Resisting Mr Rochester

by Sharon Booth

‘I'm sorry, but I can't take your call at the moment. Please leave a message after the tone.’

  "Redmond, where the hell are you?" I hissed into the mobile phone, exasperated beyond measure that he wasn't picking up my call, yet again. I'd lost count of how many times I'd rung him. I was torn between thinking what a selfish swine he was, and praying that he was okay and was just downright thoughtless. "Ring me, or ring Tamsin. Just let one of us know you're all right. Please."

  I pushed open the kitchen door and was immediately pounced upon by one very hyperactive little girl.

  "Cara, Cara, guess where we're going?" Adele pulled on my hand, her face bright with excitement.

  I smiled down at her. "Where?"

  "Pleasure Planet!"

  "Wow! Pleasure Planet!" I glanced across at Mrs F, who rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I haven't been there for a long time."

  I really hadn't—not since a school trip when I was fifteen. Pleasure Planet was a theme park and zoo on the edge of the moors, and it was just the sort of place that Adele would love. There were plenty of rides for her to go on, and she could coo over the animals, too. I wasn't entirely sure what Jennifer would get out of it, though.

  "Mrs Rochester's got a thing for meerkats," Mrs F told me, "and there are quite a few of those there, apparently. Mind you, she'd best steer clear of the pandas. With all those bruises round her eyes, they might try to mate with her."

  "Mrs F!" I couldn't help laughing, even though it was a bit unfair.

  When Jennifer appeared, though, she looked remarkably normal. Her face had been very carefully made-up, and no one would ever have guessed she'd had a face lift not long ago, unless they knew and scrutinised her features for any swelling.

  Ethan had shown her into the kitchen, after announcing to Adele that he had a surprise for her.

  "What sort of surprise?"

  "Someone's coming with us to Pleasure Planet," he told her. "Someone very special."

  He then peered into the hallway and beckoned to Jennifer to come in, which she did, looking rather self-conscious. She had no reason to be, though. Firstly, she looked amazing, in white trousers and a pale pink fitted top, her blonde hair neatly styled. Secondly, and far more importantly, Adele seemed delighted to see her, hurling herself at Jennifer and squealing, "Mummy!" at the top of her voice.

  I glanced across at Ethan and felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in my stomach when I saw the look of pleasure on his face.

  "Come on, then," he said gruffly, "let's get off. Pleasure Planet awaits."

  Michael entered the kitchen waving a phone charger in his hand. "Found this plugged into a socket in the parlour," he said. "Does it belong to any of you?"

  We all shook our heads, and Michael tutted. "Must be one of your guests left it behind, Ethan. No doubt, they'll be in touch."

  Hmm. Wonder which guest that would be, I thought cynically. Would Briony go so far as to deliberately leave something behind so she could return for it? I wouldn't put anything past her. Joel wouldn't hold her attention for long, I was sure. He wasn't in Ethan's league.

  "Have a great time," Mrs F called, as we gathered up our belongings. "And don't stuff your faces with junk," she warned. "I'll have dinner on the table for when you get back. There's a thing, though. I was going to make you all a chocolate torte for afters, but I'm blowed if I can find the chocolate. I was sure I had some in the cupboard. Good quality stuff—none of your cheap rubbish. Oh, well, I must have used it for something else and forgotten."

  "I doubt very much we'll be able to eat it, anyway," Ethan assured her. "I can't take my family to Pleasure Planet and not let them tuck into burgers and fries and candyfloss, and all the ice cream they can manage. It wouldn't be fair."

  "Don't you dare," she warned him, laughing. "Enjoy yourselves!"

  "And you," I said, winking at her, as Michael put his arm around her waist.

  She flushed, but grinned at me, and Michael couldn't wipe the smile off his face. I had no doubt they would have a pretty good time with the house to themselves, too.

  We did indeed enjoy ourselves, even though there was a tricky moment when we first arrived, and Jennifer discovered we'd have to queue like everyone else, despite the fact that the owner of Pleasure Planet was evidently a friend of the Rochester family.

  "But you know Bill Adams so well, darling! Why on earth don't you call him? We could get VIP tickets and skip these wretched queues!"

  "And where," Ethan said with a wry smile, "would be the fun in that? For one day, can I just forget about business and live my life like any other man?"

