Susanne sat in the luxurious lounge of Richard's flat in Mayfair. She was leaning back against the soft upholstery of a deep armchair, her slender legs crossed, her hands clasped in her lap.
'Tell me about this place, Richard,' she invited. 'What can you see from the window?'
'There's a rather fine view over Berkeley Square.'
'And what can you see from your bedroom?'
'Again it's looking out over Berkeley Square.'
A small sigh escaped her. It was over a month since she had left the hospital, and she was still awaiting the results of tests to see what could be done about her eyes. The doctors had been noncommittal, but, as Richard had said, they had not admitted to there being no hope. Miracles were worked these days, they kept on telling her, and so did Richard.
Only Nick seemed to maintain a silence about the matter. He absolutely refused to be drawn into any semblance of a discussion about her sight.
He was in London at the present time, on a visit to his publishers, as his latest novel was almost finished.
'What are you doing?' she asked Richard when he had been quiet for a few minutes.
'Messing about with one of my cameras.' He came to her, bent and kissed her cheek. She put a finger to the raised line of the scar and said,
'I wish this operation was over.'
'You must have it, darling. You don't want to live with a scar all your life.'
She thought: I shall never see it if I am to be blind.
Aloud she said,
'Do you have to go to South America while I'm in hospital?'
'Afraid so, dear. I must earn my living, and this is something quite big and exciting. Then I have to go to Greece afterwards. André's stuck on this bright idea of having his models pose against the ruins of some of the temples on one of the islands. Should be very dramatic and impressive. I like the idea very much.'
'If this accident hadn't happened we'd be married, and I'd be travelling about with you.' Her voice was husky and low; she still blamed herself for not using more common sense. James had visited her in hospital and been almost crying with remorse. Gwen and Kathleen had been regular visitors once more than one visitor was allowed, and of course Nick was always to be relied upon to visit her regularly.
'I wonder when they'll be able to give me a verdict,' she said with a sigh. She was learning to live in darkness, but at times she felt she would go mad.
'It shouldn't be long now.'
Was he as patient as he sounded? she wondered. It had been a most trying time for him, what with cancelling the wedding and the honeymoon, the letters and phone calls, the regular visits to the hospital and, finally, bringing her here where she could be looked after by the maid he had engaged. She often thought about her own flat and the few treasures she owned. All there, with either Gwen or Kathleen popping in to see if everything was all right.
'What time is it?' she wanted to know. The sun had been warm on her face through the window, but now she couldn't feel it quite so strongly.
'Almost half past seven. Are you hungry?'
'A little peckish. Nick's late.'
'I believe he's here now.'
He came in a moment later from the lift, which rose right into the hall of the flat.
'Sorry to be late,' he said. 'We had a lot to discuss.'
'I've booked a table for us at the Ritz,' said Richard. 'I hope that meets with your approval?'
'Does Susanne want to go out?' He sounded anxious, she thought, and her heart warmed to him in spite of his innate austerity.
'I don't mind.' As a matter of fact she would prefer to have dinner here, and it could have been arranged, but Richard loved dining out, and so she added lightly, 'It'll be nice to hear the chatter around me.'
Nick said nothing. He was staying at Richard's flat because, tomorrow, Richard would be away in Paris again for five days.
'I'll get a wash and change my clothes.' Nick went off to his bedroom, and Susanne said, rising from her chair,
'I'd better change too.' Helped by Avril, the cheerful, middle-aged and motherly woman Richard had engaged to look after his fiancée, Susanne donned a midnight-blue, ankle-length skirt and a paler blue blouse and returned to the sitting-room to find that she was alone, Richard having gone off to the bathroom.
After a few minutes Nick entered and came to her where she was standing, by the big window, staring sightlessly from behind the dark glasses she was wearing.
She felt his hands on her shoulders turning her around.
'What is this room like?' she asked before he could speak, but immediately she remembered the reason for his being in London and added swiftly, 'But tell me first, is everything all right with your book? Does your publisher like it as much as the others?' Nick released her, and she moved a step backwards.
