His hesitation alarmed Gill. “If there’s a woman in the picture, Simon, say so. Just tell me, then get a taxi to take me back to the hotel. I know things like this can happen to people.”
“No woman, not now, not for over a year, Gill.” His voice dropped a level. He toyed with a spoon as if feeling for his words. “There was one; not saying there wasn’t. And I was with her for, oh, a long time. Three years, more or less. But not now.”
“You love her, or you did.” Gill didn’t have to ask a question. The pain narrowing his eyes made it unnecessary.
“Well, not to put too fine a point on it”—he gnawed his lower lip, hesitated, and then went on—“I loved and she loved, but we loved in different ways. In the end, we didn’t find the key to making our differences work.” He held the spoon, staring at it as if he saw something reflected in the shine. “Sandra loves herself, she plans her life a certain way, and anything that isn’t to her liking bores her.”
“She couldn’t have found you boring.”
He shifted to regard Gill squarely across the table. “Looking at me right now, a chap who shuffles old ladies and school kids and Japanese tourists about in a coach every day, you wouldn’t think that until about a year and a half ago I was a man of business in a three-piece suit with briefcase, setting off to the office every morning.” Gill sat upright in startled surprise. “Oh, yes, office man to a pack of solicitors I was, handling their billing and accounts, totting up the profits and paring down the expenses, and hating every bloody minute of it.”
“If you hated it, why did you do it?” Gill couldn’t imagine Simon working in the environment he described. His interest was in people, not accounts or shuffling paper.
“Because Sandra liked the situation. It’s in her background, you know. One of the solicitors was her uncle and one was her da, her father, I mean. And we met at an office event at her uncle’s house. A dinner party with me as a fill-in guest. Then a summer tennis weekend, a reception for a major client, one thing and another, and Sandra and I kept coming together. I asked her out, we seemed to click, and you can see the rest.”
“But it still wasn’t the life you wanted. It was her kind of life.”
“True enough, not that I knew it right off. It seemed a good spot. I had the business and accounting training, was even good at it, but after a few years, stuck in the damn office week in and week out, never seeing anything but paperwork, knowing yesterday was a blueprint for today and tomorrow and all the tomorrows ahead, that didn’t sound like a life I could handle.”
“No, I can’t see you doing that,” Gill agreed.
“But it paid, darlin’ girl, paid enough to keep Sandra in the life she wanted. So at first it seemed like a fair deal. Then it got harder to keep the lady happy. I had to find new ways to earn a smile from her. If we saw a show last weekend, I’d better find something bigger this weekend or be prepared to hear Sandra tell the world how boring our life was.” He shrugged. “Boring, that was the ultimate blunder. Better to be arrested for treason than to bore the Sandras of this world.”
“I’ve known the type.” Gill could only imagine Simon’s demanding life.
“Too many of them around for my comfort.” He nodded his thanks as the waitress refilled their cups, then turned back to Gill. “An unexpected chance came along, a chance to change our future to something I thought would be pretty exciting. I’d have to do some retraining, learn a new business, and I’d be starting low on the ladder. It meant a year, maybe two, of driving that coach around. If it worked out, I’d be moving up in the tourist industry, taking over a branch office, even traveling the world to build the business. I was sure Sandra would see the potential, the new possibilities, just the way I did.” He shrugged. “Well, she didn’t.”
“And she left you?”
“No, she posted an ultimatum on my email. I could forget my insane plans, stop being such a bloody bore about how much I hated my daily grind, and just get on with it, or take my deluded self elsewhere. I took my delusions, quit the office, and signed on to drive around the country for the visiting public. In spite of all predictions, I’m a happy man. No three-piece suits, no grey office walls, and…no Sandra. No wife, no children, and no felonious past, Miss Banks. Not even a girlfriend worth the name.”
“I’m glad you told me. And it’s to your credit that you made the choice and took a chance on the life you wanted.”
