An Insatiable Passion

by Lynne Graham

  A derisive incredulity slashed his taut features. ‘On the men you have known? You’d be wiser keeping your mouth shut.’

  He didn’t remember the stories she used to scribble in her teens. He didn’t remember a dream she had been too shy to share with anyone but him. ‘Don’t worry, Jake. You won’t even get a footnote.’

  Simmering with pain and indignation, she dug her shaky hands into her pockets.

  In the charged silence he grated, ‘I’ll buy the farm from you. The money can be raised fast. You don’t need to hang around up here.’

  ‘No, thanks. You don’t like the idea of me as a neighbour much, do you?’

  His teeth glimmered white against bronzed skin and it absently occurred to her that not even prolonged outdoor exposure to the elements had given him that depth of a tan in a Yorkshire winter. ‘How do you expect me to feel about it?’

  Her violet-blue eyes stayed steady. ‘I don’t expect you to feel anything.’

  Once she had paid the price of exile for him. Never again. He wanted the farm. It wouldn’t suit him if she began getting ideas of keeping it on as a holiday cottage. Of course he didn’t know that she could afford to entertain ideas of that nature. He didn’t know that if she wanted the land to be put to profitable use, she could place it in the hands of a highly professional outfit not so very far from where they were sitting. How would he react to the news that she owned the Grange and most of the original Tarrant estate?

  Grant had bought it for her as a surprise. Her father was a multimillionaire, who had enjoyed a large financial stake in the profits of his own films. What had struck her as a shatteringly costly purchase had been no more than a flamboyant gesture on his part. He had termed it a superb investment for her future security. But that wasn’t why he had bought the estate for her. Grant had honestly believed that she would receive a venomous kick from owning Jake’s former family home.

  They were now travelling up a concrete lane. A long black and white farmhouse sat on a pleasant rise among a grove of stark winter branched trees. In spring, Torbeck was probably very attractive, she allowed grudgingly.

  ‘I’m sorry if I was rough on you back there, but you’re a complication I can do without,’ he admitted shortly.

  Climbing out of the car, she said, ‘I’m not your complication.’

  ‘You stir up things I’d prefer to forget.’ His well-shaped mouth twisted. ‘I don’t think you’ll stick Lower Ridge longer than a week in this weather. I’ll stay clear while you’re there though.’

  As he pressed open the porch door, she chided, ‘Promises, promises.’

  A child was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs in the spacious hall. An instantaneous freezing coldness encased Kitty from neck to toe. Amazingly, she had forgotten about the existence of Jake’s daughter. Mousy hair, freckles and thick-lensed spectacles contrived to make her a surprisingly plain little girl. The Tarrants were without exception a physically very handsome bunch. This one wasn’t.

  ‘Why aren’t you at playgroup?’ Jake demanded in surprise. ‘Tina?’

  ‘’Cos I’s waiting for my lift and it didn’t come.’

  Jake frowned darkly. ‘I’ll take you. Sorry, Kitty, this is Tina.’

  ‘Hello, Tina.’ Kitty just about managed to glance in the child’s direction.

  ‘You’re pretty,’ Tina mumbled and nervously eyed her father. ‘I don’t wanna go to playgroup.’

  ‘You’re going.’

  Without warning Tina burst into floods of tears. A phone started shrilling somewhere. With a muffled curse, Jake swept Tina off her perch in a mixture of frustration and sympathy. ‘Please, Daddy, please,’ she sobbed.

  ‘Tina…for crying out loud.’

  The phone had stopped ringing. A large, plump woman clad in a floral pinny came into the hall. ‘You didn’t grow up aways, did you?’ Jessie noted bluntly as she studied Kitty, quite indifferent to the racket Tina was making. ‘And you’re skin and bone.’

  Kitty laughed, her coolness vanishing. Jake’s features hardened as he watched the vibrancy flash back into her lovely face.

  ‘You won’t be getting your breakfast yet,’ the older woman angled at her employer. ‘That was John on the phone. Starlight’s foaling. He wants someone to hold his hand.’

  ‘It looks as if you’ll be eating in peace after all,’ Jake breathed. ‘I’d better get changed. By the way, what happened to Tina’s lift?’