'He likes it,' was the simple answer. 'This room…'He glanced around at the white walls, the pale grey carpet, the extremely comfortable but uninspiring suite of three armchairs and two settees. Two occasional tables, modern and equally as nondescript as the suite. He thought of his own modest home, and while not consciously comparing he was seeing the soft colour of the dove-grey walls, the crimson carpet he had picked up cheaply in a sale in the days-not so long past-when he was struggling desperately to make his name as an author, the days of near despair when all the rewards for his efforts were rejection slips from one publisher after another and all that kept him going was the fact that one of the best-sellers of the century had been turned down by no less than fifteen publishers before, at last, the fortunate one saw the potential and accepted it.
Susanne stirred restlessly, and he spoke, knowing how she loved colour.
'The walls are of a soft grey-'
'Like yours? Oh, that sounds nice.'
He paused, looking at her with a brooding expression in his fine dark eyes.
'Why hasn't Richard described the room to you?' he asked.
'I….' She hesitated to admit that Richard had seemed somewhat impatient with her at those times when, by asking questions like these she was asking Nick, she had brought home to him her affliction. 'I suppose I never thought to ask him.'
'I see.' Nick glanced around again and said, 'The carpet's a cosy shade of-well-rose-crimson, I think.'
Susanne gave one of her rare smiles.
'You made that colour up,' she accused, and he gave a small start. However, she went on to add, 'You're trying to describe the colour of yours, and as I know what that is I can now visualise this one. It's softer than yours, Nick, but I expect it cost a fortune.' She spoke without emotion or any sign that she liked one carpet better than the other. 'The furniture, Nick-it's very comfortable and I expect it goes nicely with the carpet.'
In answer to the hidden question he replied,
'That's right. It's a deep gold which, as you say, goes well with the carpet-er-and the curtains.' He flicked a glance at them and thought of his own red velvet ones-a secondhand bargain he had been very pleased with, especially after the local seamstress had dealt with them and then, with her husband's help, had fixed them up for him while he was tapping away at his typewriter.
'The curtains are red?' Automatically she moved a hand in rather clumsy exploration until, moving her body too, she had a fold of the cold, shiny material between her fingers. 'I don't like the feel-I felt the material before, and it seems wrong now that you've described the room to me. I think it should be velvet.'
'What should be velvet, darling?' from Richard as he came into the room looking immaculate in dark suit and white silk shirt.
'These drapes. But the colour is right. Warm and cosy.'
'Cosy?' he began then got no further. The cut was abrupt and Susanne was puzzled by the ensuing silence. She felt that Nick had given a sign to his brother. Impatience swept over her, and she turned away, feeling for the cold glass of the window. How much longer were the doctors going to be! Surely they were able to give her a verdict one way or another.
One way or another…. Fear and despair flooded her being. If the verdict was-Nick was behind her; she felt his hands again on her shoulders.
'We're ready. Avril's brought your wrap.' It was Nick who draped it about her shoulders, and she said,
'Where are you, Richard?'
'Here, love. All ready and waiting to take you out.'
No kiss or other physical contact. A sigh that was almost a sob issued from her lips, and she felt a warm, comforting hand taking hers, a hand that should have been Richard's, but it wasn't.
***
The verdict came at last. Susanne sat there rigid on being told that there was no hope for her sight. Richard was with her, having driven her to the specialist's in his white Mercedes. She told herself she had known what the verdict would be, but as she sat there erect in the chair, enveloped in the deep unfriendly darkness, she realised that, in the depths of her heart and her subconscious, there had flickered a ray of hope.
Now that hope, that persistent glimmer, had been destroyed.
She sought for her fiancé's hand and held it tightly. She knew what she must do, but even as she made the decision a terrible weight of fear and hopelessness descended on her, and despite her efforts the tears began to fall.
'Darling!' It was a strangled cry that reached her ears. 'Oh, my dearest love!'
'I'll-be-be all right-' Susanne bravely managed a smile. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. 'It's j-just the shock, Richard. You see, I hadn't reached the point of full resignation and-now th-that-that-' She choked on the words, wishing she were dead-yes, if only to make things easier for her beloved Richard.
An hour later they were back in his Mayfair apartment, drinking tea that Avril had just made for them.
