by Pamela Fudge
He made it all sound so clinical, impersonal even, and Roz found herself frowning before she denied hotly, ‘It’s not like that at all.’
‘Isn’t it? So what is it like then, Roz?’
He was watching her curiously, waiting for her answer - an answer that she suddenly found that she didn’t have, much to her own consternation.
‘It’s...,’ her mind searched furiously for something to say, something to take that self-righteous look right of his face, and could only come up with a feeble, ‘it’s a meeting of like minds.’
‘Minds?’ he said scathingly, staring at her for a moment in disbelief before taking a step forward. Lowering his head to look deep into her eyes, he asked so softly that she had to strain to hear, ‘And what about hearts, Roz? What about hearts?’
He was standing close - far, far too close for Roz’ peace of mind - she could see the tiny bright flecks in eyes that saw too much, and knew her too well. She should come back at him with a snappy answer that would put him in his place, she knew. She should move away, put a safe space between them. She knew that, too, but her feet seemed to be rooted deeply into the damp earth, and she could only stand and stare.
‘Does seeing him, across a room, make your pulse beat faster?’ The question was little more than a whisper, and she watched, mesmerised as a tanned hand reached out to caress her own, ‘Does his touch bring you alive? When he kisses you, how do you feel? Do you feel like this?’
Roz knew what was coming. She felt, somehow, that she had always known it would come to this. Had known from the moment he had demanded that they discuss the ridiculous farce of an engagement face to face, instead of just calling it off and making an announcement to that effect, as she had wished. She knew, long before Sam bent his head to hers, that he was going to kiss her - and still she was powerless to stop him - even if she had wanted to.
She had been kissed before, of course, on lots of occasions, and by Sam on quite a few of them, but never like this. No, never, ever, like this, and very definitely not by Andrew.
His lips were gentle, but she knew that already. What she hadn’t known - or expected - was the way his lips moulded to her own as if they belonged there, coaxing her own lips to part with the merest pressure, and yet, with a passion that was undeniable.
Roz swayed into the arms that were waiting to gather her close, she welcomed the hands that caressed her closer, until she was shockingly aware of the heat being generated by two bodies that had almost merged into one.
She was lost in wonder, boneless and pliant in his arms. Aware only of sensations that started at the soles of her tingling feet, making her toes curl involuntarily inside of her shoes, and moving on until her whole body was alive as she was sure it had never been before.
Heat burned, suddenly and unexpectedly, along veins that had always remained consistently cool in the past when she was in any man’s arms. For the very first time that she could remember, Roz felt a fierce yearning that far outweighed reason and left her wanting more - much, much more.
Sam lifted his head, and her sense of loss was so overwhelming that she heard herself moan softly. He smiled, and then gently, but firmly, he placed her from him, and looked at her with the gravest expression on his handsome face.
‘Is that,’ he asked, ‘how he makes you feel?’
Roz couldn’t answer - she had no answer. She stared up at him with wide startled eyes for a very long minute, and then, without a word, she turned and ran, knowing only that she had to get away.
And yet, even as she fled, she was forced to ask herself if she was running away from Sam - or from herself and the feelings he had aroused in her?
CHAPTER FIVE
Wild-eyed, Roz stared at her flushed and dishevelled reflection in the bathroom mirror. She’d come tearing up the stairs, ostensibly to tidy herself up for lunch. A lunch that was, even now, probably prepared and laid out most attractively on the table in the big kitchen below, waiting to be eaten.
Roz didn’t know how she was going to force herself back down there, never mind find an appetite to eat anything. Dirty hands remained unwashed, tangled hair uncombed, as she looked at herself, and went on looking through narrowed and wary eyes.
A stranger gazed back at her. A young woman with fire still burning through her veins - a young woman with full, rosy lips that had very evidently and very recently been thoroughly kissed, and were still tingling from the attention they had received. Attention that Roz could not deny had been very welcome and - to her utter embarrassment - she had not even attempted to hide it.
She’d never be able to face Sam again. Indeed, her face grew hot and red at the very thought. How he must be laughing, she taunted herself, at the way she had fallen into his hands like the ripest plum falling from the tree. It wasn’t only that she had let him kiss her - though that was bad enough, for heaven’s sake - but the fact that she had very clearly not only enjoyed the whole experience but kissed him back and made everything a million times worse.
Roz scrubbed a dirty hand across those offending lips, as if she could wipe away the feel of Sam’s mouth on hers. All she succeeded in doing was to leave smeary black marks behind like a comical moustache. In no mood to find it funny, she slapped the mirror in front of her, and then shrieked in quite ridiculous fury as the grimy prints transferred to the glass.
‘He can’t do this to me,’ she fumed aloud, the words echoing hollowly around the small bathroom, ‘and I won’t let him. He’s breaking all the rules, but he will not get the better of me no matter how he tries, or what he tries. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but whatever it is, he won’t win it.’
They were determined words, full of self-righteous indignation, and she meant every one of them. However, Roz still did not feel able to confront the man who had caused all of her turmoil until she had showered, washed her hair, re-applied her make-up, and dressed herself in city clothes. The effort was worth it. It seemed to re-affirm her own personality, and give her back the previous confidence in her future that one kiss had all but destroyed.
