UNCONSECRATED GROUND

by Mark Woolridge

  ‘It must have been awful.’

  ‘It was. It still is. But we’ll get through.’

  ‘I’m sure you will. Spending time with your kids has convinced me of that.’ Penny’s expression went from earnest to amused . . . well, slightly amused; a hint of concern lingered. ‘My opinion of your childminding arrangements hasn’t changed, though. I’m not shutting shop on Penny’s Emergency Services just yet.’

  ‘I thought tonight would have been enough.’

  ‘No way, I can’t wait for another callout. Next time you really will get apple pie and ice cream. Unless you’re like Jamie and prefer custard.’ She drained her glass. ‘Where did that go?’

  ‘Do you want a drop more?’

  ‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I want to stay and help you finish both bottles.’

  Geoff had half-hoped she might say that but still felt a small, shivery shock when she did.

  ‘Fine by me,’ he said. ‘Stay and I’ll sort you a taxi home.’

  ‘Okay, if you’re not bothered about your reputation, I’m definitely not bothered about mine.’

  Geoff laughed dutifully and emptied the first bottle into their glasses. ‘This isn’t going to wind Lee up, is it? I don’t want him giving you any hassle.’

  ‘Lee’s no longer a factor.’ Penny’s smile was sweeter than ever. ‘I dumped him last weekend.’

  That provoked another, much bigger shock. Penny had been going out with Lee for at least a year.

  ‘Oh,’ Geoff managed, ‘that was unexpected.’

  ‘Unexpected and very final. All bridges have been burnt.’

  ‘Should I commiserate?’

  ‘No, you should congratulate.’

  ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She raised her glass for him to clink. ‘Seeing as I’m footloose and fancy free, what are you doing a week on Saturday? Do you fancy being my disco date?’

  ‘Er,’ he said awkwardly, ‘is it the Summer Soccer Spectacular?’

  ‘It certainly is.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to be there. Can’t have you dancing on your own again.’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ Penny was earnest again; deadly earnest. ‘I meant an official date, not just the odd, stolen smooch.’

  Geoff considered for a moment. It seemed very soon in his new life, but he really wanted to. So must Penny, otherwise she wouldn’t be asking.

  And his mum kept going on about overworking and weekends. Babysitters wouldn’t be a problem.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, as smoothly as he could. ‘That’ll be good.’

  ‘It will, won’t it? Put it in your diary as another three-line whip.’

  Geoff wasn’t sure if he was supposed to jump up and kiss her. Deciding to keep playing it cool, he suggested they retired to the lounge to watch an old movie. She chose Dirty Dancing and they sat together on the couch.

  ‘Mind if I snuggle?’

  ‘Be my guest,’ he replied, surprised how much he suddenly needed human contact.

  ‘A film’s not a film without a snuggle,’ she said, pressing her stunning body against him.

  Geoff tried to concentrate on the screen but hadn’t a chance. He was only too aware of boobs swelling into his arm; of heady perfume and heat radiating from a beautiful woman.

  Penny seemed to be glad he’d noticed. It wasn’t long until they’d forgotten about the video and were staring at each other instead. Two minutes later they were snogging like teenagers.

  Blissfully unaware of the pair of bright eyes watching them through the banisters.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Anne Bronte?’ Tanya didn’t look at all convinced.

  ‘I’m deeply involved with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall,’ Heather explained patiently. ‘It’s getting quite racy. You’ll have to go to without me.’

  ‘It’s about three hundred years old,’ her roommate countered. ‘And it’s not even on the syllabus.’

  ‘It’s a hundred and fifty years old. It’s essential background reading. And you never know, it might come up next year.’

  ‘And it’s racy?’

  ‘Well no, not particularly. But the heroine doesn’t half make a stand. Not that I blame her. It really was a man’s world in those days. Everything she had belonged to her husband, even money she earned herself. Come to that, she belonged to her husband. She was classed as chattel.’

  Tanya made a face. ‘We always go to chapel together on Sunday mornings.’

