by Dawson, H A
She spun around. Steven was hurrying towards her. Her pulse surged. Her skin warmed.
‘I thought it was you,’ he said. ‘What brings you here?’
‘I needed to get out.’
‘Come with me. I’ll buy you a coffee. There’s someone I would like you to meet.’
Obediently and with her expectations heightening, she followed on behind.
Chapter 7
Travelling in his musky scent, she focused upon his rear; his muscular buttocks pressed into his jeans, his fitted sweatshirt exaggerated the curve in his lower back, his lush strands of hair rested upon the edge of his neckline.
‘So you’ve moved into the house then?’ Steven asked, peering over his shoulder.
‘Yes a couple of days ago.’
‘How do you like it?’
‘It’s far bigger than I’m used to.’
They stopped in the corridor and waited for a group of boys to hurry by.
‘Any family with you?’
‘No. Just me. My son’s with his father.’
‘What about your husband?’
She held her breath. He was staring, waiting.
‘I noticed the ring.’
‘I’m widowed.’
‘I’m sorry. Was it recent?’
‘A few months ago.’
He nodded and then continued into the café, weaving past a young girl and a man in a wheelchair. Keen to see his expression, she peered out of her eye corner to the side of his face, noting a hint of stubble and a tired, almost exasperated look on his face.
‘It’s nice to see a friendly face,’ she said, ‘I was feeling a little lost.’
‘It must be a bit daunting. Everyone’s pleasant enough, though, it just takes a bit of effort. Coffee okay?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
They joined the queue. The woman he had been with caught his attention and told him from a distance that she was going to leave them alone. Then she disappeared around the back of a crowd and exited the room.
Moments later, and whilst pondering the possible conversation they would share, she reached for her mug, offered her thanks, and headed through the throng to an empty table. As she walked, she sensed his eyes pressing into her and her gait stiffened. She straightened her back and held her handbag over her stomach, and wondered about her appearance. Was her hair brushed? Did her clothes fit right? Did she offer a warm demeanour?
Her nervousness had not been apparent during her first meetings with Phillip, as Tyler’s antics had taken priority. On one occasion, having arranged for Janet to look after her son, she readied herself in her bedroom and selected her favourite blouse, a skirt that made her appear slimmer and her favourite black heels. Even though she rarely appreciated her appearance, that night she had. Having taken one last glance into the mirror, she headed to the living room to say goodbye. She never had time to stop her son’s final greeting, nor his painted fingers from daubing her clothes.
A smile slipped to her lips as she sat down. Steven was a friend, and his wife was in the next room. He would not care if her hair was untidy or the colour in her coat was fading. She was being foolish.
‘How old is your son?’ Steven asked.
‘Tyler’s sixteen. The last few months have been hard for him. He was close to Phillip . . . and Gran. I’m glad he’s having a chance to get away. It’s just what he needs. Although, I must say I can’t wait to see him again. We’ve not been apart for this long before.’
‘Is he staying for the duration of the school holidays?’
She nodded. ‘He’s not stayed with Darren before. They’ve not had much contact, except the odd phone call.’
‘That’s tough on you, especially so soon after losing Janet.’
The warmth from her mug spread to her hands. She watched the liquid and inhaled the aromatic vapours. ‘It is, but he’s my boy. I want what’s best for him.’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you have any children?’ she asked.
‘Jack’s 14, Lily’s 18.’
A vacant look crossed his face and his gaze dropped. The silence was awkward, and he was either shy and didn’t enjoy talking about himself, or something troubled him. For a moment, she watched and waited, but he remained quiet, offering nothing more. A change of subject was for the best.
‘I’m not sure what I’m going to do with Honeysuckle Cottage. I was only planning on staying until the end of next week.’
His head sprung up. ‘You could let it out.’
‘I’ve wondered about that. What do you think the tourism is like around here?’
‘Pretty good I would have thought. Are you thinking of letting it out as a holiday home?’
‘Possibly. It’s already furnished, but there would be the garden to spruce up. Some of the décor is old fashioned, so that would need doing too. It would give me the chance to enjoy it a couple of times a year as well.’
‘Sounds like a good idea.’
She was baffled. It sounded like a fantastic idea, but where had it come from? She had told Tyler she was selling it, and she had thought herself convinced. Her mind drifted and visions of the vast structure held her thoughts, from the layout of the rooms to the dated furnishings.
‘I’ve not seen you with Tansy for the last few days. Is she all right?
Hesitating, his eyes flickered from side to side. ‘She’s fine.’ He reached for his mug, his lips connecting with the rim. ‘Do you like dogs?’
‘I’ve never had one. They must be nice to cuddle.’
He grinned. She buried her face in her mug, obscuring the flush of warmth. Why had she said that? What a silly thing to say.
‘They are,’ he answered. ‘Have you ever had one wash your feet?’
‘No.’
‘You’d like it, it’s stimulating.’
She pulled a face.
‘Honestly. I’ll bring her around sometime. You must have a go.’
‘Are you implying I have smelly feet?’
He peered under the table and inhaled. ‘They are a bit.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Cheeky!’
