by Penny Jordan
There was so much love and affection in his voice that Somer glanced at him in surprise. Where was the anger and resentment she had expected? Chase hadn’t been pleased about the strings his uncle had tied on to his inheritance and yet he was talking about him so caringly.
‘He was the one who first started me on photography,’ he continued. ‘It was one of his hobbies. Our parents were still alive in those days, but we always used to spend some of the school holidays with him. He was…someone I feel privileged to have known. He enriched my life and I…’
He broke off and Somer whispered, unable to stop herself, ‘I thought you hated him. The way he’s tied up your inheritance…’
Chase had his back to her, and he shrugged powerful shoulders. ‘He was very old when he died, old people do odd things. Do you want to go inside?’
She did want to, but she sensed that Chase’s mood was broken. Painfully she realised that he probably wanted to come here alone, and that she was an intruder in his memories of the past.
‘No… I’ll leave it until later. Helena will probably be wondering where we are.’
Helena’s house was on the other side of the village. Their house, although by no means as large as Barnwell, was comfortably substantial. The younger twins, Ben and Robin, came rushing out to welcome them, followed at a more leisurely pace by a fatly placid golden retriever, plumy tail beating the grass as they emerged from the car.
‘Mum’s burned the lunch,’ Ben offered laconically. ‘It was going to be lasagne, but now it’s salad.’
‘Benjamin Bailey, you traitor,’ Helena scolded, emerging from the house in time to catch his comment. ‘If you hadn’t told them they would never have known.’
‘Yes, they would,’ Robin supported his twin. ‘’Cos you can smell something burning and salad doesn’t burn.’
‘I think I must be the world’s worst cook,’ Helena groaned when she had greeted them. ‘Thank heavens for fast food, that’s all I can say. The trouble is I start off with the best of intentions and then somehow I get distracted… Excuse the chaos,’ she apologised as she led them in to a large but cluttered hall. ‘Robin decided to start stripping down his bike this morning. Unfortunately when I agreed that it was a good idea, I didn’t realise the exact location he had in mind.’
‘But you said we weren’t to go outside and get dirty,’ Robin cut in in aggrieved accents. ‘How long are you staying?’ He fixed Somer with a piercing stare, but she liked children.
‘It just depends…’
‘Umm…well, I hope we don’t have to stay clean all the time you’re here. Mum said that you wouldn’t like noisy, dirty boys…’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Somer valiantly tried to hide a grin.
‘See, I told you,’ Ben threw in triumphantly. ‘I mean she is married to Uncle Chase, so she must like him and he gets dirty…very dirty, last time he was here and he tried to oil my bike…’
‘You mean when you left that can of oil right where I’d knock it over,’ Chase interrupted wrathfully. ‘Helena, can’t you control these brats?’
‘Hush, wait until you’ve got some of your own, then ask me that.’
‘Are you going to have a baby?’ Robin glanced with some interest at Somer. ‘Mrs Hargreaves is but she’s very fat…huge…like when Suzy had her last litter…’
‘Robin,’ Helena cut in hastily, ‘that will be enough. Go upstairs both of you and wash your hands for lunch. No, on second thoughts you’d better wash down here, where I can keep an eye on you. You wouldn’t believe how filthy two boys who I swear do no more than look at a bar of soap can make a bathroom,’ she told Somer. ‘Which reminds me, I’d better show you up to your room.’
Deftly skirting the dismantled bicycle, Somer followed her upstairs, leaving Chase still talking to the boys. This was what she had missed as a child, she thought enviously, this was what she wanted for her children. Almost without conscious thought she could picture them, boys with Chase’s dark hair, relentlessly energetic, girls with soft dark curls and dimples, who would probably be outrageous tomboys, turning into femmes fatales overnight, twisting Chase round their little finger….
