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Karen had already offered to do so, she told him without anger. Paul
shrugged in petulant acceptance of this promise. The next day Helen started
work again. Mark greeted her coolly, remotely. The scene between them on
the moor might never have happened. Without a word spoken Mark returned
to their earlier working relationship and with an aching heart Helen did so
too. She had to learn to stop loving him. It sounded so easy. She had stopped
loving Paul only after a painful struggle, but she knew it was going to be far
harder to sop loving Mark. He was not going to make it easy for her by being
cruel or cold or hurtful. Every time she looked at him she was forced to see
the enduring nature of his strength and to feel a deep, reluctant ache for him
which she hid beneath a cool courtesy.
She went back home that evening and the house was empty. Helen went into
Karen's house and Karen looked at her with embarrassed compunction.
'He said he was bored. I think he went for a drive.'
Helen tightened. 'In his condition?' The words broke out of her and her eyes
flashed.
'I did say I thought he ought to stay in today,' Karen muttered uneasily, 'but
he was restless.'
'I shouldn't have left him,' Helen said aloud, biting her lip.
'Well, you couldn't stay and hold his hand for ever,' Karen pointed out. 'He
seemed more or less well to me, Helen. He's a grown man and usually as fit
as a flea. I shouldn't worry too much. I expect he'll be back any minute.'
Helen sat and waited with the ticking of the clock for company. Paul got
back at midnight. She stood and looked at him and he shifted his feet,
grimacing. 'I'm sorry, I was fed up,' he said. 'You shouldn't have left me.'
'Must I keep you on a lead for the rest of your life?' she asked tautly.
The odour of whisky clung to him and his face was tired and lined. 'Don't
nag, Helen,' he muttered, turning to go up the stairs, swaying.
She helped him to his room and helped him undress, but he pushed her away
with a cross, sulky gesture and got into bed, his face hidden in the pillow.
His oudine had a touching look, the outline of a sulking child. Helen touched
his hair with a wry grimace. 'Goodnight, Paul.'
He didn't answer, and she went out without another word.
CHAPTER NINE
THERE was a staff party at the factory two days before Christmas. Helen was
involved in all the final preparations and stayed late to see them finished.
Paul had come back to work that day, but when she saw him in the evening
he told her that he would not be home that night. 'A party at the club,' he
said, his eyes not quite meeting her own. Helen made no comment. He was
fit again and she sensed that his need for her had fallen away once more. As
he turned away something fell from his pocket. She picked it up and looked
at the slim wrapped package. She saw the tag as she handed it back to him,
her eyes catching it without intention. Paul almost snatched it and walked
hurriedly away.
Helen had not recognised the woman's name. Was it his current conquest?
she wondered, staring after him with a dull indifference. From the shape and
weight of the parcel she suspected it had been jewellery. Drily she wondered
if Paul had spent as much on her Christmas present. In the past he had
always given her inexpensive gifts underwear, mostly, which he bought in
chain stores. Paul had a dislike of spending money where it could not get an
effect. He spent freely to establish his name as a generous open-handed man
in public, but in private he was inclined to resent every penny he was forced
to lay out.
'What are you doing for Christmas?' Mark asked her as he walked out to the
car park with her some time later.
'Spending it at home,' Helen said calmly. It was where she always spent
Christmas, but she never knew whether or not she would even see Paul.
Some years he went off on Christmas Eve and did not return until late on
Boxing Day. He drifted like flotsam on a hospitable tide from party to party,
ending up wherever he passed out, probably, and Christmas was his
favourite time of year. He enjoyed the drinking, the noise, the fun which was
going on around him. Helen's idea of Christmas had no meaning for him.
The thought of spending it quietly with her in their home would bore Paul to
tears.
Mark glanced sideways at her, his face wry. She thought he could guess at
all that.
He did not make any comment, however, merely accepting what she said.
'Lift?' he asked coolly as they reached his car.
'Thank you.' She made her tones as cool as his own. He opened the door of
the passenger seat and she got into it. Mark looked down at her as he closed
the door again and she felt the intensity of his eyes with a painful pleasure.
He drove making small talk about the office party. When they got to her
house he said goodnight without any other remark and she left him feeling
as though she ached from head to foot.
The party began at lunchtime. All work stopped and everyone congregated
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