Living Together

She stood up, pretending an interest in one of the superb paintings adorning the walls. ‘You never asked me for commitment, Leon,’ she told him stiffly. ‘And I could never give it.’

‘Never?’

‘Never!’ And for a very good reason, one he wasn’t even aware of! ‘But you don’t want that anyway,’ she added lightly.

‘Who says I don’t?’ he challenged. ‘You’re presuming a lot, telling me what I do and don’t want,’ he scowled.

She could tell she had angered him, but no amount of anger on his part could change the decision she had come to two years ago. She would never become so involved with anyone that they would want a permanent relationship, and she felt sure that Leon didn’t, he was just being awkward. He was tired, exhausted actually, and was just trying to pick an argument with her.

‘Why don’t you have your dinner, Leon?’ she suggested soothingly. ‘And then get an early night. You—’

He stood up angrily, his face livid. ‘I’m not in my dotage!’ he snapped furiously. ‘I may be thirty-four and a damn sight older than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m bloody decrepit! But you’re right about dinner, I will have that—out!’ He marched angrily to the door. ‘I’ll go somewhere where I’m damn well appreciated.’

Helen’s face was ashen. ‘Leon—’

‘Don’t worry, Helen,’ he sneered. ‘I won’t shock your puritan little mind with the details when I get back. Young as you are, I don’t think you could stand the strain.’

He was going to another woman, possibly even Sharon Melcliffe! ‘Leon, don’t go!’ she pleaded.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘Do you have some form of entertainment in mind for me yourself?’

‘No, but—’

‘Then I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me,’ Leon taunted cruelly, leaving her with a nonchalance that was designed to hurt.

It was the early hours of the morning when Helen heard him return, and she thought by the way he was stumbling about swearing to himself that he was very drunk indeed.

She was late to breakfast again the next morning and this time Leon had already left, after drinking plenty of black coffee, by the look of the empty coffee pot. He was right, she was destroying him, an

d the sooner she got out of his life the better.

His mother arrived just before twelve, treating Max in a teasing manner that he seemed to take in his stride. ‘I used to be terrified of him,’ she explained to Helen as they took a taxi to the restaurant. ‘But he looks after Leon so well that I now try to get along with him,’ she laughed.

‘He’s always been very nice to me,’ Helen voiced shyly, still not quite sure how she should act with this woman when Leon had deceived her about the truth of their relationship, although she herself was in love with him.

‘I’m sure he does, dear,’ Catherine Masters nodded. ‘You’re the sort of person everyone likes to be nice to.’

Helen blushed at the compliment, and followed the older women into the restaurant. It appeared Mrs Masters had taken the trouble to book a table and they were soon seated, two chicken salads and a bottle of white wine rapidly appearing in response to their order.

‘I can’t tell you how happy Charles and I are at the prospect of Leon finally going to settle down,’ Mrs Masters gave her a glowing smile. ‘It will be nice to have a wedding in the family again.’

Helen almost choked on her chicken. What could she possibly say to such forthright comments? How did she get herself out of this situation without upsetting the other woman too much?

‘Of course Leon told me I was to mind my own business and not to ask you pointed questions,’ Mrs Masters continued. ‘But I’m sure you can understand my excitement and excuse my curiosity.’

‘Yes, of course. Er—when did Leon tell you not to ask me questions?’

‘Last night when he telephoned.’ She frowned. ‘He didn’t sound in the best of humours. Still, I suppose he’s been working hard.’

‘Yes, he has,’ although Helen knew that wasn’t the reason for his bad humour.

‘Have you discussed a wedding date yet?’

‘No!’ Helen said sharply. ‘No, we haven’t,’ she repeated in a softer voice. After all, it was only natural for a mother to feel curious about her only son’s marriage plans. If there had been any, that was! Damn Leon and his false explanation for her being at his flat!

‘I suppose you still feel reluctant to make that sort of decision,’ Mrs Masters said gently. ‘It’s perfectly understandable in the circumstances.’

Helen frowned. ‘How much did Leon tell you about my marriage?’