‘This is the guest-room.’ Helena pushed open a door, to reveal a pretty room decorated in blues and creams, ‘and the bathroom’s through here.’ She opened another door. ‘We were going to put you in the twins’ room because it is larger, but then John reminded me that you’re still very newly married and the twins have single beds.’ She grinned. ‘When we first bought them they used them as trampolines, and I shudder to think what might happen if you and Chase…’ She broke off when Somer coloured and raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re married to my brother and you can still do that,’ she marvelled. ‘I don’t believe it.’ The telephone started to ring downstairs.
‘Oh, hell, I’d better go and answer it. Robin and Ben are the world’s worst for forgetting messages. I’ll send Chase up with your cases, and then we’d better have lunch before the kids start complaining that I’m starving them.’
When she had gone Somer walked over to the double bed, absently smoothing the quilt. The bedroom window overlooked a large back garden sheltered by trees. Downstairs she could hear the deep rumble of Chase’s voice interspersed by the lighter ones of the twins. A double bed; somehow she had never envisaged that she and Chase would even be sharing a room, never mind a bed, but what on earth could she do? Helena would be sure to find it odd if they asked for separate rooms, and suddenly, traitorously she wanted to hang on to the illusion that they were a newly and idyllically married couple, who couldn’t bear to be apart from one another. Besides they wouldn’t be here for very long. Chase was still involved with the negotiations for the new American series, and had to be back in London for meetings later in the week. He had manoeuvred her into their marriage. He wanted her services as an interior designer more than he wanted her as a wife.
She heard him coming upstairs and remained where she was studying the view.
He brought in their cases and then came to join her. ‘No comment?’ he said raising his eyebrows.
Somer shrugged. ‘Helena doesn’t know the true circumstances of our marriage. I didn’t want to upset her.’
‘Of course,’ Chase agreed sardonically, ‘I should have realised. After all it could hardly be that you would want to share a bed with me, could it?’
He was gone before she could make any comment, leaving her to puzzle over the bitterness underlying his words. Why should he feel bitter? He didn’t want her love.
Lunch was muddled, almost a breathless meal, with constant interruptions from the telephone, interspersed with Helena’s lectures on manners to the twins. After lunch Chase suggested that they go to Barnwell. The twins clamoured to go with them, and although Chase demurred, Somer could tell that he was quite pleased when she overruled him.
Installed in Chase’s car they were full of enthusiasm for its electrical gadgetry.
‘Dad’s car doesn’t have electric windows.’
‘No? You do surprise me,’ Chase commented sardonically, exchanging looks with Somer when the back windows had been raised and lowered for the umpteenth time. ‘I can begin to see why some parents are so keen on rear seat belts. Physically restraining these two gets more attractive by the second.’
The twins set off to explore the grounds while Somer and Chase went into the house. It smelled dry and sound, although as Helena had warned the decor was exceedingly dingy. They started with the cellars where Chase told Somer he had once had his dark room. There was nostalgia in the way he looked round the empty spaces that told Somer that he was remembering those boyhood days.
The kitchen was every bit as dreadful as Helena had warned although Somer itched to see what could be done to restore the old range. The room was large enough to be turned into a proper family kitchen, and she had fallen in love with the tiled floor.
The drawing-room had windows on three sides and was filled with sunshine, soft butter yellows and blues in this room, S
omer thought, visualising it. The sitting-room was painted in dingy cream, the woodwork dark brown, but there were glass-fronted cupboards built in at either side of the marble fireplace, just built to hide the clutter of children’s toys, and the room was easily large enough for a squashy settee and all the other paraphernalia of family living. On the other side of the hall was the dining-room, large and gloomy, and another good-sized room that Chase told her had been his uncle’s study, and which she could easily visualise decorated in rich masculine colours, a retreat for Chase to escape to when the rowdiness of family life threatened to get too much for him.
‘I suppose it takes a good deal of imagination to see how it could be,’ he commented drily when they moved upstairs.
Her problem was that she could see how it could be done, all too easily, Somer reflected, and not only was she mentally refurbishing the house, she was also equipping it with a family—their family!
