CHAPTER SEVEN

A preliminary medication left Roxy drowsily content as they wheeled her smoothly along the passages from the ward to the theatre. She was not afraid; she was not even vaguely perturbed at the thought of what might happen, but when her father came up to her moments before they wheeled her into the operating theatre, she heard the anxiety in his voice, and felt it in his touch.

Basil was there as well, bending over her to speak into her ear. 'There's still time to change your mind, Roxy. '

'I'm not going to change my mind, ' she answered drowsily but firmly. 'Whatever happens, I know you'll do your best. '

'Don't disfigure her too much, ' she heard her father say. 'She's suffered enough over the years. '

'I shall be cutting above the hairline, Mr Cunningham, ' Basil replied professionally. 'When her hair grows out again it will cover the scar completely. '

'How long will the operation last? '

'That's difficult to say. Three, maybe four hours, ' Basil answered vaguely, not wanting to commit himself.

'Daddy? ' Roxy tightened her fingers about her father's hand. 'Don't worry too much, and. . . thank you.. . for everything. '

She was wheeled into the theatre after that, and she was conscious of the activity about her as she was transferred from the trolley on to the operating table. The atmosphere seemed tense when the anaesthetist announced that he was ready. Basil murmured, 'Go ahead', and then Roxy knew no more until she found herself drifting in a world of bright, flashing colours.

Was she in heaven or was she in hell? she wondered crazily, then she heard a voice demanding repeatedly, 'Roxy, can you hear me? '

The voice was vaguely familiar, but she drifted away, deeper into this abyss of whirling stars and beyond to where the darkness offered blessed relief.

Again and again that voice recalled her to consciousness until she was forced to recognise it as her father's.

'I hear you, ' she managed at last with a measure of annoyance and irritation. 'Why didn't Basil operate? '

'Basil operated this morning, my dear, ' her father told her with an odd inflection in his voice. 'You're going to be all right. '

'Oh, God, ' she moaned, disappointment bringing her to full consciousness. 'Why? '

'Why? What do you mean, Roxy? '

'I wanted to die, ' she croaked out her misery.

'You wanted to ‑ '

'Take it easy, Mr Cunningham. Perhaps it would be a good idea if you left now, and I suggest you try to get some rest. '

Roxy recognised that voice at once, and turned her head in its direction to cry out in despair, 'Basil, why, why? '

'Relax, my dear, ' he soothed her, his hands holding her down against the pillows. 'You need plenty of rest. '

There was a pin-prick in her arm, and then she drifted off into that mad world from which she had emerged minutes before, but on this occasion she drifted further and slept naturally.

She was fully conscious, however, the following morning when Basil came in to ask how she was feeling.

'I feel as though I'm going crazy, ' she complained. 'I'm in a Technicolor madhouse and it's... it's quite indescribable. '

'That will ease off eventually, ' he told her, holding on to her hand long after he had taken her pulse. 'What you're experiencing at the moment is caused by the nerves coming alive now that the pressure has been lifted completely. *

'Was the operation a success? '

'You're alive, aren't you? ' he laughed teasingly, but there was no answering smile on her lips as she raised a tentative hand to her eyes.

There were no restricting bandages covering them, and yet there was only that Technicolor blankness. 'Why can't I see? '

'It's going to take time, ' Basil warned her calmly. 'The nerves had been pinched for a long time, and the healing process will be gradual before they start functioning properly again. '

'How long? ' she demanded abruptly.

'Two weeks—a month—perhaps longer. '

'Perhaps never, ' she added cynically, her initial disappointment replaced by the urgent desire to be able to see.

'I'm confident that you will see, Roxy, ' Basil told her firmly. 'Just be patient, and give it time. '

'Yes, ' she sighed, a faint smile hovering about her mouth now. 'There's plenty of time. '

Before he left the ward Basil issued a few instructions to the nursing Sister in attendance, and a few minutes later Roxy drifted off into an easy sleep once more. She slept away most of the day, hovering between consciousness and oblivion until her father entered her ward that evening and approached her bed.

'Roxy? '

She opened her eyes and turned them blindly in his direction. 'Hello, Daddy. '

'How do you feel now? ' he asked anxiously, and she heard a chair scraping on the floor before he took her hand in his.

