by Anne Weale
‘What will the weather be like in Venice?’
‘It varies. Often it’s wet or misty. Sometimes it’s very cold when the wind is blowing straight off the mountains to the north. Or it can be mild and sunny. Whatever it’s like, it’s one of the world’s magic places, especially in winter when the Venetians have it more or less to themselves. I love it whatever it’s like. I’m looking forward to showing you all my favourite corners of it.’
‘I’m looking forward to going.’ The wine and the food and the warmth made her stifle a yawn.
‘Time you were in bed,’ said Pierce. ‘I’ll run you back.’
He leaned towards her, scooping Parson from her lap and holding the startled tabby suspended in his strong hands for a moment before putting him gently on the floor.
Parson gave an offended shudder, adjusting the set of his fur before looking over his shoulder and fixing Pierce with an old-fashioned look, so plain in its meaning that Pierce laughed and said, ‘Sorry, old boy, but you might as well accept you’re not the top cat any more. I am.’
Parson’s expression had made Holly want to laugh, but she had suppressed her reaction, not wishing to add to his sense of indignity.
When he turned round to face her, it looked for a moment as if he might dispute Pierce’s authority over him by jumping back on her lap. But he thought better of it and stalked off, his tail—held upright when he was pleased with life—now indicating displeasure by waving from side to side.
‘Don’t worry; he’s too intelligent not to accept the situation. I like him very much. I’ll make it easy for him.’
Pierce put his arm round her shoulders and drew her against him. With his mouth near her ear, he whispered, ‘More than Louisa, as a matter of fact, but I shan’t let her know that.’ Then, using his free hand to turn her face towards his, he kissed her.
It felt as deliciously sensuous as a mouthful of chocolate. As her lips opened to his, he used the tip of his tongue to caress the inner edges of her mouth. But there was no thrusting. invasion of the kind that had happened before, when she hadn’t been ready for it. Nor did she feel his hand fumbling to open her shirt in the peremptory way other hands had. His fingers were touching her throat, exploring the delicate area behind her ear and down the side of her neck.
Suddenly, just when other parts of her body were beginning to tingle responsively, he brought the kiss to an end. Disengaging himself, he stood up. ‘I’ll go and get your coat.’
He left her surprised and disappointed. She hadn’t wanted him to stop and didn’t know why he had. There could be two reasons. He had found her response disappointing. Or he was deliberately keeping things under control until he was free to go as far as he liked with her.
But he was free to do that now, if he wanted, she thought, trying to recover her self-possession, not wanting him to come back and find her visibly disorientated.
When Pierce took longer than she expected to bring her coat, she thought it might be because he knew she needed a space to recover, or because he was himself aroused. Men, as she had cause to know, did get aroused very quickly by physical contact with females. Both the previous men in her life had reached boiling point in seconds, making her wonder if she was unnaturally slow.
When Pierce did return, he said, ‘I don’t want to offend you, Holly, but most brides have parental backing and I know your finances can’t be too fluid. In the circumstances, would it affront you if I ordered you the use of my accounts at Simpson and Liberty? They should have something you’d like for your wedding dress. If not, I also have an account at Harvey Nichols.’
‘I’m not in the least offended. It’s nice of you to suggest it. But I wasn’t planning to buy anything wildly expensive. You don’t mind if I dress for your wedding at my normal price level, do you?’
‘If you buy your dress at a thrift shop, it won’t worry me,’ he said smiling. ‘You seem to be someone who always looks right for the occasion... whether it’s a party or a day in the country.’
‘Thank you.’ She didn’t tell him that the only party outfit he had seen her in had been borrowed and must have cost as much as the clothes worn by the women he normally mixed with.
While she was fastening her coat, she said, ‘I’ll just say goodnight to Parson.’
At first there was no response to the pursed-lip squeaks which usually brought the cat hurrying to see why he had been summoned. Then, at a less eager pace, he appeared round the corner of the sofa.
