Crescendo

Had he ever loved Diana? Or anyone?

Teasing her about the dolls he came close to the verge of real anger, telling her sharply that she was too old for such childish games, looking at them with hostile dark eyes, and she wondered if Gideon had ever been a child. He had been a prodigy at the age of seven: she knew that.

Grandie had told her about his mother's pride and smothering adoration of him, painting a pic­ture of a small boy treated as a god and yet a play­thing, a status symbol for a ruthless woman.

Gideon had to go to America soon after term began. That time he almost begged her to go with him, using coaxing, threats, argument. Marina fought his need to have her with him because she felt, instinctively, that she could not allow him to treat her as a possession. Gideon had to come to recognise her as a human being with dignity of her own.

While he was away she realised she was pregnant. The shock sent her running back to Basslea and there Grandie looked at her with hatred, because she had destroyed his dreams for her. White-faced, she faced the ruin of all that they had both worked for and could find nothing to say to him.

'He won't marry you!' Grandie had shouted.

Marina did not need to be told that. Gideon had never breathed a word of marriage. He didn't love her; why should he marry her? She had walked into this with her eyes open. She would have to deal with it.

Grandie suggested an abortion and she shrank. She could not destroy Gideon's child. Her misery touched Grandie at last and he softened. 'We'll manage, darling,' he said, patting her as if she were still a child. 'We'll manage.'

She went to stay with friends of his who ran a home for handicapped children. Marina helped them and found some sort of solace in doing things for other people. It took her mind off her own misery—-her problems seemed less heavy compared to those she saw around her at the home.

While she was there, Grandie wrote to tell her Gideon was looking for her. He had been to Basslea and Grandie had refused to tell him where she was or what she was doing. 'He'll have to be told,' Grandie said in the letter. 'He won't take no for an answer.'

She wrote back, telling Grandie to let Gideon know the truth. 'But tell him I don't want to see him. I don't want anything from him. This is my problem, not his.'

Gideon arrived two days later. Marina was in the garden with a little boy when he walked out towards her. The air was filled with the scent of newmown grass and Marina stood there, feeling sick. She had not wanted to face him, but now she could not avoid it.

He looked down at her with those unreadable black eyes, his face harsh. 'Why did you try to keep it from me? How could you hide such a thing? I had the right to know.'

'It's my problem,' she said quietly. The little boy stared at them and she looked at him, forcing a smile. 'Go in and find the others, Colin. I'll be in later.'

He ran away in his ungainly stumble and Gideon said in a low, fierce voice, 'Your problem? It's my baby!'.

'You don't want to get married or have respons­ibilities, do you, Gideon?' she asked with a pale smile. 'I knew that.'

His hands hurt as they clamped down on her shoulders. He pulled her against his body and his cheek brushed her hair. 'That's beside the point. It's my baby.' His lips touched her cheek. 'Marry me, Marina. I want to marry you. I didn't—I admit that. But I don't want to loose you. I want you— and the baby. I want you as my wife.'

She slackened in his arms, her body a weary cipher, and felt the burden .of the lonely weeks without him slipping away. She had forced herself to face life without him and now she wasn't going to have to, and relief and happiness made her faint.

They were married at once and she moved into the London flat with him. Gideon seemed content with her permanent presence. When he had to go on tour again he took her with him. Their marriage seemed to be working. He looked for her as he be­gan to play each night and when he came off, drenched and exhausted but still wound up to the point of nervous tension, her calming hand and smile seemed to soothe him and help him to climb down from the peak which he had climbed during the performance.

Once he apologised to her for having ruined her career. 'I could kick myself for my selfish stupidity! It should have occurred to me that you wouldn't have taken any precautions. I was just caught up in my own needs and I forgot yours. Darling, do you forgive me?'

She would have forgiven him anything. His play­ing had improved enormously, all the critics agreed. He was playing with depth and feeling now and the beautiful professional gloss did not need to cover any lack of sensitivity.

As her pregnancy advanced Marina looked a little tired and Gideon frowned over her pallor. 'This tour is too much for you. I think you should have a few weeks with Grandie to relax.'

'What about you?' She knew now that Gideon needed her there after a performance. He looked for her with an eager glance as he came off and the dark eyes gleamed with pleasure when he saw her.

'Never mind me,' he soothed, touching her cheek. 'You're such a tiny thing. I hate to see you look so tired. I'll hate being without you, but I'll bear it.'

The tenderness and caring were in his smile, deep in his dark eyes. She saw them and was satis­fied, leaning her head on his strong body and know­ing he cared for her. He had not yet said 'I love you', but she thought: one day he will. Perhaps he doesn't even know yet. Marina was beginning to believe he did love her and it was worth all the pain he had made her suffer in the past.

Gideon was oddly unaware, despite his sophistica­tion. He was a man who had learnt to be arrogant, certain of himself, his great gifts making him in­different to the feelings of others because as a young boy his mother had drummed it into him that he was 'different'. Marina had met her now and knew just what sort of woman she was—she had been met with cold, chilling dislike, the icy jealousy of one who resents someone else stepping into their place. It had not mattered because Gideon had long ago pushed his mother out of his life. Her possessive nature had made him defend himself by excluding her. But she had formed his character, all the same. Gideon had grown up worshipped and spoilt, given everything he wanted, taught to be­lieve that he could do just

as he chose without caring for the consequences.

The hard glossy shell around him had been there for years. Marina believed it was cracking. Gideon had learnt to love, but he did not know that him­self even now.

While she stayed with Grandie she had plenty of time to think about Gideon and to see that her advent in his life had begun a change in him. Feeling had begun to surge in him and it was com­ing out in his music. How deep that feeling went, Marina could not guess. Her own love for him made it possible for her to understand him without hating him for the selfish arrogance which had taken her without ever meaning to love her.

Gideon came home from his tour and rang at once to say he would be coming to see her, but first he had a series of business matters to settle. He would come as soon as he could get away.