The Final Seduction

by Sharon Kendrick

And there was no doubt in her mind that she felt a little cheated. After the definite truce which had sprung up when they’d looked after Ellie, he had dropped out of sight almost completely, and she found she missed him more than she wanted to. In fact, she saw him only once—standing windswept in front of one of the large seafront villas which she presumed he was working on. He was wearing jeans and a waterproof jacket and stood talking animatedly to another man, his dark head bent over some flapping sheets of paper which looked like plans.

  She briefly toyed with the idea of asking Jennie just how good a friend Amanda was to Drew, but decided against it. Because it was none of her business. Was it?

  And then one morning—out of the blue—he sent her an invitation to a fireworks party.

  She recognised the writing on the envelope immediately—even though she hadn’t seen it for years. He had a distinctive black-inked and crabbed style, and her heart was bashing out a very irregular rhythm as she ripped the envelope open.

  ‘Bring any spare wood for the bonfire,’ he had written at the top of the card.

  It gave her a bit of a jolt to see that he was sending out proper invitations—but then maybe it really was time that she banished her image of the old Drew for ever. He now wheeled and dealed and part-owned hotels. He was a man comfortable in his own skin, and in his place within the community. She was the one still cast adrift.

  She read down to the bottom of the card, where it said, ‘Don’t bother to reply since it’s very casual. Just turn up if you feel like it.’

  Which was extremely irritating because it meant that she didn’t have to make a decision until the last possible moment! Anyway, she definitely wasn’t going. Not unless Jennie was.

  ‘No, I’m not going,’ shrugged Jennie. ‘I haven’t been invited.’

  ‘Oh. Don’t you mind?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m his sister, not his best buddy! Anyway, I wouldn’t go without Jamie and there’s no chance of Drew inviting him. Not unless he changes his ways, as my dear brother keeps saying,’ said Jennie darkly. ‘What Drew doesn’t seem to realise is that Jamie’s free spirit is the man I fell in love with—not some boring suit who works from nine to five!’

  Shelley thought fleetingly that maybe there was something in between a free spirit and a boring suit—who could accommodate family life a little better than Jamie was currently doing! But she also thought that Drew was an unforgiving man. Did he really think that alienating Jamie would make him treat his sister better—or didn’t he care?

  She changed her mind at least fifty times about going, and then changed it back again. Maybe she would just stroll along and have a look. She looked in the mirror and scowled at her reflection.

  She wasn’t just having a bad-hair day—more like a bad-hair month! The trouble with a short, severely cropped style was that it looked awful when it started to grow out. As growing out it was—fast! She certainly wasn’t going to keep having it cut and tinted every six weeks. What had seemed like the only thing to do in Milan now seemed like sheer madness here in Milmouth. She would rather walk on a windswept beach than sit with a plastic cape tied round her!

  The highlights and lowlights were on their way out—leaving behind the caramel gloss which was her natural colour. And leaving her roots!

  No, she definitely wasn’t going!

  And even if she was—she had nothing to wear. Nothing which was suitable for a beach party where everyone would be dressed down. She couldn’t wear her blue jeans again because Drew would be bound to look at them and associate them with Ellie being sick all over her!

  On the evening of November the fifth she was finger-drying her hair and telling herself that she would just wander down as far as the cottage to have a peep. And if it looked boring—unlikely—or, worse, if Drew had a woman draped all over him—much more likely—well, then she would quietly slip away and come home and drink a very large gin and tonic and put it all down to experience.

  She wore her black jeans and the black cashmere sweater, though neither seemed quite as baggy as they had done when she’d first arrived.

  Had she put on weight? She turned and looked critically at her reflection. Maybe just a bit. Her bottom seemed more curved and her breasts a little heavier. She squinted. And if she was being objective rather than vain she had to admit that she didn’t look too bad. She looked over her shoulder at her denim-clad rear. Not bad at all.

  It was a perfect night for fireworks—pitch-dark, cold and clear, the sky thick with stars. Carrying a bottle of wine, a bag full of bits of old wood and a packet of sparklers, Shelley wrapped up warmly in a sheepskin jacket and let herself out into the starry night.