  Jennifer looked a bit put out at the idea of that, but I thought it was admirable. How mortifying it would have been to sail past all those families queueing for rides, and wave wretched VIP passes at them. I'd have died of shame.

  Adele loved the rides and wanted to go on everything—even the ones that were far too big for her. Ethan went on a couple of rides with her, which made Jennifer and I howl with laughter. Seeing his long legs curled up as he squeezed into a fire engine on a merry-go-round was too funny to ignore.

  "I would have gone on the extreme rides, you know," Jennifer told me as we waited for the merry-go-round to finish, "if I hadn't had this operation. I can't risk it at the moment, sadly. Such a shame. I was quite a thrill-seeker in my youth. The scarier the rides, the better."

  She snapped plenty of photographs, though, and then she took Adele's hand and wandered off to show her the meerkats.

  "That's progress," Ethan murmured, as we watched them walking well in front of us, talking to each other in quite an animated fashion.

  Adele seemed just as enamoured with the little creatures as her mother, and the two of them strolled around the zoo, pointing at different animals and laughing together, which clearly delighted Ethan.

  We stopped at a burger bar, having decided that we were all starving. I was trying to be good, and said I would have a salad, but Ethan begged me to have a burger with him. "We'll share it, if you like," he said. "I love the Triple Whammy Burger, but it's too much for one person. Will you eat the other half?"

  I hesitated, but then decided that one day off the diet wouldn't hurt. "Okay," I said, feeling a thrill of delight when his face lit up, as if I'd just agreed to something wonderful. I wasn't so thrilled when he returned from the counter, and I discovered that not only did I have half of a Triple Whammy Burger to get through, but also a large portion of fries and a thick strawberry milkshake.

  "You've got to be kidding me," I groaned.

  "Are you seriously telling me you can't manage this piddling little meal?" he demanded, a clear challenge in his eyes.

  I remembered the weeks in the caravan, and the vast quantities of crisps and Caramel Choc Bloc I'd managed to consume every day. Too right I could manage it.

  "Watch me." I proceeded to prove that I was more than up to the challenge—a feat which he seemed strangely thrilled about. Honestly, anyone would have thought I'd done something remarkably clever, rather than simply proving what a gannet I could be.

  Jennifer hooked her arm through mine, as Ethan went off to take Adele on a cable car ride around the park. "I understand Ethan told you his big secret last night," she said, smiling at me.

  "Er, which big secret is that?" Let's face it, there were so many, I'd lost track.

  "About his art," she said, sounding surprised. "He's awfully good, isn't he? He told me you liked his paintings. He was so sweet about it. Totally overwhelmed that you admired them. He's such a modest man."

  "Too modest," I said. "He's really gifted. He should spend more time painting. It would do him the world of good."

  "Oh, I couldn't agree more," she assured me. "And up here in Yorkshire seems to be the only place where he feels able to relax enough to paint. That's why I made sure the house was renovated."

  I looked at her in surprise. "But Ethan said he did that for you! He said you'd decided to move up here permanently, but then changed your mind."

  She laughed. "I know
! He actually fell for that. As if I'd move to Yorkshire permanently. No, this area is where Ethan feels at home, not me. I just knew he hated the house, and I couldn't blame him. Dismal place. An absolute monstrosity, just as his great-grandfather had left it. I knew he would never get round to doing anything with it, because he never does anything to please himself, but tell him it's for me, and he'll pull out all the stops—which he did. Now that it's looking so beautiful and homely and welcoming, he's more inclined to stay, which means more painting."

  "Ooh," I said admiringly, "you're good! And what about you?"

  She patted my arm. "I prefer the Gloucestershire house and the New York apartment. I tend to split my time between the two places. Let's face it, as much as I love Adele, her place is with Ethan. He's far more suited to taking care of her than I am, and they both know it." She sighed. "He has to be in London sometimes for his work, and I know nothing and no one will persuade him otherwise. He's far too responsible, and too loyal to his father's memory. But I really do want him to make another life for himself up here, too. I just think it will take a bit more time, but it's happening. I can feel it."

  I frowned. "It is?"

  "Oh, yes, my dear. Most definitely. Ethan and I had a long talk this morning. We just have to unwind the tangled threads that are choking him, and then he can be free. It won't be long now."