They laughed and their eyes locked, causing her pulse to race. Self-conscious, she turned away. After a couple of seconds, she was unable to resist another look and peeked from her eye corner. He was still looking, analysing her, and he had the most dazzling eyes. Heat spread to her cheeks.
She considered his wife and imagined the distasteful look on her face if she saw them flirting, and she gulped down her coffee, readying herself to leave.
‘I don’t want to hold you up,’ she said, ‘your wife must be waiting for you.’
‘My wife.’ He gave her a twisted smile. ‘Teresa’s not my wife.’
‘She’s not?’
‘No. She’s a friend. A good friend in fact. But nothing more.’
‘Oh . . . I thought . . . I was speaking with Ted Moore, the farmer. He said you were married.’
‘You were asking about me?’
Damn it! Why had she admitted to that? ‘I . . . I was looking for someone to help remove the boards from the windows.’
He grinned. There was disbelief in his eyes.
‘And as you knew Janet and Roy, I thought I could trust you.’
‘I assume you’ve managed to do it.’
‘Yes.’ She steadied her breathing. ‘So are you and your wife living apart?’
Smiling, he said they were. When he didn’t offer anything more, her brain froze. She wanted to ask him for a date, but she was treading unfamiliar territory. Why was it so much harder than it had been sixteen years previous? She could not recall having qualms about going out with a man back then, nor could she remember having a fear of rejection. Also, there was her connection with Phillip to consider. Was she ready for this? She needed a moment to think.
‘I’d love to meet Jack and Lily.’
‘Lily’s at university studying Physiotherapy, and Jack, well, I see him when I can.’ His face was solemn, his eyes darkening.
‘I’m s
orry, I didn’t mean to pry.’
‘That’s okay. I should talk about it. It’s still a bit difficult.’
‘How long have you been separated?’
‘A few months. Andrea came over with Jack earlier this week and said she wanted another go at making it work. It’s thrown me a bit.’
‘Are you going to?’
His head jerked up. ‘Hell, no. I may have said yes a few weeks ago, but no, I can’t, not now. I don’t think I could trust her after what she’s done.’
‘Breakups are always difficult. It was for Darren and me too. He was my first love.’
‘What happened?’
‘I thought we were in love and I got pregnant. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know me.’
‘That’s tough.’
‘It was, but I got through it. You will too. You’ve done the hard bit.’
He placed his hand upon hers. It felt as though an electric current had just ripped through her, leaving a warm glow to spread across her entire body.
‘Thanks for listening,’ he said, ‘but can we change the subject? I’m sure we have both had happier times.’
Her eyes danced. ‘I’m not sure I have.’
‘I don’t believe that. You seem a contented person.’
Contented? Had he said that? ‘I’ve had my moments.’
‘Tell me about Janet. Were you close?’
‘She raised me, along with Roy of course.’ She rotated the mug with her fingertips. ‘She told me that my mother died when I was young. I never knew my father. Only . . . only she’d lied. I’ve hired a private investigator, Luke Adams, to look for her.’
‘Any leads?’
‘No, although I only hired him a couple of days ago.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sure Janet had her reasons. She and Roy seemed like a nice couple . . . down to earth and not at all pretentious.’
‘Yes, you’re right. They knew the importance of money, but it didn’t rule their lives.’
‘I could tell. But why leave the house empty? In the least, they could have sold it and invested the money.’
‘My thoughts entirely.’
‘Any ideas why they did what they did?’
‘No. I think it might have had something to do with my mother.’
‘Are you thinking they were hoping she would return?’
She struggled to respond. ‘No, I wasn’t, but maybe you’re right.’ She scanned the compassion in his expression. ‘I can’t believe I never knew about her. All my life, they’ve lied to me. How could they do that?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sure it’s no reflection on you.’
‘I wish I had your confidence.’
She exhaled and edged backwards, freeing herself from the intimacy of the table. The room was still bustling, and the changeover between tables constant. She felt a little guilty occupying the space for as long as they had, and she considered leaving. However, when she turned back to Steven, she reconsidered. She didn’t want her time with him to end. He was a kind warm-hearted person, someone she could be herself with. It was a fantastic feeling, and for the first time in recent weeks, she was happy.
Teresa’s appearance at the table caused both Steven and Leanne to jump as their conversation had been deep and their senses directed towards each other. The first thing Leanne noticed was the burn scars extending down one side of Teresa’s face and through her neck and beyond. She tried to avert her gaze, but the hideous nature of the woman’s appearance drew her eye. However, it was evident that as she looked at her smooth creamy skin around her good eye that she would have been a beauty in her day.
‘Leanne, this is Teresa, my good friend I was telling you about.’
They acknowledged each other, and Teresa pulled up a chair and sat down. She was much older than Steven - late fifties to early sixties - and softly spoken with an amiable expression. It was easy to see why he liked her and had chosen her as a confidant.
Leanne joined in the chatter as far as she could, and for the rest of the time, she listened with an interested expression, keen to make a friendly impression. Eventually, the subject dried.
