CHAPTER FIVE

'Clever guess, ' Marcus had said, but there had been no guessing involved in the discovery of his identity. No other man's presence had ever affected her in this alarming manner. They could be at opposite ends of a crowded room, and she would still know he was there, she thought.

'What are you doing here? ' she asked nervously, then she heard him laugh that short, harsh laugh which always indicated his displeasure.

'Is that the way to welcome me after we've been away from each other for days? '

'Marcus, no! ' she cried anxiously, leaping to her feet and moving a little out of his reach when she sensed instinctively that he was about to kiss her.

'What's the matter with you, Roxy? ' he demanded tersely. 'You've been acting strangely ever since that night we went to Dave Whitby's housewarming party. '

'You're imagining things, ' she lied desperately.

'Am I? ' he remarked cynically. 'What happened that night? ' he continued to question her after a frightening little silence. 'Did someone say something to you that could have brought on this sudden change in you? '

'Yes, you/' she wanted to shout at him, but how could she do so without revealing her feelings in the process, so she resorted to the lies she hated so much. 'No one said anything, and I haven't changed. '

She felt his eyes on her and knew that her cheeks were flushed. 'Have lunch with me today to prove it. '

'I can't, ' she said stiffly. 'I'm going to the clinic in an hour's time, and I don't suppose I'll be finished there before late this afternoon. '

'And that's too late for me, ' he told her harshly. 'I'm flying to Cape Town this afternoon, and I don't expect to get back until after the weekend. '

'That settles it, then, ' she said dully.

'Does it? ' She could almost feel the cynicism exuding from him, then something, presumably his fist, crashed down on to her desk, making her jump with fright. 'Damn you, Roxy! What's the matter with you? ' he shouted at her. 'You've blown hot and cold on me, and I demand to know why! '

'If you want to know, then I'll tell you, ' she shouted back at him, resorting to anger in her moment of stress. 'I think it's time our—our relationship ended, and I stand by what I told you initially. I don't want to become involved. '

'So it's that old worn-out story again about not wanting to be a burden because of your blindness, is it? ' he demanded with hateful mockery. 'Well, I don't accept that, Roxy, and I'm damned if I'll let you get away with it. '

What did he mean? she wondered confusedly as she heard him move a few paces away from her, then the sound of a key being turned in the lock struck a chill of fear in her heart.

'Marcus? ' she questioned hoarsely, and then, sensing the approach of danger like a trapped animal, she backed away, stumbling over the low coffee-table in her haste. She lost her balance and fell forward, but strong arms caught her before she reached the floor. She clutched wildly at the wide shoulders beneath the rough material of his jacket, but struggled for release against those restraining arms when she felt herself being lowered on to the leather sofa against the wall. 'Marcus, don't... I beg of you! '

Her pleas were ineffectual, and so were her struggles, for his hard body was relentless as he crushed her softness into the sofa. His breath was warm against her lips, and she turned her face away from that descending mouth, but he grasped a handful of her hair, sending a sharp pain through her scalp as he forced her face back to his, then that ruthless mouth was forcing hers into submission. She knew that she had to resist this onslaught, but she could not fight against the strength of those powerful arms, and much less could she fight against the emotions that swept through her like a tornado when she felt those warm, caressing hands against her skin beneath her sweater. She groaned inwardly, her lips moving of their own volition in passionate surrender beneath his as she admitted defeat, and a shudder of desire shook through her when the catch of her bra gave way beneath his fingers, giving him access to the fullness of her small, pointed breasts.

His hot, sensual mouth raked the sensitive cord of her throat while those caressing, probing fingers drew a moan of ecstasy from her soft, swollen lips. There was a delicious fire in her veins which drove all power of thought from her mind until she was conscious only of their hearts thudding in unison, and the aching need within her that lifted her beyond the realms of sanity.

