you to play."
"I told him I'd speak to you, Deborah."
At that - perhaps it was the change in his tone - he saw the spots of colour on her cheeks deepen. Her lips pressed together. She walked to the day bed, sat down, and folded her hands.
"All right. Go ahead."
St. James saw the unmistakable flicker of passion cross her face. He heard the first stirring of temper in her voice.
But he chose to ignore both, deciding to go on with what he had come to say. He assured himself that his motivation was his promise to Cotter. His given word meant commitment, and he could not leave without making certain Cotter's concerns were explained to his daughter in the most explicit terms.
"Your father's worried about you and Tommy," he began, in what he deemed a reasonable manner.
She countered adroitly. "And what about you? Are you worried as well?"
"It has nothing to do with me."
'Ah. I should have known. Well, now that you've seen me - and the flat as well - are you going to report back and justify Dad's worries? Or do I need to do something to pass your inspection?"
"You've misunderstood.'' 'You've come snooping around to check up on my behaviour.
What is it exactly I've misunderstood?"
"It isn't a question of your behaviour, Deborah." He was feeling defensive, decidedly uncomfortable. Their interview wasn't supposed to take this course. "It's only that your relationship with Tommy - "
She pushed herself to her feet. "I'm afraid that's none of your business, Simon. My father may be little more than a servant in your life, but I'm not. I never was. Where did you get the idea you could come round here and pry into my life? Who do you think you are?"
"Someone who cares about you. You know that very well."
"Someone who ..." Deborah faltered. Her hands clenched in front of her as if she wished to stop herself from saying more. The effort failed. "Someone who care si You call yourself someone who cares about me? You, who never bothered to write so much as a single letter all the years I was gone. I was seventeen years old. Do you know what that was like? Have you any idea since you care so much?" She walked unevenly to the other side of the room and swung to face him again. "Every day for months on end, there I was, waiting like an idiot - a stupid little fool - hoping for word from you. An answer to my letters. Anything! A note. A card. A message sent through my father. It didn't matter what as long as it was from you. But nothing came. I didn't know why. I couldn't understand.
And in the end, when I could face it, I just waited for the news that you'd finally married Helen."
"Married Helen!" St. James demanded incredulously. He didn't stop to consider how or why their conversation was escalating so rapidly into an argument. "How in God's name could you even think that?"
"What else was I to think?"
"You might have had the sense to start out with what existed between the two of us before you left England."
Tears sprang into her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. "Oh, I thought of that, all right. Every night, every morning, I thought of that, Simon. Lying in my bed, trying to come up with a single good reason to get on in my life. Living in a void. Living in hell.
Are you pleased to know it? Are you satisfied now? Missing you. Wanting you. It was torture. A disease."
'With Tommy the cure." 'Absolutely. Thank God. With Tommy the cure. So get out of here. Now. Leave me alone."
"I'll leave, all right. It would hardly do to have me here in the love nest when Tommy arrives to claim what he's paid for." He pointed crudely at each object as he spoke. "Tea laid out nicely. Soft music playing. And the lady herself, ready and waiting. I can see I'd get just a bit in the way. Especially if he's in a rush."
Deborah backed away from him. "What he's paid for? Is that why you're here? Is that what you think? That I'm too worthless and stupid to support myself? That this is Tommy's flat? Who am I then, Simon? Who bloody well am I? His bauble? Some scrubber? His tart?" She didn't wait for the answer. "Get out of my flat."
Not yet, he decided. By God, not yet. "You talk a pretty