‘Oh, there you are,’ Aunt Ellen looked up from the pastry she was rolling, and then said, with a hint of a smile in her voice. ‘I thought you went to wash your hands, dear, not to get dressed up for lunch. You make me feel quite shabby.’
‘Everything was so dirty, and I was so hot...’ Roz found herself quickly on the defensive, before her aunt interrupted her flood of ready prepared excuses with a mild, ‘I was only joking, dear. You look quite lovely. Go and sit down, and let me help you to lunch.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Roz insisted. ‘I only hope it’s not ruined by my inconsiderate behaviour.’ She looked round, almost fearfully, before asking, ‘Where’s Sam? Has he had his?’
‘It’s only soup and crusty bread.’ The rolling pin was set in motion once more, ‘hard to spoil that, and yes, Sam’s had his and is back hard at work. I told him it would ruin his digestion, but you know Sam.’
Well, I thought I did, but now I’m beginning to wonder, Roz mused as she helped herself to home-made soup that was full of all kinds of vegetables and tender pieces of meat, and then to thick slices of bread that had been freshly baked that morning. And, she fumed silently I hope his digestion does suffer, because he’s probably made sure that mine will.
‘Remember when Sam first came here?’ Aunt Ellen had the light of nostalgia in her eyes as she expertly covered neatly sliced apple with pastry, ‘Must be all of seven years ago. He said then that my soup was the best he had ever tasted.’
They were both silent as they each viewed the picture she had conjured up of the tall, lean man, who had turned up at the door looking for lodgings, complete with scruffy hold-all and immaculate guitar.
He must have been about the same age as she was now, Roz realised, and she remembered that he had been dressed all in faded denim with a battered cowboy hat on his head. Even then, in shabby clothes, he had had the power to turn heads. Why, he had even charmed Aunt Ellen, who didn’t as a
general rule take in paying guests on a more permanent basis.
That initial hesitation on Aunt Ellen’s part hadn’t stopped him, she reminded herself acidly, from persevering and eventually getting his feet firmly under the large kitchen table, and keeping them there, off and on, for all these years.
‘You were an administrative assistant, then, in the small regional branch of the large company you still work for,’ Aunt Ellen went on, pausing dreamily over her pies, ‘and Sam was working on a building site and just beginning to attract notice in the local country and western clubs where he sang in his spare time.’
‘Mmm,’ Roz murmured non-commitally, wishing that she could change the subject without upsetting the older woman.
‘You were always such good friends with him,’ her aunt went on relentlessly, obviously in full flow and thoroughly enjoying reminiscing, ‘right from the start. You spent hours together, making plans for your separate and very different careers...’
‘Let me help you with those,’ Roz jumped up and, leaving soup that had somehow lost its delicious flavour, cooling in the bowl, she began to carry the tray of pies across to the Aga.
She found herself praying that the whole subject would be dropped, though she knew by now that it would make no difference if it was. Memories, once evoked, had a habit of staying stubbornly in your head, no matter how much you wished them gone.
Aunt Ellen had gone on to mixing up the ingredients for a fruit cake, weighing and stirring. Her hands were as busy as the tongue that chattered on happily, but Roz no longer heard the words, she had given up the fight and was conjuring up her own memories.
There had always been an attraction between Sam and her younger self, she acknowledged reluctantly. An awareness that drew them together, no matter how determined they were to stay apart. Eventually, they had indulged in a mild flirtation, knowing full well that it could come to nothing because a relationship at that time, in both of their lives, would only hinder the plans they each had for the future.
Roz had been determined, even then, to make her mark in the world of human resources management - just as Sam had been determined to find success as a singer of country music. They knew they’d be quite happy to go their own ways when the time came to move on - and up.
They would have known each other for a year or so, Roz recalled, when they had both happened to return to Aunt Ellen’s for a long weekend at the same time. Their careers had been moving steadily in the right direction, but as they confessed to each other, in a quiet moment, all was not as simple as it should have been.
‘I’d be quite happy,’ Roz had confessed, ‘especially now I’ve managed to get the transfer to London – which is where I’ve always planned to be – if it wasn’t for Aunt Ellen.’ She sighed, ‘Oh, I know she tries to hide it, but she’s worrying herself into an early grave in case concentrating on my career means I’ll miss my chance when it comes to “true love”,’ Roz indicated the little quote marks with her fingers, ‘and get left “all alone” the way she was when her Harry died. She won’t be happy until she sees me safely settled with a husband and family,’ she grimaced and shrugged, ‘I’m afraid she’ll have a very long wait, because I don’t want that at all. I have a lot of living to do before I settle down - if indeed I ever do.’
‘It’s not what I want, either,’ Sam confided, ‘this business is far too chancy for me to think about settling down, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, of course,’ he added hastily, going on to say, ‘but the local press – when they do take an interest - won’t leave my private life alone. Their constant speculating about my love life is getting me down. They’re forever marrying me off to this singer or that one, and even the few fans I have think I’m fair game because I’m single. You wouldn’t believe some of the offers I get after a show – some of those women have absolutely no shame.’