'So you don't want to become involved, do you? ' his taunting voice penetrated her drugged mind. 'Tell me how you're going to accomplish that feat when you've already involved yourself so deeply? '

Shame was like a douche of iced water preceding the fire of humiliation when he moved away from her, giving her the opportunity to restore a certain order of decency to her clothes. If she had proved anything, then she had proved just how easily he could arouse her emotions, she thought, and God help her if he should ever discover that she loved him.

'I won't be trifled with like a plaything you can discard when it pleases you, ' she said in a voice that sounded raw to her own ears while she pushed her hair away from her white face with a trembling hand. 'I may be blind, but I do have feelings, and right this minute I despise you, Marcus Fleming! '

A long, angry silence followed her statement, then he asked roughly, 'Do you know what you're saying? '

'Yes, ' she replied in a voice choked with anger. 'Go away, and leave me alone. '

She felt him hesitate, but she remained stubbornly silent, and a few moments later she heard the key crunch in the lock before the door was opened and closed quietly. She heard his footsteps growing faint down the passage, and minutes later the sound of a car being driven at speed down the drive reached her ears, then she slumped back on to the sofa and allowed the hot tears to slide from her lashes on to her cheeks.

Roxy realised only too well that she had brought to an end a brief but beautiful chapter in her life. It was best this way while she still had the courage to do what she knew she had to. There was no place for her in Marcus Fleming's life, and it had been foolish of her to imagine there might be. The solid black wall of her blindness was there between them and, added to that, his own admission that he preferred variety in women.

She felt desperately tired when she went upstairs to sponge her face and brush her hair before asking Maggie to drive her to the clinic. The future was like an empty chasm before her that had to be filled somehow, and she would fill it in the only way she knew how.

It was fortunate, perhaps, that Roxy was kept busy at home and at the clinic during the days that followed. It gave her little time to brood over what' had happened, and even less time to consider her own feelings in the matter. In time, she hoped, it would become nothing but a vague memory, but then, on the Tuesday morning of the following week, something occurred to bring the entire episode sharply into focus once more. Half way through the morning Maggie walked into Roxy's workroom and announced that a letter had arrived which was addressed to Roxy personally.

'A letter? ' Roxy frowned curiously. 'But our post is never delivered at the house? '

'It was brought by special messenger, ' Maggie told her. 'Do you want me to read it to you, Miss Roxy? '

Roxy leaned back in her chair and nodded. 'Yes, please. '

Maggie tore open the envelope, and there was the crackle of paper as she removed the letter from the envelope, then she said hesitantly, 'It's from Mr Fleming, Miss Roxy. '

Marcus! The thought of him brought forth a fresh stab of pain. What could he have to say to her that warranted a letter to be sent to her by special messenger?

'I don't imagine there'll be anything personal in it, ' Roxy announced nervously, clenching her hands in her lap. 'Read it to me, Maggie. '

Maggie hesitated only briefly, then the paper crackled as she folded it open once more. 'Roxy, ' she read, 'I returned from Cape Town yesterday, but will be snowed under with work for the rest of this week. I'm booked on the early evening flight to Rio de Janeiro on Friday, and I expect to be away approximately three weeks. There are important matters you and I have to discuss before I leave. Meet me at Carlo's for lunch on Friday at one o'clock sharp. If you're not there, then I shall take it you meant what you said at our last unfortunate meeting, and I shall not trouble you again in future. Marcus. '

'Would you read it to me again, Maggie? ' Roxy whispered, leaning forward in her chair with a curiously breathless feeling in her chest as if the air had suddenly been squeezed from her lungs.

Maggie read it through once more and, when she had finished, Roxy held out her hand for the letter, and thanked her unsteadily.

'Are you going to meet him for lunch, Miss Roxy? ' Maggie questioned inquisitively.

'I don't know, ' Roxy replied, fingering the letter almost as if it afforded her the physical contact with Marcus which she had subconsciously yearned for.

'But, Miss Roxy, you ‑ '

'Hello there! ' Vera's familiar greeting interrupted their conversation, and Roxy placed a quick, soothing hand on Sheba's bristling neck as those high heels clicked across the floor towards her desk. 'Mummy asked me to drop by and give you these two complimentary tickets for the charity concert she's arranged for next Friday week, ' Vera explained.

