‘God. Poor Buster.’
I slumped against the wall next to the fridge, feeling decidedly weak and tearful. ‘I know,’ I muttered, then cleared my throat.
‘And you’re sure Becky wants to stay there for tea?’
‘Yes, Mum. Do you mind?’
‘Of course not, sweetheart. You’re a big girl, you can eat wherever you like.’
I really wasn’t sure if that was a loaded statement or not. Because even if it were, it was still correct. I was thirty-five, for God’s sake, I shouldn’t feel obliged to be home for dinner every night with my mum.
And why was I being so defensive? I wondered.
‘I have to go, Becky’s choosing what pizza she wants.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She paused, and just when I thought she had hung up on me, she spoke. ‘Sweetheart, there’s something…’
Her words trailed away into silence. I frowned, suddenly on edge.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
She laughed, but it sounded forced and unnatural. ‘Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. Oh, I have to go, there’s somebody at the door, probably Evelyn with that cookery book she borrowed. I’ll see you later, okay? Give Becky a big cuddle from Granny and I’ll see you both later. Enjoy the pizza.’
She hung up in a flurry of breezy goodbyes, but I was unaccountably rattled. After I replaced the phone, I remained standing where I was, glaring at the damn thing like it were alive and might jump off the hook and bite me.
'Hello,' Aaron said, making me jump.
I spun round guiltily. 'Christ, you gave me a shock.'
'Sorry. The choosing of the pizza went much quicker than anticipated. Becky knows her mind, doesn't she?'
I experienced a rush of pride, despite it not necessarily being a compliment; Becky certainly could be a stubborn little thing when she wanted to be. 'She sure does.'
I smiled, but my conversation with Mum had troubled me, and try as I might, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She had been trying to tell me something.
It won't be anything serious, I told myself. You're just uptight because of Buster.
'I just came in here for my phone... ah, there it is,' he said, striding over to the counter top a metre or so away from where I stood. 'Would you like to choose your topping before I make the call?' The genial expression fell from his face when he looked at me properly for the first time since he had entered the kitchen. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm fine,' I said, giving him what I hoped was a bright smile. 'Just, you know, a little shaken I guess.'
And that was mostly the truth.
His brow creased in concern. 'Yes, of course you are. I really am so sorry.'
'It's not your fault. I guess life is just a complete bitch sometimes.'
'Ain't that the truth. You know what? I reckon it's long overdue that we crack open a bottle. I know I have an entirely respectable bottle of Merlot here somewhere, if not there are plenty in the cellar...'
I could tell that he was talking to himself more than anything, and I watched as he navigated his way through the vast kitchen, opening and shutting all the bottom half of the cupboard doors in search of the elusive bottle.
'Ah-ha. We have victory.’ Looking very pleased with himself, he presented a bottle of wine at me, much like a maitre d’ in a fancy restaurant. ‘I just have to call the pizza place, then I’ll come through with the wine.’
‘Sure,’ I smiled, then went to join Becky in the living-room.
THIRTEEN
The pizza meal was a success, in that Becky, although quieter than usual, was no longer tearful. Aaron had a got a fire going in the broad, white fireplace – something he said he didn’t bother with during the day because the central heating was more than adequate at heating the place.
After bobbing out to collect the pizza at the road side, for Aaron said it was too complicated for the pizza delivery guy to come to the door, the three of us ate, the picnic of pizza on the cardboard trays spread out before us on the coffee-table.
‘Mummy, can we play Snakes and Ladders?’ Becky asked when we’d had our fill.
The wine and the roaring fire were taking effect, making me feel warm from the inside out, and more than a little dozy and sluggish.
Buster would’ve hoovered up those pizza leftovers, I thought sadly.
‘That’s up to Aaron, sweetie,’ I replied. ‘It’s his board game, you’ll have to ask him.’
‘I think that sounds like a lovely idea,’ he said, springing to his feet to retrieve the game which was propped up next to the TV. I carried the cardboard trays into the kitchen, and when I came back, the game was set up on the coffee table.
