by Anne Mather
‘Oh, non, non. Do not be so cold—so insensible! We cannot talk about these things like you anglais talk about the weather!’ He touched the hair at the nape of her neck. ‘Love cannot be debated. It must be tended—nourished—brought to fruition by a lover’s caress.’
Olivia shivered. ‘I’m not sure. I need time …’
‘Of course you do.’ He bent his lips to her shoulder. ‘That is why I want you to come back to Paris with me. We would have plenty of time then to get to know one another properly.’
Olivia cleared her throat. ‘You—you have an apartment, I suppose.’
‘An appartement, oui. You will like it. It is on the Rue de la Victoire, near the Place de la Concorde, you recall? There is a studio adjoining where I work sometimes, and plenty of room for all of us.’
Olivia frowned. ‘All of us?’
‘Mais certainement. But Maurice and André are not often around——’
‘You mean—they share the apartment?’
Jules gave a typically continental shrug of his shoulders. ‘It is a big apartment.’
‘I see.’ Olivia sounded as disconcerted as she felt, and Jules exclaimed:
‘I understand. You do not like the idea of sharing. N’importe, we will buy a house instead. Oui, that would be best. For just the two of us, hein? Somewhere near Paris, perhaps—or even London! So you can be near your brother, eh?’
As if the mention of her stepbrother called a halt to this particular topic of conversation, Olivia pressed her hands down on the air-bed and got abruptly to her feet. What was the point of discussing where they might or might not live, when she had not even decided that she wanted to go with him? She liked Jules immensely. In fact, she liked him better than any man she had ever met—except Richard! and then Richard came into another category entirely—but as for marrying him—! She wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment, and anything else was out of the question. She couldn’t simply live with him. She didn’t have that kind of courage. Maybe, if she was older, more experienced—or perhaps more deeply involved …
The sound of a car’s engine droning up the drive provided a welcome respite from her thoughts, and although she was not looking forward to Richard’s return, she knew it had to be faced.
However, the engine was not powerful enough or as swiftly driven as Richard’s, and presently Janice Gerrard came sauntering round the corner of the house. In the bra top of her bikini, and a pair of mildly indecent shorts, Janice was showing as much flesh as she dared, and Olivia’s lips twitched as the younger girl crossed the patio.
Her eyes darted to Jules, just getting up off the air-bed, but it was to Olivia she spoke as she exclaimed excitedly: ‘I’m not too early, am I?’
‘We thought you were never coming!’ declared Olivia goodhumouredly, and turning to Jules she added: ‘I told you about Janice, didn’t I, darling? Here she is, one of your staunchest fans!’
Jules’s eyes softened intimately at the casual endearment she had used, and he was in consequence more charming to Janice than he might have been. ‘Of course,’ he said, giving her the smile which had thrilled a million women. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Janice. Won’t you sit down?’
‘Thank you.’ Janice subsided eagerly on to a low lounger, her eyes sparkling delightedly. ‘I’ve got several of your records—er—Jules,’ his name was said with a breathy intonation, ‘and I think I’ve seen all your appearances on British television!’
‘Is that right?’ Jules raised his eyebrows approvingly. ‘I am impressed. I did not think I was so well known in England.’
‘Would you like a drink, Janice?’
Olivia took over her role as hostess and offered the girl a can from the trolley. But Janice shook her head vigorously, too excited to bother with a tin of Coke, and Olivia shrugged and helped herself to another as Jules talked to their guest.
It was amazing, she thought, viewing the other girl over the rim of her can, how knowledgeable Janice was. She had not realised she was such a fan, and wondered, rather cynically, whether she had read up on Jules overnight to appear enthusiastic. Whatever, Jules was happy and Janice was obviously content. Olivia wished she was more like her. In her shoes, Janice would probably not even hesitate.
The sound of another car’s engine brought a stiffening to her spine. It had to be Richard this time, and she could not help anticipating his meeting with Jules with some unease. Richard could be so sarcastic on occasion, and in spite of her own uncertainties—or maybe because of them—she wished she could avoid his mockery.
