His Diamond Bride

Mark collapsed back onto the sofa and held out his hand to Billy. ‘Come here.’

Apprehensively, the dog came to him. Dee held her breath.

‘You daft mutt,’ Mark said in a mixture of exasperation and affection. ‘You crazy, stupid animal; have you got a death wish? You could have been killed back there, do you realise that? Of all the-’ Words seemed to fail him. ‘Will you be sensible next time? Do you know how?’

Billy whined softly.

‘No, you don’t,’ Mark said. ‘Nor do I, according to some people.’ He put an arm around the dog. ‘Don’t worry; it’s all over now. But don’t take any more silly risks because she-’ indicating Dee ‘-can’t do without you.’

‘Considering he nearly killed you-’ Helen said, amazed.

‘That’s all right. I can take care of myself. He can’t. He’s an idiot.’ But, as he said it, he enveloped Billy in a bear hug. Dee barely saw it through her tears.

It was settled that he would stay the night. Dee’s room was cleared for him and she moved in with Sylvia, as she’d done last time. She produced some liniment to rub into the bruises, but Sylvia snatched it out of her hand and insisted on doing it herself.

She spent some time comforting Billy, reflecting on Mark’s comment that she couldn’t do without him. He was right, of course. She wondered how many men would have swerved and accepted injury to themselves rather than hurt an elderly mongrel. He might play the giddy charmer, but this was the real man, she was sure of it.

In her mind she saw him again, bare-chested, lean, strong, powerful. Her hands seemed to tingle with the memory of touching him and an equation began to hammer on her brain, demanding entrance.

Medical condition: satisfactory.

Personal condition: a million times more than satisfactory.

Go to bed, she told herself crossly. And pull yourself together. Remember you’re a nurse.

She slept for a few hours and awoke to hear Sylvia getting out of bed and creeping out of the room. She slipped out after her and reached the corridor in time to see her sister go into Mark’s room. The whispers just reached her.

‘I came to see if the patient’s all right.’

‘All the better for seeing you,’ he said.

‘Let’s see if I can make you feel better.’

Standing in the bleak corridor, Dee heard muffled laughter ending in his exclamation of, ‘Ow! Be careful. I’m delicate.’ More laughter.

She crept back to her room and closed the door.

Next morning, she rose early. Even so, he was down before her, in the garden with Billy. She found them sitting quietly together, his hand on the dog’s head.

‘Have you managed to reassure him yet?’ she asked.

‘Just about.’

‘Mark, I don’t know how to thank you for being so nice about this, not just about the bike, but about Billy.’

‘Let it go. It wasn’t his fault. But listen, keep him indoors for a while. In fact, I’ll take him into the garage with me.’

‘You think Hammond-?’

‘I don’t know, but I didn’t like the look on his face last night.’

‘I do wish you’d come to the hospital-’

But his serious mood had passed and he waved her to silence. ‘Who needs a hospital when they’ve had you looking after them? I didn’t hit my head. Look-’ he leaned forward for her inspection ‘-nothing there.’

‘That’s certainly true,’ she said wryly. ‘Nothing there at all. Outside or in.’

He grinned. ‘I see you understand me. Are you cross with me?’

‘How can I be when you were so generous about it? Especially to Billy. But I will help out with the money and-’

‘No need. I’ll probably get something from the insurance.’

‘But if it’s not enough, I’ll-’

‘That’s it. This conversation is over. Isn’t it time for breakfast? Come along, Billy.’

Man and dog strode into the house, leaving her gazing after them, exasperated and happy.

You barely got anything from the insurance company, did you? Not enough to buy another motorbike, but you didn’t tell me. You simply said you’d changed your mind about having one. I might have believed you, but Dad was there when the inspector came and he told me afterwards. I tried to speak of it but you got really cross. It’s funny how there were some things you just couldn’t cope with. Sometimes you seemed happier with Billy than anyone else. You didn’t have to put on a performance with him.

Or with me. That was the nicest thing.

CHAPTER FIVE

DEE’S eighteenth birthday was approaching. There would be a party with all the neighbours and for a few hours everyone would forget the approaching war.

On the night, Mark came to meet her at the bus stop.

‘I’m the delegation sent to escort you home,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Your dad let me leave work a little early so that I could shift the furniture for your mum and help her put up the decorations. She’s baking a cake for you-the best cake ever, with eighteen candles.’

‘Mum always does the best cake ever,’ Dee chuckled. ‘For Sylvia’s twentieth she produced a real masterpiece. Is Sylvia home yet, by the way?’

‘Not yet. She’ll be along soon.’

As they neared the front door they could see the first guests arriving, everyone waving as they saw each other. Laughing, they all hurried in. After that, the bell rang every few minutes and soon the place was full. Except for Sylvia.

‘We’re not waiting for anyone,’ Helen declared. ‘This is your evening. Let’s get on with it.’

There were cards and presents to be opened, laughter to be shared. Afterwards, Dee vaguely recalled these things, but the details blurred in the shock of what came afterwards. Neither she, her parents, nor Mark, would ever quite recover from that shock.

She had slipped into the hall, meaning to fetch something from upstairs, when she noticed an envelope lying on the mat. With a sense of foreboding, she saw that the handwriting was Sylvia’s.

She tore it open, telling herself that her worst fears were realised, but even her worst fears hadn’t prepared her for what she found.

I’m sorry to do this now, but I shan’t be there this evening. I’ve gone away for a long time, maybe for good. I’m in love and I have to be with Phil, no matter what else it means.

A friend has delivered this, so don’t look for me outside the door. I’m already far away.

Say sorry to Mark for me. I didn’t mean to do it this way. Try to make him understand and forgive me. He doesn’t love me really, and he’ll get over it.

Love, Sylvia

She read it again and again, trying to understand that it was real and not some wicked joke. Then life returned to her limbs and she tore open the front door, running out in a frantic search for whoever might have thrust this through the letterbox. But the street was empty in both directions.

Her head spinning, she stumbled back to the house and leaned against the wall, shaking. Mark came out and found her like that.

‘You’re being a long time. Everyone’s asking what-Dee, what is it?’

‘Sylvia,’ she said hoarsely.

He took the note from her hand and read it.

‘Well,’ he said heartily, ‘so that’s that.’