Holly crouched down to pat him. ‘I’m leaving you here tonight. You’ll be quite all right and I’ll see you tomorrow. Be a good pussy.’ She picked him up to give him a hug and a kiss on the top of his head.
He followed them to the garage where, not ungently, Pierce made him stay in the passage while he closed the door. Plaintive miaows could be heard as he opened the passenger door for her. Before entering the car himself, he switched off the garage light. As he got in beside her, he said, ‘I expect you feel the same way as mothers whose children go to boarding-schools. I’ve heard a lot of them say it’s an agonising business consigning your darling to the care of other people. Do you think, when I get back to him, a sardine or two might make him feel better about being separated from you?’
‘If you have some, it probably would.’ To her vexation, her voice came out slightly husky.
Pierce used the gadget which opened the garage door. As it swung slowly upwards and outwards, he switched on the motor.
‘Are you going to lie awake, worrying about him?’
‘No, of course not. I know he’ll be fine. It’s just that he was dumped by someone when he was a kitten. I wonder if he remembers that? I wonder if he thinks I’m leaving him?’ To her greater chagrin, her eyes filled with tears and she had to look out of the side window in case Pierce should see them.
They were cruising along the street now and a warm hand closed on her thigh and gave it a squeeze. ‘Don’t cry, darling. Cats aren’t like elephants. They don’t have long memories. Have you got a hanky on you?’
Darling. To hear him say it, as if she really were his darling, made her want to burst into tears.
‘Yes, thank you.’ She felt for the tissue she knew was in her coat pocket. ‘I’m sorry to be such an idiot. But you see...since my father died... Parson has been like a person to me. I know it’s silly to love him as much as I do...but I can’t help it.’
The car glided to the kerb. Pierce pulled on the handbrake and put the gear in neutral.
‘Of course you can’t help it.’ He leaned over to put both arms round her. ‘Everyone needs someone to love.’
At that she did burst into tears. ‘Oh, dear...it’s the wine,’ she gasped. ‘I don’t... make a habit... of this.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I grew up with sisters. I’m used to tears,’ he said calmly, holding her against his shoulder.
His kindness dissolved her completely. The stress she had been through before deciding to marry him, the strain of concealing her love for him, her uncertainty about the future all came welling up to the surface in a burst of uncontrolled weeping.
After perhaps half a minute of letting it all out, with an enormous effort she overcame her emotion and managed to swallow her sobs and bring the outburst to an end.
Drawing away from him, she said shakily, ‘Now you’ll be wondering what on earth you’ve let yourself in for.’
‘On the contrary, I think the fact that you’ve managed to let your hair down is a good omen.’ In the light from a nearby streetlamp, she could see the flicker of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. ‘My father, who’s a very wise man—I’m sure you’re going to like him—once gave me a kind of summary of what he’d learnt about women from spending the past forty-five years with my mother. One of the things he told me was that if a woman starts crying, whether they’re five or eighty-five or any age in between, but especially if it’s your wife, the right thing to do is to put your arms round her, not pretend not to notice, or walk away, or get angry.
My dad thinks that men should cry more. He says it’s a great safety-valve. Are you feeling better now?’
‘Much better...and thank you for being so understanding.’
‘That’s what a husband is for,’ he said gently. And then, in a lighter tone, he added, ‘I’ll be there for Parson too, if he’s feeling down when I get back. Come on; you’ve a heavy day tomorrow. Buying a wedding dress is a big event. Do you prefer shopping alone or would you like someone with you? I suppose all your friends are working. How about Fujiko? I’m sure she’d be delighted to go with you if you wanted her.’
‘I don’t mind going on my own. I’d rather be by myself.’
He hadn’t suggested the most obvious person to accompany her, she noted. She wondered how Chiara would receive the news of their engagement. She had an ominous feeling that her stepsister wouldn’t approve.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘YOU’RE kidding me!’ said Chiara, when they met for lunch on the fourth floor at Harvey Nichols.