But again she was wrong. It was Shelley Foster who came out of the house through the garden room, obviously having been admitted by Eliza. Olivia could not have been more surprised, particularly after the way Richard had treated her on her last visit to Copley, but clearly Shelley’s skin was thicker than she had thought.
‘Well, hello! What have we here?’ she drawled, her eyes making a comprehensive surveillance of the scene, and alighting on Jules with speculative interest. ‘No wonder you’ve been too busy to see me, Livvy. I guess this is one of the exciting Frenchmen you denied meeting!’
Olivia had got automatically to her feet at the other girl’s approach, and now Jules levered himself upward leaving a disappointed Janice squatting on the lounger. It was difficult to decide which of them was the most disconcerted, and Olivia thought rather ruefully that Shelley had recovered all the composure she had lost when last she was here.
Now she turned to Olivia and added, artlessly: ‘Seriously, darling, I haven’t come to intrude,’ although plainly she had, ‘but when you rang you said nothing about the tickets for the ball, so I thought I’d bring them over myself.’
‘The ball?’ repeated Olivia blankly. Then, remembering: ‘Oh, Shelley, I don’t think——’
‘Ball? What is this—ball?’
Jules was right behind her, his hand possessively resting on her shoulder, and Olivia was forced to introduce them. She began to do so, but again she was interrupted, this time by Shelley, smiling and saying warmly:
‘Oh, yes, I know about you—Jules.’ She dimpled. ‘It’s not every day we have a celebrity in our midst.’
Janice struggled up. ‘I suppose David told you,’ she said, adding her voice to the proceedings, and as Olivia turned with an interrogative frown, the younger girl confessed: ‘I was talking to David in the village this morning.’ She moved her shoulders guiltily. ‘I couldn’t resist telling him who I was going to meet.’
That explained a lot. Olivia’s lips turned down slightly at the corners. ‘I see,’ she said, but her eyes challenging Shelley’s met nothing but innocent amusement.
‘Another fan?’ suggested Jules, obviously not dismayed by the advent of yet another attractive female, and Olivia stifled her resentment. What did it matter anyway? Shelley was bound to find out sooner or later, but it annoyed her that the other girl should take any opportunity to insinuate herself into Richard’s house.
‘Where is Richard?’ she asked now, as if reading his stepsister’s thoughts, and Olivia shrugged.
‘He went out with Alex,’ she replied, which was no less than the truth. ‘I don’t know when he’ll be back.’
Jules gave her a curious look. ‘Mais non, chérie, did you not tell me that he would be back later?’ He smiled at Shelley. ‘Won’t you sit down?’
Gritting her teeth, Olivia made an offhand gesture. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Sit down, Shelley. Do you want a Coke?’
‘I’d rather have something with a little more bite, darling, if you don’t mind,’ the other girl replied silkily. Then: ‘Isn’t it glorious weather? I should have brought my swimsuit.’
As it was, Shelley’s sun-dress of ice-blue cotton exposed the greater part of her shoulders and arms, the swell of her full breasts firm against the taut material. Her voluptuous good looks were seen to advantage in the summery outfit, the plumpness of her thighs tanned to a delicious shade of brown.
‘What will you drink?’ Olivia asked
as Shelley settled herself on the lounger she herself had been occupying, and exchanging a conspiratorial smile with Jules, she replied:
‘Something long and cool and interesting, Livvy. Something with a bite.’ She rubbed her shoulders against the striped cushioning. ‘I like something with a bite.’
Janice’s lips were compressed as she reseated herself, her position usurped by the other girl. Jules spoke to Shelley now, asking where she lived and whether she had a job, and Olivia walked resignedly into the house in search of some gin.
Her eyes were dazzled by the glare from outside, and the garden room was just a shadowy cave that she had to cross to reach the hall. When the dark figure confronted her in the hall doorway, she had to stifle the cry that rose in her throat, and then shock gave way to indignation as she realised it was Richard.
‘Oh, you!’ she gulped, brushing past him into the hall, and he didn’t try to prevent her. ‘Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you and Alex had gone into Chelmsbury.’
‘We had. We did.’ Richard followed her across the hall and into his study, and she was supremely conscious that only the scarcity of her bikini protected her body from his probing gaze.