  As she walked towards the beach she could hear the whizz and bang of fireworks, and over on the Isle of Wight she could just make out the ghostly red glow of a distant bonfire.

  She passed the Smugglers, to see that the place was heaving. Although it was a bitter night, they had flung open the doors and people were already spilling out onto the green. They cradled drinks in their gloved hands while they waited for the arrival of the pyrotechnician to put on the traditional firework display.

  Shelley made her way through the sand-dunes towards the cottage, and could tell immediately from the chatter of party voices that everyone was congregated outside in the garden—where large torches were flaming at various vantage points.

  She approached in silence, and when she saw all the shadowed figures silhouetted against the spiky mountain of the bonfire she almost turned back. But maybe Drew had been looking out for her, or maybe it was just coincidence that she heard his voice carry across the garden as he called her name.

  ‘Shelley!’

  She wished he hadn’t. There were about twenty people milling around the place and they all looked round at once.

  He came over and smiled down at her. ‘Hi.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Nice of you to come.’

  ‘Nice of you to ask me.’

  ‘My, aren’t we being polite?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘We are making progress!’

  ‘Don’t speak too soon!’ she warned. ‘Normal warfare could be resumed at any time!’ But her voice lacked any kind of conviction and he smiled again.

  ‘I gather that not only is Ellie eating everything in sight but she’s actually started crawling?’

  ‘Yes, she’s better,’ said Shelley. ‘I took her out for a walk in her pushchair this morning.’

  ‘I know you did.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I saw you.’

  Her breath seemed to catch in her throat. ‘Did you?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘But I didn’t see you!’

  ‘I know you didn’t. You were far too busy bending to pick up Ellie’s teddy which she seemed hell-bent on hurling into the sea!’

  She chuckled, and he looked surprised, but then she guessed it was a long time since he had heard her laugh quite so uninhibitedly. And suddenly she wanted more than anything to fling her arms round him in a great big hug, as she would any old friend from way back. She contented herself with studying him, instead.

  He wore black jeans too, and a bright scarlet sweater. He saw her looking at it and raised his eyebrows. ‘Like it?’

  ‘Love it,’ she said lightly. ‘No one will miss you coming, that’s for sure!’

  He laughed. ‘The host should always be clearly visible—that’s the second rule of parties.’

  Now who had taught him that? she wondered. ‘And what’s the first rule?’

  ‘Oh, that’s easy.’ There was a pause before he said, very deliberately, ‘Only invite people you like.’

  She gave him a wry look. ‘So you like me now, do you, Drew?’

  His eyes were rueful. ‘I always did, Shelley—it might have been easier if I didn’t.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said faintly, going pink with pleasure but hoping that he wouldn’t notice in the dark. This was crazy! All their history and she was stricken with shyness—worse than anything she’d ex
perienced the first time around! She held out the bag towards him.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked, taking it.

  ‘These are the wooden remains of a wall cupboard I demolished when I was decorating.’

  ‘Not the one in the hall?’

  ‘That’s the one! I hated it, I’m afraid.’

  ‘No, I never liked it, either.’

  Oh, the danger—the lazy and seductive danger of a shared past! Shelley quickly handed over the bottle. ‘And here’s some wine. I—’ She had been about to say that she hoped he liked red, when she remembered that he did. ‘Hope you like it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And sparklers.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Shelley,’ he said gravely. ‘Your hair looks good, by the way.’

  She shook it in denial. ‘It’s all over the place. It needs a cut.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. I prefer it longer.’

  Suddenly she found that she wanted to grow it down to her bottom!

  ‘Now come and get a drink and I’ll introduce you to anybody you don’t know.’

  ‘I won’t know anyone!’ she groaned.

  ‘Rubbish! You’ve met Jack, the doctor—he’s here with his wife. And Charlie from the shop. Plus, there are a couple of people you were at school with—’

  She felt as though her nervousness would swallow her up. Maybe that was what made her drop her mask. ‘Drew, these people are your friends. They’ll hate me, resent me—’

  ‘What for?’ he asked, in surprise.

