‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked.
The reason she was sleeping in his room came back to her, and she said rather primly, ‘It was good of you to let me stay.’ He laughed and she blushed.
Still in the sleeping bag, he rolled forward to his feet, and then hopped into the bathroom. A minute later he was out again, this time wearing another dressing gown. ‘The kitchen is outside,’ he said. ‘Don’t move till I come back. Tea or coffee to meet the day?’
‘Tea, please.’
No sooner was he out of the door than she leaped out of bed and into the bathroom herself. A quick wash and… what could she wear? She should have thought this through. Putting on the party dress again just didn’t seem right at breakfast. So she put on his shirt again, and scrambled back into his bed.
He returned with a tray, a large brown pot of tea, and a stack of brown toast. ‘There’s marmalade or peanut butter,’ he said. ‘Now don’t tell me you don’t eat breakfast, you need your early morning blood sugar.’
‘I eat breakfast,’ she told him.
He put the tray on the bedside table then sat on a cushion beside the bed. ‘This is nice,’ he told her. ‘Breakfast is the best meal of the day, and it’s so pleasant to share it with someone.’
She buttered a piece of toast. ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Her awkwardness was going and now she did feel at home sitting with him, even if both of them were half naked. He made her relax, she decided.
‘How am I going to get home?’ she asked. ‘It’ll look a bit odd, wearing my party dress in the daytime.’
‘No problem. I’ll lend you a track suit and bring the Land Rover round to the front door. We’ll smuggle you back to your flat easily.’
‘Good.’ Yes, she did feel relaxed. ‘There’s another thing I forgot to mention yesterday. My parents are home again. I checked the roster, and we’re both free in a week. Fancy going down to see them?’
‘That would be great!’ His enthusiasm was obviously genuine. Then he asked with a sly grin, ‘Will they see me as a prospective suitor?’
‘No,’ she said with a sigh. ‘They’ll see you as another lunatic climber and traveller.’ Contentedly, she drank some tea and went on, ‘I slept like a baby, because I was tired and I was happy. Last night was wonderful, Ross. It was a symbol for me, like coming out of darkness. I’m still going to work hard, but it won’t be the only thing in my life—I’m going to enjoy myself too. I’m free of the past; I’m going to think of the future.’
‘I’m glad.’ He reached over and stroked her arm, before beginning to stroke elsewhere.
After a while, she giggled and said, ‘I like your little flat. But the bed’s too small. Still, d’you think we could get two in it?’
He looked troubled. ‘Lyn, are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ She hesitated. ‘Ross, have you… got something?’
He knew what she meant at once. ‘I can take care of you, darling.’
She wriggled to the far side of the bed, then, in a semi-defiant gesture, sat up and pulled the shirt over her head. He slipped off his dressing gown and slid in beside her. Instantly his arms were round her, his lips seeking hers. She revelled in the ardour of his kiss, the way he pulled her to him as if he could not control himself. She realised that unconsciously she had wanted this for so long. But then he slowed, moved his head from hers. She frowned; what was wrong?
‘No hurry, no hurry,’ he whispered. ‘We have all the time in the world.’
They had been side by side, but now he eased her onto her back, leaned over her and kissed her again, but this time more gently. With his tongue he teased the sensitive corners of her eyes and mouth, and he bit the softness of her ear. He still hadn’t shaved, and the roughness of his skin on hers excited her.
‘No hurry,’ he whispered again. ‘No hurry.’
Now his lips were dipping further, kissing her neck, the soft slopes of her breasts, then finally the hard, excited peaks themselves. He took her into his mouth, and she sighed with ecstasy, arching her body against him. She twisted her hand in his hair, unable to bear the pleasure.
‘Ross, oh, Ross,’ she murmured huskily.
It was a small bed, so they were forced together, making her all too aware of his longing for her. He lifted his head to kiss her lips again and, knowing what he wanted—what they both wanted—she pulled him onto her, opening herself to him. It felt so good! Then there was that moment, half anticipation, half fear, and they were together. She could feel his excitement; it thrilled her and she lifted herself to hold him.
