rm or happy again. Depression centred on her like a dark cloud.
She saw David's face inside her head; she had never had any other boyfriend. David was her first and only one; she Had always been totally faithful.. . until now!
What would David think if he ever found out? Hot waves of shame swept over her at the very idea of him knowing. He would be so hurt.
What could she ever say to him, how on earth could she explain something so tawdry and unforgivable?
Of course, there were excuses ... she came up with them grimly, knowing none of them excuse anything. She was lonely, she missed David, she was on edge because she was back home for the first time in years, she was still upset over her mother's death, she was disturbed because of the affair between her. father and Josh's mother.
Oh, yes, there were excuses—but she dismissed them all as feeble.
She was disgusted with herself for acting like some sex-starved adolescent, especially as she didn't even like the man!
She heard the sound of Josh's car driving away, and with a sigh of relief she walked rather unsteadily to the window to watch him vanish down the drive. At least he had gone, she could relax, try to make her way back to some pretence of normality before her father got home.
She went into the bathroom, stripped, showered in almost cold water, obsessively scrubbing her body from her hair down to her feet, and towelling herself angrily. She had needed to cleanse herself of the heat, the sweat, left after those moments in Josh's arms. She would never rid herself of the shame of feeling that way.
She put on clean clothes: an immaculate, tailored white shirt, a chunky black woollen cardigan, a pair of black denims belted tightly at the waist—an outfit which made her look capable rather than sexy and gave her a safer feeling. After she had blow-dried her hair, she gathered up all the clothes she had taken off and went downstairs to put them straight into the washing machine in the utility room leading off the kitchen. She didn't stop to ask herself why she felt she must wash them at once; she didn't ask herself why she had deliberately not put on any more makeup or why she was dressed with such neutral neatness. She just threw her clothes into the washing machine and started the process, then went into the kitchen and emptied the teapot, washed it up, washed up the cups, the spoons, the milk jug—everything Josh had touched or used. Her movements had an obsessive intensity; she was pale and her features were rigid.
She made herself a cup of instant coffee in a new cup, and then she sat down and listened to the silence all around her, feeling very alone, and wishing her father would come home.
Josh Killane shouldn't have said she didn't care about her father; it wasn't true, he didn't understand. How could she explain to anyone the complexities of betrayal and loyalty the split between her parents had set up in her mind? If she loved her father, she was disloyal to her mother—if she betrayed her mother, she hurt herself as well as him.
She had come back here to find out how she felt, to resolve a painful situation, uncover the reality of a nightmare she had lived with for years . . . but had she only made things worse by coming back?
Should she have stayed away for ever?
CHAPTER FIVE
HER father drove her to see David next day, and Prue was relieved to find him looking much better. He was looking more cheerful, too, and when she stammered out an apology for their quarrel the previous day, he shook his head at her, making a wry face.
'No! It was as much my fault as yours. I was feeling so rotten, it made me touchy. I think it's these damn pills they've got me on; you should see them, big as horse pills and twice as nasty, and you know how I hate taking any sort of medicine. I hate being ill, come to that! I feel damn stupid stuck in this bed when I should be having a great time with you, and most of all, I hate having to yell for a nurse every time I want to go to the toilet.'
'Oh, poor darling,' she said, chuckling. David was himself again and she felt a great wave of warmth towards him, a loving tenderness which was nothing like the terrifying intensity she had felt yesterday in Josh Killane's arms. That had left her appalled and sick. She couldn't even contemplate what it would be like to live with such emotions, but she knew one things for certain—she would always be contented living with David.
'You were right, anyway!' he said. 'That's partly why I was so mad!
You were only telling me what I was secretly thinking, myself. I knew Mum and Dad would kick up merry hell if I didn't let them know I'd been in an accident. I just couldn't face the thought of them rushing over here.'
'I'll ring diem right away, and do my best to reassure them!' Prue said, relieved, and David smiled at her.
'No need. I rang them myself an hour ago. Well, I rang Mum—Dad wasn't around.'
'What did she say?' Prue began to feel guilty again; she should have rung the Henleys, she owed it to them, and they would quite rightly blame her for not letting them know about the accident at once!
'I played it down a bit,' David said, grinning wickedly at her.
'What does that mean?' she asked, frowning with concern.
'Oh, I said I'd come off lightly—a couple of broken ribs and a bump on the head, that was all. I didn't tell them about the operation or that one of my ribs had pierced my left lung,'
'What?' Prue went white. 'A rib . . . pierced your lung?' She stared in stunned dismay. 'I had no idea your operation was that serious! They didn't tell me anything was wrong with your lung!'
'They didn't?' he said without surprise, making her wonder if he had asked the hospital authorities not to tell her. 'Sneaky lot, aren't they?'
But then he went on, 'They didn't even tell me until this morning.'
Prue studied him anxiously. The injury sounded horrific, but David seemed to be breathing OK and he had quite a good colour now, compared with the way he had looked yesterday.