  ‘For running away the way I did—’

  ‘No, they won’t.’

  ‘I remember what it was like.’

  ‘And it’s ancient history, Shelley. People have moved on. Most people won’t even remember.’

  ‘And if they do?’

  He shook his head. ‘It’s between you and me, kitten. Nobody else.’

  She shivered, and it had nothing to do with the night air.

  ‘Or would you rather look round and see what I’ve done to the cottage?’ he asked suddenly.

  Her heart crashed against her ribcage. ‘No—’ That sounded all wrong somehow. Slipping away with him when she’d only just arrived. ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What will you drink?’

  ‘Anything.’

  ‘Decisive kind of woman, are you?’ he teased.

  He had said that they were flirting that night at the Westward, but he had been wrong. They had made the same kind of noises as flirting, but there had been anger and bitterness distorting everything they said. Yet now each word they spoke seemed to be charged with about a hundred different allusions. This was flirting! Really flirting—and suddenly she didn’t care. She held his gaze. ‘I’ll leave you to make your own mind up about that!’

  Only a pulse beating furiously at his temple betrayed the fact that he obviously wasn’t feeling as calm as he looked. ‘Right.’

  A voice broke into the tension and shattered it.

  ‘Come on, Drew—stop monopolising this beautiful woman and get round and fill everyone’s glasses up—you are the host, man!’

  It was Jack Simpson, who gave Shelley his crinkly smile. He was accompanied by a heavily pregnant woman with shiny hair, who was clinging onto his arm as if for support. Which, come to think of it, thought Shelley, she probably was.

  ‘Go away,’ growled Drew. ‘Can’t you see you’re interrupting?’

  ‘I’m paying you back for interrupting me the other night!’ teased Jack.

  ‘But that was work!’ protested Drew, giving Shelley the helpless shrug of someone who knew they were beaten.

  ‘So is this! When you throw a party you can’t just chat up the women!’ said Jack sternly. ‘Or woman,’ he amended, winking at Shelley. ‘Someone was asking how the sound system works and I told them I didn’t have a clue. Drag yourself away!’

  Drew forced a smile. ‘Right.’ But still he didn’t move. ‘I’ll get someone to bring you a drink over, Shelley.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Shelley watched him go, her heart aching more than her body because she knew now that she wanted him very badly. And not just his body—though she couldn’t deny she wanted that. But she wanted his soul and his mind, too. His wit and his imagination. She wanted every little bit of him…

  Was it too late? she wondered. Not to start again necessarily, but maybe to start anew…

  Jack had placed a protective hand in the small of his wife’s back. ‘Shelley, this is Rebecca—my ripe and beautiful spouse. Rebecca, meet Shelley Turner. Remember I told you about her?’

  Rebecca smiled. ‘Oh, you’re Jennie’s friend.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Shelley smiled back. ‘Your husband was absolutely brilliant the other night when I was babysitting for Ellie. She’s fine now,’ she added.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Jack. ‘I popped in the next morning on my way back from surgery to find her howling with hunger!’ He sniffed the air. ‘Mmm! Are those sausages I smell?’

  ‘That’s all you ever think about!’ teased his wife, but he looked meaningfully at her swollen belly and murmured, ‘Oh, really?’

  Shelley was wondering where her drink was when a tall woman who was dressed, like her, entirely in black came across the garden towards them. She was carrying a steaming glass of what smelt like gluhwein in one hand, and a bowl of cashew nuts in the other.

  ‘Hi, Rebecca! Hi, Jack!’ Air kisses all round. She turned to Shelley. ‘Hello, there—I know you’re Shelley but you don’t know me! Yet!’ she giggled. ‘I’m Amanda! Drew told me to fetch you a drink, and so—like his ever-faithful slave—here I am! And here you are!’

  Willing her fingers not to shake, Shelley stretched her hand out and took the steaming punch-glass from her. ‘Thank you.’

