Love in the Valley - Page 47

‘Will you go?’ with sudden sharpness.

‘Maybe,’ she shrugged, annoyed with herself that indecisiveness, which had never been part of her makeup before, was becoming a trait. She frequently dithered of late, even over a simple thing like the route for her next jog.

She was sorry when Richard finally left. Loneliness was also new to her. Up until now her life had been very comfortable, she realised. No traumas, no tragedies or great upheavals to test the mettle of her character. Fate had obviously been saving up for the Big One. She felt alone and afraid, struggling along, trying to reconnect the flow of her life. She should look on Hugh as a drug she had to get out of her system. But like Steve she had to want and need to do it herself. At least she didn’t have his unbearable temptation of having her particular drug easily available. For her it was cold turkey all the way. The real, the deepest fear, was the unanswerable one. She avoided even thinking about it. What if she was one of those people fated only to love once in their life, once and forever? Would she ever find happiness with another man if all love was to be measured by this one?

She went alone to the theatre, meeting Ros and Olivia and Steve in the foyer. It was lovely to join their friendly banter again and as they took their seats in the stalls, Julia congratulated Steve and Olivia on their respective coups. Steve was relaxed, happy and cautiously optimistic about his rock opera. Olivia was over the moon. Julia caught Ros’s eye and tried not to grin as Olivia told her, in an incredulous voice, that Logan had had the nerve to suggest going with her … splitting the grant and going halves on expenses.

Poor Logan, thought Julia as the lights dimmed. We worried about the wrong person. Olivia had a fair chunk of the Marlow ambition in her makeup. Everything rated a poor second to Art right now … including spiritual gurus!

The play was an immense success, earning the players a standing ovation and when Richard joined them at the after-show supper in the bar, Julia rewarded him with an exuberant hug.

‘Thank you, darling,’ he grinned, his face shiny with cold cream and congratulations. ‘You didn’t notice the set shiver as I went over the balcony did you? I thought the whole lot was going to come down on top of me. God, I’m hot and thirsty.’ He snatched a glass from a passing tray and toasted: ‘Those who are about to die …’

Ros overrode the others’ protests. ‘Yes, there were a few rough edges; I noticed you fluff a line or three.’

‘Trust you to notice,’ Richard groaned. ‘And Juliet nearly got the giggles when the balcony wobbled. Have you seen Michael? He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat!’ According to Richard his father always smiled most just before he lowered the boom.

‘Probably because he’s so pleased,’ said Julia, causing the trio of Marlows to exchange tolerant looks. ‘Well, I thought it was perfect. Cheers!’ She raised her third, or was it her fourth, glass of sparkling wine? She was feeling much better, chasing melancholy away with make-believe.

At midnight the management announced regretfully that their licence did not permit the serving of any more alcohol, and the glittering throng began their exodus. Soon there remained only hard-core supporters and cast.

Julia, frayed by an excess of hilarity, took to sipping wine from a coffee cup in deference to the licensing laws. She was floating in a haze when she was pounced upon by Connie and borne away to the stuffy peace of a dressing room the size of a small wardrobe.

‘Mine, would you believe,’ Connie announced, subsiding on to a wooden chair. ‘And I share this shoebox with two others! Such are the rewards of fame. Sometimes I can understand people wanting to become secretaries or … or … mechanics!’

Julia latched on to the familiar. ‘Charley?’

‘So you know about Charley? I mean Charles. Why am I always the last? Michael says he should be given his head, providing he gets good marks in School Certificate this year. And who am I to oppose Michael? But enough of my trials. Pull up that stool, darling, and let’s have a chat. I hear you’re off overseas again.’

Julia was glad to sit down. Her head had lost its centre of gravity and the world was beginning to revolve around her in a most peculiar fashion.

‘Not necessarily. I haven’t made up my mind yet.’

‘Good. You don’t want to rush into anything. Where precisely is Phillip going?’

‘Probably the Virgin Islands,’ said Julia, with grim humour.

‘Mmmm …’ Connie eyed her thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on a silk-clad knee. ‘You’ve put on weight, Julia—it suits you. In fact you’re looking marvellous. Too good to be true. I thought you were supposed to be madly and unhappily love with my son?’

‘Richard?’ The world stood still, but now it was her head that spun.

Connie gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘No, dear girl. Hugh.’

‘Oh. Hugh.’ She frowned into her drink.

‘Yes. Hugh. Do concentrate, Julia. It’s important.’

‘Not to him.’ A wave of alcoholic depression swept over Julia. ‘He says I’m in love with a figment of my own imagination. Is it so impossible to believe that I might love him, himself?’ she demanded belligerently.

‘Of course not, darling. I believe you,’ Connie soothed. ‘It’s just that Hugh won’t allow himself to admit it. Just as he wouldn’t allow himself to make love to you!’ Connie spread her hands in charming deprecation as Julia blushed scarlet.

‘Forgive us our trespasses, Julia, but Richard and I happen to care very much about you, and Hugh. I realise that mothers are not supposed to poke their noses into their sons’ sex lives, but this is a special case. He blossomed so beautifully there for a while, with you, now he’s all closed up again. And he never talks about himself … he’s such a secretive person …’ Connie sighed, and for a moment she looked all

her years and more, the life dying out of her eyes, her curving mouth pinched with an old pain.

‘Deepest wounds can least their feelings tell. That’s Hugh. His wounds run very, very deep, Julia, and it’s quite reasonable that he should fight against being hurt again. Poor Hugh …’

Julia was desperately trying to clear her muzzy brain and focus her attention on Connie’s moving mouth. What was she saying? Poor Hugh? What about poor Julia? She struggled to discipline her thoughts. Connie said this was important.

Tags: Susan Napier Billionaire Romance
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