Susanne said, marvelling at the steadiness of her voice,
'I'm giving you your freedom, Richard-No, please let me finish,' she insisted when he muttered something. 'Your career is such that a blind wife could only be a hindrance. I couldn't travel with you as we'd planned, and if I were at home I should need help-a nursemaid paid for by you-'
'Stop it!' he almost shouted. 'Stop being so stupid! I love you, Susanne, and so you are my responsibility!' He too was so deeply affected by the verdict that he was losing control. This situation was not one with which he could cope with any degree of calmness, and suddenly he envied his brother who seemed always to remain coolly composed in the face of any calamity.
Susanne talked on persistently, and at last Richard accepted this other verdict: as Susanne was so adamant about giving him his freedom, he had no alternative than to accept it. He said with a hint of bitterness,
'This is your doing, Susanne-the decision must always be remembered as yours and yours alone.'
She said nothing. Richard had emphasised that the decision she had made was hers and hers alone and in so doing had stressed the fact that there must be no blame attached to him.
And that was as it should be. She loved him and always would; she wanted only that he continue with his bright career in the prestigious position he had built up for himself. He was admired and respected in many countries of the world; she could ask for nothing more than to follow that career, from a distance, for the rest of her days.
She and Richard began to discuss her future. He wanted her to remain in this apartment during his forthcoming trip to the United States, but she would not hear of it.
'I must begin to adjust,' she said. 'Pick up some of the pieces and learn to live again. Others have done it successfully, and when this shock has worn off I shall feel differently, have more hope.'
'But, darling, you haven't any people. You'll have to think of entering an institution-' He broke off, furious with himself at so callous a suggestion, even if it were the only practical course she could take.
'I think I'd like to take advice, Richard.' She stopped and gave a sigh, absently fingering her cheek where the scar had been. Surgery had erased any blemishes from her face, and she knew she was beautiful again. She recalled that two weeks in hospital when she had had the two operations Richard had been away for the whole time, and it was Nick who had visited her, never missing one afternoon, even though she chided him for neglecting his work. 'There are people who can advise me. I could have a guide dog, for instance. And-and I shall be able to get help from the state until I can be trained to-to do a useful job of work. It isn't as if a blind person can't work….' Her voice trailed off as she heard the lift, then the firm tread she knew so well.
Nick entered and closed the door.
'Well?' he said briefly.
'I didn't expect you so soon,' Richard said.
'I'd have been even earlier but for the traffic hold-ups.' He glanced at Susanne and needed no enlightenment as to the verdict. Susanne's ears were alert; she heard him undo his mackintosh and fling it on to a chair.
'Have you made any decisions, Susanne?' Nick sat down and stretched his long legs out before him.
'She's insisting on breaking the engagement,' from Richard in an expressionless tone.
'I can't say I'm surprised.'
'Oh, and why?' There was a distinct challenge in Richard's eyes. 'What makes you so casual about our broken engagement?'
'I'm not casual.' Nick's voice was hard. 'I merely said that Susanne's decision has not come as a surprise to me.'
'And has the verdict of the specialist come as a surprise?' asked Susanne curiously.
'No. I had hoped my pessimism would turn out to be ill-founded, but-' Nick broke off, and it did seem that he was almost overcome with emotion for a fleeting space. His recovery was rapid, though, and he was saying in his customary cool and imperturbable tone of voice, 'What, then, are your immediate plans, Susanne?'
'I can't think just yet, Nick,' she admitted dejectedly. 'All I know is that I can't be a burden on Richard. In his kind of career it's very necessary for his wife to be a helpmate and support.'
There was silence but for the sound of another cup of tea being poured, this time for Nick. Nick, who had again left his work to come to London to hear the verdict. He could easily have phoned, she thought, and wondered what she would have done without him during this seemingly endless time of anxious waiting, for Richard had of necessity to be away from home, travelling abroad for the most part.
Nick, who owed her nothing and yet seemed willing to give so much. Would he have accepted the broken engagement? Frowning, Susanne admonished herself for the question since it savoured of disloyalty to the man she loved.
'Did Richard accept your decision without argument?' Nick was wanting to know an hour or so later when Richard had gone off to photograph a film star who had arrived at the Dorchester Hotel. The phone call had come through unexpectedly, and he had apologetically gone off, promising to be back in a couple of hours. He had seemed restless after she had pronounced her intention of giving him his freedom, and Susanne had wondered if he were battling with his conscience. It wouldn't have made any difference, though, if he had flatly refused to accept his freedom; Susanne had resolved to be firm and make him see sense.