'I feel as though I have a hole in the head, ' she smiled faintly. 'How is everyone at home? '

'We all miss you very much. Most especially Sheba. '

'Poor Sheba, ' she sighed tiredly. 'Take care of her for me, Daddy. '

'You know I will, ' he promised.

'I'm sorry I upset you yesterday, ' she said self-consciously. 'Forgive me? '

'Of course I forgive you, ' Theodore brushed aside her apology. 'It was merely the after-effects of the operation that made you feel that way. '

Roxy did not contradict him. There was no purpose in upsetting him once more with an explanation of the reasons for her ridiculous desire for death, and they talked quietly and a little awkwardly for a time, neither of them mentioning the serious side of the operation she had survived.

'Roxy, I'm going to leave you now, ' her father said eventually, and she felt him lean towards her urgently. 'There's someone else waiting to see you, and he's been waiting very anxiously since yesterday morning to have a word with you. '

'Who is it? ' she asked hesitantly, an odd tension gripping her.

'Marcus. '

'Marcus? ' she repeated in anguish, then her control seemed to snap and, as if from some distance away, she heard herself crying out in a near-hysterical voice, 'No! Oh, no, no! Send him away! I don't want him here! Send him away! '

'Please wait outside, Mr Cunningham, ' an authoritative voice instructed, and Roxy clutched wildly at the arms that held her down.

'Send him away, Basil. Don't let him in here. Please, I don't want ‑ '

'Sister, quick! ' she heard Basil rap out a command, then a shutter seemed to click in her brain and she sagged limply in his arms as she slipped away into oblivion.

She had the curious sensation that she was floating through space, but she was forced back along a tunnel towards a pinpoint of light. When she reached it, it seemed to disintegrate into a commanding voice ordering her to open her eyes, and she did so reluctantly.

'How do you feel now? ' Basil was asking her.

'All right, I suppose, ' she answered curiously. 'What happened? '

'You became a little over-excited. '

'What about? ' she frowned, and when Basil did not reply at once, she slid her hands a little agitatedly over the sheets. The realisation that she was lying in a bed made her ask anxiously, 'Where am I? '

'You're in the clinic, ' Basil told her in that same quiet tone he had used from the moment she had recovered consciousness.

'Did I have an accident? ' she asked warily, not understanding.

'No, there was no accident. ' There was a perturbed silence, then he asked carefully, 'Do you know who I am? '

'Of course I know who you are, silly, ' she laughed lightly. 'You're Basil Vaughn and I'm Roxana Cunningham, and I'm not suffering from amnesia, if that's what you're thinking. '

'Then you know about the operation, ' he seemed to sight with relief.

'Operation? ' she demanded at once, frighteningly alert for the first time. 'What operation? '

' Your operation. '

'But I haven't had an operation, ' she argued, trying desperately to grasp the situation. 'What are you talking about? '

'I operated on you yesterday, Roxy, ' Basil said, and he explained briefly what had occurred. 'Don't you remember? '

'No. . . ' she frowned. 'It's absolutely fantastic news, of course, but... why can't I remember? '

'Don't upset yourself. It will all come back to you. '

'But I feel as though there's a dreadful blank in my memory, and... ' She gripped his hands tightly. 'Basil, I'm frightened! '

'I'll ask Dr Gordon to take a look at you, and I'm certain he'll tell you, as I have, that there's nothing to be concerned about, and that your memory will return in time, ' Basil assured her. 'It is, after all, only a partial lapse of memory. '

'The last thing I seem to remember quite clearly is when you dropped me off at my father's office, ' she explained, making an effort to concentrate. 'I was worried about Noreen Butler, I know, and then I recall going up in the lift to my father's office, and then... nothing. '

'Noreen Butler was discharged from the clinic more than two months ago, ' Basil stated, making her realise more fully the nightmarish situation which she now found herself in. 'Today is the seventh of July. '

'Oh, God! ' she exclaimed in alarm. 'I've lived through more than two months of which I can't remember a thing. '

Basil's hands eased her agitated body back against the pillows. 'Just relax. You've suffered an emotionally traumatic experience, and you will eventually recall everything. '

'But when? ' she demanded with breathless anxiety.