For a while she revelled in taking and giving pleasure, in the rhythm that they created together. Then she felt his increased urgency, and pulled him harder to her as their frenzy mounted, then joined together with him in a half-screamed climax. He lay, his head on her shoulder, and she could feel the rapid thudding of his heart. She could feel the beat of her own heart.
‘I love you,’ he said.
Later he fetched more tea, and they sat in bed and talked.
Then she pulled on his shirt again—she was still too modest to stay entirely naked—and walked round his room, looking at books, asking about pictures. There was so much she wanted to know about him. She opened drawers and looked at his ties, peered in the cupboards where his suits hung.
‘This is your brother, isn’t it?’ she asked, looking at the family picture.
‘That’s Peter and Angela and the brood. I’ll take you to see them all, when we have time. Angela will look at me meaningfully.’
‘They look a happy family; I’d like to meet them. Who’s this? Oh, you’re standing next to that broadcaster!’
It was the picture of the climbers, with the background of the snowy mountain range.
‘That’s in the Himalayas. Taken about five years ago. There was a television crew waiting for us at base camp.’
‘So that’s why the broadcaster. And who’s this next to you? He looks nice.’
‘Brian Lendall.’
Something about his voice made her look up. ‘Go on. Tell me.’
‘He was killed on an expedition two years later.’
She couldn’t stop herself asking. ‘Did he have a family?’
‘A wife. Two children.’
She decided to talk about something else at once. ‘If you want to take me home I’ll invite you to lunch.’
‘I’d like that. But your bed’s even smaller than mine.’
‘You only want me for one thing,’ she told him cheekily. ‘Mind you, it’s something I like too.’
He lent her an old track suit. In it she looked ludicrous—the legs were far too long and she was lost in the top. Fortunately there weren’t too many people around. He fetched the Land Rover and, dress over her arm, she warily scampered down the stairs.
Things were different now. Last time he’d been in her flat she’d been on edge, not sure of what to make of him, not sure where their relationship had been going. Now things were easier. He sprawled on her bed as she dressed in her own clothes. Then, just as she had done, he wandered round the room, opening drawers, peering in cupboards.
‘These won’t keep you very warm.’ He grinned, pulling open her underwear drawer.
‘They’re not meant to. They’re meant to look nice, and make me feel nice. I like dressing well.’
‘I’ve noticed,’ he said.
She cooked him a huge, high-cholesterol brunch: ham, eggs, sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms.
‘Where’s the black pudding?’ he asked. ‘That’ll make this meal truly disgraceful and enjoyable.’
She tried to rap his knuckles with her spoon, but he moved. ‘I grilled everything,’ she protested. ‘Anyway, a bit of self-indulgence occasionally is good for you.’
‘I think a bit of self-indulgence often is very good for me,’ he told her, and she blushed.
‘I was wondering if you might like to—’ she started.
His mobile phone rang. They looked at each other sadly. ‘I started o
n call at one o’clock,’ he said. ‘Yes? Ross McKinnon here.’
It wasn’t a great emergency but he said he would be at the hospital in an hour.
‘Sit by me on the couch,’ she said, ‘and we’ll have our coffee there.’ She rested her head on his shoulder, his arm round her waist. ‘Meeting you and last night and this morning have changed my life,’ she said. ‘But I’m working hard and I’m enjoying it, so I don’t want to make plans.
‘When… when Gavin died, the best bit of advice I got was just to get through one day at a time. So I’m going to do that. When I met you I knew that something like this was going to happen. So I’m going to enjoy it. I’m going to seize the day.’
‘Seize it with me,’ he said. ‘I think I’ve found something too.’
Her plans were shaken three days later.
It was seven thirty in the evening and she was in her flat changing out of her formal clothes into trousers and sweater. There was Frank Sinatra quietly singing Songs for Swingin’ Lovers on her CD player, and she felt at ease with the world. She heard a key in the door of the flat. It turned, and she heard the door open. No one had a key to her flat! Frightened, she looked down her hall. ‘Who’s there?’ she quavered.
