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  Still, sitting down to a plate of steaming steak and kidney pudding some time later, she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Until she had taken that ill-advised sojourn into the past, she had been enjoying her stay at the inn. Even if she had been born somewhere else, Paget was where she had her roots. She mustn’t allow her unwelcome awareness of Conor to influence her actions.

  In any case, at the moment, she decided she was more concerned with why Stephen should be trying to get in touch with her. It was months since she had seen him, months since they had had any communication, except via their respective solicitors. She hoped there was no hiccup over the finalising of their divorce. She wanted it to be done with. She wanted to be free.

  The newspaper she had left by her plate at breakfast-time was still there, and she propped it against the salt and pepper shakers as she dipped her fork into the rich concoction of meat and vegetables on her plate. It tasted as delicious as it looked, and, in spite of her anxieties about Stephen, she was hungry. With the local news for company, she ate more enthusiastically than usual, only lifting her head when a shadow fell across the table.

  She had expected it to be Mrs Drake, and she was getting ready to compliment her on the pudding, when she realised the intruder was not female. Leather brogues, a beige suit whose trousers needed pressing, and a flapping trench coat all added up to a masculine presence, and, for all she hoped it wasn’t so, she wasn’t really surprised when her eyes travelled up to her husband’s triumphant face.

  ’May I join you?’ he asked, already pulling out a chair, and seating himself opposite. ‘Long time no see.’

  ’What are you doing here, Stephen?’

  Olivia could barely keep the indignation out of her voice. She was already imagining what Mrs Drake would make of this, and the thought of her asking if he was staying the night, and having to explain that they didn’t share a room any more, filled her with dismay. So much for keeping her affairs private, she reflected impatiently. What did he think he was doing?

  ’Don’t sound so pleased to see me. I might get a swelled head,’ he remarked now, easing his trench coat off his shoulders, and picking up the menu card. ‘What’s the food like here? What you’re eating smells good.’ He looked across at her, and his eyes moved speculatively over her face, noting the becoming colour her walk had given her, and approving the brightness of her eyes. ‘I must say, it seems to be agreeing with you. You look good, Ollie, really good.’

  ’Don’t call me Ollie,’ she said, between her teeth. ‘And how did you know where I was? I didn’t even tell Mr Halliday my address.’

  Stephen tapped his nose with a smug finger, and Olivia knew a growing sense of resentment that he should think he had the right to come here and disrupt her holiday. All right, so Paget wasn’t everybody’s idea of a relaxing location. That didn’t alter the fact that she had chosen it because she wanted to be alone.

  Mrs Drake’s appearance was inevitable. Viewing her two guests with evident satisfaction, she made her way purposefully to their table, her face beaming. ‘Will the gentleman be wanting lunch, too, Mrs Perry?’ she asked, her eyes missing nothing of Stephen’s appearance. ‘This wouldn’t be the gentleman that phoned earlier, would it? Oh—pleased to meet you, Mr Perry. I’m Mrs Drake.’

  Olivia sat there, helpless, letting Stephen introduce himself with a feeling almost of disbelief. This couldn’t be happening, she thought incredulously. She and Stephen had nothing more to say to one another. Their marriage was over. How dared he come here now and disrupt her privacy?

  But, watching him practise his charm on Mrs Drake, she knew Stephen was completely indifferent to her feelings. He always had been. She should have divorced him long ago. She had only been fooling herself by imagining she could have ever made it work.

  She couldn’t even imagine what she had ever seen in him, these days. Of course, he was older than when she had married him—they both were—but the preceding years had not been exactly kind to Stephen. His hair was getting quite thin on top, and the belly, which spoke of too many liquid lunches, was beginning to bulge above his waistband. He looked what he was: a middle-aged travelling salesman, who had spent too many years on the road.

  When Mrs Drake departed to get him a helping of the steak and kidney pudding, Olivia could hold back no longer. ‘I don’t know what you’ve come here for, Stephen,’ she said, ‘but, whatever it is, you’re wasting your time. I’d like you to leave. As soon as possible. Before Mrs Drake comes back would suit me very well. Don’t worry about paying for your food. I’d consider it a privilege.’