  ‘True,’ said Heather, ‘apart from every second week, when you’re cramming for your latest emergency.’

  ‘It’s better when you come with me.’

  ‘Oh Tanny, get yourself off. You’ll be late. And I want to get back to those windswept moors. They remind me of home.’

  Tanya shrugged, grumbled and finally left. Heather gave her five minutes then tossed the paperback onto her table, glad to drop the pretence. The novel that shocked Victorian England wasn’t really top of her agenda today. In fact it wasn’t anywhere near. She’d got all she knew about “Helen Graham” from the blurb on the cover.

  Fibbing made her uneasy though, especially on a day of worship.

  Am I misusing God? she wondered as she made her way through the maze of passageways, using Him as an alibi?

  Well, needs must. Whenever else will I get opportunity?

  Talking about needs must, it was weeks and weeks since open season had been declared. Or rather, it felt like weeks and weeks, and three follow-up visits to Mary Rose’s most secret place had only whetted her appetite. She definitely had to carpe diem.

  Heather arrived at her destination and tried the handle. Locked . . . as per usual. She had a furtive glance up and down the corridor. There was nobody in sight so she stealthily knocked.

  Then stealthily knocked again.

  ‘Oh,’ said Jacqui, answering the door in her dressing gown, showing off yards and yards of bare leg. ‘It’s you.’

  ‘Can I come in?’

  Jacqui had her own furtive glance up and down the corridor before stepping aside.

  ‘So you’re back,’ she said, locking up behind them. ‘How did the hockey trial go?’

  ‘I qualified with top marks. So I’m here to celebrate.’

  ‘Celebrate?’ Jacqui raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you propose to do that?’

  Heather responded by grabbing her and mashing their mouths together. This time it was the tallish blonde who had nowhere to retreat to. Not that she seemed to want to retreat. No, she just stood there against the door and took it, not protesting when eager hands groped impatiently inside her gown.

  ‘On the bed,’ Heather demanded, inspired by her exploration.

  ‘Hold it, hold it.’ Jacqui was pink-faced and quivering all over.

  ‘Get on the bed.’

  ‘This is almost an assault!’

  ‘Jacqui I assure you, I’ve hardly started. Get on the bed.’

  ‘What’s got into you? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague.’

  ‘I’m not avoiding you now, am I?’

  ‘You can say that again!’ Jacqui took a big breath and quivered some more. ‘You do realize your Alsatian will find out. She’s got snoops everywhere.’

  ‘Mare’s still away with the Beach Girls. She’ll be surfing in Newquay at this very moment.’

  ‘She’ll find out as soon as she gets back. She always does.’

  ‘It’ll be too late then, won’t it? Now, are you going willingly, or do I have to carry you?’

  ‘Heather, what’s happened? You seem . . . different.’

  Heather could have said there was a wonderful new hunger burning inside her; nay, blazing inside her. Instead she smiled and said, ‘I’m filled with regret.’

  ‘Regret?’

  ‘About the other Friday. We shouldn’t have stopped where we did.’

  Jacqui moved away from the door and cautiously returned Heather’s smile.

  ‘I’ve been regretting that too.’

  ‘Will you let me put thi
ngs right?’

  ‘By picking up where we left off?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Something?’ Jacqui re-raised her eyebrow.

  ‘Get on the bed and all will be revealed.’

  ‘When are we expecting the Beach Girls?’

  ‘They won’t be back before midnight.’

  ‘No hurry then,’ said Jacqui, letting her gown slip to the floor.

  Good grief, thought Heather. Just like that! She’s surrendering herself!

  That blaze became an inferno. Jacqui had surrendered last night, in Heather’s dreams. In reality she’d expected the older girl to resist then take charge, and forcefully so . . . just like Mare kept trying to do.

  But instead here she was, naked and wobbling like a jelly.

  Okay, no problem. I can be forceful enough for both of us.

  ‘Actually there is a hurry,’ she said, taking a decisive step forwards. ‘A very big hurry . . .’

