Night Of Shame. Miranda Lee

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      Judith’s stomach churned as she thought of all she’d suffered at his hands. God, but she hated him, hated him with the same kind of passion which had once filled her with desire. The only desire she had now was to see him in hell—the same hell he’d consigned her to all those years ago!

      ‘We’re ten minutes late,’ Raymond pronounced as he turned the Mercedes into Margaret’s street, a very fashionable address in Hunter’s Hill.

      ‘We’ll still be the first ones here, Raymond,’ she said, knowing from experience that when people said parties started at eight most of the guests turned up at nine, or later.

      The car rolled to a stop in front of the lovely old two-storeyed home Raymond had bought and presented to Margaret as a wedding present, the absence of other cars at the kerb or in the driveway confirming Judith’s opinion that they were the first arrivals.

      ‘Mr Fairchild doesn’t know I’m your fiancée, does he?’ she asked as they made their way up the steep front steps.

      ‘I certainly never told him,’ Raymond replied. ‘And there are no photographs of you on my desk. You know I don’t go in for that kind of sentimentality,’ he said firmly, and rang the doorbell.

      Judith frowned at this last remark as they waited silently for the doorbell to be answered. Were all men as practical and pragmatic as Raymond? Was sentiment a strictly female prerogative?

      Surely not, she decided. Simon had been a very warm and sensitive man. It had been the first thing she’d noticed and loved about him.

      Judith herself felt things very deeply and was quickly moved to sympathy for the plights of others. That was why she’d decided to be a nurse in the first place. Unfortunately, however, sometimes she felt things too deeply.

      After she’d completed her training as a nurse, she’d worked in the Aids ward for a while, but had finally had to request a transfer to a general ward after breaking down once too often. She’d been just too heartbroken at her patients’ suffering and their lack of any real hope.

      Over the years she’d learnt to control her emotions better, especially in public, but she was still a softie underneath, crying copious tears at sad movies. Letters from her mother or her sister could start her off, as did pictures of neglected and abused animals in newspapers. She usually hid her tears, however, turning to her toy friends for comfort rather than real people.

      Raymond would be embarrassed if she ever blubbered all over him. It was as well, Judith decided now, that she was to keep her own bedroom after they were married. At least there she had Peter to blubber all over. He didn’t mind one bit!

      ‘For pity’s sake stop worrying about Fairchild,’ Raymond snapped suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. ‘He might not even turn up. You know how people are about parties these days.’

      Judith’s heart leapt momentarily at the possibility that she still might escape the awful prospect of coming face to face with Alexander again. But somehow she didn’t think fate was going to be that kind.

      ‘He’ll show up,’ she muttered.

      Raymond shot her a sharp look. ‘You promised you wouldn’t make a scene.’

      Judith sighed. ‘I won’t, Raymond. But I’m not going to pretend I’m thrilled about seeing him again.’

      ‘Just don’t do or say anything that might jeopardise my business dealings with him.’

      Judith fell silent, hurt by Raymond’s total insensitivity towards her feelings on this matter. It showed her just where she rated with the man she’d agreed to marry. She would always play second fiddle to his business. She would never come first. Never.

      Judith’s unhappy thoughts were scattered by the opening of the front door and the appearance of Margaret’s sleazily handsome husband. Admittedly, Mario did cut a fine figure of a man in the black silk-blend dinner suit he was wearing, but there was something infinitely repulsive about his oily, slicked-back hair and slightly feminine features, not to mention his overly effusive manner.

      ‘Ray! Judy! Marge will be so pleased you’re finally here.’ His Latin accent was attractive but his penchant for nicknames annoyed Judith to death. ‘It wouldn’t do for the guests of honour to be too late, would it?’

      He babbled on as he ushered them both into the hallway. The central heating, rather stuffy after the crisp air outside, enveloped Judith, causing beads of perspiration to break out on her forehead. She drew a tissue from her purse, dabbing nervously at her face.

      ‘Here, Judy,’ he said, stepping round behind her. ‘Let me take your jacket. You look hot.’

      With one swift movement, deft fingers removed the security of her jacket. Judith glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, only to see two lecherous dark eyes raking over her bosom. She flushed under Mario’s lustful stare and turned to Raymond for sanctuary. Swiftly linking her arm through his, she was about to bustle him into the large living room on their left when she was halted by the sight of Margaret floating down the stairs towards them in lavender chiffon.

      Dear Lord, what an unattractive woman she was!

      Her looks were similar to her brother’s, but where he could be described as tall and lean Margaret was skinny and shapeless. Raymond was able to carry off a long face and large nose with distinction. On his sister, they looked horsy. The down-turn of a sour mouth didn’t improve things, either.

      ‘How naughty of you to be late, Raymond, love,’ she said brushing her brother’s cheek with a kiss before flicking cold eyes over Judith. ‘My, that’s a daring little dress you’re wearing tonight, Judith.’

      ‘She has the figure to wear it,’ Raymond retorted, surprising Judith with his defence of her. In the past, Margaret’s snide remarks had seemed to go right over his head. She smiled her gratitude at him but he didn’t smile back, his eyebrows bunching together as he scowled down at her cleavage.

      Judith’s heart leapt when the front doorbell rang behind her, but it wasn’t Alexander who was ushered in. It was a couple she didn’t recognise. Frankly, she didn’t recognise any of the people who arrived over the next hour, other than Raymond’s secretary, who came on her own. A widow in her early forties, Joyce was a pleasant but rather plain woman who had worked for Raymond for eons and was devoted to him.

      Judith found herself introduced to distant relatives of Raymond’s she’d never met before, then half a dozen business associates and their wives, plus several sophisticated couples who were part of Margaret and Mario’s social set.

      They all gave Judith a thorough once-over, and once again Judith got the impression she was found wanting as a bride-to-be. Too young for Raymond, their eyes seemed to say. And far too flashy.

      But Judith was beyond caring what any of them thought. She stood by Raymond’s side near the marble fireplace, smiling plastic smiles and sipping champagne while her whole attention was riveted on the doorway which led back to the front hall. She was watching and waiting for Alexander to arrive, dreading it, yet desperate for it at the same time. There was nothing worse than waiting for something awful to happen. Far better to get it over and done with.

      But Alexander didn’t arrive. Nine o’clock came and went. The introductions dried up and the party settled into full swing. More champagne flowed. Finger food was served from circling trays. СКАЧАТЬ