“Now you, you have to go on that infernal plane, come Monday morning.” He took possession of both her hands; the air between them seemed to shimmer from his intensity. “That doesn’t give us much to work with. You aren’t the girl to go back to a chap’s hotel room, not on short acquaintance. And I’m not the man to suggest it, at least not on a first date. But if I don’t get you out of here, to a place where the world can’t stare at us through the window, I swear I’m going to kiss you in front of them all and let the devil pay the consequences.”
The chill in the night air might have been responsible for the quiver along her spine, but Gill didn’t feel the least bit cold when she and Simon started along the path across the square. He led her into a secluded nook surrounded by rhododendrons and showered by moonlight.
“I wanted to kiss you the first time I saw you. Something about that sweet, round lower lip just begs for kissing.” Simon’s own lips were warm, gentle against hers, but a hint of fire lingered as he drew back. Gill touched two fingers to the dimple at the corner of his mouth.
“I’d forgotten…”
“No, not forgotten, darlin’ Gill, just put aside.” He drew her to him, held her, until her cheek crushed the nap of his sweater. She could barely contain the trembling need flooding her, turning her very bones to paste. Gill steadied herself to look up at him. Moonlight silvered his fair hair, leaving his face in shadow, but she heard his sharp, shallow breath.
His kiss claimed her again, and she held on to the only steady thing in a world suddenly spinning around her, Simon’s solid presence. His arms wrapped her closer, molded her to him, and she rejoiced in his unyielding embrace. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, and she could no more deny his entry than she could stop the moon’s silver sheen.
“You taste of strawberries and starlight,” he murmured against her hair, his breath sending a delicious frisson over her skin. Two fingers traced the edge of her sweater. The tight fabric of her jeans did little to fade the heat of his touch. She yielded to the impulse and leaned into the stroke. “And I think you’ve been too long without the attention of a man to bring you pleasure. You’ve a sweetness to spill for the right man. I’m your man, Gill, and well you know it.”
In her reeling senses, his whispered words were the only reality. He was her man; she knew it with every fiber of her being. “My darlin’ girl, time isn’t on our side right now, though we’ll take what bit of loving the moment gives.” His lips grazed hers again. With a hunger she would have sworn she didn’t remember, she slipped into his arms, holding herself out to him, open to his touch, his taste, his will. Lost in time, Gill knew no reality beyond Simon’s embrace. Two hearts beating in rhythm shut out the world around them. She wanted nothing more than this moment.
At last Simon brushed her tumbled hair back from her face. “I think we’ve drawn some attention, darlin’, from the constable over there. We should move a bit.”
Tucked against Simon, hearing only the faint brush of leaves and the whisper of traffic in the distance, Gill let him guide her along the path. She was barely aware of their movement, much less of observers along the way.
“There’s a bench just there.” He led her to a small side path and drew her down to the seat beside him. With both arms around her, he held her close, her head heavy against his shoulder. A drowsy sense of contentment filled her.
“I should think about getting back to the hotel sometime,” she murmured, but no conviction filled the words.
“Come in at this hour? With your hair mussed and lipstick smeared? What would be the point in that?
The grannies have swiped a scarlet paint brush over your reputation and declared you a fallen woman by now. The sun will be up in another hour. Plenty of time to face them then.”
In a haze of complete serenity, Gill gave a dreamy nod and left her head against his jacket. “Mmmm, you’re right. I’ll think about them later.”
“Later. Right now I claim all your thoughts.” He tilted her face up for another kiss. “It’s happened for us, hasn’t it, Gilly? That silly thing the poets call love. Don’t know why or how, or what we’re going to do about it, but there it is.”
“Love, that funny little thing.” Her head, like a drooping poppy, returned to his shoulder. “Love. Pops up when there’s no practical way to deal with it.”
“Funny thing, all right.” His hand tangled the curls once again damp, this time with pre-dawn dew.
Gill stirred against him. “What about your family? I mean parents, brothers and sisters? You told me about Sandra, but you didn’t mention anyone else.”