  ’Oh, Ollie!’ The reproachful diminutive grated on her nerves. ‘What a way to treat your husband!’

  ’You’re not my husband,’ retorted Olivia, glad they were the only occupants of the dining-room. ‘Stephen,’ she sighed, ‘don’t you think this is rather silly? The last time I saw you—in the hospital, wasn’t it?—you couldn’t wait to exempt yourself from any responsibility for me.’

  Stephen’s face suffused with colour. ‘That’s not true, Ollie. You wanted the divorce, not me. And—and when you were at death’s door, so to speak, I wanted to do anything I could to aid your recovery.’

  Olivia’s mouth compressed. ‘Oh, really?’

  ’Yes, really.’ Stephen seemed to gain confidence from affirming this belief. Indeed, she realised, he had a positive flair for self-deception. ‘I would have cared for you, if that were what you’d wanted. But the doctors said your condition was critical, and I did what I could to relieve it.’

  ’Oh, Stephen!’ The disgust was evident in Olivia’s voice. ‘Stop deluding yourself. You were shocked out of your mind when you saw my injuries. And an invalid wife was the last thing you wanted. Be honest for a change. It suited you to pull the plug.’

  ’Well, you’re not an invalid now, are you?’ he exclaimed, and Olivia blinked. ‘As a matter of fact, you’ve never looked better. Losing weight obviously suits you. If you didn’t wear your hair tugged back like that, you’d look a proper stunner.’

  ’Stephen!’

  ’Well, I’ve always thought you were a good-looking woman,’ he replied defensively. ‘I wouldn’t have married you if I hadn’t been attracted to you. No, I—regret what happened to us. We were a good couple. And old man Darcy always liked you.’

  ’Did he?’ Olivia didn’t know how she kept her temper, but she did. ‘However,’ she continued thinly, ‘the opinion your boss has—or had—of me isn’t an issue here—–’

  ’But it is.’ Stephen broke into her words, to lean across the table. ‘It is an issue, Ollie. He—well, he’s not at all happy about the divorce. He likes his salesmen to be married. He says it keeps their minds on the business, if you see what I mean.’

  Olivia’s breath gurgled in her throat. ‘As you did, you mean?’ she exclaimed chokingly, realising she could actually laugh at what had happened now. The whole affair seemed ludicrous in retrospect, and Stephen’s part in it no more than he deserved.

  ’That wasn’t funny,’ he declared now, his rather full face mirroring his indignation. ‘Just because I made a mistake—–’

  ’A mistake?’ broke in Olivia scornfully. ‘Don’t you mean a whole handful of them? Come on, Stephen. I may have been gullible once, but not any longer.’

  Mrs Drake’s reappearance with his lunch was an untimely interruption as far as Olivia was concerned. She had hoped, rather futilely, she realised, that she might have persuaded him to leave before the landlady returned. It also gave him a breathing space, and that irritated her, too. There was no way he could convince her that his motives for being here were anything more than selfish. And if he thought he had a chance of persuading her to think again at this late date he was more stupid than he looked.

  Besides, why would he want to? She didn’t believe that rubbish about Harry Darcy objecting to the divorce any more than she believed that Stephen was still attracted to her. It was possible that the company preferred its executives to be family men, but no one in t
his day and age was likely to balk if a marriage wasn’t working. Least of all Harry Darcy, who had been married twice himself.

  ’Will—er—will your husband be staying overnight?’ enquired Mrs Drake chattily, setting the meal and the pint of lager Stephen had ordered on the table in front of him.

  ’No …’

  ’Yes.’

  They answered simultaneously, and, although Olivia had intended to go on and explain that Stephen would be leaving after lunch, his response left her speechless.

  ’Oh, then I’ll have Dory change the sheets,’ declared the landlady happily. ‘It’ll do Mrs Perry good to have some company, sir. Not much to do in Paget at this time of the year. But I expect you know that, seeing as how you and your wife have friends in the area.’

  Now it was Stephen’s turn to look confused, but Olivia had no intention of enlightening him. She was too infuriated by his audacity to care what he thought. ‘No, don’t bother changing the sheets, Mrs Drake,’ she replied harshly, finding her voice. ‘We don’t sleep together. We don’t even share the same room!’