  ‘Mrs Crummer’s kids are down with that flu that’s doing the rounds,’ Jessie delivered with the gruesome air of the hangman. ‘You’d best hope it stops there.’

  Jake started upstairs carting Tina. Her mournful little face stabbed guilt knives into Kitty over his shoulder. Swiftly she looked away.

  ‘And don’t go out without ringing Paula!’ Jessie rolled her eyes heavenward. ‘That phone hasn’t stopped ringing this morning.’

  Kitty followed her into a sunny pine kitchen. ‘You weren’t surprised to see me.’

  ‘His nibs phoned. Get yourself sat down. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

  Shedding her jacket, Kitty slid uncertainly behind the table in the alcove. ‘Perhaps Jake ought to drop me back again now.’

  Jessie slapped a mug of tea down in front of her. ‘The meal’s ready for you. He shouldn’t be long. John Thornton’s a fusspot. He probably doesn’t need him at all.’

  ‘Thornton? The auctioneer?’ A plate piled high with bacon, sausage and egg was withdrawn from the oven and placed before her. ‘Jessie, I couldn’t possibly eat all this!’

  Ignoring her startled plea, Jessie replied, ‘Young John, not old John. He went into farming. Jake and him are partners. He’s Merrill’s husband. She’s expecting her first this summer.’

  Kitty lifted her knife and fork. ‘What happened to Jane?’ she asked, referring to Jake’s older sister.

  ‘She married an American, did well for herself. He’s one of those fancy private doctors—plenty of brass,’ Jessie emphasised in case she hadn’t got the message.

  Kitty smiled. The housekeeper busied herself down at the dishwasher, giving her peace to eat.

  Tina sidled out from behind the cupboards to stare at Kitty wide-eyed. ‘I know you. You’re the witch on TV,’ she whispered, half fearful, half fascinated.

  Charming, Kitty thought, idly wondering who in the household might have alluded to her in the child’s hearing with a similar-sounding word.

  ‘None of your silly nonsense.’ Jessie bent a stern look on the little mite just as Jake reappeared.

  ‘I won’t be long. Tina!’ A hand jerked meaningfully. He barely broke his stride on his passage to the back door.

  In ten seconds both father and daughter were gone. His terse manner had annoyed Kitty. ‘What’s up with him?’

  ‘Woman trouble.’

  Kitty buttered a piece of toast, her appetite improving. ‘What’s this Paula like?’

  ‘Divorced. She took one look at him and set her cap,’ Jessie informed her while she noisily stacked dishes. ‘Not that I’ve anything against the lass, but chasing him up hill and down dale isn’t the path to take to the church door.’

  ‘Serious, then, is it?’ Kitty pried helplessly.

  ‘I reckon she is. I can’t speak for him. He doesn’t wear his thoughts on his sleeve. The wee one could certainly do with a mother. Miss Sophie’s got no time for her at all. It would suit all round if he did get wed again,’ Jessie pronounced with practicality. ‘Miss Sophie could go and live with that sister of hers in York. She’s forever visiting her. It’s too quiet up here for her.’

  ‘Then why does she stay?’

  Jessie sighed. ‘I don’t live in now. My brother’s pushing seventy-five. Since his wife died, I’ve been keeping house for him. Jake has to have somebody in the house at night for the child in case he’s called out.’

  Kitty glanced up. ‘Called out where?’

  ‘He’s one of the local vets. Didn’t you know that?’

  Kitty shook her head. ‘Las
t I heard, he had to leave university.’

  ‘You’ve not been doing a lot of talking, have you?’ Jessie remarked drily. ‘He was near the end of his training. Once he had this place going, he went back and finished it. He can only manage part time though. What with building up the farm…well, he stretched himself in all directions. He had to in the beginning. His father owed all round him when he died.’

  ‘He hasn’t had an easy time of it,’ Kitty muttered.

  Jessie gave a vigorous nod of agreement. ‘He hasn’t. Miss Sophie took losing her husband very hard. She had one of those breakdowns and she’s not been the same since. She never took to Liz either. That didn’t help.’

  Kitty bit her lip and bent her head to eat. A good five minutes passed before her companion spoke again.

  ‘Like a lot of folk round here, I’ve often wondered what went wrong between you and Jake,’ Jessie confided brusquely.

