Learning to Love

by Sheryl Browne

  ‘I’m going to help Eva on that side, just in case the poor dear exerts herself,’ she said, doing her best to look saintly. ‘I just wanted to confirm we’re still on for tonight, though. I’ve cancelled my prior engagement, you see.’

  ‘Oh,’ David said, looking uncertain and Sally fervently hoped, if the man valued his reputation, that he wasn’t going to back out. ‘Er, yes,’ he said, after an agonising second.

  ‘Good.’ Sally smiled and tried not to look too relieved. ‘I’ll open a nice red and let it breathe.’

  ‘Sally, I won’t be able to sta—’ David started.

  ‘Uh-oh, looks like rain’s stopping play, my dears,’ Eva said behind them.

  ‘Oooh, shit,’ Sally cursed. ‘I’ve just straightened my bloody hai … Ahem. Hey, ho, never mind though,’ she brightened so much her halo practically pinged. ‘Occupational hazard when you’re the outdoorsy sort.’

  Reaching the front door as the heavens opened with a vengeance, Andrea ducked from under the overcoat David was gallantly holding over them and scrambled into the hall.

  All but falling in after her, David nudged the door closed behind them. ‘On the bright side, the ground will be softer,’ he said, attempting to inject a little levity into their very sodden situation. ‘On the down side …’ He eyed his saturated coat unenthusiastically and then gave it a good shake.

  ‘Ooh. Ouch!’ Already out of her coat, Andrea shrieked as she was showered liberally with droplets of icy cold water. ‘Ooh, you …’ Laughing, she turned around ready to admonish him, and found David’s scrutinising gaze disturbingly on hers.

  ‘Sorry,’ he apologised, glancing down. Slowly down, his gaze coming to rest where the damp material of her shirt clung to her breasts.

  ‘Um …’ Feeling awkward as his gaze lingered, Andrea wrapped her arms about herself.

  ‘Sorry,’ David repeated, snapping his attention back to her face. ‘I, er … You’re drenched.’ He indicated her definitely drenched state with a nod of his head, now looking hugely embarrassed.

  Well, if she would stand there with her wares practically on display … And they were, Andrea realised, mortified. With her one and only bra swilled out and hanging on the airer, the wet material was doing nothing to hide her undeniably aroused state, which was more to do with the appreciative look she’d seen in David’s eyes, she suspected, than the cold weather.

  ‘Gosh, you don’t say. And there was me wondering why I was dripping water all over your hall floor.’ Andrea decided to make light of the situation. A situation she absolutely shouldn’t be encouraging. She had responsibilities, for goodness sake. She was with someone. Where was bloody Jonathan anyway – again? Rolling her eyes theatrically, she turned away from David, whose close proximity was far too disturbing, attempting to tug her hair from the back of her collar as she did.

  David laughed, a low deep chuckle, as she struggled with the damp tendrils. ‘You look like a drowned rat,’ he observed, stepping towards her. ‘A very cute rat,’ he added quickly, ‘but definitely a drowned one. Here, let me.’ One hand lightly on her shoulder, he smoothed her hair from her neck, and Andrea’s skin prickled alarmingly from her head to her toes.

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ she said, trying very hard to keep her tone flippant.

  ‘Will it?’ he asked quietly, after a second.

  Andrea closed her eyes, her heart fluttering manically as an undeniable tingle of sexual excitement shivered the entire length of her spine. ‘David …’ Disorientated, she turned around to face him and, far from the awkward look of a moment ago, his eyes were now smouldering with an intensity that shook her.

  Catching a breath, Andrea tore her gaze away. This was absurd. Dangerous. She had an almost irrepressible urge to reach out and hold him, be held by him. ‘David,’ she started falteringly again, ‘I—’

  ‘About bloody time!’ Sophie’s dulcet tones reached their ears from the landing. ‘Where’ve you been?’ Her tone was accusatory, and with very good reason.

  Andrea felt herself blushing. ‘Swimming,’ she replied, stepping quickly away from David, ‘obviously.’

  ‘She’s driving me mental,’ Sophie imparted, clearly not happy as she thumped on down the stairs.

  ‘Who?’ Andrea asked, glancing worriedly past her truculent older daughter for signs of her younger daughter tumbling down after her.

  ‘Granny-bloody-gaga, who’d y’think?’