Somewhere along the line, we had drained the bottle of wine and Aaron had opened the second. I wasn’t drunk, but was feeling pleasantly numb, the edge of Buster’s death having lost its cutting sharpness. Aaron and I turned a blind eye to Becky’s lax interpretation of the rules, skimming up snakes and down ladders at whim, but I was just glad to see her smile.
If only this were my reality, came the sudden thought. I wish Aaron was mine and Becky’s…
The sudden lump that sprang to my throat – partly due to the wine, and partly because I was just genuinely sad – caught me by surprise, and I put down my glass on the coffee-table. I was feeling emotional and vulnerable, and I straightened my spine along with my resolve. I had to keep myself together.
Cool, calm and collected, I reminded myself.
‘My turn,’ I said, reaching for the dice in the little red pot and giving it a shake.
But when I looked at Becky next to me on the sofa, she was positively wilting. Her eyes were glazed and her eyelids were heavy as she slumped against the back of the sofa between me and Aaron.
‘I think maybe we should get that taxi home, now,’ I said softly.
‘Want to stay,’ Becky slurred, before her eyes closed completely.
Her words surprised me. I thought she would be keen to get home and see Granny, but she was growing attached to Aaron at an alarming rate. I had mixed feelings about that, the main one being fear. It was no good for either of us to get attached to Aaron.
‘Look at that,’ Aaron said, reaching down to tenderly stroke a lock of blonde hair off her face in a way that made my stomach knot up in longing for something that could never be. ‘She’s dead to the world.’
‘She’s always like that when she falls asleep. For the first few hours she’s out like a light.’
‘Well, we can’t very well disturb the best part of her sleep, can we? Why don’t I carry her up to bed? The heat is on upstairs, and the beds are all made-up. She’ll be perfectly comfortable.’
I looked at him over my sleeping daughter, the moisture instantly sucking from my mouth and my heart tripping in my chest. What, exactly, was he implying here? When I spoke, I was alarmed to discover that my voice trembled.
‘Aaron, I’m not sure.’
Inwardly, I cursed myself for being so damn shaky and pathetically indecisive. Before I could protest, Aaron stood up and scooped up my dead-to-the-world daughter, cradling her against his broad chest. He smiled at me, and all I could do was gawp stupidly up at him.
I knew I should protest, but a part of me loved the fact that he was taking over. Pretty much every day since James’s death had been an uphill struggle – a daily battle fought against the responsibilities of life. It was just so nice to be taken over for a short while, to feel protected and cared for.
So, for those reasons, I did not protest when he carried my daughter upstairs. Instead, I too got to my feet and followed them out of the room. The room swayed as I stood up – I was drunker than I realised.
In a daze, I followed them up the stairs. Everything had taken on a dreamlike quality, and my mind was blanker than it should’ve been. My gaze was involuntarily drawn to the flexing muscles of his strong backside and only then did I realise quite how much I wanted him.
I knew this already, but the primal urge
swept through me, obliterating all rational thought. My legs were like jelly as I followed him, as helpless as a rat following the Pied Piper. When we reached the landing, he took a sharp left into the first bedroom we came to – his parents’ room, I remembered him saying.
Ever so gently, he lay down my sleeping daughter on the bed. For some reason, my heart broke at the sight of her. I just loved her so much, it was a physical thing, weighing heavy on my heart. Her rosebud mouth was parted, and she was snoring softly.
Aaron stepped to one side, and I took his place by the side of the bed. Her lace-up trainers had long since been discarded downstairs, and gently I tugged down her flowery leggings.
Thankfully, she was wearing a pink cardigan as opposed to a pullover, so it was relatively easy to unbutton and slide down her arms. Now that she was just in a t-shirt, knickers and socks, I gently manoeuvred her under the bedding.