'I can't say, but don't try to force it, ' he warned. 'Let it come naturally. '

Dr Gordon came to see Roxy as Basil had asked him to, and she found him an understanding man with a soothing voice. It was partial amnesia, he confirmed Basil's diagnosis, and it was a temporary condition, but he could not tell her how long it would take for her memory to be restored to her.

'The most important thing is not to force it, ' he instructed in that soothing voice that washed away her doubts and fears. 'Certain incidents, names, and places will eventually trigger off a spark of memory, and it will grow like a puzzle until all the pieces fit one into the other. The brain is the cleverest and the most sensitive part of the body, but occasionally, when something disturbing occurs, it closes certain doors and shuts out the memory of that incident which has affected you in a similar manner to shock. Consider this a time of healing and, when your conscious mind is ready once more to accept the facts which it now finds so unpalatable, your brain will release the information you require. '

Roxy did not pretend to understand entirely, but she found herself accepting his assurances and looking forward instead to the time when she would be able to see again.

It would be a slow process, Basil had warned, but she was content now to wait. Her father visited her twice a day until she was allowed to go home, and when Roxy stepped from the car she was greeted by a yelping Sheba who nearly knocked her down in her excitement.

'Welcome home, ' her father said delightedly as he steadied her, and Roxy laughed happily as she knelt down and wrapped her arms about Sheba's furry body.

Beneath the woollen cap Roxy wore, her hair had started to grow, but, as she stroked Sheba's smooth coat, she smiled ruefully at the realisation that it would be a long time before her hair reached the length of Sheba's.

As the days passed and lengthened into weeks Roxy began to distinguish between light and dark, but she still made use of Sheba to guide her where she needed to go. Her excitement knew no bounds, however, when she awoke one morning to find she could recognise certain objects in her bedroom through the film of mist which still clouded her vision. A visit to Basil's consulting-rooms confirmed that it should not be long before she would have her vision restored totally.

A difficult period of adjustment lay ahead of her, Basil had warned, but she had never realised how difficult it would be until she actually experienced it. During the months following her operation there were times when she felt like a child learning all the fundamental things from the very beginning, such as controlling her balance in a crazy, tilting world, and relying on her eyes instead of her touch and sense of smell to define certain objects. Instead of enjoying the restoration of her sight, she found she was more often frustrated by it, and it took time to adjust herself to the things which had seemed so natural ten years ago.

There had been no joy in being able to choose her own clothes and, at first, she had been inclined to choose a vivid range of wild colours until she finally settled for something more subdued and in keeping with her nature. Learning to apply her make-up had been a hilarious experience, both for Maggie and herself. Being able to see had somehow robbed her hands of their deftness, and more often than not she had ended up with lipstick on her chin.

What Roxy had hated most was having to wear a wig until her own hair had grown to a reasonable length, and six months passed, including the Christmas season, before she was able to discard the false hairpiece. Her own hair now lay in short, soft curls close to. her head and, as Basil had promised her father, the scar left by the operation was not visible unless one searched for it.

Roxy studied herself in the mirror one evening after she had dressed herself with care to join her father for dinner downstairs. The face that stared back at her was the face of a woman, and no longer the childish face she had remembered with the smattering of freckles across the bridge of the small, straight nose. Her eyes could only be described as green, with mysterious hidden depths, and she stared into them searchingly, wondering what it was that lay hidden there even from herself. Her mouth was soft and full, with the slight suggestion of sensuality as if it had known the passion of a man's kisses. Had there been a man in her life during those two shuttered months? She rejected the idea at once and slid her critical glance down the length of her figure. She had been a skinny, gangling twelve-year-old, but there was nothing skinny about her now, she decided, taking pleasure in looking at herself. She was slender, but the soft material of her cream-coloured evening gown accentuated the womanly curves of her long-limbed, shapely figure.

She was not unattractive, she thought, continuing her critical appraisal of herself. She was, in fact, more attractive than she had imagined, but she was still a stranger to herself. When she closed her eyes she felt familiar, but when she stared at herself in the mirror, it was like facing someone she had met once before; someone who looked vaguely familiar, but whom she could not place.

She went downstairs eventually, and slid her hand along the banister as she had always done. It was no longer for the purpose of guiding herself, but merely to form a definite association between the unfamiliarity of what she saw and the familiarity of touch. She still found that she relied heavily on her other senses, but Basil assured her that it would eventually diminish.