  "Right." I had no idea what she meant, but she didn't seem about to elaborate, so I concentrated on searching for Ethan and Adele instead, shading my eyes as I scanned the cable cars looking for a glimpse of them.

  "There they are!" Jennifer laughed and waved, and my heart leapt as I spotted them both, waving frantically at us. I waved, too, unable to suppress the joy I was experiencing at the sight of them sitting there with their arms around each other, their faces showing their excitement.

  Jennifer put her arm around my waist and rested her head on my shoulder, as if she'd known me for years. "Yes. Not long now," she murmured.

  "That was fun!" Adele's little face was flushed when they joined us again, her dark hair damp with sweat. "Can we do it again?"

  "How about," said Jennifer, crouching down and tenderly pushing Adele's wet fringe back from her forehead, "you and I have a go on the teacups?"

  Adele frowned. "You want to go on the teacups?"

  "I do. But only if you'll take me and hold my hand," Jennifer informed her.

  Adele laughed. "Baby!" she squealed, but took her mother's hand and led her towards the next ride.

  Ethan let out a big sigh. "God, I'm exhausted. This is hard work."

  "Amateur," I teased. "You should try taking care of a whole class of three and four-year-olds."

  "It would finish me off. I don't know how you do it, honestly. Now, that's a gift."

  "Don't be silly," I said. "You're just out of shape. All those hours you spend sitting at a desk."

  "Out of shape!" He looked outraged. "I'll have you know I work out regularly, and I'm in tip-top shape!"

  Actually, I didn't doubt it, but there was no way I was going to let him know that. To my surprise, he grabbed my hand and began to lead me across the park.

  "Where are we going?" I demanded.

  "You'll see," he said. "Spotted it from the cable car. I'll show you who's out of shape."

  A few minutes later, we reached our destination. "A test-your-strength machine." I looked at the fairground attraction before us and folded my arms. "Seriously?"

  "I can't resist a challenge." He paid the money to an amused-looking man, who handed him the hammer.

  "Bet you can't even get halfway," I said mischievously. "Now, there's a challenge for you."

  There was a glint in his eyes. "You're a real tease, Cara. You know that?"

  I tried not to show the effect his words had on me. "Go on, then. Stop talking and start proving yourself."

  He shook his head slightly, then turned around and bashed the lump hammer down with a mighty crash. The little mouse shot up and reached midway between the seventy and eighty mark, before falling down to the base again. Ethan muttered a curse, then grudgingly handed me a fifty pence piece for Adele.

  I tutted. "Three quarters of the way up," I said, shoving the coin in my pocket. "Hmm. Could do better."

  A middle-aged couple stopped to watch. "You're right, love," the woman said. "My Arthur used to ring the bell every time when he was your age," she informed a mortified Ethan.

  Her husband laughed and nudged her. "Don't put pressure on the poor chap," he said. "He's doing his best, I'm sure."

  Ethan gaped at them, then turned around and swung the hammer again. Ninety!

  "Ooh, so close," I said heartlessly. "Just not close enough."

  "I'd give it up, if I was you." The woman giggled. "You'll do your back in."

  "Ignore them, mate," Arthur advised. "Not everyone's cut out for it. I'm sure you can impress your girlfriend in other ways."

  It was my turn to look mortified. As my face burned, Ethan looked at me long and hard, then he turned around, swung the hammer high above his head and crashed it down with such force, I thought he would break the machine. Or his back. One, or the other.

  The bell pinged, and the woman clapped her hands and shrieked, "Ooh, well done, love."

  "Knew you could," said Arthur, winking at Ethan and leading his wife away.

  The fairground man grinned and nodded. "Nice one, mate."

  "What does he win?" I asked breathlessly, unable to take my eyes off my gallant hero.

  "Reckon he's won the heart of a fair maiden," said the fairground man. "That's prize enough, don't you think?"

  As Ethan watched me, as if awaiting my response, the expression in his eyes scared me to death. I turned and walked away as fast as I could.

  "Hey, wait!" He caught up with me and grabbed my arm. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  "Nothing's wrong," I said. "Adele and your mother will be wondering where we are."

  He pulled me to a halt. "Who hurt you, little one?"