  ’Oh …’ The woman was taken aback. ‘Is that right?’ She looked to Stephen, as if for confirmation, and Olivia wondered how she kept herself from screaming.

  ’Yes, that’s right, Mrs Drake,’ she insisted, glaring at Stephen so threateningly that it would have taken a stronger man than him to defy her wrath. ‘If Mr Perry is staying—and I don’t think he’s made up his mind yet—I’m afraid you’ll have to find him alternative accommodation.’

  Stephen’s mouth briefly took a sullen slant, and he took a hefty swallow of the lager. Then, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he tore his eyes away from Olivia’s angry face, and looked up at the landlady with a winning smile. ‘I’m afraid my wife’s right, Mrs Drake,’ he said ruefully, and Olivia’s nails dug into her palms at his reproachful grimace. ‘We don’t share a room these days. After the accident, her leg was in such a bad way that the doctors advised me not to take any chances. I might have bumped it, you see. And I didn’t want to hurt her. Unfortunately,’ he went on, ignoring Olivia’s horrified expression, ‘she’s got used to sleeping alone. I am hoping to get her to change her mind, but for the time being …’

  He allowed the sentence to tail away, and Mrs Drake looked just as sympathetic as he had intended. But Olivia’s feelings about this were nothing compared to her fury at his mention of the accident, and it was no surprise when the landlady seized her chance.

  ’There, now,’ she said, turning to her other guest. ‘I said to Tom, I did, “Mrs Perry’s got some sort of problem with her leg.” And now you say you’ve had an accident. Well, I can’t say I didn’t suspect as much.’

  Olivia pressed her lips together. Then, realising Mrs Drake’s imagination was likely to run riot if she refused to answer, she said stiffly, ‘I was involved in a car crash, that’s all. Nothing too dramatic, I can assure you.’

  ’All the same …’ Mrs Drake shook her head. ‘No wonder you looked so peaky when you got here. Mind you, you’re looking a lot better this morning. I said to Tom a few minutes ago, “Mrs Perry’s got some colour in her cheeks again."’

  ’Exactly what I’ve been saying myself,’ remarked Stephen smugly, and Olivia wondered why she didn’t just tell the landlady about the divorce, and be done with it. But to do so now would mean she would have to admit she had been lying earlier. Oh, why hadn’t she refused to speak to him, instead of making herself a liar by omission?

  ’Yes, well, I dare say seeing you again has helped,’ Mrs Drake declared, looking approvingly at Olivia’s almost empty plate. ‘I see you enjoyed your lunch, Mrs Perry. Now, can I get you anything else before I go?’

  ’Nothing.’ If the woman thought she was less than gracious, Olivia couldn’t help it. She just wanted her to go so she could tell Stephen exactly what she thought of him. How dared he put her in this invidious position?

  But when Mrs Drake had gone, it was Stephen who broke the silence. ‘Looks like you’re stuck with me,’ he said, forking a huge amount of food into his mouth. ‘I gather you haven’t told anyone here that we’re getting a divorce. Well, that suits me just fine—–’

  ’Stephen!’ Olivia’s voice had risen several octaves, and it was with an immense effort that she toned it down again. ‘What are you doing here? What do you want from me? You can’t seriously imagine that I would take you back!’

  Stephen shovelled another wedge of pudding into his mouth, and then regarded her as he chewed. ‘I could say we’re not divorced yet, Ollie,’ he remarked, as soon as his mouth had emptied sufficiently for him to speak. ‘If I was to tell your solicitor that you and I had had a reconciliation—–’

  ’But we haven’t. And we won’t,’ retorted Olivia, getting awkwardly to her feet. ‘Don’t threaten me, Stephen. Just at this moment, you’ve got more to lose than I have.’

  ’Oh, Ollie!’ Putting down his fork, Stephen’s expression underwent a complete change. Instead of aggression, his face took on a look of weary contrition, and, before she could avoid it, his hand had clutched her sweater. ‘Must we have a slanging match? We loved one another once. Can you honestly say that that’s all over?’