‘Then—then what—what are you doing here? Spying on me?’ she demanded, picking up bottles from the tray of drinks on the table by the window and slamming them down again with a distinct disregard for their safety.
She expected his anger at her provocative remarks, but he merely leaned against the door frame watching her, a disturbing presence in his navy blue pants and a lighter blue knitted shirt.
‘As a matter of fact, we only returned a couple of minutes ago,’ he retorted. ‘I was coming to find you, to meet your famous admirer, when you walked into me.’
Olivia pressed her lips together and looked across at him. ‘I never heard the car.’
‘No—well, you seemed to have your hands full—with Shelley, isn’t it? And Janice? I thought you might be glad of my company to even the balance.’
His tone was good-humoured, and lightly mocking, but Olivia was in no mood to respond to it. She was angry, and disturbed, and curiously confused by her own emotions. Shelley’s arrival had annoyed her, but that was all, really. She didn’t honestly object to her monopolising Jules’s conversation. She even felt sorry for Janice, whose brief moment of importance was over. What irritated her most was Richard’s return, she realised, knowing that once Shelley set eyes on her stepbrother, Jules would only come a poor second. Why that should matter to her was one of the things she didn’t understand, and a lack of understanding brought obvious confusion.
Richard’s expression had hardened slightly as he waited for her response, and when she glanced his way again she saw the darkening impatience in his eyes.
‘So?’ he said. ‘Perhaps you ought to tell me what you’re looking for as it seems to be of such importance to you. Or would breaking a few bottles release that tension that’s got you coiled like a spring? Don’t take it so seriously! Merignac knows all the rules of the ball game, I’m sure, and Shelley won’t even get to first base!’
Olivia’s jaw quivered. ‘Why don’t you go and join them, then?’ she demanded, irritated beyond all reason at her own inability to comprehend her own feelings. She shook her head frustratedly. ‘Oh—perhaps Bella has another bottle of gin somewhere.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to find out.’
‘Is that what you’re looking for?’
Richard’s voice was even, and she shot a furious glance in his direction. ‘As if you didn’t know!’ she declared, starting towards the door—and him—with a reluctant, half-sideways gait. ‘I’m sure you overheard the conversation. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’d been sitting in the garden room all along!’
It was a stupid, childish thing to say, and she knew it. Whatever else Richard might be, he was not a peeping Tom, nor would he deliberately eavesdrop on her conversations. His would be a much more open intrusion, and she could tell by his tightened lips that she had struck a raw nerve.
‘Is that what you think?’ he demanded harshly, straightening from his lounging position, and her heart palpitated wildly.
‘I—why—no, no——’ she mumbled, her cheeks burning shamefacedly, and with a muffled imprecation he crossed the space between them.
His hands on her shoulders were hard at first, but as if the softness of her skin seduced them, his fingers caressed the warm flesh. ‘Olivia,’ he muttered, and as if compelled, she tilted her head to look up at him. ‘You make it very hard!’ he added, in a driven tone, and then, as if unable to prevent himself, he jerked her urgently against him and his hands slid down to her hips.
A cleared throat behind them prevented the inevitable conclusion, and Richard swore softly as he released Olivia to turn and face the old housekeeper. Her face was flushed, too, and Olivia, trying desperately to appear undisturbed, wondered whether the interruption had been accidental or deliberate.
‘Will I serve tea now?’ Bella enquired in a rather discomfited tone, much different from her usual familiarity, and while Richard raked back his hair with an impatient hand, Olivia made good her escape.
‘Er—Shelley wants gin,’ she muttered, as she passed the housekeeper. ‘Do we have any?’ And without waiting for Bella’s reply, she hurried away towards the kitchen.
She was rummaging through a store cupboard when Bella came into the room behind her, to switch on the kettle and make the tea in the porcelain teapot waiting on a silver tray.
Bella brushed her aside and went straight to a shelf below the double-drainer sink unit. She lifted a new bottle of the spirit Olivia was looking for on to the table, saying dourly: ‘That’s the last we have. Alex brought it in only yesterday.’
‘Oh—thank you.’