  I glared at him. "What do you mean, who hurt me? And don't call me little one. Do you think because I'm just the nanny and I'm only five foot two, you can look down on me and make fun of me?"

  "Who's making fun of you?" he said, clearly bewildered. "I'm sorry if you thought I was doing so. It wasn't my intention."

  "Huh. Then don't call me little one." It wasn't that which had upset me, though, or that made me feel he was making fun of me. The whole flirting thing was clearly a joke, and I'd had enough. He obviously didn't understand the effect he had on me, or if he did, he didn't care. I was just the hired help. He probably thought giving me those intense looks was sport.

  "Little one offends you?"

  "It's patronising and rude."

  He hung his head and stuck his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry, Cara. I didn't think."

  "Well, maybe you would have done if you'd gone through a whole year at school with the boy you fancied calling you shrimp," I snapped.

  He looked up at me. "You're probably right," he admitted. "Luckily for me, the boy I fancied always called me sexy, so I was never traumatised."

  There was that familiar twinkle of amusement in his eyes again, and in spite of myself, I felt all my annoyance melting away. "Idiot," I said with a laugh.

  His face lit up. "That's better. Am I forgiven?"

  "I suppose so," I said, "but we still need to find your mother and Adele. They'll think we've abandoned them and gone home at this rate."

  He nodded. "Quite right. Let's go and find them."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him hold out his hand, but I kept my face turned forwards. There was no way I would let him know that I'd seen his gesture, and I marched off, biting hard on my lip. I was in severe danger of losing all sense of right and wrong, and I simply couldn't do that again. He was a married man, and I was a sensible woman who’d been foolish enough to compromise myself too many times before. I could never let it happen again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I was invit
ed to have dinner with the family, as Mrs F and Michael were eating in her sitting room that evening. Adele ate with us, since we'd got home fairly late, and when we'd finished eating, Jennifer offered to put Adele to bed.

  Ethan and I exchanged astonished glances, but Adele seemed delighted, and Jennifer explained that she was feeling quite tired herself, and would be going straight to bed afterwards. After we'd said goodnight to the two of them, Ethan and I looked at each other, suddenly awkward.

  "I'll go up, too," I said. "Maybe an early night would do me good."

  "Do you have to? I could use some company." Ethan seemed pensive for some reason. "Perhaps," he said slowly, "you'd like to walk in the garden?" He smiled, the gleam of mischief that he seemed unable to banish for long back in his eyes. "I could push you on the swing, if you like?"

  I hesitated. I should have been keeping a safe distance between the two of us. He was dangerous in a way I could never have predicted, and I was losing control of the situation. Yet, for some reason, I heard myself say, "If you like."

  We wandered through the grounds, making idle chat. Ethan made the occasional observation about the gardens, pointing out new buds on the cusp of blooming, shrubs that needed cutting back, talking—as if to himself—about ideas he must discuss with Ken for new planting. Before I knew it, we were approaching the wall, and he opened the door, ushered me through, then followed me and closed the door behind us.

  The garden was a living watercolour—a chaotic canvas of foxgloves, sweet peas, delphiniums, and roses. As we walked along the path, I breathed in the various scents, remembering the years of living in that grim council flat in Oddborough, with no garden and no flowers in sight. It was another world.

  We walked under the archway, adorned with soft-cupped, sweetly-scented white roses, each flower tipped with a flush of palest pink. Ahead of us, the sycamore tree stood proud, the swing hanging from its bough—inviting and intimidating all at once.

  He motioned to me to sit down, which I did, quite thankfully. My knees had begun to tremble. I took hold of the ropes, expecting him to start pushing me, but to my surprise he didn't. Instead, he sat beside me, forcing me to shuffle along the seat and release my hold on the left-hand rope. His thigh grazed mine, and the crisp cotton of his shirt sleeve brushed against my bare arm. As his fingers curled around the rope, I noticed the soft, fine hair on the back of his hand and forearm, and the clean, short squareness of his fingernails, his tasteful gold watch gleaming against the light tan of his wrist. The scent of him was a curious, but rather pleasant, pot pourri of fresh laundry, jasmine, patchouli and vanilla. Inhaling the smell, I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the mild evening sun gently caress my face. It was a moment as close to perfection as I had ever experienced.