Theodore's eyes, so very like her own, smiled at her from across the dining-room when she walked in, and she went up to him where he sat at the head of the long oak table, and dropped a light kiss on to his grey head.

'You look tired, ' she remarked, acquainting herself once again with the thin, lined features of this man who had aged so much over the years. 'Have you had a hectic day? '

'A mad day, ' he confirmed, taking her hand in his when she sat down in her usual place at his left. 'Have you been out shopping again? '

She saw him take in the smooth lines of the dress she was wearing, and smiled. 'Do you like it? '

'Very sophisticated, ' he nodded, staring at her appreciatively. 'It makes you look cool, confident, and poised. '

'Like that alabaster statue in the hall? ' she teased, her eyes alight with amusement, and he tapped her cheek playfully with his fingers, but he was prevented from replying when their dinner was wheeled into the dining-room.

Her loss of memory had never been discussed during these months she had been recovering at home, and incidents which might have occurred during that passage of time she could not recall were never mentioned. She just wondered at times why they had so stoically avoided the subject, but coping with the miracle of being able to see again had been enough with which to occupy herself.

'What you need is a nice long holiday in the country, ' Theodore told her after dinner when they had settled down with their coffee in the living-room where the cool evening breeze stirred the curtains at the french windows. 'I know of a place in the mountains where the air is fresh and the scenery is magnificent, ' he added persuasively.

'I don't particularly want to leave home, ' Roxy protested, absently caressing Sheba's silky ear.

Poor Sheba, Roxy thought. This beautiful golden labrador at her feet was still most perturbed at the change in her mistress, and at times she appeared quite bewildered and hurt at the knowledge that Roxy could do without her assistance.

'Roxy, my dear. . . ' her father interrupted her thoughts. 'Perhaps you might find that hidden part of your memory in the peace and quiet of the mountains. '

Her smile faded and a frown appeared on her brow at the mention of that void in her life and, glancing at her father intently, she asked: 'Did anything unusual happen during that time I can't recall? '

'Why should you think anything unusual happened? ' her father laughed, but he looked tense, and his laughter had been forced.

'Everyone has always studiously avoided discussing that period in my life, ' she explained, her expression troubled.

'The reason for that is simple. Dr Gordon suggested that we don't force the issue while you're still convalescing, ' Theodore tried to brush aside the matter. 'He said to wait until you displayed a natural curiosity. ' 'I'm curious now, ' she said, seating herself on the edge of her chair and holding her father's glance. 'Did anything happen that I should know about? '

Theodore shifted uncomfortably in his chair and cleared his throat. 'There was someone you became very attached to. '

'Was it a man? '

'Yes. '

'Was I in love with him? " she asked, holding her breath.

Theodore nodded. 'I think so. '

'What was his name? '

'Marcus Fleming. '

The name bounced through Roxy's mind like a flat pebble bouncing across the water. It disturbed the surface of her memory, but before she could delve deeper, the impression had faded.

'Does his name bring anything to mind? ' her father asked casually.

'No.. . nothing at all, ' she shook her head unhappily, 'but if I was in love with this man, as you say, then how could I have forgotten him so completely? '

'It will all come back to you eventually, ' he assured her, getting up to close the french windows when the breeze became too strong.

She had been in love with someone; someone by the name of Marcus Fleming, and yet she could not remember a thing about him. She felt cheated somehow, and vaguely uneasy when she thought about it, but then a more disturbing thought came to mind.

'Why has he never been to see me? '

'When he paid you a visit in the clinic you absolutely refused to see him, ' Theodore told her, returning to his chair. 'You could hardly blame him now for staying out of your way, could you? '

'1 suppose not, ' she agreed, pressing her fingers against her temples in an effort to remember. 'But if I loved him, why would I have refused to see him? '

'I'm afraid I can't tell you that, ' he said, shaking his grey head as he stared at her thoughtfully for a moment, then he returned to the subject he had mentioned earlier. 'About that holiday in the mountains. Will you go if I make the necessary arrangements? '

Roxy stretched her shapely limbs out in front of her and leaned back lazily in her chair. Perhaps her father was right. It might be good for her to get away for a while and, setting aside her problems for the moment, she smiled into his anxious eyes. 'I think it would be nice to have a holiday in the mountains, but not for longer than two weeks. '

'Good! ' he rubbed his hands together excitedly. 'A few weeks in the fresh country air will put the colour back into your cheeks. '

The arrangements were made swiftly, and Roxy went shopping for warmer clothes. It was late summer, but in the Drakensberg the air was inclined to be cool, she was told, and the nights could become decidedly chilly.