'Not exactly,' she replied. 'He said he loved me and that I was his responsibility.'
'He did?' Nick's voice was again hard as he added, 'Why, then, is the wedding not being replanned?'
'Because I insisted on giving him his freedom.'
She heard Nick rise from his chair and walk to the fireplace. She could almost see him standing there, with his back to it, looking as stern and formidable as ever.
'It would appear that he was easily persuaded that you'd be a burden to him.'
'Nick!' she exclaimed in protest. 'Don't talk like that about Richard. I still love him, remember. I always shall love him,' she added, and now the tiny spurt of indignation was giving way to a deep sadness and despair. Nevertheless she was able to add, 'I shall watch his career and derive pleasure from his continued success.'
Nick looked at her, recalling the womaniser his brother had been.
'Your plans,' he said presently. 'You will have to make some.'
'I know. I can't think yet, though.' She lifted her head in the kind of gesture she would have made had she been able to look at him. 'I don't want to enter an institution-not yet anyway. I want to see if I can carve out a career for myself. There are training schemes.' She paused but he did not speak, and she added absently, 'No, I don't want to enter an institution.'
'Certainly not,' he said firmly. 'No one is going to suggest that you do.'
No one…. Richard had suggested such a course of action. She said curiously,
'Have you any ideas, Nick?'
'One.'
'Yes?'
'That you come and live in my home. I've a housekeeper now-'
'You have?' she broke in with some surprise. 'You never mentioned any intention of having a housekeeper. You always said you'd rather have the daily because she went off at midday and you had the house to yourself. You needed to have total silence. When did you get this housekeeper?'
'I've had her a couple of weeks,' was his casual reply.
Susanne became thoughtful, remembering the many occasions when, after she had suggested he needed a woman in the house all the time so that his meals could be served up to him regularly and properly, he had stated quite categorically that he had no intention of having anyone living in his home.
'A couple of weeks,' she murmured after a while. And then, slowly, 'And you would have me in your home as well.' Two women when he had sworn he would never have one. 'You said you had suspected what the verdict would be regarding my sight.'
'What are you getting at?' he wanted to know, and his voice was suddenly brusque as if he would deter her from asking any more questions.
'I believe you knew, not only that my sight would never be restored, but also that Richard and I would never marry.'
'Perhaps.' He stirred restlessly, and she heard his foot against the metal fender.
'And you made plans accordingly.'
'Perhaps,' he said again.
She gave a deep sigh.
'It's kind of you, Nick, but I can't accept your offer. It wouldn't be fair-'
'Stop making a martyr of yourself!' he admonished severely. 'You need help. So you can bury that pride as well. We're all here on this earth to help one another; that's what life's all about. I am offering help-'
'Charity!'
'No! Not charity. You'll have financial help from the state and you know it! Also, you once mentioned a small investment you had.'
Tears started to her eyes, and she supposed she expected comfort by a gentle touch or word, but Nick stayed where he was and remained silent.
'I want to be trained for a useful job,' she said quiveringly at last.
'I expect I can help in that,' he rejoined abruptly.
'You can?' She felt utterly lost without Richard in whose home she had been living since coming out of hospital. But he would soon be leaving England for the States, and she would be alone. How can a blind woman manage on her own?
There was no need to be alone; Nick was offering help. Was it instigated by pity? Or perhaps he was feeling he had a duty to her because his brother had accepted his freedom, which left her entirely on her own.
'But you must have a home where there's help, Susanne,' he said and his manner had a softer quality now. 'My home can be yours for as long as you want it. I know the shock is still with you and will be for some time. But with your engagement ended you can't stay here so it's sensible for you to come to me. Give up your flat.'
She bit her lip till it hurt. Nick offering help seemed all wrong for, after all, what was she to him? At best she would have been his sister-in-law, but now she was nothing, so why should he feel he had an obligation towards her?
'Well, Susanne,' he prompted quietly. 'Are you going to fall in with my suggestion?'
She still hesitated, but common sense came to her aid eventually and she said dejectedly,
'Yes, Nick, I'll fall in with your suggestion. And-and thank you for-for being so kind.'
'I never was described as kind before,' was his grim rejoinder, and she thought she detected a hint of humour in his otherwise stern and faintly arrogant voice.