“Ah, the family. Well, darlin’, the parents married in a fever, produced two hard-headed sons, and split.” He tucked his jacket closer around her. “Long time back, now. I was six and my brother Paul nearly ten. Thirty years it’s been. Brother and I stayed with Mum, of course, and the pater took off for foreign soil. Mum died a couple of years back. I think it was her passing that stirred my own dissatisfaction. Life isn’t a long thing; it goes way too fast to waste it in a place you hate.”
“And your father? He’s still living? Did you and your brother spend time with him after the separation?”
“He is and we did. He’s a good sort, loved his sons and all, but just not good at being married. Paul and I, we went along to visit during holidays. Built himself a nice little business, the old boy has, and Paul’s been working with him for a good while now. They get on. Paul’s not such a gadfly as myself.”
“I still don’t know your name,” she reminded him.
“Ah, so you don’t. It’s Dohr, darlin’ girl.”
“D-o-o-r, Door?”
“Pronounced the same but with an ‘h’ in place of the second ‘o’.”
“Simon Dohr.” Her head felt too heavy when she tried to sit upright. A yawn escaped. She gave up and snuggled closer. “Nice name.”
“And you sound sleepy. Maybe we’d better walk a bit and find a taxi to take you back to the hotel. The sun’s coming up, and you need a little sleep before you meet me for lunch.”
Gill yawned again and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Am I meeting you for lunch?”
“You are unless you’re of a mind to go to church with the grannies and have soggy sandwiches and lukewarm tea after. I thought you’d be liking a cruise down the Thames, gathered up close beside me, with a stop in Greenwich for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding.”
“But where do I meet you? And why not meet me at the hotel?”
“Take your bus pass, get on a central line bus, and get off at Waterloo Station. I’ll be there at eleven. And I’m not coming to your hotel because I have a couple of business calls to make first. The cackling hens don’t need to see us together anyway. It would just give them more reason to pester you, love.”
Gill was a little vague about the details of her trip back to the hotel. Grey fog touched the edges of her mind, and lack of sleep made her steps slow and deliberate. Simon walked her to the door and saw her to the lift.
“Have your key?”
She nodded, too weary to answer but reluctant to let her adventure end.
“And you’ll get yourself straight to bed, will you? No messing about, doing your hair or something foolish like that?”
“Bed, nothing else.”
“Waterloo Station at eleven.” He lifted her chin with one finger; his lips barely touched hers. “Magic it is, Gilly. Dream on it.”
Dream she did, but of what she wasn’t certain. She only knew when she woke she was filled with a new sense of things being right in the world. Magic, Simon had called it, and love. Gill lay still under her feather duvet, not thinking, just being, as sun spilled over the windowsill. She’d thought after Gary’s death there could never be a place in her world for another man. The heart-stopping, romantic, lives-entwined kind of love only happened once. So her mother had told her. And for Maggie Banks, it was true. But not for her youngest daughter Gillian. Gill was sure of that now. She’d loved Gary with all her heart. They’d had great plans. But Simon was someone entirely different, not less than Gary and not more. Just different.
And, Gill reminded herself, I live on the other side of the world from him. I’ve known him for two weeks. No, actually I’ve known his first name for two weeks. I’ve only known him, really known him, for one day of my life. Whatever I feel for Simon Dohr, tomorrow I go back to Boston and he goes on ferrying visitors around the United Kingdom. This is all there is, yesterday and today. She closed her eyes to shut out the thought that in twenty-four hours she’d be on her way home, and Simon would be just a sweet and painful memory.
Pushing the duvet away, Gill put her feet on the floor and reached for the robe at the foot of the bed. “If this is all there’s going to be, then I’m going to wring sixty seconds of memories out of every minute.”
Her wardrobe wasn’t extensive. The tour had limited each lady to a single suitcase; Gill had been traveling for almost two weeks. Most of the garments in her bag showed signs of hard use, but this was her last day, her last hours with Simon. She wanted to leave him with the memory of an attractive woman, if not the most stylish companion he might have found. The only thing that might do was the dress she would have worn to church. The aqua linen sheath felt summery, and she could see the sun shone in a clear, blue sky.