  ‘Sophie, language!’ Andrea shot David an apologetic look. ‘And your gran is not gaga. She just gets a bit confused, that’s all. She’s bound to be a bit upset when she’s—’

  ‘Under the bed,’ Sophie cut in, her arms folded, her expression now total exasperation.

  Andrea blinked at her, baffled. ‘Well, what on earth is she doing under the bed?’ she asked, feeling pretty exasperated herself as she made to bypass Miss Moody. A Sophie strop she could do without right now.

  ‘I don’t know, do I? I’m not under there, am I?’ Sophie marched on to the kitchen, her arms still belligerently folded, lest anyone doubt she was incredibly pee’d off and put upon. ‘Probably the same as what she was doing in the wardrobe and the loo cistern.’

  Andrea stopped on the stairs. ‘Pardon?’ She turned back, eyeing David now, completely baffled.

  ‘The loo cistern,’ David supplied, Sophie now otherwise engaged, whamming the volume up on the radio in the kitchen.

  ‘But …? What was she doing in the …? Ooh hell!’ Andrea skidded back down. ‘Sophie.’ She headed after her daughter. ‘What’s Gran been doing in the … Sophie.’

  ‘What?’ Sophie asked, knowing very well what by the look on her face.

  ‘Turn it down!’ Andrea yelled over Bon Jovi at ear-splitting level.

  ‘Rrright. Take it out on me, why don’t you? Again.’ Sophie huffily complied, snatching up the remote and zapping the volume down to enable hearing level.

  Andrea shook her head despairingly. ‘Sophie, I’m not taking anything out on you. I’m trying to talk to you. It’s what adults do.’

  ‘Maybe I should just leave home as well.’ Sophie wasn’t in the mood for talking, apparently. She stropped across the kitchen to flick the kettle on and crash a cup from cupboard to work surface. ‘Then you’d have to find someone else to babysit the barmy old bat and blame everything on, wouldn’t you?’

  Andrea sighed. ‘Sophie, I know you’re having to deal with a lot right now, but—’

  ‘And Chloe,’ Sophie chuntered on over her, ‘you’d have to find someone else to babysit her, too, while you go swimming … with him.’ She paused in her tea making efforts to sweep reproving eyes over David, who’d dared venture into the fray.

  ‘Oh, heck, Chloe.’ Realising she hadn’t even considered where Chloe might be with Sophie downstairs, Andrea turned hastily back to the kitchen door.

  ‘In with the boys,’ Sophie informed her shortly. ‘Nice you remembered you had at least one daughter.’

  Realising Sophie was genuinely upset and feeling contrite, Andrea came back and walked across to her aggrieved older daughter, who obviously did feel ‘put upon’ and with good reason. Hadn’t she lost all her worldly goods, too? And now she was having to share not just a room with her gran, but a bed. It was enough to drive anyone to despair, let alone a teenager who needed her space. ‘Look, Sophie, I know it’s difficult for you and I really do appreciate …’ Andrea stopped, Sophie’s latest bluff to leave home suddenly ringing alarm bells. ‘What do you mean, “leave home as well?”’

  Sophie shrugged, her body language still sullen, but a slight flush to her cheeks.

  ‘Sophie, as well as who?’ Andrea asked, with supreme patience.

  ‘Gran,’ Sophie admitted, after a sugar spilling, water sloshing moment. ‘She keeps saying she’s going back to the cottage.’

  Andrea’s heart leapt into her mouth, images of her mum wandering along the riverbank springing to mind. ‘She hasn’t tried to, has she?’ she asked worriedly.

  ‘
No, but …’ Sophie glanced at her from under inch-thick mascara, the one all-important accessory she did have, thanks to Sally. ‘… she keeps saying she’s going to. I try to tell her she can’t, but she’s, “Oh, but I can. I’m not staying here.” And then she’s banging on about him doing away with her. And Eva, for Pete’s sake.’

  Her inept attempt at tea abandoned, Sophie turned to Andrea, looking now truly exasperated. ‘She’s lost the plot, Mum. I’m worried, you know?’ She shrugged in the way teenagers do when admitting they care about something other than the content of their latest text message.

  ‘I know. I know you are, sweetie.’ Trying to assimilate, Andrea wrapped an arm around Sophie’s shoulders and pulled her towards her. ‘Of course you are. And I know you’ve probably been worrying about whether to tell me, yes?’