'Please thank your mother for me, Vera, ' Roxy replied, putting the letter from Marcus aside. 'Would you like a cup of tea? '

'No, thanks. I must be off, ' she declined, but for some reason she lingered in the room as Maggie excused herself. 'How's the affair? ' she asked unexpectedly.

'Affair? ' Roxy questioned in bewilderment.

'You and Marcus, of course, ' Vera explained airily.

Roxy drew a careful breath. 'We're not having an affair, Vera. '

'Oh, go on! ' Vera laughed sarcastically. 'Marcus Fleming isn't the type of man to have platonic relationships with women. '

'I assure you, I'm not having an affair with Marcus, ' Roxy replied, finding it increasingly difficult to keep her anger in check.

'You'd be a fool not to, ' Vera announced in that familiar, breezy fashion. There was an odd little silence, almost as if she had been distracted by something, then she laughed softly and sighed, 'Oh, well, that's your business, isn't it. '

Roxy's lips tightened. 'Yes, it is my business. '

'All right, Miss High and Mighty, I get the message, ' Vera exclaimed haughtily. 'See you around. '

She swept out of the room, her high heels tapping on the floor, and Sheba grunted and slumped down beside Roxy's chair as if she, too, was relieved that the woman, whose perfume still lingered in the air, had left.

Roxy stretched out a hand to where she had left the letter. Had she been careless enough to leave it unfolded? she wondered vaguely, but as she raised the paper to her lips she could think of nothing but the unexpected invitation she had received from Marcus.

Should she meet him, or should she stay away? Her mind warned that it would merely be a postponement of the inevitable, but her heart differed. Was it possible that she had misunderstood? That she did, after all, mean something to him? Why else would he want her to meet him if it were not important to him that there should be some sort of understanding between them before he left for Rio de Janeiro? Could she risk ignoring his invitation and perhaps losing the only happiness she might ever know? No, she could not risk staying away, her heart warned, overruling the doubtful voice of her mind. She would meet him for lunch, even if it was for the very last time.

A new hope swept through her, leaving her light-hearted and excited at the prospect of being with Marcus again. God knew she had longed for his nearness and his touch with a hungry yearning that could not be assuaged, and that breathless, faintly eager note was back in her voice when she had tea with Basil in his office that afternoon.

'I have two complimentary tickets for the charity concert Mrs Sinclair has organised for next Friday evening, ' she told him.

'Is this an invitation? ' he asked with a smile in his voice, and the corners of her own mouth lifted.

'Naturally. '

There was a momentary silence in the small office where the smell of antiseptics mingled with that of the late autumn roses just outside the window, then Basil asked quietly, 'Have you given my proposal some thought? '

Roxy's smile disappeared slowly. 'Yes and no. '

'What does that mean? ' Basil laughed a little curiously.

'Yes, I have given it thought, and, no... I can't marry you. ' She placed her cup carefully on his desk and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. What she regretted most about his proposal was the fact that the situation between them would never be the same again. She had lost a friend; someone she could rely on not to complicate her life, and it was also with this thought in mind that she added softly, 'I'm sorry, Basil. '

'So am I, ' he admitted with surprising amiability, coming round his desk to place a heavy hand on her shoulder. 'I won't give up hoping, though. If you ever change your mind, just let me know. '

Roxy felt decidedly uncomfortable, but she sighed inwardly with relief when he changed the subject, and discussed one of his patients as if nothing unusual had occurred. She knew that he would not mention marriage again unless she felt inclined to discuss it, and that was unlikely, she decided, if anything was to come of her meeting with Marcus at the end of that week.

She was in her bedroom on the Friday morning, preparing herself for her lunch appointment with Marcus, when Maggie came in and said a little breathlessly, 'Miss Roxy, here's another letter for you. '

'From Mr Fleming? ' Roxy asked, an inexplicable tension gripping her insides.