Olivia reached for the bottle awkwardly, half afraid Bella would stop her or say something, or make some reference to the scene she had just interrupted. But she didn’t. She merely returned to her own task of spearing tiny sandwiches on sticks, in preparation for the afternoon tea she was about to serve, and with a helpless shrug Olivia left her.
She faltered as she approached the patio, however. She could hear voices, male voices, and she guessed with a sinking heart that Richard had already introduced himself to Jules. Stiffening her shoulders, she went on, but it was difficult to maintain any kind of composure with the memory of the scene which had just taken place colouring her emotions.
Jules came to meet her as she emerged from the garden room, taking the bottle of gin from her and saying: ‘Where were you, petite? See—your brother has returned. We thought you must have got lost.’ His voice lowered intimately. ‘He is not half so alarming as I expected. He seems—très sympathique!’
‘Does he?’ Olivia looked beyond Jules to where Richard was standing beside Shelley’s chair, dividing his time equally between her and Janice. ‘Yes—well,’ she looked ruefully at the bottle he had just taken from her, ‘I had some trouble finding that. Sorry.’
Jules shook his head understandingly, and then, as Richard looked towards them, Shelley said: ‘Refreshments at last! Thank goodness! Can I have mine with lime and lemon and lots of ice?’
Jules opened the bottle of gin, but it was Richard who prepared Shelley’s glass, adding a slice of lemon for good measure and handing it to her with a polite smile. This time Janice accepted a Coca-Cola, but Olivia decided to wait until Bella appeared with the tea. Hot tea, with plenty of sugar, seemed exactly what she needed.
‘Shelley tells me you’re here to record an album, Jules,’ Richard observed, after they were all seated again—albeit uneasily in Olivia’s case. Her stepbrother’s method of claiming Shelley as his informant was deliberate, she was sure, creating the impression that Olivia herself had told him nothing. The fact was, of course, that she hadn’t, but that was no fault of hers. Richard had not encouraged confidences, not of that kind, and in any case, he hadn’t been around to hear them.
Happily, Jules seemed not to notice. ‘C’est vrai,’ he agreed, l
ounging comfortably against the cushions. ‘But unfortunately, it is almost complete, and I have to return to Paris at the beginning of next week.’
‘Next week?’ murmured Shelley thoughtfully, sipping from her glass. ‘Then you’ll be in England over the weekend?’
‘Oui,’ Jules nodded. ‘Until Monday morning.’
Shelley’s eyes sparkled, and Olivia knew exactly what was coming next. ‘Then why don’t you and Olivia join us at the ball on Saturday evening? In fact,’ the older girl glanced speculatively at Richard, ‘why don’t we all go—together?’
Janice seconded the invitation. The Rotary Club Ball was one of the few events that Chelmsbury boasted, and everyone supported their work for charity. But this time Olivia found herself hoping that Richard would produce some reason why he could not attend, and in so doing release herself and Jules from an impossible situation.
As always, Richard was unpredictable. ‘Why not?’ he agreed carelessly, and for a brief, disturbing moment his eyes challenged hers. Then he looked back at Shelley. ‘Let’s do that,’ he added. ‘Let’s show Monsieur Merignac how the English take their pleasure!’
‘I don’t know if we can …’
The words overspilled without caution, and Olivia’s cheeks burned as she met Jules’s puzzled stare. ‘Pourquoi?’ he asked. ‘Why not? I would like to share in this entertainment. It is a dance, is it not? I would enjoy dancing with you, Olivia.’
‘Then that’s settled that,’ remarked Richard, somewhat flatly, and as if the conversation was beginning to bore him, he pushed back his chair and got to his feet, just as Bella appeared with the tea trolley. ‘If you’ll excuse me …’ he said. ‘I have work to do.’ And with a curt nod in the housekeeper’s direction, he left them.
As if satisfied that the task she had come to achieve had been completed, Shelley left soon after, refusing the tea Bella had so painstakingly prepared. Janice, too, only nibbled at a sandwich before taking her departure, and it was left to Olivia to make the effort to appear hungry. Eating was a palliative, she found, and right now she felt she needed one, although why that should be so, she still could not decide.
