Years of sharing, good and bad, the appeal touched Karen's heart. She could not dismiss it. She would feel too mean, unforgiving. 'All right, Barry. When do you want to meet?'
'Tomorrow night?' he suggested eagerly.
And if Hal came or called? No, that would be impossibly awkward. Hal knew that Barry had rejected David and it would look highly questionable if he found her with her ex-husband. David was her first concern. And obviously Hal's, so surely he would have contacted her by the weekend. But caution was certainly wise.
'That doesn't suit me, Barry,' she said firmly. 'How about next Monday night? You could come to dinner.'
'That's great, Karen. What time do you want me?' The relief and pleasure in his voice took the edge off the strain she felt. He sounded like the old Barry, the man she had married. A smile warmed her own voice. 'Seven-thirty will be fine.'
'Thanks, Karen--thanks a million! I'll see you then.'
He rang off, and Karen slowly put the telephone down, conscious of far too many burdens on her heart. What she owed Kirsty ... what she owed Hal... what she owed Barry. Surely there was a limit to the giving, a point where it turned around and she was the beneficiary? It was probably a mistake to see Barry again, but she could not have refused him. She hoped something would be settled with Hal by Monday night.
For the next two days it was extremely difficult for Karen to hide her inner tension from David and act naturally with him. The impulse to hug him close on any pretext was almost impossible to quell. The sense of time running out was overwhelming.
Hal didn't call; he came. It was only the third night after he had arrived back in Sydney. The doorbell rang at precisely eight o'clock, and Karen knew intuitively whose hand was applying the pressure. In some ways it was a relief that the feared confrontation had come, yet her heart felt like a lump of lead as she went to open the door.
The grey eyes which appraised her held no shade of softness, no grain of sympathy. They were a bleak sea of cold reserve. They chilled Karen even while her instincts were picking up other vibrations. The sheer physical impact of the man was much greater than she had anticipated. The strength emanating from him in a hospital bed was a weak reflection of the aura of ruthless purpose he carried now. Fear gave birth to a bristling antagonism. She would not let this man take everything she held dear away from her.
Her own eyes hardened as she broke the prickly silence. 'Would you like to come in?'
'Thank you,' he answered curtly.
'I'm afraid David is asleep,' she stated with a certain amount of hostile satisfaction as Hal stepped inside.
'I expected him to be by this time. But I would like to see him before we talk.' It was more a demand than a request.
Karen knew she would win no points byobjecting. 'Follow me,' she invited coolly, and led the way to David's room. She switched on the bedside lamp which spread a dim glow over the sleeping child, and stepped aside.
Hal gazed down at his son with no perceptible softening on his face, yet there seemed to be a yearning tenderness in the light brush of fingertips across David's fine-skinned cheek. Then his gaze lifted and swept around the room, taking in the childfantasy pictures on the walls, the aeroplane print curtains, the shelves which held David's story-books and little ornaments, the mobile of plastic animals hanging above the bed and the transfers of fairy-tale characters on the cupboard doors. He stared at Karen for a long moment before looking down at his son once more. It was he who switched off the lamp. He moved briskly from the room and waited in the hallway as Karen quietly closed the door behind them.
Her heart was thudding painfully. Had David's room impressed him? What judgement had Hal made of her in there? His thoughts were an enigma, too well hidden by the hard, impassive mask which kept her firmly at a distance. Without a word but with a churning mind, Karen led him into the living room.
'Please sit down. Would you like a drink? Coffee?'
'No, thank you.' His gaze dropped to her hand which was nervously fingering her crumpled skirt. 'But if you'd like one .. .'
'No, I just thought .. .' She made a vaguely dismissive gesture and concentrated hard on pulling herself together as she took the nearest armchair.
Hal lowered his elegant length into the opposite chair. He was dressed in semi-formal attire tonight, finely tailored slacks, a tweed sports coat, silk shirt and tie. Karen was very conscious of the fact that she was in the same clothes she had worn all day at the pre-school kindergarten where she worked. The green sweater stilI had a spot of paint on it and the tan skirt was badly creased. She hadn't even tidied her long hair since this morning and the lipstick she had worn was surely eaten off by now. She felt at a distinct disadvantage, but it was too late to do anything about her appearance.
'You're not surprised to see me,' he stated flatly.
'You said you'd come,' she replied just as flatly.
'I want David, Karen.'
Her stomach knotted at the calm, relentless declaration and as he spoke on, each word was a hammer-blow to her heart.
'I am his father. I've been consulting with lawyers for the last two days. I'm going to get my son, one way or another.'
Karen could feel the blood draining from her face, but she summoned every bit of will power to control the weakness she felt. She didn't want to fight Hal. It would do none of them any good, particularly David. She had to convince him that a more reasonable course would be best for all of them.
'Don't do it, Hal. You can't win. I'm the only parent he's ever known. I'm sorry that you were deceived in the way you were, but you can't honestly believe that two wrongs can make a right? Any kind of conflict between us has to be harmful for David.'
'He's only three, young enough to adjust--so the psychiatrists tell me.'
'And do they say it's good to deprive him of his mother?' Karen fired at him, angered beyond control by his callousness.
Hal threw the shot back at her with unerring aim. 'You were only too happy to deprive him of his father!'
For a moment the room seemed to throb with their mutual antagonism. Karen shook her head despairingly. 'He's always been my child. I love him. He loves me. Can't you see that?'
It did not move him one iota. 'Karen, if you want a child of your own, there's nothing to stop you. You're divorced. Take any man you like. As Kirsty took me,' he added bitterly.
The cruelty of the jibe brought tears to her eyes. 'There's no one I like. There hasn't been anyone since my husband. David is all I have.'
Something flickered in his eyes, something indefinably dangerous. 'Is that so?' he asked in a deceptively soft voice.
He hadn't softened. Karen sensed a change in him, but he hadn't softened. It was none of his business whether she had been with any- man or not, unless he was looking for facts to hold against her in a custody case.