'Yes, Miss Roxy, ' Maggie replied. 'It's typed this time, and not in an envelope. '

'Read it to me. '

Maggie cleared her throat, and read: 'Roxy, I must cancel our lunch appointment. I'm leaving on an earlier flight, and will contact you on my return. Marcus. '

Disappointment surged through Roxy, leaving her deflated, and filling her with the terrifying premonition that they would never meet again. It was silly, of course. Had he not said in his note that he would contact her on his return?

She was conscious suddenly of Maggie waiting for her to say something and, holding out her hand for the note, she said simply, 'Thank you, Maggie. '

Alone in her room a few minutes later, Roxy sat stiffly erect on the stool in front of the dressing table and, without consciously being aware of it, she tore the note into tiny fragments between her fingers. After the eagerness with which she had looked forward to this meeting, the anticlimax was almost too much to bear, and she choked back her tears with an angry exclamation on her lips. There was nothing for her to do now except to wait patiently for his return.

The three weeks passed with painful slowness from autumn into winter. Roxy heard from reliable sources that Marcus had returned from his trip to South America, but a further two weeks passed, -and still he made no effort to contact her. It appeared that whatever he had wanted to discuss with her was no longer of any importance, and she decided dismally that, like so many other things in her life, she would have to resign herself to the knowledge that it had most probably all happened for the best.

This did not deter her pulses from fluttering wildly when she walked into her father's office one afternoon to find Marcus there, and it took some time for her to control herself sufficiently to speak.

'Marcus. . . ' she began hesitantly, extending a nervous hand towards him.

His cold fingers touched hers briefly as he said abruptly, 'Good afternoon. '

Something was dreadfully wrong, she decided, sensing the animosity in him and, with the chill of winter in her heart, she tried again. 'Marcus, I wonder if ‑ '

'Let me know as soon as you have this contract sorted out, will you, Theodore, ' Marcus cut across her words rudely, and his manner sent the blood surging into her face.

'I'll do that, Marcus, ' her father replied after an uncomfortable pause.

'Then you must excuse me. I have another appointment in a few minutes' time. '

Without a further word Marcus strode from the office, but the force of his presence lingered to taunt her confused and aching heart.

'What's happened between you two? ' Theodore finally broke the strained, embarrassed silence, and Roxy emerged from her dazed, bewildered state with the humiliating suspicion that she had been thoroughly snubbed.

'I suppose you could say we had a difference of opinion, ' she explained vaguely, trying to shrug off the after-effects of her unexpected meeting with Marcus. 'We were going to talk it over, but he had to fly to Rio de Janeiro at the time, and we just haven't had the opportunity to discuss it since his return. '

'He's been back two weeks. '

'I know. '

'Do you also know that he's seriously considering stationing himself in South America? '

Roxy felt as though her father had slammed his fist into her midriff. 'No, I didn't know. '

'If he does decide to go, then I understand it will be at the end of July. That's a little more than a month from now. '

'I see. . . ' She swallowed convulsively. Would she ever learn to live with this hopeless pain tearing away at her insides? she wondered, then she buttoned up her coat with trembling fingers, almost as if she hoped it would help to keep out the hurt. 'Let's go home, Daddy. '

Roxy never knew afterwards how she managed to live through the next few days. She was conscious only of the despairing knowledge that time was running out on her, and that soon, within a few short weeks, the vast Atlantic Ocean would separate Marcus from her.

Her pace quickened with her disquieting thoughts as she walked down Eloff Street with her parcels in one hand while the other held on to Sheba's harness. At the corner of Jeppe Street, less than a block away from where Maggie was waiting with the car, Roxy ignored Sheba's urgent signals and stepped off the pavement. The squeal of brakes brought her to her senses, but at that moment she thought only of the faithful animal at her side. With an almost superhuman effort she thrust Sheba back, but something hard slammed into her hip a second later, and she was sent spinning to the ground. There was a flash of pain shooting through her head, a scream that could only have come from her own lips, and then she mercifully knew no more.

