Sleeping Partners

‘I’m in England for a day or so,’ Margaret Bower informed her briskly. ‘A very short vacation of sorts.’

‘I see.’ No, she didn’t, she didn’t see at all, and she was not going to be pushed around by anyone ever again. Robyn stared at the ham sandwich hanging limply in her hand and said firmly, ‘Mrs Bower, I don’t want to be rude but why on earth would you want to come and see me?’

She had cried herself to sleep every night since the day baby Samantha had been born and had averaged about three hours sleep a night before she’d wake, sitting at the window and watching the dawn slowly rise in an uncaring, silent world, before she’d loaded her day with work, work and more work to stop her mind from thinking about this woman’s nephew. And now here was Clay’s aunt demanding an audience, because that was what this boiled down to. She had had enough of this family! Who did they think they were anyway?

There was a longer pause this time, and then the older woman’s voice came very quietly. ‘Because I’m worried to death about Clay and I need to talk to someone about it.’

‘But…your husband? Clay’s friends? I’m sure there must be someone more suitable than me,’ Robyn protested quietly.

‘You, Miss Brett. I need to talk to you,’ Margo Bower said flatly. ‘I’m actually sitting outside your house right now and I promise you I won’t take up more than a few minutes of your time.’

She just didn’t believe this, but then it was typical of the Lincoln bulldozer-type approach, Robyn thought bitterly. Although of course this woman was a Bower by marriage, she had the Lincoln blood running through her veins all right.

And then all her misgivings and annoyance was swept away when Margo Bower said in a very small voice that was quite unlike the rather self-assured tone she’d adopted to date, ‘Please, Miss Brett?’

The last thing—the very last thing—she wanted to do was to talk to Clay’s aunt about anything, so why did she find herself saying, ‘Very well, Mrs Bower, if you think it will help you.’

When the knock came on the door and Robyn opened it, a tall, good-looking, well-dressed woman was standing there, her immaculately coiffured hair dyed a discreet mid-brown which made her appear younger than she was for a few moments, until one really looked into the attractive face. ‘Miss Brett?’

‘Call me Robyn,’ Robyn said quietly as she shook the other woman’s hand and stood aside for her to enter. ‘Come upstairs. Would you like a cup of tea or coffee, or maybe a cold drink?’

‘Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble.’

When they reached the first floor Robyn waved her visitor upstairs as she said, ‘Make yourself comfortable and I’ll bring the coffee up in a moment,’ and then all thought of coffee was forgotten when Margo Bower said, ‘How long have you known my nephew, Robyn?’

Robyn jerked round to face a pair of shrewd blue eyes. ‘I first knew him as a young teenager but then we lost touch until a few months ago,’ she said stiffly. ‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve never seen him like he’s been the last little while,’ Margo answered very directly. ‘I thought…’ And then she flapped her hand at herself. ‘It doesn’t matter what I thought,’ she said a touch irritably. ‘Did you finish it or him?’ And then before Robyn could answer, ‘I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. You must think this is the height of bad taste but I’ve always looked on myself more as Clay’s mother than his aunt, although that still doesn’t excuse my poking my nose into his private life.’

She looked at Robyn with an almost comical air of despair and suddenly Robyn found herself softening. She liked this woman. ‘I take it Clay doesn’t know you’re here?’ she said a touch drily.

‘Good grief, no.’ Margo looked absolutely horrified ‘He would never forgive me and I mean that. I’ve got no excuse, other than that he means a great deal to me. And…and he’s had a rotten deal in certain areas of his life.’

Robyn nodded. ‘He’s told me about his childhood and then his marriage to Laura,’ she said quietly.

‘He has?’ Margo’s mouth had dropped open in a little gape. ‘However did you get him to do that? To my knowledge he has never confided in a soul apart from me.’

Robyn turned back to the coffee pot. Something told her this wasn’t going to be the quick five-minute visit that Clay’s aunt had intimated.

Margo stayed for three hours, and by the time she rose to leave the two women were friends.

Robyn had found herself telling Clay’s aunt the whole story—apart from the fact that she loved him—and then even that came out when Margo said, very softly, ‘You love him, Robyn, don’t you? Don’t worry, I won’t betray a confidence, my dear. But he is a fool. I love him dearly, but I have to say he is a fool. But you could never tell Clay anything from when he was a boy.’

‘I told him plenty,’ Robyn said a touch wryly.

‘So you did, my dear, so you did.’

‘And he’ll never forgive me for it.’ It was something of a wail.

‘Never is a long, long time,’ Margo said thoughtfully. ‘When he came back to the States last Wednesday I’ve never seen him in such a mood. Oh, I don’t mean angry, not exactly, but it was as though something was tearing him apart inside. Many years ago now I remember something similar but this was much, much worse. That’s when I made up my mind to find out what had happened and come and see you for myself. I asked after you, you see—he’s mentioned you often over the last weeks—and he nearly bit my head off. So, I told him I had a little business to do in France—quite true as it happens—and that I intended to combine the trip with a couple of days sightseeing, and flew out over the weekend. Do you know I’m actually in Paris right now?’ she added with a sly smile.

‘Clever you.’ Robyn smiled back. And then the smile faded as she said, ‘But don’t assume he cares for me like I do him, Margo, because he doesn’t. It was a physical thing on his side mainly. Oh, I don’t doubt he grew to like me over the last weeks but there’s a vast difference between that and love, isn’t there? He was probably upset because of what I said to him, not that our relationship—such as it was—is over.’

‘Maybe.’ Margo looked at her with sympathetic eyes. ‘But don’t forget he has had years of hiding his feelings, Robyn, from when he was a little boy in fact. He’s all locked up inside.’

The two women hugged as Margo left. ‘I shan’t mention I’ve been here,’ Margo said quietly as they stood on the doorstep. ‘But if I don’t see you again, can I just say I think you’re one in a million and that I would very much have liked to welcome you into the family.’

‘Thank you.’ Robyn blinked back the tears until Margo’s taxi had disappeared from view, and then she stepped back into the house and had a good howl. That goodbye had sounded terribly final somehow, and seemed to confirm—although Margo hadn’t actually said as much—that Clay’s aunt saw things the way Robyn did. With the facts as they were it was the only way to see things.