'Don't overdo things, ' Basil warned when Roxy went for her final check-up, 'and don't expose your eyes as yet to glaring light. Wear your tinted glasses during the day until your eyes are stronger. '

Roxy observed him closely and it took a considerable effort on her part not to smile. Basil had behaved more like a mother hen fussing over her chick than a doctor attending a patient, and at times she had had the uneasy feeling that she meant more to him than just a friend and patient. He was older, too, than she had imagined, and his dark, springy hair was white against his temples. Lean, attractive, and distinguished were the adjectives which came to mind at that moment.

'I must admit, Roxy, ' he interrupted her thoughts, 'I was petrified when you insisted that I perform the operation. '

'I can't imagine why I insisted you should attempt something you considered dangerous, ' she smiled up into his grey eyes despite the fact that his confession had surprised her. 'I'm not sorry, though, and neither are you, I'm sure. '

'No, I'm not sorry. It was a miracle, and I'm grateful that I was the implement through which it could be performed. ' His fingers caressed her cheek, then he withdrew his hand abruptly and pulled her to her feet. 'Come, your father is waiting for you, and I hope you enjoy your short holiday in the mountains. '

Had she glimpsed pain in Basil's eyes, or had it been her imagination? she wondered curiously when her father drove her home, but aloud she said: 'I wonder why Basil should have looked so unhappy when we said goodbye. Do you suppose he imagines I shan't want to help him in future at the clinic? '

Her father glanced at her quickly, and then away again. 'He's in love with you. '

Oh, lord, so that was it! she thought in dismay. Basil was in love with her, and she was supposedly in love with someone she could not even recall. Oh, damn! Why couldn't she remember!

She would have to learn to drive, Roxy decided on the Saturday during the long journey to the hotel in the Drakensberg, but for the present her father and Maggie were still quite happily acting as her chauffeur. They were booked into separate suites in the chalet-type hotel with a view overlooking the valley below, and they spent a relaxing weekend together before Theodore attempted the tiring drive home to Johannesburg.

Roxy opened the doors of her suite and stepped out on to the balcony which was bathed in sunshine. She felt lonely now that her father had left, and she leaned against the sturdy wooden railing as she let her glance travel appreciatively over the smooth lawns below her. To her left lay the tennis courts where several couples were enjoying a game before lunch, but only a few young men braved the cool water of the swimming pool.

A movement caught her eye, and she glanced towards the track leading higher up into the mountains. A man was striding along the path down to the hotel, his broad shoulders appearing broader in the dark blue windcheater, while the faded blue denims accentuated his lean hips and muscular thighs. She had seen him before, this tall man with the strong, rugged features, and short light-brown hair which looked deceptively fair in the sunlight. He had sat just two tables away from her father and herself at dinner the previous evening, and the piercing quality of his deep blue eyes had disturbed her intensely throughout the meal.

His sturdy climbing boots crunched on the gravel below her moments later, and then, suddenly, he paused and looked up. Startled into immobility, she found herself staring helplessly down into his disturbing eyes like someone hypnotised, and the colour in her cheeks deepened when his stern mouth relaxed into a faintly mocking smile before he walked on and disappeared into the hotel.

Roxy was surprised to find that she was shaking when she entered her suite and closed the doors behind her. There was something about that man that frightened her, and she was beginning to regret that she had agreed to come away on her own for two weeks.

She saw him again at lunch, and felt certain that he had deliberately seated himself at the table in a position where he would face her. Damn the man! she thought angrily. Judging by that faintly mocking smile that hovered about his mouth, he was fully aware of the alarming effect he was having on her, and he was obviously enjoying it. Damn him!

At dinner that evening she seated herself with her back to him, but that made the situation considerably worse when she felt his eyes boring into her back, and she was finally forced to return to her suite, without doing justice to the superb meal.

