Castles Of Sand. Anne Mather
his pacing to stare at her once more. ‘And if I still refuse?’
Ashley shrugged. ‘I—I’ll get to Andrew, somehow. And I’ll tell him everything. Everything!’
‘Knowing he would never forgive you for it?’ mocked Alain coldly.
‘What have I to lose?’ she retorted. Then: ‘Well? Will you do it?’
Alain’s mouth was a thin line. ‘I will have to think about it.’
‘For how long?’
‘I don’t know.’ He turned away abruptly. ‘Give me—time. I need time. Twenty-four hours at least.’
‘Very well.’ Ashley pulled open the door behind her. ‘You know where to find me.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said bleakly, ‘I do indeed.’
And without another word he walked out the door.
ASHLEY’S elation lasted only so long as it took for Alain to get in the car that was waiting for him, and drive away. As the long black limousine bearing the coat of arms of Prince Ahmed of Khadesh disappeared round a bend in the road, she realised she had no idea where Alain was staying. He had gone, albeit promising to contact her again in twenty-four hours, but if he did not, if he chose to ignore her demands and leave the country, she had no way of stopping him.
Frustration engulfed her, and she sank down on to the couch with a little sound of helplessness. She had been a fool, a stupid fool, and even now Alain was probably exulting over the simple way he had thwarted her. But she had been so excited at the prospect of seeing her son again, of getting to know him, and of having him get to know her, she had not considered the inevitable flaws in her reasoning. She should have known she could not succeed so easily. She should have suspected something was wrong when Alain did not waste time arguing with her.
Getting up from the couch again, she walked restlessly across the room. What should she do? What could she do? And if Alain chose to walk out on her, how was she ever to see Andrew again? Apart from anything else, she was still employed by the governors of the school, and it would be foolish to resign her position there if she had no other employment.
She pushed her fingers into her hair, holding them there as she acknowledged the hopelessness of her position. If only she had not gone into school that morning, she thought despairingly. If Alain had withdrawn Andrew’s name, she might never have known anything about it, and her life would not now be suffering the turmoil she was presently experiencing.
A tap at her door brought her round with a start, and almost tripping over herself she rushed to open it. A small, dumpy little woman, wrapped in a dressing gown and wearing carpet slippers, her hair coiled around a series of rollers, stood on the threshold, and Ashley expelled her breath unsteadily as her neighbour began to speak.
‘Did you want me, love?’ the little woman asked anxiously. ‘I was in the bath, but I thought I heard you shouting, and I came round as quickly as I could.’
‘Oh, Mrs Forrest.’ Ashley caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling ashamed that she had disturbed her. ‘Er—no. No, I wasn’t trying to attract your attention. I—I had a visitor. What you heard was—was probably him going.’ She crossed her fingers.
‘Ah!’ Mrs Forrest nodded. ‘That would be it, I suppose.’ She smiled, patting her rollered head. ‘I must look quite a state.’ She chuckled. ‘And there was me thinking you’d been attacked!’
Ashley coloured. ‘I’m very grateful,’ she said, almost glad of the diversion. ‘Thank you.’
Mrs Forrest had turned away, but she glanced back now over her shoulder. ‘For what, dear?’
Ashley shrugged, a little awkwardly. ‘Well—for being there.’ She hunched her shoulders, pushing her hands into the pockets of her pants. ‘Thanks, anyway.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Mrs Forrest disappeared back into her flat with a wave of her hand, and with a sigh Ashley closed her door again, leaning back against it with a feeling of intense disillusionment. It had all gone wrong, hopelessly wrong, and her only consolation was the realisation that she had provoked Alain. He had not been able to deny his desire for her body, and although this was small comfort when he had been capable of walking away from her, given the same circumstances, she might be able to repeat her success. She squashed the uneasy recollection that she had been as. aroused by his lovemaking as he was. It was a sexual response, nothing more. Any woman, kissed by a man as virile and attractive as Alain Gauthier, would find it extremely difficult to keep a cool head in such circumstances, and in her case, the memories of the past kept intruding. Once she had succeeded in exorcising those painful images she would be able to control her own destiny again. She had loved him in those days. She did not love him now. But she would use him, in any way she could, if it meant she could be near her son.
Shaking her head, she moved away from the door. Was she really so determined about this? she asked herself with sudden uncertainty. Why, after all these years, was she even considering such a course of action? The answer was simple. It was as she had always known it would be. So long as her son was unknown to her, so long as she had no image of him in her mind, she could pretend he didn’t exist. But now she had seen him, he had smiled at her; and she would move heaven and earth to be near him again.
She was still trying to formulate some plan of action when the telephone rang. Picking up the receiver, she wondered if Alain was ringing to taunt her with her helplessness, but it was Malcolm Henley at the other end of the line.
‘Ashley? My dear, I just thought I’d tell you, your resignation will not be necessary.’
Ashley moistened her lips. ‘It won’t?’
‘No.’ Malcolm sounded pleased. ‘I’ve just had a telephone call from Gauthier—you know, your brother-in-law?’
‘Yes?’ Ashley’s hand trembled.
‘Yes.’ Malcolm paused, as if timing his announcement. ‘He’s asked me to withdraw Hussein’s name from the register. He’s changed his mind, apparently. He’s going to have the boy educated in Murad.’
Ashley drew an unsteady breath. ‘I see.’
‘Isn’t that good news?’ Malcolm was obviously disappointed at her response. ‘You don’t know this, but he actually came to see me this morning, bringing the boy with him. He’d read your name on the—–’
‘I know.’ Ashley was too disturbed to allow him to go through the whole rigmarole of telling her something she already knew.
‘You know?’ Malcolm sounded bewildered. ‘But how?’
‘Alain’s been here, too,’ she replied unwillingly. ‘He—well, I encountered them in school this morning, and he came here to offer me a private position, with some family in Egypt.’
‘I see.’ Malcolm was perturbed. ‘So you met the boy. How unfortun—–’ He broke off abruptly, then added crisply: ‘You told Gauthier you couldn’t take the job, didn’t you?’
Ashley opened her mouth to say yes, then closed it again. She had no intention of discussing her plans with Malcolm, and it might actually be simpler if he thought she was considering a post with some unknown Egyptian family. It would give her a breathing space.
‘I—I haven’t made up my mind yet,’ she said now, and heard Malcolm’s impatient intake of breath.
‘But if Gauthier is withdrawing—well, there’s no need for you to consider another job,’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t know why he’s changed his mind, but he has. I did tell him that you’d resigned, and I thought he seemed satisfied, but now—this!’ He hesitated. ‘You—well, you didn’t say anything which might