Her fright turned into terror. There was a dim figure appearing through the door: tall, slim, blond. Just like Gavin, her fiancé who was dead! The figure moved into the light and she still had difficulty in believing what she saw. It was Doug, Gavin’s older brother. They looked so much alike.
‘You scared me!’ she shouted. ‘You really scared me. Doug, why didn’t you phone or something?’
‘Never thought to,’ he muttered. ‘Didn’t think it necessary.’
He walked further into the hall, and dumped the big rucksack he was carrying over one shoulder. He looked weary. Her shock now over, she moved forward to put her arms round him and hug him. He kissed her.
He was wearing an old oiled canvas jacket, with that smell of rock and earth that she knew so well. She hadn’t seen him for months because he had stayed in Borneo.
‘Just got back this afternoon,’ he told her. ‘I’m bushed. There’s a lot I’ve got to tell you, but for now I’ll stay in my old place. Don’t worry about bedding; I’ve got my sleeping bag here. Could you rustle up something for me to eat?’
She didn’t know what to say. Then, ‘Go and have a bath,’ she said. ‘I’ll see what’s in the freezer.’
Her first reaction was to phone Ross. She needed help with this; she just didn’t know how to tackle it. After so long she thought she had finally got rid of Gavin’s ghost. And now here was his brother, bringing back memories that she didn’t want, reminding her of a lifestyle that she needed to forget. She had moved on. It looked as if Doug hadn’t.
She found soup and a pizza in the freezer, set them to warm and sat down to think. First she had to face an unwelcome truth. She didn’t want Doug here. But it looked as if she was stuck with him.
This was the way their group had lived. There had always been someone passing through, needing a bed for the night—or, more usually, a place to spread their sleeping bag. It had been like freemasonry, and she herself had slept on the floor of comparative strangers in Wales and the Lake District.
Doug had qualified as a doctor, but he had never followed the profession seriously. He would work for a few months to gather some money then disappear to a distant part of the world until his money ran out. He would turn up unannounced, and sleep in the roof space which now she used as a store. It looked as if he didn’t realise that things had changed. She wasn’t looking forward to telling him.
When he was sitting opposite her at the kitchen table, she felt a little differently. He was thinner than she remembered. There was a new scar on his forehead and, instead of laughing so much as he used to, he looked very serious. She fetched him a beer.
‘I’ll hang around a week or two, and then get some agency work,’ he told her. ‘I need to get some money together. But I fancy staying in London for a while. Got fed up with Borneo.’
‘How did you get that scar on your forehead?’ she asked.
He laughed, and drained the bottle. ‘Is there another beer?’ he asked. Then, ‘I fell off the same rock face that Gavin was killed on. I thought I owed it to him to finish the climb so I went back to have another go. But it was harder than I thought. It was harder than both of us thought. Had to spend a couple of months recuperating.’
I don’t need this, she thought wildly to herself. I’ve finished with this macho, fight-everything attitude. I’ve got a new life. But she said nothing to Doug. She knew he would only look at her uncomprehendingly. And she wished he didn’t look so much like Gavin. Gavin was dead!
He might have been reading her mind. ‘It was a good climb,’ he told her—as if it mattered! ‘Gav wanted to solo it, which was a bit of a daft thing to do. But you know what he was like. Anyway he peeled, dropped and I got to him. Nothing to be done for him. But he was still alive, and he was thinking of you. Made me promise to look after you. So I’m here, and that’s what I’m going to do.’
Now the tears were running down her face. She knew everything Doug had said was accurate; it all was so dreadfully true to life. ‘You could have written and told me,’ she said. ‘I would have liked a letter, it would have… helped.’
Doug looked surprised. ‘I don’t like writing much,’ he said.
He stood, and stretched. ‘Think I’ll turn in,’ he said. ‘You’ll be working tomorrow, so don’t worry about me, I’ll sort myself out. But tomorrow night I’ll take you out to dinner. Remember that Indian restaurant we used to go to, where they serve that super hot curry?’