Later that evening, when she slipped into her coat and went for a stroll in the well-lit grounds of the hotel, he was there as well. He was leaning against a tree with his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his corduroy pants, and he looked suddenly as if he had been waiting there for her to join him. She paused abruptly in her stride when she saw him incline his head in a brief, mocking greeting, then she swung away in the opposite direction and quickened her pace. To her dismay, he followed her, but he made no effort to catch up with her, and merely remained some distance behind her. He was really a most infuriating man, she thought when her skin began to crawl and, relinquishing the effort to appear casual, she almost sprinted back to the hotel and went upstairs to closet herself in her suite.

She went to bed shortly after ten, but she could not sleep, and it was almost midnight when a heavy step on the balcony outside her window made her get out of bed and draw the curtain aside. It was that man again, she discovered, and he was leaning with his hands on the wooden railings while he stared out across the star-studded valley with the jutting mountains silhouetted against the night sky in the distance. Roxy stood there observing him, curiosity overcoming her wariness. Who and what was he? she wondered frowningly. And why did his presence fill her with such nervous dread? He turned his head suddenly, as if he sensed that he was being observed, and she drew back sharply, holding her breath, but he could not see her, of course, behind the heavy lace at the window of her darkened room.

He stared directly at her window for long seconds until she felt certain that, even though he could not see her, he must surely hear the heavy thudding of her heart, then she saw him push a hand through his hair as if he had become agitated about something. He stared out into the darkness a moment longer, then he turned and, to her horror, she discovered that he had been booked into the suite next to her own. She let the curtain fall back into place and went back to bed, but it was a long time before she fell asleep.

After breakfast the following morning, Roxy changed into a warm pair of slacks, sturdy, comfortable walking shoes, and a red anorak which she put on over her knitted sweater and zipped up to beneath her chin. The path into the mountain was quite safe, she had been informed by the desk clerk, and that was where she intended going.

It was a steady upward climb, but she took it in easy stages, resting whenever she needed to, and drinking in the spectacular scenery like someone who had thirsted for it a long time. She had never before seen mountains so ruggedly majestic, nor valleys so deep and lush, she decided as she paused once more to draw breath, then she turned to look back the way she had come, and her heart lurched like a frightened bird in her breast. She did not need to be clairvoyant to know who was striding up along the track below her, and he was gaining steadily on her too. It was that man again, and, determined to keep away from him, she walked on, climbing higher and higher until her breath rasped in her pulsating throat, and her aching limbs forced her to rest on a rock beneath a shady tree. He had gained on her, she noticed with a feeling of dread, and within a few short minutes she knew he would reach her, but tiredness overwhelmed her, and left her with no way of avoiding this meeting.

She leaned back against the stem of the tree, pushed her tinted glasses up on to her head, and closed her eyes as she waited for his arrival with a feeling close to peril. She sat there, wanting to run, yet too tired to do so as she listened to his footsteps coming determinedly closer. She opened her eyes at length to see him standing a little distance away from her, and he was surveying her with a curious mixture of triumph and mockery in his eyes. Instead of the blue windcheater and denims he had worn the day before, he was wearing a brown leather jacket and khaki pants, and panic had a stranglehold on her throat when he lessened the distance between them to tower over her. His intensely blue eyes travelled over her slowly and systematically, leaving her with the alarming sensation that she had been stripped naked and, lowering her glasses on to her nose, she jumped to her feet, intent upon returning the way she had come.

'If you climb a little higher you'll have a magnificent view of the mountains and the valleys, ' his voice stopped her. It was deep with a resonant timbre, and hauntingly familiar. She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide and searching behind the tinted lenses, then the vague memory receded with equal swiftness into that cloistered section of her mind.

'Follow me, ' he said, and she followed as if she no longer had a will of her own.

He kept to the track for a while, then he veered off to the left, and she found herself following him across a much rougher terrain. Before she could become tired or nervous, however, she found herself on a plateau of sorts, and looking out across the rugged ridge of mountains which seemed to reach from the deep, gorging valleys up towards the sky where the jutting peaks disappeared amongst the clouds.

Roxy felt small and insignificant when she sat down on the flat rock behind her. For endless minutes she savoured the breathtaking view which seemed to continue as far as the eye could see, but then she became aware of the presence of that disturbing man who stood admiring the view a little distance away from her.

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