  Sophie sniffed and nodded. ‘She keeps trying to pack the holdall off the top of the wardrobe, and she’s got nothing to pack in it apart from her teeth. Then she keeps trying to hide something in case he finds it and … I dunno … murders her or something. She’s gone, Mum. Mind’s officially left the building.’

  ‘Sophie, in case who finds it?’ Andrea eyed David, now very concerned. ‘David?’

  ‘No, not David. She’s as smitten with him as you are.’ Sophie shot David another reproachful glance, and then turned back to Andrea. ‘Jonathan. She thinks Jonathan’s turned into a mass murderer or something. That’s what I mean. She’s driving me mental.’

  Andrea gulped back a hard lump in her throat and glanced again at David, who looked as thunderstruck as she felt. ‘I’ll check on the kids if you need some space to talk to your mother,’ he offered shakily.

  ‘Thanks, David.’ Andrea summoned up a smile, though she wasn’t sure she could summon up the energy to deal with another crisis.

  ‘Sir Galahad rides to the rescue, again,’ Sophie muttered behind them as they headed for the hall.

  Andrea’s shoulders sagged. She hesitated, torn between her needy daughter and her equally needy mother.

  ‘Go on.’ David smiled and nodded, indicating he was willing to risk death by killer look again.

  Grateful but weary, Andrea mounted the stairs, and then hesitated, curious as to how David might handle a truculent teenage girl. Also apprehensive as to how Sophie might react.

  ‘There’s Coke in the fridge, if you’d prefer,’ she heard David offer politely.

  ‘Got tea,’ was Sophie’s rude response.

  ‘Right.’ David paused. ‘Well, if it tastes as disgusting as it looks, just help yourself.’

  ‘Do you mind?’ Sophie sounded affronted. Bad move, thought Andrea.

  ‘Nope, not as long as I don’t have to drink it,’ David replied smartly.

  Andrea could swear she heard Sophie’s humph from the stairs.

  ‘I thought we’d go and put some posters up,’ David pushed on.

  Silence.

  ‘The boys and I,’ he continued to chat to himself in the absence of comment from Sophie. ‘Fancy joining us?’

  More silence, then, ‘What posters?’ Sophie asked, making sure to keep her tone only vaguely interested.

  ‘Missing dog posters, in the park, shops, anywhere else people might see them. What do you think?’

  Yet more silence, then, ‘I didn’t think anyone gave a shit,’ Sophie muttered, then promptly burst into tears.

  Oh no. Andrea whirled around to dash back to the kitchen, but stopped herself short of the door when she heard David say, ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay to cry. If grown men can, I’m bloody sure young women can.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  Assuring her that his house wasn’t about to burn down in her absence, David managed to convince Sophie it was okay to leave her family in his care and ‘chillax for five’ with her friend. Having checked which friend, where and what time she’d be back, he then headed upstairs in the hope of interesting Jake in helping with the dog hunt, musing the Dee dilemma as he went.

  There was no doubt that what Sophie had recounted sounded like the ludicrous ravings of a demented old woman, but the fact was, Dee, as far as David could see, was at the early stages of Alzheimer’s: confused sometimes, yes, but lucid a good part of the time. It wasn’t his area of expertise, and it was a cruel disease, some people experiencing more rapid deterioration than others, but still, it just didn’t add up in David’s mind.

  Hearing Dee as he passed the main bedroom insisting, ‘He’s trying to do away with me!’ David was apprehensive. Very apprehensive.

  ‘No, Mum,’ he heard Andrea say as he detoured to the bathroom to check something out, ‘Jonathan doesn’t want to do away with you. He wants to …’ she trailed off then, put you away probably not sounding like a much less sinister option, David guessed.

  Easing the lid off the cistern on the supposition that the old lady had actually been determined to hide something in there, he almost laughed. There atop the water floated a plastic beaker from the kitchen. Parking the cistern lid to the side, David fished the beaker out and unscrewed the top, half expecting to find Dee’s wandering teeth inside.

  Nope, definitely not teeth. Mystified, he extracted the piece of paper tucked inside the beaker, which had been quarter-folded and folded again, opened it and quickly scanned the contents, then, ‘Bloody hell!’