  Kitty tensed. ‘I can’t think why. I was just a kid when I left. Jake and I never even went out together.’

  Jessie gave her a strange look, turned aside. ‘Happen not.’

  Crimson rose in Kitty’s cheeks.

  ‘I never saw two young people that keen and nothing come of it.’ Jessie was not to be silenced. ‘If it was some silly argument that parted you, you needed your heads banged together and you oughtn’t to pay heed to that rumour that he married young Liz for her money. Not that I could tell you why he did marry her, but you take it from me, it certainly wasn’t for that.’

  Kitty’s teeth had collided painfully with her tongue. Her mouth tasted of blood.

  ‘Yes,’ Jessie grumbled. ‘He married in haste and repented at his leisure, as they say. Liz was that jealous of you.’

  ‘I never even met the woman!’ Kitty burst out.

  ‘That’s no call to go raising your voice against me,’ Jessie sniffed. ‘I don’t care if you are on the television every week. You mind your manners.’

  Laughter and tears simultaneously clogged her throat. ‘I’m sorry, Jessie.’

  Jake had married for money. How simple, how understandable, how neat. Why had she not suspected that hard cash might lie behind his sudden marriage? Nausea cramped her stomach and she pushed away her plate. Of course, he could have loved her as well. Easier to love where it’s profitable, a more cynical voice piped up. With the estate teetering on bankruptcy and his family to provide for, some might say that Jake had had plenty of excuse.

  A bell sounded, making Kitty jump. Jessie bustled out into the utility corridor visible beyond the glassed rear door. Distantly Kitty heard the drone of a male voice. Jessie returned with a slim, fair-haired man in tow.

  ‘Drew Matcham,’ she proffered baldly. ‘He works with Jake.’

  ‘I twisted Jessie’s arm for an introduction when I saw you through the kitchen window,’ he confessed rather awkwardly.

  ‘She’s not even had her breakfast yet,’ Jessie scolded without pity.

  ‘It’s all right, I was finished.’ Kitty got up and clasped his less than confidently extended hand.

  He stared at her in astonishment. ‘Good lord, you’re really tiny. I assumed the rest of the cast was very tall.’

  As he reddened comically over his own candour, she couldn’t help smiling. ‘The high heels helped on set,’ she laughed. ‘I didn’t think many men watched the show.’

  His hazel eyes twinkled. ‘I’ve got to admit that I don’t, but I’ve caught the odd glimpse when my sister’s been watching. Well…’ He hesitated, openly angling for the offer of a cup of tea, but Jessie was loudly slotting cutlery in a drawer. ‘Well, since Jake’s out, I’ll get on,’ he completed.

  ‘Will you be travelling near the Tarn road?’ Kitty asked impulsively and, at his surprised nod of affirmation, continued, ‘Would you mind giving me a lift?’

  ‘Not at all.’

  Tugging on her jacket, she evaded Jessie’s shocked stare. Coming here had been a mistake. If she lingered, Jessie would soon be happily filling her in on every aspect of Jake’s marriage. Kitty really didn’t want to hear any more gory details.

  She told the housekeeper that she had hugely enjoyed her breakfast, smoothly pointed out that she wanted to save Jake the inconvenience of driving her home, and concluded her speech by asking Jessie to assure Mrs Tarrant that she was very sorry to have missed her. In short she told three huge whoppers in unblushing succession.

  ‘I picked up the wrong end of the stick,’ Drew murmured as she slid into his car. ‘I assumed you were a guest here.’

  Kitty waved brightly at Jessie. ‘I’m staying at Lower Ridge farm.’

  ‘I’ve heard of it but I’ve never been up there.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ she enquired.

  ‘That it was the birthplace of homegrown talent,’ he fielded lightly.

  She relaxed perceptibly as Torbeck receded behind them. Drew chatted about the rumour that snow was in the air and she liked him for not asking nosy questions. Passing down these same roads an hour earlier, she had been too enervated to notice the changes in the landscape. Now that she did, her brow furrowed. ‘What happened to the trees that used to be along here?’

  ‘Bob Creighton happened,’ Drew supplied. ‘He manages the old Tarrant estate. He took down those trees in spite of local opposition.’

