when he could be painting, and he was setting her up to get hurt when he said goodbye. Yes, she was trouble. For a variety of reasons.
The red phone on the counter top began to ring. He looked across at it balefully, reluctant to answer it. But it didn’t stop after six rings, so he got up in exasperation and strode over to the counter, snatched at the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Russell?’
‘Hello Melinda.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘Recognized your voice.’
‘I want out of this place, Russell,’ she wailed. ‘Get Dr Jeffers to release me.’
‘You know I can’t. You’ve got to stay there until he thinks you’re properly de-toxed. Then he’ll sign your release. I don’t have anything to do with it, you know that.’
‘Russell, please ask him.’
‘You know very well he won’t listen.’
‘Please don’t punish me this way.’
‘I’m not doing that, Melinda. You signed yourself into the clinic’
‘I’ll tell Atlanta what you’re doing to me.’
‘I’m not doing anything. Anyway, she’s too young to understand.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she’s wonderful. I spoke to your mother yesterday and she said she’s as happy as a lark. Look, Melinda, I’ve got to go. I’m working.’
‘Will you talk to the doctor? Please.’
‘Yes, I will. I’ll give him a ring tomorrow. Now rest quietly, and get well. ’Bye.’ He hung up and stared at the phone. Now that was trouble if anything was. And then some.
He groaned. What was he going to do about Melinda and his child? He dreaded the thought of someone finding out about them. And yet he knew it would leak out some time soon…he was far too famous for it not to…He let this disturbing thought go, unable, suddenly, to cope with it.
Unexpectedly, his thoughts veered to Tessa Longden and her predicament about Adele. He fully understood how she felt, the agony of mind she was going through. After all, he had a three-year-old of his own, and he could well imagine how beside himself he would be in the same circumstances.
India drove along the motorway at a steady pace; she was soon leaving Harrogate behind and heading towards the village of Pennistone Royal. The sky had changed, the thunderclouds had drifted out to the North Sea and it was a lovely pale blue again. She was relieved. There would be nothing worse than tramping over sodden fields and meadows looking for a lost child.
Was she lost on the estate? No. Mark Longden had taken her out of spite. As a bargaining chip, as Dusty had suggested. Dusty. He was such a difficult man in so many ways, and so full of contradictions. He was loaded with baggage, most of it about his background and their class differences, all of which she found silly. He wouldn’t listen to her. But no matter, she had fallen in love with him the night she had first met him, and nothing was going to change that. He was the only man she wanted, the only man for her, and she was determined to get him. Permanently. Long term. Marriage. That was her goal. It wasn’t going to be easy, she was fully aware of all the problems.
Dusty was extremely independent, loathed being pinned down. Nor did he like to make commitments. That was obviously why he had never married or had a long-term relationship. ‘Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s always been my motto,’ he had said to her when they first met several months ago, as if warning her. And then he had begun to laugh uproariously, seemingly highly amused by his own attitude.
He laughed a lot and she liked that. She couldn’t bear glum people who sounded like the voices of doom with their dire predictions of impending disasters and gloomy outlook. He was usually in top form, cheerful, optimistic, raring to go, and ready to take a chance on life, except when it came to wedded bliss, of course. That was verboten even as a subject, not open for discussion at all.
Dusty liked being one of the boyos, as he called his male friends, who were numerous and
The red phone on the counter top began to ring. He looked across at it balefully, reluctant to answer it. But it didn’t stop after six rings, so he got up in exasperation and strode over to the counter, snatched at the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Russell?’
‘Hello Melinda.’
‘How did you know it was me?’
‘Recognized your voice.’
‘I want out of this place, Russell,’ she wailed. ‘Get Dr Jeffers to release me.’
‘You know I can’t. You’ve got to stay there until he thinks you’re properly de-toxed. Then he’ll sign your release. I don’t have anything to do with it, you know that.’
‘Russell, please ask him.’
‘You know very well he won’t listen.’
‘Please don’t punish me this way.’
‘I’m not doing that, Melinda. You signed yourself into the clinic’
‘I’ll tell Atlanta what you’re doing to me.’
‘I’m not doing anything. Anyway, she’s too young to understand.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Yes, she’s wonderful. I spoke to your mother yesterday and she said she’s as happy as a lark. Look, Melinda, I’ve got to go. I’m working.’
‘Will you talk to the doctor? Please.’
‘Yes, I will. I’ll give him a ring tomorrow. Now rest quietly, and get well. ’Bye.’ He hung up and stared at the phone. Now that was trouble if anything was. And then some.
He groaned. What was he going to do about Melinda and his child? He dreaded the thought of someone finding out about them. And yet he knew it would leak out some time soon…he was far too famous for it not to…He let this disturbing thought go, unable, suddenly, to cope with it.
Unexpectedly, his thoughts veered to Tessa Longden and her predicament about Adele. He fully understood how she felt, the agony of mind she was going through. After all, he had a three-year-old of his own, and he could well imagine how beside himself he would be in the same circumstances.
India drove along the motorway at a steady pace; she was soon leaving Harrogate behind and heading towards the village of Pennistone Royal. The sky had changed, the thunderclouds had drifted out to the North Sea and it was a lovely pale blue again. She was relieved. There would be nothing worse than tramping over sodden fields and meadows looking for a lost child.
Was she lost on the estate? No. Mark Longden had taken her out of spite. As a bargaining chip, as Dusty had suggested. Dusty. He was such a difficult man in so many ways, and so full of contradictions. He was loaded with baggage, most of it about his background and their class differences, all of which she found silly. He wouldn’t listen to her. But no matter, she had fallen in love with him the night she had first met him, and nothing was going to change that. He was the only man she wanted, the only man for her, and she was determined to get him. Permanently. Long term. Marriage. That was her goal. It wasn’t going to be easy, she was fully aware of all the problems.
Dusty was extremely independent, loathed being pinned down. Nor did he like to make commitments. That was obviously why he had never married or had a long-term relationship. ‘Love ’em and leave ’em, that’s always been my motto,’ he had said to her when they first met several months ago, as if warning her. And then he had begun to laugh uproariously, seemingly highly amused by his own attitude.
He laughed a lot and she liked that. She couldn’t bear glum people who sounded like the voices of doom with their dire predictions of impending disasters and gloomy outlook. He was usually in top form, cheerful, optimistic, raring to go, and ready to take a chance on life, except when it came to wedded bliss, of course. That was verboten even as a subject, not open for discussion at all.
Dusty liked being one of the boyos, as he called his male friends, who were numerous and
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