Tomorrow's Path

Home > Historical > Tomorrow's Path > Page 14
Tomorrow's Path Page 14

by Anna Jacobs


  ‘Indeed it is. As usual, only you can phrase things with such delicacy, Frenton.’

  ‘Is she moving in with you?’ The woman’s voice again.

  ‘Yes. Jessica is doing me the honour of sharing my life and home.’

  ‘Heaven help her!’ Frenton’s voice again.

  Jessica was already beginning to dislike that man. She turned back to Jivan and linked her arm with his, smiling up at him again. ‘Shall we go, darling? I’m looking forward to this holiday.’

  The cameras began flashing as they walked away.

  ‘Do try to keep smiling, Childering!’ came Frenton’s voice. ‘It’ll shock the TV viewers rigid.’

  Jivan muttered something under his breath and Jessica clutched his arm as he sped up, striding across the airport concourse to a waiting limousine.

  Behind her, she heard someone say, ‘Never seen the Bengal Tiger so tame and friendly. He didn’t even rise to your baiting that time, Frenton. You must be losing your touch. What do you think of her?’

  ‘No class. She won’t last long, but she’ll give us a headline or two.’

  ‘She must be a good writer to win those awards—’

  The voices cut out abruptly as the driver closed the limousine’s door.

  ‘Who was that horrible man with the sneering voice?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s the one I was telling you about. Don Frenton is a scheming gutter-crawler, and you must never believe a word he says or a promise he makes.’

  ‘He seems to enjoy goading you. Is – is there a reason?’

  ‘Sort of. He was a friend of my ex, probably her lover as well. Since we broke up, he’s been helping her rake the dirt. But what the hell is he doing in Australia? And how did they find out we’d be at the airport?’

  ‘Someone must have seen us boarding the plane, I suppose. Anyway, that’s broken the ice about us, given me my first taste of press attention.’

  ‘You mean, the vultures have had their first feed on your reputation. Unfortunately they’ll be back, Jessica. In the meantime, we’ll be turning into the garage of a hire company and changing limousines.’

  She looked at him in puzzlement.

  ‘To make sure no one follows us. I always do something to make sure I’m not followed. I’ll be even more careful when we move to Western Australia. I don’t want word getting back to my ex that we’re there. Frenton is bound to tell her he saw me in Brisbane.’

  Was Jivan being paranoid, she wondered, or were people like Frenton and his ex really as bad as he said? She certainly hadn’t liked the look of the man. The other journalists hadn’t been nearly as intimidating.

  Without warning, Jivan took her hand. He didn’t say anything, so she didn’t either. She hadn’t expected him to touch her when they were out of the public eye. She liked to hold his hand, though. It was warm, with long, elegant fingers.

  As the new car, not a limousine this time, swung out of the garage by a side door, they slumped down out of sight in the back. This driver wasn’t wearing a chauffeur’s uniform, but was dressed casually. He kept a careful eye on his rear-view mirror.

  After a while, he said, ‘I think we’re clear now, sir. But I’ll keep a careful watch. If you like, I’ll put some music on the front speakers to give you two a bit more privacy.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He turned to Jessica. ‘You coped well today. More than well. It wasn’t half as bad for me as it normally is because you defused the situation with some humour. For which I’m grateful.’ He took her hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently, then stared at her and pulled her closer, kissing her on the lips before holding her close. ‘You once told me you weren’t the stuff of which heroines were made, but you were wrong. You are most definitely heroine material and showed it just then.’

  A shiver ran through her. She had to stop this or she’d give her feelings away. She moved back a little and said brightly, ‘What a nice thing to say. But your heroines are always raving beauties. Except for your first, Catherine Grey. She’s one of my favourite fictional characters of all time.’

  ‘I was new to the genre then, didn’t realise that luscious heroines were expected in my sort of book. They’re caricatures, really, there to decorate the story.’

  ‘That sounds dreadfully chauvinistic.’

  ‘I suppose so. Someone told me the same thing once on a television programme, but I refused to pay any attention to what they said and—’

  He broke off abruptly, staring at her. ‘It was you! You were the viewer who said that on Sally Mennon’s show! Why did I never realise it before?’