‘Leanne has inherited Honeysuckle Cottage,’ Steven said, ‘She’s Roy and Janet’s granddaughter.’
Teresa’s eyes narrowed and her lips tightened, her demeanour changing.
‘I’ve mentioned them before, remember?’
She nodded wordlessly.
Uncomfortable Leanne crossed her legs and folded her arms. Teresa’s unease was clear, but her reasoning was not and in her haste Leanne believed her to be envious of her good fortune. ‘I would rather have Janet than the house,’ she blurted.
Silence.
‘She . . . she’s all I had. Except for my son, Tyler, of course.’
‘Then you’re lucky. You don’t have to share the inheritance.’
‘That’s a horrid thing to say. I loved Janet.’
‘Sorry,’ she said in a reluctant tone, ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Was Janet ill?’
‘Not for long. Her body just seemed to give up.’
‘Losing someone is never easy, no matter whether they are nine or ninety. Are you selling it?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Houses around here don’t sell that well, especially ones outside the village.’
‘Are you into property?’
‘No, but my husband is. He’ll give you a good deal on the place if you’re interested.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up, though - a lot of work will need doing to it.’
‘It’s not that bad. It’s been modernised.’
‘Really?’
Leanne looked to Steven for support.
‘Some work has been done,’ he said.
‘When? Recently?’
‘It was a few years ago.’
‘Still, it’s not been lived in for thirty years. It’s going to need a thorough checking over. I wouldn’t want to live there. Have you had the electricity and gas serviced?’
Leanne nodded timidly.
Teresa eased back into the plastic chair. ‘I’m not trying to worry you, but a house that size comes with a responsibility. It might not be worth as much as you think.’
She looked down to her hands clasped beneath the table. Her earlier happiness had faded, and she felt belittled and inferior.
‘I’m sure Leanne knows what she is doing,’ Steven said quietly.
‘Yes, I’m sure she does,’ she replied, looking straight at her.
She fumbled with her necklace. ‘It is all a bit daunting and I do feel to be out of my depth, but I am capable of seeking advice when I need it.’
Teresa’s mouth clamped tight. There was a growing satisfaction in her eyes.
Unable to tolerate any more of the strained conversation, Leanne rose to leave, pushed back the chair and announced her departure.
‘You don’t need to go,’ he said.
‘I have things to do.’ She paused. ‘Drop in sometime over the next few days. I enjoyed our chat.’ She stepped away.
‘Hang on a minute,’ he said, ‘I’ll catch up with you outside.’
She weaved through the thinning crowds and into the stuffiness of the main hall, passing by a man in a suit and tie who hovered by the door. Her energy had been sapped, the cool sunshine invigorating. She buttoned up her jacket and listened to the gentle mumble of voices. Moments later Steven appeared.
‘Don’t let Teresa bother you,’ he said. ‘She’s not usually abrupt, she’s usually quite timid.’
‘She seemed annoyed that I’d inherited the house.’
‘Give her a chance. She’s having a rough time. You’ll like her when you get to know her.’
They headed along the street, back towards the footpath leading to the rear of Leanne’s house.
‘I was wondering,’ Steven said, ‘would you accompany me to Teresa’s house tomorrow night. They’re having a bit of an informal do.’
Her heart pou
nded, her body tingled. ‘I . . . I’m not sure.’
‘If you’re worried about Teresa, don’t be. She said it would be okay.’
They stopped and faced each other. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘So you’ll come?’
Her mouth was dry, her voice blocked with excitement. She stared at him, breathing in his musky scent and feeling his glow mingling with hers. But then out of her eye corner she caught sight of a movement. Further along the street was the woman who had been in her house, the one in the black shiny jacket.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, trotting away.
‘See you tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be at your place at seven.’
‘Okay.’
Breathless, and with her legs tightening with each step, she hurried towards the woman, but she had turned away, walking briskly into the field and up the track. Leanne urged herself on, regretting her extra weight and lack of fitness, and fought for air. At the wall, she stopped, bent double, and steadied her quivering legs. The woman had disappeared.
She gazed back along the street. Steven was watching, displaying a twisted smile. She straightened herself out, smoothed down her hair and waved. She had a date. Hell, she had a date!
Chapter 8
Luke flicked on the lights in his office, removed his jacket and switched on the kettle. It was not usual for him to work Saturdays; on this occasion, he had felt a need to occupy himself and removing himself from his nagging doubts and the constant reminder that he was going on a blind date. Imogen’s persistence had paid off and her voice continued to rattle inside his head. ‘You need to get out more,’ she had said, ‘spread yourself about a bit.’ Reluctantly he had agreed. There was no point wallowing in lost loves; the past, a troubled long-term relationship, was over.
His date was with Susie Holmes, someone he’d never met. She had dark-brown hair, at times was sombre, and was studious. She was into the occult and her favourite programme was ‘Merlin’, a BBC television series. At least that was Imogen’s account of her. Luke had two impressions in his mind. In the first, she was tall, slim, gorgeous, and well educated, and in the second, she was short, spotty, miserable, and had little to say for herself. Either way, they would have nothing in common. She would be overly interested in his work and would be trying hard to please.