  * * *

  Penny’s Emergency Services had been in business for eight working days. So far Geoff had used it six times. He kept telling himself he was seeing too much of her, but couldn’t help it. Things kept happening.

  And people were ganging up on him.

  He didn’t mind really. He’d liked Penny for ages. She kept assuring him she enjoyed minding the kids; he kept enjoying being with her when the little blighters had gone to bed. And the kids adored her; they were constantly finding reasons to call her out. Auntie Sue was scheming as well; her social diary was suddenly clogged with early evening appointments.

  Thinking about it, Geoff might have been scheming a bit himself. There was still an only slightly diminished Everest on his desk and he’d got in the habit of leaving urgent matters for later, when the telephone was less busy. It was so easy to make a call and say he “unexpectedly” needed to work over. Penny was always delighted to hear from him. The kids were always delighted to see their new auntie. So was their (considerably older) Auntie Sue, who was consequently seeing less and less of the kids. And he got a warm glow when he got home instead of the old rush of madness. Although it was then his duty to do some serious snogging on the couch, that wasn’t something he was likely to complain about. To be honest, there wasn’t anything about Penny he was ever likely to complain about.

  Or anything anyone was ever likely to complain about.

  If he wasn’t a sensible, grown man, he might have suspected he was falling for her.

  But that was impossible. Samantha had been dead less than two months. The funeral had only been three weeks ago. People were still coming up to him, offering condolences. He shouldn’t be kissing another woman, never mind falling for one.

  Trouble was, he couldn’t help that either.

  He’d told Henry about Penny. Henry immediately started calling her Supergirl, saying he wished he hadn’t wasted years mourning after his own wife died. Auntie Sue had been even more forthright. ‘Penny’s a godsend,’ she’d said. ‘She’s like a beautiful butterfly, come to brighten your gloom. You should pin her down before she flies off again.’

  Nobody close to him wanted to talk about Samantha anymore, not even Sandy and Becky, and definitely not his parents.

  Maybe that was his fault. His parents knew about Penny’s Emergency Services, obviously, but he instinctively hadn’t gone into detail, particularly holding back from Dad in case he cracked under interrogation. As if reticence would really work! On top of anything Auntie Sue might have told him, Dad must have noticed Penny’s Ka, which had been parked in front of the BMW more often than not lately. Dad knew it was Penny’s because he’d seen her come to collect it the other morning. He had, however, asked no questions and Geoff hadn’t volunteered any lies.

  Not that there had been much to lie about. Snogging was as far as they’d got in the evenings; snogging and snuggling. During their third session in the lounge Penny said she wanted to sleep with him. She’d absolutely understood when he said it felt too soon, saying she would happily wait.

  No, up until yesterday there hadn’t been anything to report. Now, however . . .

  Somehow Sandy and Becky had found out about the Summer Soccer Spectacular. In no time at all the simple (if very official) date had expanded to include a family trip to Ilkley Lido. Geoff had been dreading it, but it turned out to be one of the best experiences of his life.

  Even if he did spend most of the afternoon tearing his attention away from Auntie Penny in her skimpy bathing costume.

  Make that trying to tear his attention away from her.

  Afterwards he’d dropped Penny off at her place then left the kids with Grandma for the night. By the time he’d nipped home, changed and driven back she was ready to go out to eat. Then, after small talk and a big meal at The Slaters Arms, they went to the disco . . . openly together.

  It had been a brilliant evening to follow a brilliant day. Geoff had felt like half of a genuine, bona fide couple. They drank much too much, laughed a lot and danced just a little. There had been no need for discussion to decide how it ended. He’d just called a cab and they’d gone home to his bed and made love.

  For hours and hours.

  And he hadn’t felt guilty at all. It had been great.

  * * *

  Now, though, came the reckoning. It was the morning after. Time to make sure they still respected each other.

  Geoff rolled over, expecting Penny to be asleep, finding her wide awake.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. She looked as lovely as ever. Her eyes were bright and clear. She could have come straight from a week at a spa. Geoff couldn’t understand it. She’d matched him drink for drink yet seemed absolutely perfect. He had a fuzzy head. He’d have bet he didn’t look particularly perfect as well.