  She could feel her cheeks getting warmer. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t remember. Does it matter now?’

  ‘No, of course not. But the kiss we just shared does matter. I shouldn’t have given in to temptation.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it was part of our agreement that we wouldn’t be lovers and that’s because I want no more romantic entanglements – not even with you! I made that as clear as I could when we were discussing our arrangements.’

  She gathered together the shreds of her pride and fought back. She wasn’t going to be a doormat. ‘That kiss, Jivan Childering, was not a crime, but a very spontaneous and enjoyable physical connection between two people. And it was you who initiated it, not me. So what the hell are you complaining about?’

  ‘I’m not complaining, I’m … putting a stop to it.’ He drew in a deep breath, and added, ‘And I’m also apologising. For an error. For the kiss. It definitely won’t happen again.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me why not.’ She tugged at his sleeve. ‘Look at me, damn you, when we argue!’

  He looked and the chill in his eyes froze the remaining fire within her.

  ‘You know why not. We’re going to write, not have a sordid little affair.’

  ‘Any affair I choose to have will not be sordid!’ She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Only you can dirty it – as you just dirtied that perfectly nice, n-normal kiss. Well, don’t worry, Jivan. If I have any more impulses to act normally with you, the memory of your ridiculous reaction today will kill them stone dead!’

  ‘Fine.’

  A little later he said suddenly, ‘There’s something I need to emphasise, something you must always bear in mind.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘My ex. You must always be careful of where you go, what you do. I’ve not lived with anyone else and I’m still worried that she’ll come after you as well as me.’

  Jessica looked at him in surprise. ‘You do think she’s gone over the edge, don’t you?’

  ‘I’m convinced of it. So we’ll both be careful.’

  She fumbled in her bag for a tissue, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Fine. Careful it is.’

  And she would be equally careful not to let him know she loved him.

  Watching Jessica, Jivan felt guilt trickle through him. As she had said, it was only a kiss. Why the hell had he made such a fuss?

  He was filled with disgust at himself. And uncertainty. She was right. He had spoiled the mood. In his panic. Yes, panic. She was too easy to kiss. Too easy to like. He was afraid of losing control.

  He hoped the driver hadn’t overheard them, wouldn’t mention that they’d been kissing in the back.

  As they drove along in silence, Jivan came to the conclusion that it was up to him to mend the bridges between them, but he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

  Jessica pulled a book out of her handbag and stared down at it, turning a page from time to time.

  Only when the road started climbing up through some low hills did she notice she’d been holding the book upside down. She shut it hastily, hoping Jivan hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Was it an interesting book?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, very.’

  ‘Not many people can read upside down.’ His face was perfectly expressionless, but his eyes had lost their chill.

  She scowled at him, then the humour of it struck her and she couldn’t h
elp smiling. ‘Trust you to notice that!’

  ‘Friends again, Jessica? I’m truly sorry if I upset you. You’re right. I did over-react.’

  ‘I never hold grudges. Let’s forget it. Where are we?’

  ‘We’re about thirty kilometres north of Brisbane, and we’ll be at my place in a quarter of an hour or so.’ Jivan pointed. ‘Over that way.’

  Ten minutes later, they turned off the main highway. Another five minutes and they turned on to an unmarked road and stopped at the only gateway.

  ‘Is this it, sir?’ the driver asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  As the car moved forward, Jessica gazed around them in delight. ‘What a beautiful setting for a house! I could have been perfectly happy living here, you know.’

  ‘I was due for a change. Got to keep the press guessing.’

  The driver came to a halt and got out their luggage.

  Jivan gave him a generous tip, then turned to Jessica. ‘Let’s go inside.’

  The car pulled away and they were alone, with only the gentle sounds of nature around them.

  Fourteen

  The interior of the house made Jessica feel sad. It was furnished in what she mentally labelled minimalist executive style and there were no personal touches. Yet Jivan had been living here for a good while.