He looked so horrified that Roz couldn’t help laughing, and then he looked so wounded by her lack of understanding that she laughed even harder. She put a careless arm round his waist, and gave him a friendly hug, in an effort to show him that she really did understand, even if it didn’t seem that way.
‘I know it’s not really funny,’ she leaned against him and continued, ‘Everyone seems to be obsessed with relationships, don’t they? Aunt Ellen because she missed out on her own “happy ever after,” the press because romance sells newspapers, the fans because they see any celebrity – minor or otherwise – as fair game, especially if they’re unattached. It’s a problem, all right.’
They were sitting on Aunt Ellen’s back porch at the time, with the scent of honeysuckle all around, completely in sympathy with each other’s feelings.
‘It is,’ Sam agreed wholeheartedly. ‘I’m hardly worthy of this interest locally, and nobody’s heard of me outside of the area. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the attention I’ve been getting. I do, and I know that without it I’d still be a complete nobody, but still, a little less of the poking into my personal life would be appreciated.’
‘And Aunt Ellen only wants what she thinks is best for me. I do try to understand that she just worries about what will happen to me when she’s gone,’ Roz was quick to defend, ‘but as you say, it would be nice just to be able to please ourselves without any outside interference. It’s not much to ask, and I definitely wouldn’t ever marry to please anyone but myself.’
Roz lapsed into a moody silence, barely noting the sudden stillness in the young man beside her as she mused on the unfairness of it all. She did want to please her aunt, and it wasn’t her intention to cause her unnecessary worry, but in this...
‘Would you get engaged to please anyone but yourself?’ Sam’s voice sounded strange, its deep timbre held a hesitant, almost fearful note.
‘What?’
Roz didn’t really believe what she was hearing, nor did she quite understand it. She didn’t jump up, or get excited, but sat there with her arm still draped casually around Sam’s waist, and waited for him to repeat himself.
‘You said you wouldn’t marry to please anyone but yourself,’ he reminded her patiently, ‘but would you get engaged?’
‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’
Sam sounded inordinately pleased with himself, as he went on to explain, ‘It’s the perfect solution, Roz. If we get engaged to each other, it lets us right off the hook. Don’t you see?’
She began to. Believing him to be engaged the local press would might just stop inventing love affairs for the handsome country singer that people were beginning to notice, the fans would surely give up pursuing him so ardently and - Roz had a sudden picture of Aunt Ellen’s delighted and relieved face. If she had needed persuading at all that was the deciding factor.
It was Aunt Ellen’s face hovering over her that brought Roz abruptly back to the present, and she looked up, startled, into the lined and much-loved features of the woman who had been the only family she’d had since she was just a small child. She had never truly counted Sam as family, she realised, despite the ‘engagement’. They had only ever been friends - good friends, certainly, but nothing more - and that was all they ever would be.
‘You were miles away, dear. I asked if you wanted a cup of tea. I’m sure Sam could do with one.’
‘Mmm,’ Roz gave herself a brisk mental shake, before offering, ‘I’ll make it. I won’t have you waiting on me or Sam. We’re quite able to pull our own weight, and to be of help to you while we’re here.’
‘I remember...’
Aunt Ellen was off again, Roz realised ruefully, as she busied herself filling the kettle and setting out the cups, listening with only half an ear to what the older woman was saying.
‘...that cup of tea. Do you?’ the bright face turned towards Roz, the smile widening at the recollection, ‘The night you and Sam announced your engagement. It tasted every bit as good as champagne to me, that cup of tea did. You could have knocked me down with a feather, when the two of you came strolling in that back door - and yet - in a
funny kind of way, you know, it wasn’t totally unexpected.’
Roz remembered, of course she did, and she remembered, with painful clarity the expression of total joy on her great-aunt’s face and exactly how awful it had made her feel to know that it was all for nothing but a sham. By then, of course, it was far too late to change their minds, and come clean even if they had wanted to, and as time went on Roz eventually even forgot to feel guilty about it.
The engagement had, after all, served its purpose. Everyone had eventually lost interest in their ‘long-standing affair’ - as the press referred to it on the rare occasion it was ever referred to any more - years before, just as Sam had so accurately predicted. He insisted he was propositioned less and less, and Aunt Ellen appeared quite happy to accept that her great-niece would eventually be ready to settle down and marry her best loved lodger ‘one day.’
She had got complacent. Roz could see that so clearly now that it was too late. She had settled into the comfortable ‘engagement’ to a man who, after all, had gone on to spend so much time travelling, either up and down the country or abroad that she rarely saw him . They met up now and again in random places, just to keep the story going, but they rarely made the papers – even locally – anymore. But then they had always been quite careful not to draw attention to their regular visits to Brankstone, mindful of protecting themselves – and Aunt Ellen, of course – from unwanted publicity.
Roz sighed deeply, no wonder Aunt Ellen and everyone else was so taken in. Sometimes she had almost come to believe in it herself, though she had always known just as Sam must have, that it would have to end some day. As a proper relationship, it was a non-starter, and going nowhere.
Yes, it was high time they put a stop to this nonsense, once and for all. The only question was – how to do it with the minimum of fuss and upset?