  ‘Hi yourself. Did you enjoy yesterday?’

  ‘It was fantastic,’ she said warmly, ‘especially the last bit. Come here, I’m ready for more.’

  No problems with respect, he thought as he nibbled his way down her body. And what a body! He could easily worship it. No . . . he could easily worship her.

  He had never heard Penny swear or use even mildly rude words. Yet in bed she was totally uninhibited, not at all afraid to make demands. Which was strange, really. Samantha used to come out with all sorts, sometimes peppering the air with F words but rarely wanting to try anything different.

  Of course everything he’d done with Penny had been different because she was different. It had all been new and exciting, but strictly no swearing. She’d moaned and gasped throughout, shouting to let him know whenever she climaxed, but hadn’t sworn once. This morning was more of the same. He helped her to two more orgasms (on top of last night’s umpteen) and still nothing even mildly rude.

  ‘Desist,’ she said at last, gripping his ears, ‘it’s time for you to have some fun.’

  He assumed the position, grinning down at her. ‘I already was having fun. But go on, then . . .’

  There was something wrong. It took a moment to work out what was missing.

  No physical interest!

  How could that possibly be? Geoff felt massively aroused but that vital part of him wasn’t getting the signal.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Penny said. ‘Let me.’

  She shoved him onto his back and used fingers, lips and tongue on him. He stiffened a little but not nearly enough. Undeterred, Penny took him fully into her mouth, her hand continuing to work away purposefully. And that finally did the trick. Thank heavens.

  ‘That feels great,’ he murmured.

  Penny didn’t comment. She just kept working away. She had to realize he was ready to do the deed but obviously wasn’t in any rush.

  Unlike him; the feeling was so great he’d gone from one extreme to the other.

  ‘Penny . . . watch out, Penny! I’m going to . . .’

  Too late, he already had.

  To make matters worse, he immediately went floppy again.

  Penny didn’t seem to mind. She wriggled round and snuggled beside him, smiling
. ‘I give in,’ she said cheerfully. ‘He mustn’t want to play.’

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He’s not normally like this. Normally he’s as reliable as Old Faithful.’

  'Old Faithful,’ Penny chuckled. ‘That’s a wonderful name for a man’s thingy; very ironic.’

  ‘I can’t believe he’s gone on strike. It’s never happened before.’

  ‘Don’t fret, it must be all that beer you had last night. Speaking of which, I promised you a pub lunch. Shall we have a shower and go for it?’

  By now Geoff knew not to argue about who paid for what. Penny was fiercely independent, always more than covering her share. He’d tried everything to repay the money she spent on the kids; she’d never taken as much as thruppence.

  ‘Okay,’ he said meekly. ‘Let’s go for it.’

  Showering with Penny was very pleasant. They took turns to thoroughly wash each other and he took care to give her another orgasm. She accepted that readily enough, so perhaps he had the answer. If she wouldn’t take pay or expenses, perhaps he could barter with orgasms?

  Not that she called them orgasms. To her they were “thingies”. In Penny’s lexicon of sex, thingy covered all sorts. A man’s manhood; each individual part of a woman’s womanhood; a woman’s breast; her bum . . .

  He thought this was cute but confusing. If she wanted to see him again he was sure he’d end up doing the wrong thing with the right thingy. Or the right thing with the wrong thingy . . .

  If she wanted to see him again.

  Fat chance! He couldn’t believe Old Faithful had let him down so badly. Nothing like that had happened before. All the problems he’d ever had had been in the other direction; meaning inappropriate interest, not abject indifference.

  Maybe Penny’s ex had got out the voodoo doll. The little creep had been glaring daggers last night. Knackering things up would be just his style.

  Failing that, maybe Samantha’s ghost was playing tricks. Geoff didn’t think his late wife would resent him finding someone else, but she had a wicked sense of humour; catching him out so badly would make her day.

  Or maybe it was that coldness in him. Even now he hadn’t shed a single tear.