There were six good-sized bedrooms and a huge and antiquated bathroom, plus a couple of smaller box-rooms which could be turned into additional bathrooms. Only three of the bedrooms were furnished—like the downstairs rooms with oddments of furniture.
‘Think you can make something of it?’ Chase asked laconically as they headed back downstairs. Somer had just been picturing the two of them sharing the king-size bed the master bedroom called for.
‘Depending on the sort of budget you’ve got in mind, yes.’
Chase named a figure which made Somer raise her eyebrows a little.
‘I came into some of my inheritance when we got married,’ he told her by way of explanation. ‘So you needn’t stint. This house means a lot to me.’
‘But you can’t make your home here and work in London,’ Somer pointed out.
‘Maybe not at the moment, but I’m thinking of taking a less active role in T.V. West, acting more on a consultancy basis. I’ve got one or two other irons in the fire, and with my inheritance. This is a family house and it cries out to be lived in.’
‘But you haven’t got a family…’
His eyebrows rose. ‘I’ve got a wife though, and that’s generally reckoned to be a good beginning.’
The twins came bursting in before Somer could respond, and the four of them explored the large garden together. Some maintenance work had been done on it, and Chase showed her where he thought a conservatory could be built. ‘We could have a swimming-pool as well,’ he added. ‘There’s plenty of space, and I can’t see why we wouldn’t get planning permission.’
‘A swimming-pool?’ Two pairs of eyes rounded. ‘Oh, boy….’
When they got back John Bailey had returned, and the appetising smells emerging from the kitchen suggested that Helena’s culinary talents weren’t as lacking as she had suggested.
‘I’m afraid we’ll be having dinner unfashionably early,’ she apologised to Somer. ‘I hope you don’t mind. It won’t be the sophisticated affair you’re used to.’
If only she knew. Somer thought about the solitary dinners she had consumed recently and suppressed a small sigh.
The chicken casserole Helena had prepared was mouthwateringly tasty. Somer drank more than her usual single glass of wine, finding herself relaxing and responding to John’s teasing bantering, as well as laughing at the twins’ seemingly inexhaustible supply of jokes.
Afterwards she found herself being told to sit down and enjoy her coffee.
‘We will wash up,’ Chase told John, steering his sister into an empty chair opposite Somer’s.
Although Helena chatted entertainingly, Somer was dismayed to find her eyelids dropping.
‘I’m sorry, I seem to be falling asleep,’ she apologised guiltily, wondering what on earth Helena must think of her.
‘Don’t worry about it, I always feel like that when I’ve been travelling. And when I’m pregnant,’ she added after a thoughtful pause. ‘Why don’t you go up? I’ll tell Chase when they’ve finished in the kitchen. He probably dragged you miles round Barnwell this afternoon—really it’s no wonder you’re tired.’
It was almost too much of an effort to get ready for bed. Somer opened her case and removed her nightdress and toilet bag. Chase’s case was on the chair by the bed. Ought she to unpack for him?
Stifling a yawn she headed for the bathroom. It was bliss to sink down into the warm scented water, and she gave herself up to the luxury of it. Tomorrow she would start making definite plans for the house. She already had a good idea of what she wanted to do…
Lost in her thought she barely heard the click of the bathroom door as it opened.
‘Not going to sleep in there, are you?’ Chase drawled, his eyes skimming the mother-of-pearl sheen the water imparted to her skin.
Somer tensed, fighting off the urge to cover her nude body. ‘What are you doing in here?’
It was a stupid thing to say, and Chase’s wry grimace told her he shared her opinion.
‘It is my room too,’ he pointed out, ‘and I’m tired as well, so unless you want to share your bath with me, I suggest you climb out before I join you!’ As he spoke he pulled a soft fluffy towel off the rail and held it out to her. Somer wanted to ask him to leave, but in the circumstances it seemed a childish gesture. He had already seen all of her there was to see, she reminded herself, and seemed less than affected by it. She stood up slowly and stepped out of the bath, reaching for the towel and stepping past him.
