'I never knew,' she whispered.
'Nor did I. Oh, Faye, what fools we were! All those years- Why did we throw them away?'
She shook her head, dumb with sadness.
'We might have had so much,' he said, 'and we missed our chance.'
'But we still had more happiness than many people have. Things went wrong, but at the start-'
'Yes,' he said heavily, 'we'll always have those memories. And we'll always know that it might have been better still if I hadn't been blind.' He sank his head on his hands.
Faye put her arms about him, overwhelmed by tenderness. 'It wasn't all your fault,' she murmured. 'We lost each other because we both made mistakes.'
He raised his face to her and she took it between her hands to kiss it gently. At first he did nothing, keeping perfectly still and letting her kisses fall on him like sweet balm. As he felt their loving message, the pain and tension seemed to fall away from him and he clung to her.
She wrapped her arms about him, finding again the vulnerable boy she'd fallen in love with. When she laid her lips softly on his, she felt his instant response.
'We might have had everything,' he whispered.
'Hush.' She kissed him to silence. 'We can still have everything, just for tonight.'
The last time they'd lain together in her bed it had been a union of bodies. Now it was a union of hearts. It was she who led the way, drawing him on at every step. Nothing mattered but consoling his pain.
He clung to her in need as well as passion, savouring the warmth of her skin against his, losing himself in her bounty. Sometimes he seemed hesitant, but she offered him all of herself with a loving tenderness that enfolded him and he felt a man again, because this woman loved him.
She'd promised him everything, and she gave him everything. It might, as she'd said, be only for this one night, but they would have this memory in the years to come. Perhaps they would be lonely years, but the moment when their hearts and souls were one again would never entirely leave them.
In the darkness, his face pressed to her sweet-smelling body, it was easy for Garth to see that she, and she only, had given the world a meaning. He'd thrown it all away but she gave it back to him out of a generous spirit. He was more than making love to her. He was seeking refuge in her. And now he understood that this was how it had always been.
As the first light came through the curtains Garth rose from Faye's bed. He stood looking down at her, sleeping as peacefully as a child, then turned away as though the sight smote him. He was hearing Cindy's voice the night before, knowing that her words were wise and generous yet not wanting to face it.
He bent and kissed his sleeping wife, softly, not to disturb her. His heart was heavy as he slipped quietly out of the room.
His children were up before him, standing watching the hall telephone.
'Can we ring the vet and ask now?' Adrian demanded.
'It's too early. They'll still be checking him. But if Barker- If anything had gone wrong in the night, they'd have called us by now.'
'Perhaps they haven't got our number?' Cindy suggested.
'They've got it, I promise.'
They drifted out into the garden. Cindy found the ball Barker had dropped, scrubbed it with her hanky and put it back in exactly the same place on the grass. Garth wondered if it would ever be needed again. He watched
Cindy with anxious eyes, struck by her strength and self- control; surely too much for a child?
Faye came down and he greeted her with a distant smile, but didn't go to her. The resolution he'd made in the early hours hung heavily on him and he was sorely tempted to abandon it. But he stopped himself. It had taken him too long to decide on the right thing. But he knew now what it was and there would be no weakening.
'Why don't you just call the vet?' Faye asked Garth softly.
'They'll call us when they're ready.'
She stared. Garth had never been afraid to barge in and demand answers. And then she understood. He was scared. Everything hung on what they would leam this morning. Tenderly she squeezed his hand.
The phone rang.
Everyone jumped. Nobody moved. Then Garth forced himself to answer. The silence seemed to last a long time, before he said, 'Thank you for telling me.'
He laid down the receiver very carefully, as though delaying the moment when he must speak. Then he grinned at his family and said, 'Barker's eating a hearty breakfast.'
Barker was home in a week. He still needed care, but nobody could have done the job more thoroughly than his family. Cindy appointed herself head nurse, with Adrian to assist her. Nancy deputized while they were at school, with Faye and Garth permitted to visit the invalid with appropriate gifts, all of which were consumed in seconds.
Cindy was fast growing up, becoming more firmly in charge and more like her father. When she decided the patient was gorging himself and not getting enough exercise, she read him a stern lecture and forbade all further titbits. Barker began to look harassed.
'Don't worry, old fellow,' Garth reassured him after three weeks of this. 'I've got a special present for you tomorrow; one you're going to love, and "Matron" won't be able to lock it away.'
He was home early the next evening, looking as though he was concealing a secret.
'Where are the kids?' he asked Faye quietly.
'Playing with Barker in the garden.'
'Good. I've brought someone home with me and I want you to be the first to meet her.'
'Her?'
'Wait here,' he said, with a touch of mischief.
When he returned a moment later, Faye's eyes widened at the sight of his companion.
'Her name is Peaches,' Garth said.
Peaches was a really lovely St Bernard with liquid eyes and a melting expression.
'She's a year old,' Garth explained, 'and her owner had to rehome her because she's a bit of a handful. But she's-er-' he paused, seeking for words '-just ready to become a bride,' he finished delicately. 'I thought Barker would like her.'
From outside came a squeal and the sound of thundering paws. Barker appeared, followed by the children, and stopped dead in the doorway, his gaze riveted by the vision of beauty before him. Peaches gazed back. Their eyes met across a crowded room. Cindy and Adrian regarded the scene with awe.
'He just suddenly dropped the ball and dashed inside,' Cindy said. 'It was like he knew…'
'I think he did,' Garth agreed. 'Meet Peaches. She's come to keep Barker company while you're at school.'
The children made a fuss of Peaches, who responded amiably, but her languishing gaze constantly travelled towards Barker, whose virile form had clearly made a deep impression.
'All they needed was a swelling orchestra,' Garth said with a grin when he was alone with Faye later.
'What made you do it?' she asked.
'Barker's still an old dog and he's getting older. We can't put the sad day off for ever. But this way, we'll never really lose him. Why are you surprised? I told you I'd do something.'
'But I thought you were simply going to get another dog.'
'And I have. But just any dog wouldn't do. It's Barker who matters. With Peaches's help, he'll leave something of himself behind.'
CHAPTER TWELVE
To the amusement of the whole family, Barker's passion for Peaches developed into slavish infatuation. She was a domestic tyrant, blowing hot and cold; one day allowing him to smooch her lovingly, the next, growling him away. But nothing could cool Barker's chivalrous devotion and in the presence of his beloved he was reduced to a state of doting idiocy.
'Poor Barker,' Cindy consoled him. 'You're a henpecked husband.'
'And when his pups are born he'll be a henpecked father,' Garth had observed, tweaking her hair. 'Like me.'
Four weeks after their first meeting, Miss McGeorge had confirmed that Peaches was pregnant. Barker strutted about, every inch the proud father, and Cindy and Adrian began to squabble about names for the pups.
The tenth anniversary was growing closer. Faye had relented about letting the children take part, because she was grateful to Garth for putting them before business, even at the cost of the Newcastle contract. He never complained, nor even mentioned the matter, and Faye only knew for sure that he'd lost it when Mary told her. It was like the old days, when he hadn't confided in her.