‘I’m serious. I know it’s amazing. I can’t believe it myself,’ Holly admitted.
‘I’m gobsmacked,’ her stepsister declared.
Inwardly, Holly winced. Perhaps that ugly expression was one that Eric used and Chiara had picked up from him. It might be a good thing if she did take up with the donor of the aquamarine. He might be less coarse and uncouth than her present lover. Chiara had always been influenced by the people she associated with. At school she had fallen in with a group of girls to whom lessons had been a boring interruption to their after-school activities. It was they, to some extent, who had steered her in the direction she had gone.
Deliberately, Holly had kept her woollen gloves on while they’d settled themselves at their table, one of the last few vacant in a restaurant beloved by the store’s chic clientele as a rest-stop between bouts of shopping.
Now she took her gloves off, knowing it wouldn’t be long before her stepsister spotted the striking ring on her left hand.
As she’d expected, only seconds passed before Chiara gave a smothered shriek. ‘Did Pierce give you that? It’s gorgeous. My God! That must have set him back a few thousand. Did you choose it, or did he? He always despised things I bought when he wasn’t with me. Oops! I guess it’s not very tactful to remind you I had him first.’
It struck Holly that there was a perceptible tinge of bitchiness in Chiara’s pretended apology.
She said quietly but firmly, ‘Pierce is thirty-five and very attractive. It stands to reason that you were one of many. But that’s in the past. If you want a place in my future, Chiara, you’ll have to stop making gaffes like that outsize brick you just dropped.’
Her stepsister pouted. ‘You’ve become very dictatorial all of a sudden,’ she said sulkily. ‘If you’re going to start being big-headed, I don’t know that I want a place in your future, as you put it.’
Holly reached across the table and put her hand over her stepsister’s. ‘I’m not being big-headed. I’m just telling you straight that although I might excuse your tactlessness I know Pierce won’t. I think it would be a great shame if the fact that he had an affair with you years ago meant we couldn’t go on being part of each other’s lives. You’re the only family I’ve got now.’
After a pause, during which she scowled at the tablecloth, Chiara looked up and said, ‘I’m sorry. The fact is, I’m jealous that you’ve got a wonderful guy who’s going to marry you and I’m stuck with a rich layabout who only wants to—’
Holly was fairly well inured to her stepsister’s casual use of four-letter words. Fortunately the noise level in the restaurant made it unlikely that two older women lunching at the next table had overheard a word they might have found offensive.
‘You’re not stuck with him, Chiara. The world is full of men much nicer than Eric. But, if you want one of them to love you, you can’t spend the next five years being somebody’s popsy. You have to stand on your own feet...make a life for yourself.’
‘Doing what?’ Chiara said glumly. ‘People much brainier than I am are losing their jobs every day. Can you see me working in a shop, living in a bedsit in some dreary suburb, stewing on the tube twice a day? I couldn’t take that grind. I’m used to better things. Having lunch here, for example. Let’s have a drink.’
When the drinks and their lunch had been ordered, she said, ‘I’m pinning my hopes on this guy at Sotogrande. We’re going down for Christmas. I’m hoping he’ll still be there. I’m not like you, Holly. I don’t have a talent for anything. I wasn’t tall enough to go in for modelling. I didn’t have the right contacts to get into films or television. I’m doing the only thing I can do to have a share of the good life. I know you think I’m a tart, but there aren’t too many options for people like me. If guys like Eric are prepared to pick up my bills for half an hour in bed when they feel like it, I think that’s better than slogging away as a typist or behind a counter. When are you going to be married?’
‘On my birthday.’
Chiara blinked at that. ‘Why the mad rush?’
‘Pierce sees no point in waiting.’
Holly was tempted to tell her about Talavera, but decided not to. Chiara wouldn’t understand the appeal of such a place.