She remembered it. She didn’t like it. Acidly she said, ‘I see no point in eating a curry so hot you can taste nothing. It doesn’t sound like much of a test of your manhood to me. It never did.’
He ignored her comment. ‘I haven’t had a good hot curry in months.’
She remembered something. ‘Anyway, I can’t go out with you. I’m already meeting someone.’ Ross had invited her to a quick supper at a local pub, and she was looking forward to it.
‘Who’re you going out with? Is he more important than me?’ The questions were snapped out, and she was surprised at the anger in his voice.
At first she was going to tell him it was none of his business—but then, they were old friends. ‘Just someone I work with,’ she said placatingly. ‘We’ve got business to talk about.’
‘Put him off. Tell him to keep business for when you’re at work.’
Then there was a complete change of tone as he leaned over her and kissed her cheek. Goodnight, Lyn. It’s been so good to see you again. Things are going to be the same as before, don’t worry. I’ll see to it.’
She sat at the kitchen table, hearing the rumble of the ladder being pulled down. He’d leave it down, she knew. She wished she could push up the ladder, and push him out of her life again. And then she felt guilty. They’d been close. Hadn’t they?
‘I’ve got a lodger,’ she told Ross on the telephone next day. ‘Not exactly expected, but what can I do?’ She told him about Doug’s unexpected arrival, about the kind of life they had used to lead, about not being able to get out to meet him that night.
‘You’ve got problems,’ Ross said sympathetically. ‘Lyn, I know—well, I can guess at—what the fellow used to mean to you. But times have moved on. D’you think you’re being entirely wise, letting him dictate to you?’
She had wondered about this herself. But… ‘I don’t think meeting you just yet is a good idea,’ she said. ‘He’s my fiancé’s brother, and I know he’d do anything for me. He’s still jet-lagged, still not come to terms with things. It’ll all sort itself out.
‘For your sake, I hope so. Enjoy your meal tonight, I wish you were with me. Love you.’
Not a very satisfactory phone call, she thought as she rang off. Ross had only said what she already thought. She wasn’t being very wise. She remembered the way Doug and G
avin had used to order her life, making her decisions for her. In retrospect, she hadn’t liked it. But she’d been in love, so would have done anything for her lover.
She wasn’t in love now. The thought shocked her, and then she worked out what she meant by it. She was in love, but she was in love with Ross. She just wasn’t in love with Gavin now.
The meal wasn’t a success. Doug ordered the hottest curry as she knew he would, and tried to make her do the same. When she refused, he looked quite sulky. To cool his mouth he ordered a pitcher of lager, and had two more before the meal was finished. The alcohol made him slightly maudlin. He told her again about how Gavin died, and that he was here to look after her. Altogether, not a good evening.
‘We could go out somewhere on Sunday,’ he said when they got back to the flat. ‘Go for a walk somewhere.’
She was taking Ross to see her parents, but she wasn’t going to tell Doug this. ‘I’ll have to put a day in at the hospital,’ she said. ‘Sorry Doug.’
‘You work too hard! I’ll have to see what I can do about it.’
She watched as he climbed the ladder to his bed. She had no fears of him falling. Drunk or sober, Doug could climb anything. Almost.
‘I will miss you, Dr Lyn,’ Fatima said proudly.
Lyn turned to beam at her. This was a sentence obviously memorised carefully; Fatima’s English was still fairly non-existent.
‘I’ll miss you too,’ she said, and tried again one of her own memorised Arabic sentences. Her Arabic must be getting better—Fatima didn’t laugh.
There was no one for Fatima to play with on the ward and no one to talk to either. So Lyn had got into the habit of taking her down to the foyer every morning, where they had a coffee and an orange juice. She thought that the two of them were becoming friends. But the next day Fatima was to be discharged, and her father would come to pick her up.
‘I hope I see you again some time,’ Lyn continued, holding out her hand to the little girl. ‘It won’t be the same without you.’
Second Lover Page 10