Voices came and went, murmuring unintelligible phrases, and cool hands administered to her from time to time, but nothing registered until her father's anxious voice penetrated the thick layer of fog which had encased her mind.

'Roxy? ' His familiar hand gripped hers tightly. 'How do you feel now? '

'I—I have a terrible headache, ' she complained weakly, confused by the realisation that she was lying on a bed, and perturbed by the excruciating pain in her head when she tried to raise it. 'What—what happened? '

'You were knocked down by a car on the corner of Jeppe and Eloff Street. '

'Oh, yes... I remember now. ' The memory of those squealing brakes flashed through her brain like a nightmare, and then a more pressing thought came to mind, making her clutch urgently at her father's hand as fear consumed her. 'Sheba? ' she questioned, her voice rising sharply. 'What happened to Sheba? '

'She's at home, and there's absolutely nothing the matter with her, ' he set her mind at rest quickly. 'You apparently pushed her back on to the pavement moments before that car struck you. '

'Thank heaven, ' she croaked, unable to check the tears that filled her eyes, and it was some time before she spoke again. 'Daddy, will you telephone Basil and let him know I shan't be able to make it to the clinic this afternoon? '

There was an awkward silence, then her father said cautiously, 'Roxy, my dear. . . it's morning. '

'Morning? ' Her mind groped wildly for understanding, but it evaded her.

'You've been unconscious since yesterday afternoon, ' Theodore explained in a voice that was somehow shaky.

'Oh, lord! ' she moaned. 'Was it as bad as that? '

'You were extremely fortunate, ' Theodore explained with relief. 'You gashed the side of your head badly when you fell, but you have no other injuries except for a few nasty bruises. '

She fingered the starched sheets, and listened carefully to the hum of activity about her before she asked warily, 'Am I in hospital? '

'Yes, ' Theodore admitted, moments before a nurse entered the ward to announce that it was time for him to leave. He stood up at once and leaned over Roxy to kiss her on the cheek. 'I'll see you again this evening, ' he whispered, and then she found herself alone with a silent but efficient nurse who took her pulse and her temperature before checking the dressing high up against her hairline where her head still continued to throb painfully.

Roxy was allowed home a few days later when the stitches had been removed, and when the doctor had satisfied himself that she was well enough to leave the hospital, but the incessant headaches she suffered during the following week finally drove her into Basil Vaughn's consulting-rooms.

He examined her carefully, and she knew the ritual only too well to realise that he was flashing lights into her eyes. It filled her with a vague feeling of discomfort on this occasion, and she was relieved when he finally arranged for her to be X-rayed.

'What's wrong with me, Basil? ' she wanted to know when she emerged from the X-ray department to find him waiting for her.

'Can't tell yet, ' he said abruptly. 'That's why I wanted you-X-rayed. '

'Have you no idea at all? '

There was a strained silence, then he took her arm and escorted her out to her car. 'I have an idea what it might be, but I'd rather not discuss it until I'm certain of my facts. '

'You're beginning to frighten me. '

'You have nothing to be afraid of. Oh, and here ‑ ' He thrust a packet into her hands as Maggie approached to take charge of her. 'Take two of these capsules for the headache, but there must be six hours between each dosage. They're pretty powerful. '

Three days later Roxy and her father were summoned to Basil's consulting-rooms, and the mere fact that her father had been asked to accompany her made Roxy realise that, whatever Basil had to tell them, it was something extremely serious. It filled her with trepidation and fear, and she broke out in a cold sweat when they were Anally ushered into his office.

'I'm glad you could come, Mr Cunningham, ' Basil said, his voice professionally frightening as he assisted Roxy into a chair. 'I have the X-rays set up for you to examine them. '

Theodore accompanied Basil to the other side of the room and the sound of a switch being flicked jarred against Roxy's nerves.

'But these are the X-rays you took some years ago, ' Theodore protested at once.