  ‘Are you tired? No? Then let me give you a tour.’

  In the rooms he used, the furniture had been set up to suit one person – one very solitary person. It was obvious which rooms he didn’t use, because they were full of elegant, dusty furniture.

  Why had he bothered to rent such a large place?

  When they went upstairs, she was shown into every room, including the master bedroom. He dropped his suitcase in there and they continued.

  ‘Choose which bedroom you want.’

  She chose one with a balcony which had a beautiful view down into a valley.

  ‘I’ll bring up your suitcase in a minute. There’s one more layer to show you, since the house is built into a hillside.’

  Below the ground floor was his office. It was well equipped and she guessed he must spend most of his time in there. It had every piece of equipment you might consider necessary and there were three desks plus a long trestle table full of piles of papers.

  A huge picture window led out on to a patio looking out across the same valley. There were a few pieces of comfortable outdoor furniture and she could imagine him sitting there, alone, frowning slightly, as he often did when he was supposed to be relaxed.

  ‘I hadn’t realised how bare it was,’ he said as they stood on the patio. ‘Even your little villa has more … more …’

  ‘Signs of life,’ she said, without thinking. ‘Ornaments, books, mementoes, life’s normal clutter.’

  ‘Yes, signs of normal life is a good way of summing it up. When Louisa and I split up, she took all the furniture – even that in my office. She took all the ornaments and paintings we’d chosen together, too – every single one. Except for the two vases she broke over my head.’

  ‘Was there nothing you loved, wanted to keep?’

  ‘She made a point of specifying the things I’d loved.’ He shrugged. ‘I didn’t argue, because all I wanted was to be free of her. When I moved into this house it came with all I needed, except for office equipment.’

  He spread his hands wide in a helpless gesture. ‘All I thought I needed. Perhaps you’ll help me with the indoor décor in Mandurah? Make it feel more like a … home.’

  ‘I’d be delighted to do that.’ Her heart ached for him. How many layers of unhappiness were there behind his public mask?

  ‘I’ll only be taking the things from my office with me.’

  ‘Let’s go and look at the contents of the kitchen, then. I’m hungry. We might have to go out for a meal.’

  He flung open the kitchen door. ‘Voilà!’

  It was as sterile as an operating theatre.

  ‘Is anything yours?’

  ‘No. There was enough crockery and so on to manage. I use a lot of frozen meals, but I buy fresh fruit and vegetables in the nearby town. They have a good farmers’ market.’ After a pause he added slowly, ‘It’s not like your kitchen, is it? You might have run out of food when you were ill, but you had all the trimmings – herbs, spices, and even an electric mixer.’

  ‘I like to cook.’ She tugged his hand – anything to remove his frown – and pulled him across to the fridge and freezer. ‘Let’s investigate.’

  By the time they had assembled the makings of a simple meal, she was feeling tired. It had been a long day.

  He noticed, of course. ‘Sit down, Jessica. I’ll finish this. I don’t expect you to wait on me.’ He took a bottle of red wine out of the rack and opened it expertly, pouring her a glass and then one for himself. ‘Here’s to a speedy farewell to this place!’

  ‘Here’s to our future together,’ she corrected. ‘I’m not drinking negative toasts.’

  He stood perfectly still, as if this comment had taken him by surprise, then nodded.

  ‘No negative anythings,’ she added.

  ‘I can’t imagine you being negative.’

  ‘I try not to be.’

  His words were so low she had to strain to hear them. ‘So will I from now on.’

  The following morning Jivan supplied Jessica with basic office stationery, and set her up with his old laptop in the formal dining room, then vanished into his office to start packing up.

  She got out her thumb drive and plugged it in, then logged on to her server and went through her emails. She sent one to Barbara at home. After that she felt too tired to work on her book, so began to put together a letter to her parents. But it was hard. Very hard.

  Jivan came to join her mid-morning. ‘If you’re busy, I’ll leave you in peace.’

  ‘Not really.’ She hesitated, then confided, ‘I’m just trying to draft a letter to my parents to tell them I’m going to be living with you. I ought to have done it before now, with the press taking such an interest in us, but I doubt there’ll be anything in the English newspapers.’