  Well, well, Eden was right, after all. With age does come forgetfulness. Eva had quite clearly forgotten she’d misplaced her policy document – in David’s toilet cistern. He had no idea what was going on, but one thing was becoming abundantly clear, personal dislike aside, Jonathan Eden’s odd behaviour – his disappearing when his house had burned down, his ferreting around in Eva’s house while she was lying unconscious on the doorstep – was becoming more and more questionable.

  So, what did he do about it? Have a quiet word with Eden, threaten to break his neck if he caused Andrea any more grief? And he cheerfully would, David realised, which wouldn’t do him any great favours in Andrea’s eyes, if his instincts turned out to be wrong.

  No, speaking to Eden, who wasn’t likely to be very forthcoming, wasn’t an option. David really didn’t like the guy, probably because he didn’t want to, he realised, but before he spoke to anyone, he needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. Eden had been searching for this document in Eva’s house and Eva knew damn well he had. Question was, why? And why had Dee got it? More intriguingly, why was she hiding it?

  It looked like the only way to shed any light on it was to speak to the insurance company direct. No doubt they’d have data protection protocol in place, but he’d got the investment details to hand, and Eva’s personal details, date of birth, etc, would be on record at the surgery. David just hoped the floating document wasn’t anything to do with fraudulent activity. Eva might appear as tough as nails, but the fact was she was old and possibly unwell.

  Tucking the document into his pocket as he heard Andrea emerge from the bedroom, David quickly replaced the cistern lid. He’d copy it downstairs on the printer, he decided, then make sure it was back before Dee noticed it was missing, which was bound to have her more agitated than she already was.

  Which was clearly very agitated. ‘I might be old, but I’m not demented,’ David heard the old woman shout after Andrea.

  Meeting him on the landing, Andrea sighed and eyed the ceiling.

  ‘He’s up to no good, you mark my words.’ Dee’s head appeared around the doorframe behind her. ‘Just because Eva thinks the sun shines out of his bespoke-suited bottom, doesn’t mean he isn’t.’

  ‘Ooh, Mum!’ Andrea scrunched her eyes and her fists closed. ‘You don’t even like Eva,’ she said, whirling around to face her.

  ‘Yes, but it doesn’t mean I want her dead, does it? If I wanted that, I’d have strangled the old lesbian myself years ago. What are you staring at?’ The latter was addressed at a surprised David, before Dee twanged her head back and demonstratively closed the door.

  Andrea’s shoulders visibly slumped. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she sa
id quietly. ‘I honestly don’t think I can take any more.’

  She blew out a sigh as she turned to face him – and David felt himself reel on his feet. She was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and though he’d expected the trauma to catch up with her at some point, David was taken completely by surprise. Instinctively, he stepped towards her and folded her into his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Andrea pressed her face into his shoulder. ‘I just …’

  ‘Shhhh,’ David said as if quieting a child. ‘Tears are allowed, remember? Therapeutic, so they say.’

  Andrea emitted a muffled laugh – and then cried harder, causing David’s heart to constrict. She should cry. It would do her good to cry, but he couldn’t bear to see her like this. Holding her close, he stroked her back, her shoulders, her hair. She smelled fantastic: clean, fresh air mingled with citrus shampoo – his, he guessed. It was better on her.

  ‘Okay?’ he asked, after a moment.

  She nodded into his shoulder, lifted her head, and David’s breath caught in his chest. Her dancing green eyes were glassy with tears, and up close they were remarkable. She was … ‘Remarkable,’ he murmured as she moved in his arms, leaning into him, raising her face.

  Feeling the soft brush of her lips against his, David was now utterly confounded. Knowing he shouldn’t, telling himself he shouldn’t, he pressed his mouth closer then, his heart paying no heed to his head, he pulled her tight, daring to take it further, gently parting her lips with his tongue, tasting her.

  This was wrong. All wrong. He knew it was. So, why did it feel so damn right? Wrestling with his conscience, he groaned quietly inside as she slid her delicate tongue into his mouth, exploring, softly teasing. Breathing heavily, David eased back a little, needing confirmation. He searched her face, her eyes, saw what he needed to there, then, desire winning outright over caution, he locked his mouth back hard on hers. One hand tracing the soft curve of her back, one tangled in her mane of red and gold hair, he kissed her hungrily, allowing his lips to stray to her neck, her shoulders.