She looked so peaceful, so perfect as she slept. She was perfect, I reminded myself. I would die for that child. I walked round the bed to the lamp on the bedside table and clicked it on – Becky didn’t like sleeping in total darkness. The heavy, maroon material of the lampshade cast the room with a cosy, deep red glow.
‘We’ll leave the door open and the hallway light on,’ Aaron whispered.
Nodding, I followed him out of the room, casting a final glance behind myself at my sleeping daughter.
Out in the hallway, Aaron didn’t turn right for the stairs. I remained rooted to the spot, my heart kicking up a notch once more. I was terrified, yet also gripped by the strongest sense of inevitability. I wanted this. I knew what was going to happen, and mostly I accepted that the night had been leading up to this point. It was the reason I had let him carry Becky upstairs; this was as inevitable as the day was long.
Sure enough, when he turned around and beckoned me with the faintest flick of his head, I found my feet moving in his direction as if they weren’t a part of me and I had no say in the matter. I went to him, my heart racing in a potent mix of terror and longing.
I walked straight into his arms, my hands automatically curling around his shoulders as he gripped my waist and leaned down to kiss me.
The kiss was intensely erotic, so slow and languid that it left me dizzy. He broke it off and I clung to his shoulders for support, beyond fighting what my body so desperately needed.
And my body needed him with a ferocity that left me reeling.
‘Joyce,’ he murmured, trailing kisses down to my collarbone.
All I could do was gasp in reply, entwining my fingers in his soft hair and tilting back my head at the sheer pleasure of it.
He moved away from me, and now there was just a cold space which his warm body had previously filled. Already, I missed him. I ached for him.
He smiled softly, and reached out for my hand, entwining his fingers in mine. The gesture was incredibly gentle, so much so that I had to swallow the urge to cry. The way in which the man left me feeling so emotionally exposed was a whole new experience for me.
‘It’s okay,’ he said, more than likely sensing that I was an emotional wreck.
He gave me hand a gentle squeeze, and then a gentle tug. Our hands still clasped together, I found myself trailing after him down the hallway. Even though I was familiar with my surroundings because he had shown me around the house a few days before, I still felt like I was in an alien landscape.
I had been in every one of the five, opulent bedrooms along this stretch of broad hallway, and I had also been into the huge, converted attic space above us that Aaron used for storage.
Yet I still felt that I had wandered into a whole other world, one that I had never seen before, except perhaps, in my dreams. More than that, I didn’t feel like myself, as if I were an actor playing a part. The disassociation from my own body, from my own desire, was strong. The feeling that this was just a dream was ever prevalent, perhaps emboldening me. Or maybe it was the alcohol coursing through my system, loosening my inhibitions.
Three doors down from where Becky slept, Aaron came to a halt. I knew exactly where we were: his bedroom. The mere fact of this had my pulse racing and my legs feeling like they had turned to liquid jelly beneath me.
Not letting go, he led me into the room. The light from the hallway penetrated the bedroom, but not so much that we were thrown into stark relief and I was grateful for the shrouding shadows. Compared to the other four bedrooms, his room was near Spartan in style. It was the smallest of the five, but still three times the size of my bedroom at my mother’s. The walls were whitewashed, the floorboards polished and dark, the furniture old but simple. Unlike the blankets and throws of rich and varied material that adorned the other beds, his bed was covered by a simple, dark blue duvet, and, as he walked me backwards to the bed whilst kissing me, it was on this duvet that he lay me upon.
My head swam at the sheer luxury of his big body pressed against every inch of mine as I lay on the bed. I had wanted this for so long, probably since the first second I had met him on the beach. Had it really only been a week ago? It felt like a lifetime.
He continued to kiss me so tenderly, like this moment meant the world to him. Like I meant the world to him. I could feel myself willingly falling into a swirling pool of desire, losing myself to the long-buried sensations he was stirring up within me.
‘Oh, Joyce, I want you so much,’ he murmured in my ear, before playfully – and gently – nipping the lobe.