  Kitty swallowed uneasily. ‘He can’t be too popular, then.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Drew said mildly. ‘The estate provides a lot of local employment and it’s run on a maximum productivity basis. Bob has to turn in decent profits if he wants to hang on to his job. He says his bosses function entirely on balance sheets. He doesn’t see much of them. They’re based in London.’

  ‘He must have a pretty free hand,’ she commented stiffly.

  Drew glanced at her. ‘Has Jake been talking to you? He was furious about those trees, although he refused to head up the opposition party.’

  ‘He can’t have been too bothered, then.’

  Drew sighed in rueful disagreement. ‘He was in a very difficult position after the estate was sold. A lot of people still find it hard to accept that Jake’s got nothing to do with it now. They tend to try to involve him in their problems.’

  Kitty lifted her chin. ‘There were plenty of problems while his father was alive.’

  ‘But the situation is similar. An absentee landlord or landlords,’ Drew filled in thoughtfully. ‘And you can’t underestimate what the name of Tarrant still stands for in this neck of the woods.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t. I’m sure there are still a lot of farmers pulling their cloth caps off when Jake walks into the yard.’

  Unexpectedly Drew laughed, taking her vitriolic stab as a joke. ‘Yes, I’ve had to get used to being second best with some of our clients.’

  ‘Who lives in the Grange now?’ she prompted.

  ‘It’s empty. There hasn’t been a tenant there for a while.’

  She insisted that he drop her at the foot of the lane. ‘I feel like the walk,’ she said truthfully.

  She thought uncomfortably over what she had learnt of how the estate was viewed locally. Her investment consultants had set up Colwell Holdings, the management firm which ran the estate for her. She received regular reports which she rarely even bothered to read, and all of a sudden she wished that she hadn’t gone to such lengths to conceal her ownership. Even Creighton didn’t know who was behind Colwell Holdings. She deeply resented being compared to Charles Tarrant, but she couldn’t deny that she had had no real interest in the estate.

  Haggerston Grange was empty, she reflected. She might as well go up and take a look round the old house. Why shouldn’t she? It belonged to her.

  She entered the cottage, experiencing only a pang of yesterday’s reluctance. She was staying, come rain, hail or shine. If anything, Jake’s objections had only hardened her resolve. Any ghosts here were of her own creation. Why had she let Jake and then Jessie upset her?

  In essentials Jake seemed unchanged. His past behaviour had to have an
uneasy hold on his conscience. Why else had he forced himself to offer the hand of charity? A friend, he had said. Where had this friendship been when she had so desperately needed him? Having slept with her, Jake had made it cruelly clear that even friendship was at an end. Her eyes dampened and in annoyance she wrinkled her nose.

  Sophie Tarrant had ironically picked out what Kitty now saw as her greatest weakness. She was too intense. Any normal woman would have put the past behind her by now. She would never have returned here. Why was she here? Why was that past still hurting her? She couldn’t answer those questions.

  * * *

  Another scrunched up ball of paper hit the floor. With a grimace Kitty left her typewriter. It had ruled her every waking hour for a week. That first chapter which had seemed so clear in her head refused to emerge on to the printed page and satisfy her. She had seen nothing but these four walls for days. Pulling on her raincoat, she decided to go for a walk.

  Maybe Grant had been right, maybe that one story had been a fluke. She trudged out into the drizzling rain, deep in her own thoughts. A noise eerily reminiscent of a child crying made her hesitate by the wall bounding the old vegetable patch and stare across the yard. The hair prickled at the nape of her neck. There was no wind. The barn was securely padlocked. Beside it sat a tumbledown outhouse that had once been a tractor shed. Just as she was about to turn away, smiling at her own fancies, the sound came again.

  The door of the shed was hanging drunkenly off its hinges. Kitty peered into the dimness. In the corner, on a heap of old meal bags, she could just make out a small, recumbent shape. As she heaved the door back, it gave a wrenching shriek of complaint. Tina leapt up fearfully to cringe back into the corner.

  Kitty stated at her in astonishment. The child was wringing wet and caked with mud. She didn’t even have a cardigan on over her torn blouse and kilt. Her swollen face crumpled into another heartbroken sob.

  Her distress unfroze Kitty. ‘It’s all right, I’m not cross.’ She dropped down on her knees in an effort to seem less intimidating. ‘You’re a long way from home and I was just surprised to see you. How did you get here?’