‘I hope you know what you’re up against,’ said her stepsister. ‘I’m not trying to put you off. He’s a catch...a big one. But living with him won’t be easy. He’s what they call a control freak...wants everything his way...no argument. I suppose you’re madly in love with him. Knowing you, you wouldn’t be marrying him if you weren’t. I just hope he doesn’t hurt you.’
‘So far he’s been wonderfully kind.’
‘Aren’t they all, in the early stages?’ said Chiara. ‘It doesn’t last. Hey, I’m going to miss your wedding. I’ll be in Spain on your birthday. Where are you going to be married? What are you going to wear?’
Late the same afternoon, Holly found her wedding dress in the Oxford Street branch of a chain which had built its reputation on inexpensive versions of high fashion.
She had trawled all the stores Pierce had mentioned, not with the intention of charging her purchases to his account, but to see what styles women who could afford to shop there were buying at the moment.
The dress she took back to her B and B place in a large carrier was going to need some minor alterations. Better buttons. A hand-sewn hem. The ends of the sleeves turned up an inch. After that, it would take an expert eye to distinguish it from a similar style she had seen on a display model in Harvey Nichols priced at ten times what she had paid for her dress.
A message from Pierce was waiting for her. He would pick her up at half past six and would like her to have her case packed and be ready to leave.
These unexplained orders did seem to support what Chiara had said at lunch about his being a control freak. But after the way he had handled her breakdown last night Holly was prepared to accept that whatever he had in mind had to be in her best interests.
However, it was Hooper, not Pierce, who called for her in a taxi.
‘Mr Sutherland would prefer you to stay somewhere more comfortable, with a telephone in your room, Miss Nicholson,’ the butler explained. ‘He asked me to apologise to you for not being here with you now. He’s been held up at his office. By the time you have unpacked and resettled yourself, he will be at your hotel. He’s arranged for you to dine there before going to the theatre. He thought you would like to see the new play at Wyndham’s.’
‘That sounds lovely,’ said Holly. ‘How has Parson behaved himself, Mr Hooper?’
As he looked to be in his late sixties, she felt it was inappropriate to use only his surname as Pierce did.
‘As I told you this morning, when you rang up, he gave every sign of having slept well and his behaviour today has been exemplary. From time to time he has miaowed in a way which I took to indicate that he was thinking about you and wondering when he would see you, but he seems to be a sensible cat, a good influence on Louisa who’s inclined to be temperamenta
l.’
‘Do you have any pets, Mr Hooper?’
‘No, Miss Nicholson. My companions are antiquarian books. My father was a second-hand book dealer so old books are in my blood, so to speak.’
Holly told him about the discovery of some of her father’s books in Pierce’s library and they chatted companionably until the taxi arrived at their destination, a hotel occupying a row of elegantly-porticoed town houses in a square in the part of London where Pierce lived.
There Hooper handed her over to the care of the hotel staff and very soon she was unpacking in a luxurious bedroom with its own bathroom and a view of the gardens in the square and the early Victorian houses beyond them.
A brochure and tariff inside a leather folder on the dressing table told her the price of the room. It was far beyond her own pocket, but obviously Pierce was going to pay the bill for her. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable to be staying here at his expense before they were married and she wondered what Hooper thought about the arrangement. She had never known either of her grandfathers and, had they lived, they would have been older than the butler. But she felt he was a cultivated man whose view of the world and its ways would be similar to that of her grandfathers, one a schoolmaster and the other the editor of a weekly newspaper. In Hooper she might find someone to replace those two gaps in her now non-existent family circle.
She spent the day Christmas shopping for Pierce. It was difficult if not impossible to buy a major present for a man who already had everything so she had come up with an alternative she hoped would at least amuse him on Christmas morning.
Wearing the same clothes she had worn the night before, she was ready and waiting in the lobby when he strode through the hotel’s entrance.
As she rose from the chair where she had been sitting, he saw her and changed direction.
‘Hello, darling. Had a good day?’
Before she could answer, he bent to kiss her on both cheeks in a perfect imitation of a normal fiancé greeting his bride-to-be.