  Shelley took a sip of her drink which meant she could get a good look at Amanda without appearing to stare too much. Close up, she could see that her dark hair was in a shiny French plait all the way down her back. She looked ultrafeminine and vibrant, and Shelley suddenly felt shorn and vulnerable with her neck all bare and her ears showing.

  Rebecca turned her face up to her husband. ‘Darling, can we go and find me a seat somewhere?’ she asked him plaintively.

  Jack smiled, and bent to kiss the tip of her nose. ‘Oh, you’re going to milk this pregnancy for all you’re worth, aren’t you, my love? Have me running round in circles after you!’

  Rebecca’s smile was serene and dreamy. ‘Of course I am! What do you expect the fifth time round?’ She shot him a look from beneath her lashes. ‘You’ll just have to stop getting me pregnant, Jack Simpson!’

  ‘Only if you stop making yourself so irresistible!’

  ‘Jack!’

  Jack winked at Shelley and Amanda. ‘Excuse us, please, ladies!’ And he decorously led his wife across the lawn towards the house.

  ‘Five?’ queried Shelley, aghast.

  ‘I know. It’s unbelievable, isn’t it?’ asked Amanda as they watched them go. ‘That beautiful, serene-looking woman has four at home and another on the way—whatever it is she’s taking, I want some of it!’

  The slap of the waves against the shore from the nearby beach was hypnotic, and Shelley’s attention was caught by the sight of Drew adding a couple of pieces of wood to the unlit bonfire. She watched him while pretending not to, as up above them the stars dazzled their pale fire over the indigo sky.

  ‘Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ asked Amanda, looking around. ‘I love this setting. Drew has the best house in Milmouth, in my opinion. I said to him the other night, If you’re ever thinking about selling up, then I want first option!’

  ‘Have you known him…very long?’

  ‘Only about a year. Charlie and I met him when we took over the shop.’

  Shelley frowned as Amanda’s words clicked into place. ‘Charlie’s your husband?’

  Amanda looked slightly nonplussed. ‘Yes, of course he is! I thought you knew that. We were having drinks with Drew the other night when you telephoned to say that Ellie was sick. I was off
ering to go with him as my baby is the same age as Ellie. I thought he told you?’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ agreed Shelley slowly. ‘He told me you were there.’ But he had omitted to tell her that Charlie had been there, too. Or that Amanda had a husband. He had just answered her question honestly, so that she had been able to put two and two together and come up with a number somewhere in the thousands! Now why had he done that?

  ‘Look!’ said Amanda suddenly, and they saw Drew put a light to the base of the bonfire, and watched the slow orange sparking as the fire began to crackle.

  The smell of smoke mingled with the smell of the sea while the sound of chattering voices competed with the rush of the waves, and as Shelley let her guard down she began to relax more than she had done for ages. ‘See how quickly the fire has taken,’ she murmured, watching as tongues of flame began to lick at the wood.

  ‘Do you want to come and meet some people?’ smiled Amanda. ‘Drew said to make sure you had a good time because hosts get tied up!’

  ‘Not literally, I hope!’ Shelley quipped as a rather disturbing image popped into her mind. Of Drew bound helplessly by hand and foot…

  She looked over to where he stood by the bonfire, his head bent as he listened to what a tiny woman in a micro-skirt was saying to him. Shelley took a hasty mouthful of punch and looked away. She’d leapt to all the wrong conclusions about Amanda—so maybe it was time she gave up on that kind of thing. ‘Yes, I’d love to come and meet some people, Amanda!’

  She chatted to Charlie, who told her that word on the ground was that a clothes shop would be a very welcome addition to the village.

  ‘So will you think about it?’ he added.

  ‘I’ll think about it!’ she promised.

  She met a couple who had holidayed near Marco’s villa and wanted to talk restaurants, then caught up with the two old schoolfriends Drew had mentioned. She hadn’t seen Marianne and Nicola for years and both were married, with one expecting twins!

  ‘Everyone here seems to be pregnant!’ exclaimed Shelley.

  ‘Must be something in the water!’ Marianne surveyed her swollen stomach with a rueful expression. ‘Remember that time we all sunbathed topless on the beach, Shelley?’