I shuddered in need, and wrapped my arms tightly around his back, but Aaron tugged out of my grip. He pulled me up into a sitting position and stared deep into my eyes, cupping my face in his big, strong hands as he did so.
‘I want you Joyce, I want all of you. I want to be close to you, but this has to be your choice. Do you want me, Joyce, as much as I want you?’
I was so stunned by lust, it took much effort on my part for me to nod my head, but somehow, I managed. All I knew was that he had stopped kissing me, and I never wanted him to stop.
‘Arms up,’ he instructed huskily.
Obediently, I raised my trembling arms and he slid my pullover over my head and up my arms in one fluid motion. I sat in my bra and jeans, trembling before him, as embarrassed as I was aroused by his hungry gaze devouring my body. Silently, I thanked a God that I didn’t believe it that I had chosen to wear a flattering, silky pink bra.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, placing a hand flat against my upper chest; I was sure he could feel the strength of my thumping heart against the flat of his palm. ‘You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’
Gently, he pushed me back on the bed. It was such a dominant, but somehow tender move that it had my heart racing all the harder. He eased my jeans down over my hips, taking my socks with them, for which I was thankful because lying there in my underwear plus socks would’ve made me squirm in embarrassment.
Only when he threw my clothes to one side did it occur to me that he was still fully clothed. When the full length of his body pressed against mine, I fumbled for the waistband of his jeans, tugging at his belt. One hand roamed lower, and I gasped at the hard heat of him, straining against his jeans.
Our open-mouthed kisses grew more intense, wet and searching, desperate to push past the physical boundaries of the other. Like a majestic, wild beast, Aaron reared up onto his knees and pulled the pullover and plain white t-shirt over his head, revealing the hard lines of his sculptured torso.
I gasped at the sight of him. He was more perfect than I ever could have imagined. His chest was completely smooth, his skin lightly tanned, and fleetingly, I wondered if he shaved. His well-developed, pectoral muscles leaped beneath my trembling fingertips and the hard ridges of his stomach muscles quivered when my hand travelled lower, tracing the aggressive lines of his body. He moved out of reach for a moment to slide off his jeans so that we were both in our underwear.
His big body crushed mine, and the silky-smooth feel of him made me dizzy with longing. I wrapped my legs tightly around his wa
ist, revelling in the feel of him, needing to be closer. Breaking off the kiss, he pinned my wrists above my head with one hand and cupped my breast through my bra with the other. Groaning slightly, he trailed hot kisses down the side of my neck, to the breast that he cupped where his mouth latched onto my nipple through the flimsy material of the bra.
I arched my back to meet his mouth, his breath in turn hot, then damp and cold in time with his breathing. I felt my eyelids flutter and my eyes roll back in my head at the long-buried sensations that assaulted me. I fisted his hair, needing more, needing to feel him without the stupid fabric of my underwear getting in the way.
I breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he yanked down the strap of my bra and took my hard, aching nipple into his mouth. The feel of it was almost too much, yet not enough all at once. His mouth lifted and I became aware of a change of pressure, of a loosening around my back, and then air hitting my skin where the bra had been.
My knickers quickly followed, then his underpants, and when we were naked, the full magnitude of what we were doing hit me hard and square.
I froze beneath him, and I felt his entire body go rigid above me. He propped himself up on one elbow, his other hand gripping my upper-arm so that his forearm obscured my breasts from his view.
‘I’m sorry, I’m moving too fast.’
His face was a shadowy blur above me, but I could still make out the disappointment etched on his face. I couldn’t even pinpoint at that moment what I was feeling – so many emotions were crashing though me and I was a wreck of desire, adrenalin and doubt.
‘No,’ I began, ‘it’s not that, it’s just…’
Just what? I wondered.
Just that I’m in love with you and you’re going to break my heart.
I knew that I was being overly melodramatic, but everything was just too much.
The Silenced Wife Page 10