  ’Yes.’ Olivia was unmoved. ‘Stephen, if you care anything for me at all, you’ll finish your lunch and then get out of here. I don’t want to see you; I don’t want to talk to you. And if you want to stop me hating you, you’ll forget you ever came here.’

  Stephen expelled his breath heavily. ‘I can’t do that, Ollie.’

  Olivia dragged her sweater out of his grasp. ‘Then I will!’ she stated grimly, and started for the door.

  ’I can still say we had a reconciliation,’ Stephen’s voice called after her. ‘It might not do any good, but are you willing to take that chance?’

  Olivia halted. ‘You bastard,’ she exclaimed, turning back.

  ’No, I’m just desperate,’ replied Stephen, glancing at her over his shoulder. ‘Look, if you’ll come back and sit down, I’ll tell you what’s happened.’

  ’I don’t care what’s happened.’ Olivia was desperate, too.

  ’Not even if I tell you that if you just help me this one time I won’t do anything to jeopardise the divorce?’

  Olivia’s shoulders sagged. She had seen enough messy divorces to know that judges were not always objective if a defendant was convincing enough.

  ’Why should I believe you?’ she asked, hating herself for even listening to him.

  ’I don’t see that you have a lot of choice,’ he retorted, and, as if he knew he had said enough, he turned back to his lunch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WHEN Conor hadn’t rung again by seven o’clock that evening, Olivia decided to ring him.

  It wasn’t the wisest thing to do. She knew that. Stephen’s arrival hadn’t made her feelings for Conor any easier to understand, but at least her ex-husband’s presence did provide what she was doing with a little justification. She needed someone to talk to, and there wasn’t anybody else.

  Not that she intended to discuss Stephen with Conor, she reflected dourly. Although he was now occupying the room across the hall from her own, she was determined to ignore the fact. No, she needed someone to talk to who wasn’t Stephen, and who didn’t know Stephen. Someone who wouldn’t tell her she was crazy for allowing him to stay at the inn.

  She sighed. She was a fool for allowing him to do so, nevertheless. She knew that, too. She didn’t owe Stephen a thing, and his present predicament was no more than he deserved. His story—that Karen Darcy had pursued him both at and after the Christmas party, and not the other way around—was hardly credible, but, either way, if Harry Darcy found out, the result was likely to be the same. Stephen’s boss was known to be insanely jealous of his young wife, and any suspicion that one of his employees might be involved with her could cause untold repercussions. To say that Stephen would immediately find himself without a job was the least of it. Olivia knew Harry Darcy, and her opinion was that he would not be c
ontent with simply sacking the culprit. In his own world, Harry was a powerful man, and the possibilities of how he might take his revenge were endless.

  Which was the prime reason she had agreed to help Stephen, Olivia realised now. In spite of his threats, she felt sorry for him, and she had no wish to play any part in his downfall. If, by pretending she and Stephen were still on friendly terms, if, by saying, should she be asked, that he had spent a particular evening with her, and not with Karen, she could divert Harry’s wrath, she would do it. She didn’t like it. But she liked the thought of the possible consequences of not doing so even less.

  Now, after pressing the button to obtain an outside line, she dialled the number she had found in the local directory. It had been listed under Conor’s name only, with no mention of Sharon or his medical status.

  Listening to it ring, Olivia contemplated what she would say if Sharon answered. She ought to have something prepared, something more than just an urgent need to hear a friendly voice. Sharon already thought she was a nuisance. How would she regard an unsolicited phone call?

  Well, it wasn’t entirely unsolicited, Olivia defended herself swiftly. Conor had rung her that morning. She was only returning his call. Yes, she decided, that was how she would phrase it, if Sharon answered. She had waited until the evening to ring, because she had assumed Conor would be spending the day at the clinic.

  All the same, her palm was slick as it gripped the phone, and when, after three rings, the call was connected, she almost rang off. But, as she hesitated, there was a click, and Conor’s recorded voice came on the line to inform her that he was unavailable at that moment. The message went on to say she should leave her name and number, and the time of her call, and he’d get back to her.

  Dammit! Olivia sighed in frustration. She hated talking to a machine. And what she hated even more was the thought that Sharon might be the one to listen to her message. She was tempted not to leave one.