You're quite right, Mary, I found I
couldn't hurt you - not in that way.'
A stillness entered the room, and then a breeze floated in through the
open window heralding the first of the autumn rains. Soon the island
would be bright with flowers again, the autumn crocuses and
hyacinths; the cyclamen that would clothe the high valleys and the
squills and the sea- lilies which would bloom on the coast. Outside a
bird sang in the juniper tree, sang for sheer joy as if to tell the world
its heart was light.
Mary's heart was light, too, and full. She smiled through a sudden
mist of tears, and a little while later when Adrian again asked her for
the key to the bungalow she was able to say, though in a subdued and
gentle tone,
'It is because of me that you want Cleone to leave, isn't it?' Before he
could reply Mary turned. A pan of thick soup was about to boil over
on the stove and, swiftly, in order to save herself the chore of
cleaning up the mess that threatened, Mary picked up a tea towel and
grabbed the two small handles of the pan, lifting it right off the stove.
But the towel had caught at one of the knobs; the pan was suddenly
jerked back and Mary let out a scream as the boiling soup swished
over the side of the pan, on to her arm.
'Mary - darling!' Adrian somehow managed to take the pan from her
and with a wholly instinctive movement she seized a sponge, soaked
it in cold water and dabbed it on her arm. 'No - you don't do that!' He
was too late. The scalded part of the arm was stripped of skin; it was
adhering to the sponge which Adrian took from her trembling
fingers. 'Mary, my love ' He found a clean towel and wrapped it
round her arm. The pain was excruciating; her face was contorted and
she bit her lip till it bled in an effort to stifle her screams.
'Oh, Adrian -Oh, help me... .'
She was at the doctor's in no time at all, but the short journey in the
car seemed like the long road to eternity. The dressing gave her some
ease, but the pain had travelled right up to her shoulder and the
doctor warned her that severe pain could be expected for several
days.
'Even then, you will have much suffering. These things take a long
time to clear up.' She would have a scar, too, a bad scar that would
fade in time; though it would be many years before it disappeared
altogether.
'I blame myself, darling. All that was Anya's job.'
Darling.... Even the agony of her arm could not occupy her mind to
the exclusion of that endearment.
'Anya wouldn't have been so careless,' she said, after a long moment
of savouring that tender word. 'She wanted to do the cooking, but I
told her to see to the bedrooms.'
'Anya is more used to these things. You should have let her do the
cooking.' His voice held regret; he blamed himself for the accident,
for despite his inability to hurt her that night he had kept firmly to his
decision that she should stay at home. In fairness Mary owned to his
having an excuse. It was simply a case of injured pride. No man
wants to be told that he doesn't keep his wife, however true die
statement might be. No, Adrian must not blame himself, and she told
him so. The accident was purely the result of her own carelessness.
Immediately they arrived home Adrian told Mary to go to her room
and lie down. When he came to her a few moments later carrying a
glass of water and the box of tablets which the doctor had given him
she was sitting on the bed, her face ashen. She felt abominably sick.
'You're all to pieces,' he observed, regarding her shrewdly. 'Nerves.
Take these.' Mary swallowed the tablets, aware that the feeling of
nausea was quickly passing. Adrian took off her shoes, gendy pulled
her to her feet while he turned down the cover, then he laid her on the
bed, drawing the cover up over her. 'Those tablets are to make you
sleep. Try to setde down now.' His eyes lingered on her bandaged
arm, lying straight out on the cover. 'Is the pain very bad?'
'It is rather.' She tried to take her mind off the pain, but the bandages
were tight and, Mary suspected, were also beginning to stick to the
raw flesh. Nevertheless, she managed a smile, as she lay there.
Looking up at him. His dark eyes returned her smile, but the tightness
of his mouth remained. What had he on his mind to make him appear
so grey and drawn? The accident, obviously, the accident that had
brought from him that spontaneous endearment, drawing them a little
closer together. But there was bitterness and pain in his eyes still and
although Mary now felt confident that eventually they would be
happy again she was not so optimistic as to believe the accident could
by some magic process resolve all their difficulties. Moved though
her husband was by her physical suffering, he was not yet ready to
pardon her offences. But that odd light of expectancy in his eyes
when she had denied marrying him for security convinced her that he
was ready - or almost ready - to listen to any explanation she might
wish to supply.
A tiredness enveloped her and she yawned. Some time, when she was
feeling better, perhaps she could talk to him... perhaps....
He bent to smooth the bed cover and bring it higher up. She felt his
warm clean breath on her face; her mouth trembled, inviting his kiss.
His lips smiled then and he bent lower to take her offering.
'My Mary ' The words she had been aching to hear broke from him, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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