'I'm well aware of that, ' Basil replied calmly. 'I'd like you to take a close look at them before I illustrate the result of Roxy's accident two weeks ago, so bear with me, please. '

There was a tense, lingering silence, then Roxy said impatiently, 'Don't keep us in suspense, Basil. '

'Very well, ' he laughed briefly, but she knew him too well not to detect the underlying note of strain in his laughter. 'You see here the tiny steel fragment, and it's no bigger than the tip of a lead pencil, ' he proceeded to enlighten her father. 'It entered through her temple, severed a large vein, and miraculously travelled behind her eyes without injuring them, but then it severed the optic chiasma and settled in the spongy bone beyond it. ' Roxy's clever ears picked up the sound of X-ray plates being removed and replaced with others. 'Now I'd like you to look at the X-rays taken a few days ago, ' Basil was saying. 'The blow she had received on her head when she fell had altered the position of the bone fragments and the fragment of grenade. It appears now that the optic nerves had only been partially severed, and that the loss of function had been caused by the pressure of the bone fragments and metal on the nerves. '

There was a long, strained silence during which it seemed that even the furniture was holding its breath, then Theodore asked the question that stood out glaringly in Roxy's mind.

'What does this mean? '

'Now that the pressure has been lifted slightly, it appears that the optic nerves are still sending impulses through to the brain. Look, I'll demonstrate this. ' He crossed the room to Roxy's side and adjusted her position slightly, then he retreated once more and said abruptly, 'Hold that position, Roxy. ' He flicked a switch, and she experienced again that vague feeling of discomfort before he spoke to Theodore. 'Do you see how her pupils are reacting to the light? '

'Yes, I see, ' her father acknowledged this discovery.

Another flick of the switch removed her discomfort, and as a long, drawn-out silence threatened once more, she said irritably, 'Cut out the dramatics, Basil, and tell us the bare facts. Is there a possibility now that you can operate, or isn't there? '

Basil cleared his throat uncomfortably. 'Yes... and no. '

'Explain yourself, ' she ordered sharply, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her fingers ached.

'There's a possibility that I could operate now that the pressure has been lifted and the optic nerves appear not to have been severed entirely, but ‑ '

'But? ' she, prompted impatiently. 'Come on, Basil! I've lived long enough with the knowledge that I'll always be blind, so let's have it straight, and I can promise you there won't be any hysterics. '

'It's a dangerous operation, ' Basil told them now without further hesitation. 'That tiny piece of steel and the fragments of bone have eased the pressure on the nerves, but they've moved dangerously close to the brain. If I operate there's a strong possibility that you'll regain your sight partially... even entirely, but it could also result in severe brain damage. '

Roxy could not have explained her feelings at that moment even if she had tried. She had lived so long without hope that it made little difference to her at that moment whether her sight was restored to her or not. But as the seconds ticked by she began to think differently, although a built-in wariness made her reject that tiny flicker of hope even before it had taken shape.

'What are the chances? ' her father asked at last.

'Fifty-fifty, ' Basil replied with blunt sincerity. 'It's a risk whichever way you look at it. '

'What do you suggest? ' asked Roxy, finding her voice at last.

'I wouldn't advise the operation—not yet, anyway, ' Basil told her quite firmly. 'I'd like to study the X-rays further, and consult a few of my colleagues here in South Africa and abroad. When I've been informed of their opinions, I'll let you know, but in the meantime don't build up your hopes too much. '

Roxy and her father drove home in abject silence, each occupied with their own frightening thoughts, but when they were in the house Theodore drew Roxy into his arms, and held her tightly.

'I'd give every cent I possess for your sight to be restored to you, ' he said thickly, 'but if there's the slightest risk involved, then you must forgive me if I withhold my consent. '

Roxy said nothing, but she tightened her arms about him in despair. She knew his fears as if they were her own, and she knew, too, the futility of hoping too much. The first five years of her blindness had been spent praying for miracles, but she had eventually been forced to resign herself to the fact that she would remain blind for the rest of her life. Now, after all these years, fate had decided to present her with the suggestion of a miracle, but it felt as though she had been given a scorpion with a deadly sting in its tail.

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