HE took a step towards her, then turned and walked away, his hands clenched at his sides as if he wanted to hit her. She watched him prowl around, staring at nothing, until he came back to her, visibly controlling his temper.
"All right. What exactly do you want, Samantha? You seem to have made careful plans for your future, what plans have you made for mine? A divorce?"
"Not yet, no," she said coolly, meeting his eyes without a flicker of expression in her face. "I want a separation; we can make it legal, if you like, or wait and see how we both feel after a few months."
His face smoothed out, his voice was level. "And you're going to take this job with Jude."
"Yes." Well, he seemed to have accepted that now, anyway. So far, so good. Samantha didn't yet risk a sigh of relief; it would tell him too much about her secret uncertainty.
"And you plan to live here?" Darius glanced around the room, his mouth twisting.
"Yes."
"Alone?" he bit out.
"For the moment, yes," she said with limpid frankness, meeting the dart of his stare. For a moment she thought he was going to turn violent again, then without another word he walked away and the front door slammed.
He had gone. She had won. Samantha sat down on the floor as if her legs had given way beneath her. She should have felt triumphant, but she didn't. She felt cold and frightened and very alone.
Samantha wrote to Paris that night, telling her that she was going to be working in the company from now on and that she would mostly be living in London and had taken a flat. Her arrangement with Jude had been that she would take her time off whenever Paris was home from school, so she promised her daughter that she would still be able to spend lots of time with her when she was on holiday. She didn't mention that she had asked her father for a separation, nor did she breathe a word about divorce. Paris was too young to be burdened with such things. Her letter was carefully vague and she hoped it wouldn't worry Paris too much.
She rang her housemaster's wife next day and explained the change in the home situation, knowing that the school preferred to know at once about anything that might affect a girl's mental state. "And what about the future?" the other woman asked, and Samantha sighed.
"I have no idea; I'm living day to day at the moment, but if Paris does seem upset over this give me a ring and I'll come at once, and bring her father with me. My husband doesn't want Paris unhappy any more than I do; we'll be able to put her mind at rest together."
"Oh, so you and Mr Sutter are on good terms?" said the other woman in relief, and Samantha smoothly said,
"Oh, yes, of course!"
When she had rung off she made a face at her own thoughts, she and Darius could paper over the cracks in their relationship for the benefit of their daughter, but it would be mere folly to try to deceive themselves that way. She curled up in bed in her hotel room, hoping desperately that she was doing the right thing, but plagued with doubts. It was a long time before she got to sleep.
Next day she was busy shopping for other furniture she would need: a bed, chest of drawers, a mirror for the little bedroom. In that room, too, she was only buying absolute essentials and spending as little money on them as possible. They were all delivered that afternoon, and by the evening she had moved into the flat. She wandered from one room to the other, faintly incredulous at being here, and yet satisfied with having achieved so much in such a short time.
She switched on the television and began to get herself a light supper: a salad with cheese and some fresh fruit. She sat down at the little oak table, picked up her knife and fork, and jumped as someone banged in a peremptory way on her front door. Darius? she thought at once, flushing and dropping her knife and fork. She didn't know if she felt up to another argument with him tonight. While she sat there, hesitating, there was another brisk tattoo on her door, so she got up and reluctantly went to answer it.
It wasn't Darius at all; it was Jude, in a sweater and jeans. "Oh, hello," she said, and stepped back and waved him past her into the flat.
"Are you OK?" he asked, looking around the room as if checking that the place was safe.
"I'm fine, thanks," she said blankly as he looked into the bedroom from the door. "Jude, what on earth are you doing?"
"Making sure Darius isn't here," he admitted ruefully, his shoulders relaxing as he grew certain they were alone. "He put me through a meat grinder this morning. We've often argued in the past, but this wasn't an argument, it was full scale war. I don't think I could face him again for a while."
"I'm sorry, Jude, I didn't want to get you into a quarrel with Darius!" Samantha looked unhappily at him and Jude smiled down into her dark blue eyes and hesitantly touched her cheek with one finger.
"Don't be daft!" He teased her lightly.
"No, I'm serious, it was selfish of me to ask you for help, knowing how Darius was likely to react...
"I'd have been offended if you'd asked anybody else! Don't worry, Darius may make me nervous but I'm still glad you came to me, and I shall just tell him to go to hell if he tries to push me around again. Look, I won't stop long, Sam; I just came in to make sure you didn't need any more help here and to ask if you still felt you could start work on Monday.
"No and yes," she said grinning. "No, I don't need any help, thanks, and yes, I shall be starting work on Monday."
He smiled back and glanced at the table. "Sorry, did I interrupt your supper?"
"I hadn't started it, I was just about to!" Samantha looked hard at him. "Have you eaten? Join me, there's plenty of salad, bread and cheese, it isn't cordon bleu stuff, I'm afraid, but you're very welcome to share it with me."
Jude looked at the food, looked at the door, looked at his watch. "Thanks, Sam, it's a tempting thought..."
"But?" she asked with amusement as he looked at the door again. "You have another date?"
"Good lord, no!" He laughed at that idea.
"Then why are you looking like a lemming wondering whether or not to jump off a cliff?!"
He laughed again, looking startled. "Is that how I look? Well, I don't know about the lemming hit, but jumping off a cliff would be a piece of cake compared to facing Darius if he walked in and found me here again."
Samantha wasn't surprised to find out what was making Jude so jumpy. She said coldly, "I am not expecting Darius."
"Nobody ever expects Darius, that's the secret of his success," Jude drily said. "He always takes people by surprise." He turned to the door. "I'm not a coward, but Darius in a nasty mood can be very alarming, so I think I'd better go, Sam. I'm glad you're OK and everything is working out for you." She opened the front door for him, and on the landing a middle aged man paused to smile at them both.
"Hello, are you my new neighbours? I'm from the floor above. George Miller."
"Hello." Sam shook hands with him, murmuring her own name and adding, "And this is a friend of mine who was helping me move in..."
"Oh, I see." Mr Miller nodded to Jude. "Well, I hope you'll be very happy here. It's a nice place to live, we're all friendly people..." His voice trailed off as there was a thud of hurried feet on the stairs, then Darius shot into view and came to a standstill as he saw the little group outside Samantha's front door. Mr Miller gazed at him curiously. Jude stiffened as Darius's narrowed gaze flicked over both of them before moving on to Samantha's face.
She lifted her chin in defiance, turned to Jude and said, "Well, thanks for dropping by, Jude. See you." He looked uncertainly from her to Darius, but she didn't wait for him to work out what to do.
She smiled politely at Mr Miller and said in a cheerful voice, "Nice to have met you, Mr Miller. When I have a flat warming party, I hope you'll come."
"Love to," he said, sounding fascinated by the changed atmosphere since Darius arrived. She smiled again, stepped back into her flat and firmly closed the front door.