‘I won’t be used as a substitute for Clancy Williams, Chase,’ she told him shakily, knowing as she spoke that the words were more to bolster up her own faltering determination than because she thought he might actually do so.
‘You couldn’t be,’ he assured her sardonically, ‘Clancy is an experienced woman, not a cowering, frightened child.’
Painful colour stung Somer’s cheeks as she retreated from the room. With half a dozen or so carelessly chosen words Chase had reminded her exactly how inadequate she was.
She was lying tensely awake when he eventually came to bed. She lay, waiting for him to unfasten his case, and then turned over when he didn’t. He threw his robe casually over the back of a chair and then paused.
Somer swallowed. ‘Aren’t you…haven’t you brought anything to wear?’ she asked feebly.
‘Don’t worry, Somer,’ he drawled, ‘you’re perfectly safe. Go to sleep and dream of Hollister if that’s what turns you on. The only thing is,’ he continued unforgivably as he slid into the bed beside her, ‘that he doesn’t seem to be able to do so, does he?’
* * *
THEY SPENT four days with Helena and John. Each night Somer went to bed, praying that a miracle might occur and Chase would turn to her in the night and take her in his arms, murmuring words of love, but of course, he didn’t.
When she tried to talk to him about Barnwell, he shrugged and said, ‘I’m quite happy to leave all that to you.’
‘But I’ll need to come up to London to order all the fabrics, and organise the decoration,’ Somer persisted.
‘Then come back with me tomorrow.’
‘I thought you wanted me to stay down here,’ Somer reminded him bitterly, ‘away from the temptation of Andrew.’
‘Maybe I can’t resist the temptation of having you in my bed,’ Chase responded.
Somer bit down hard on her bottom lip. They both knew how easily he could avoid that particular temptation—unlike her. Only this morning she had woken up to find she had curled closer to him in her sleep, her body instinctively seeking out the heat and security of him. Luckily she had woken first—which was quite unusual, Chase was normally the first to wake up—and she had managed to move away before he realised what she had done.
In the end she and Chase travelled back to London together. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to her lonely bed, Somer admitted when they went inside the house. Chase walked straight into his study and within minutes Somer heard him talking on the phone. She herself had a large pile of correspondence that needed to be dealt with, and Chase was still on the phone
a couple of hours later when she set out for Osborne & Little’s showrooms. She knew they would be able to supply her with the papers and fabrics she wanted, and it made sense to use one supplier where she could.
She found them every bit as helpful as she had expected, and came away several hours later feeling that a great deal had been accomplished. She was particularly pleased with the soft yellow Japanese-inspired fabric they had opted for for the drawing-room, and they had promised that the soft blue-grey colour that featured in the fabric could be matched to the plain carpet she wanted for the drawing-room floor.
The dining-room was going to have ecru silk wall-hangings—to show off the rich oriental carpet she had in mind for the floor. The sitting-room and Chase’s study still had to be finalised, but she was pleased with the progress she had made.
Pleasurably tired, she let herself into the house. There was no sign of Chase, and it was the cleaner’s day off. In the kitchen Somer made herself an omelette which she carried through and ate watching television. In the middle of the play she was watching there was a newsflash. Her plate crashed down on to the carpet as she listened disbelievingly. There had been an uprising in Qu’hoor—as yet very few details were known, but it was known that the British Embassy had been stormed—as had the royal palace.
Her father! Shakily Somer rushed to the phone, and looked up the number of the Foreign Office.
Or course there was no reply, but someone must know what was going on; someone must be able to tell her. For a moment she entertained crazy notions of rushing round to No 10 and demanding to know what had happened to her father, and quickly suppressed them.
Chase! If only Chase were here! Quickly she dialled the number of the studios, and asked for him, anticipating a negative response. The telephone clicked and she sighed, her thoughts a panicky whirl.