  ‘A letter not an email?’

  She sighed. ‘My mother prefers real letters.’

  He rolled his eyes.

  ‘Um – have you told your family about us?’ she asked.

  ‘I see no need to. They won’t care who I’m living with – though they would care very much if I were re-marrying. They have a lot of foolish ideas about the right sort of person for a Childering to wed – even a Fitz-Childering.’

  ‘Did they think Louisa the right sort of person?’

  ‘Yes. She was and still is good at putting on the correct act to suit her company.’

  A taut silence stretched between them. His smile had faded. She should never have asked about his ex, Jessica decided. ‘Did you want something?’

  ‘I need a break, so I’m going to pick up the mail. Would you like a walk round the gardens?’

  ‘I’d love it!’

  The gardens were lovely, neat and tidy near the house with a couple of seats to enjoy the views. The natural vegetation had been left in the rest of the grounds, with paths cut through it.

  ‘Fancy having to pick up your mail from the end of such a long drive,’ Jessica said. ‘And what an address! Road Mail Box 197. It’s fine in weather like this, but what do you do in the rain?’

  ‘Drive to the mailbox.’

  When he opened the padlock, they saw that the box was quite full. ‘I may have to hire a virtual assistant when we get to Mandurah, someone who can work for me at a distance. So many readers now email me and I like to make sure they all get replies.’

  ‘I could help out with that.’

  ‘Most certainly not! You’re going to write masterpieces, woman, not do secretarial work. Besides, whoever does it will probably be glad of the extra money. There are always dozens of applicants for part-time jobs. Gina’s going to miss the work I gave her here. There aren’t a lot of jobs going in a small town like Sharra Creek
.’

  ‘It’s hardly a town. Population five hundred and twenty-three, or so it says on the sign I saw. We’d consider that a tiny village in England.’

  ‘Allow me to point out a serious error in your calculations. The population is five hundred and twenty-four while you’re here.’

  She chuckled, glad to see him relaxing. ‘Yes, but I’m not exactly a permanent inhabitant, am I? So I don’t count. Any more than I’ll count in Mandurah. You won’t want me to hang around for ever.’

  He stopped walking to stare at her. ‘You’re not thinking of leaving already?’

  ‘No, of course not, but I do understand that this isn’t a permanent arrangement. It’s a wonderful breathing space for me, but I won’t stay when I’m no longer wanted.’

  ‘You’ve only just started living with me. Who’s talking of you leaving, for heaven’s sake?’ He sounded a bit huffy.

  Without waiting for an answer, he turned away to cram the letters into the leather satchel he was carrying. He was about to refasten the padlock on the mailbox when a car drew up on the other side of the road. ‘Oh, hell, I don’t believe this! How did they find us?’

  He glared at the car and the two men getting out of it as if he’d like to pound their heads in.

  ‘Press,’ Don Frenton said, quite unnecessarily. The other man had his camera at the ready.

  Jivan didn’t react, beyond a tightening of the lips and a clenching of his hands into fists.

  ‘How’s the love-life going, Childering? Wedding bells, patter of tiny feet – there must be something happening here? I mean, the two of you can’t be spending all the time writing! Or can you? Perhaps you put all your emotion into your books.’

  Jivan’s expression was granite hard. ‘You’re wasting your time, Frenton. Go and crawl back under your stone.’

  ‘It’s a public road. There’s no law against stopping the car here. And the scenery’s pretty good, too.’ His eyes raked Jessica’s body as they had once before. ‘We can all enjoy the view, can’t we?’ He paused, his eyes very obviously on her breasts, then added, ‘Even if we don’t scale the peaks.’

  There was such a depth of anger in Jivan’s face that, once again, Jessica was terrified he might do something foolish. She linked her arm in his. ‘Performance time,’ she said in a low voice, then continued loudly enough for her words to carry clearly in the still afternoon air. ‘Darling, I’ve got something in my shoe. Can I just hold on to you while I get it out?’

 

‹ Prev