Grateful that her hotel had put an iron in the wardrobe, Gill touched up the skirt and smoothed the cap-sleeved bodice. It would be fine with her new coral bag, she thought, but time was slipping away as she primped for her date. She’d have to choose between tea and croissants or calming her mass of curls. Breakfast won, and she settled for untangling the curls and pinning in the silk flowers Simon had bought her.
“Out rather late, weren’t you, Gillian?” Stout Mrs. Metcalfe gave Gill a long, speculative look when they met in the dining room. “We expected you for tea. When we didn’t see you by dinnertime, we were quite concerned. London is a confusing city; it’s easy to find oneself in disreputable areas without realizing it.”
Gill took her place at the end of the table, selected a warm croissant, and took a moment to butter it. “Oh, I did a bit of shopping and took in one of the shows in the West End. I find it very easy to get around a city with such first-rate public transportation.” She nibbled a bite of the excellent pastry. “Thank you for being concerned, but there was no need. I managed to find every place I needed to go.”
Mrs. Metcalfe was visibly put out. Her back stiffened. The sharp tone in her voice matched the steely glint in her eyes. “You might have let us know you planned to be out. Just as a courtesy.”
“I can’t imagine anyone being interested in my little shopping trip, Mrs. Metcalfe.” Gill felt certain she’d given the one answer guaranteed to provoke the woman’s curiosity to the limit.
“You’ll be joining us for Sunday services, I’m sure. Hurry along. We’re walking over to the chapel in about ten minutes.”
Gill poured herself a second cup of tea. “No, I have other plans today and likely won’t be back for dinner, either. Please go ahead without me.”
“Other plans? You have friends in the area? I hope you aren’t going about the city alone. It’s dangerous for a young girl to venture out too far in such a mixed culture. You don’t know what might happen.”
Smiling over her cup, and over the “young girl” condescension, Gill waved away the older woman’s concerns. “I’ll be fine. You and the other ‘girls’ have a nice day, now.”
Still chuckling over the astonished look Mrs. Metcalfe gave her as the group marched off to church, Gill gathered her bag and skipped down the
hotel steps. The bus rolled to the corner just as she reached the stop, so she had no problem making connections to Waterloo Station. Simon was waiting as she left the bus. He caught her in a wholehearted hug as she stepped down. “How is my girl this sunny morning? Did you have a good sleep?”
“Never better.” The sparkling morning matched her joyful laughter. “And I think I curtailed the inquisition, at least for a little while.” Simon laughed, too, as she recounted her exchange with the formidable Mrs. Metcalfe.
“Did you get your business calls out of the way?” she asked as they strolled along the riverbank.
“Well, as to that, yes and no. I got in touch with one of the parties. The other is off on some errand and won’t be available till evening. I’ll finish up the details with him as soon as I can run him to earth tonight.” Simon held her to him for a moment. “I’ll have to leave you early this evening, hard as it is to do. Will you be all right with that, darlin’?”
A bit of the shine went out of the day, but Gill refused to let his business matters darken her pleasure. “I won’t let it ruin our day, though I have to admit I’m disappointed.”
Simon gave a rueful sigh. “You’re one in a million, Gill Banks. I’m that disappointed myself, but I promise I’m going to do all I can to make it up to you.”
If the day went far too fast, Gill had to agree Simon did his best to keep his promise. The ferry took them along the ancient river and gave Gill a different view of the old city. Simon pointed out the area once home to pirates and privateers. He showed her the historic pub where Dickens wrote. Tower Bridge and Traitor’s Gate held her imagination long after the small vessel had moved down the river. All along the way, Simon wrapped her in a wealth of love, love she felt so deeply she could almost believe it was visible.
They stood at the rail of the ferry as the afternoon waned. “I don’t know what tomorrow holds, young Gill, but I can’t believe fate tossed us together just to have a laugh at our expense. Can you believe in us, hold fast to what we have, until we can see where it’s going? I know it’s asking a lot, you going back to your unruly boys, and me, almost a stranger, here, halfway round the world from you. But can you think on what’s come and believe it’s meant to be?”
Close Encounter with a Crumpet Page 3
