An Expert Teacher

by Penny Jordan

  Until she had left home she hadn't really known what privilege was. just to be able to look on this fresh, clean countryside. She sighed faintly to herself as she stepped into the marquee, and was immediately absorbed into the busy hubbub going on inside.

  The sides of the tent had been hung with pink and white festooned silk, and at one end there was a raised dais for the band. Tables were being set out, that tomorrow morning would be covered with crisp white linen cloths; a carpet covered the floor, and some of the men were working on the dance floor that had been put down in front of the dais.

  Baskets of flowers hung from the supporting tent poles, and concealed lighting had been placed behind the festooned silk. Gemma handed the cards over to the woman in charge of the catering arrangements and went back outside.

  No doubt there were a dozen or more small tasks her mother would find her to do if she went back to the house, but suddenly she had had more than enough of wedding talk and preparations.

  An odd restlessness filled her and, without being aware of where she was going, she walked through the small gate at the bottom of the garden and along the narrow footpath that led down to the river.

  When she reached the clearing where she and Luke used to meet, she recognised that she had intended to come here all along. It was remarkable how little it had changed; she saw that one or two more trees had been felled, presumably by accident rather than design, but otherwise the small glade was very much as she remembered it. She could even still see the tree trunk that she and Luke used to lean against whilst they talked. She studied it absently, suddenly irritated with herself for coming here. What had she expected to find? Luke?

  She was confusing the boy he had been with the man he had become. He had said to her that he wasn't ashamed of his past or his beginnings, but he obviously felt no sentimental attachment to them. To them or to her? she asked herself sardonically, chilled by the sudden surge of pain twisting inside her.

  Impatient with herself and her mood, Gemma turned away. What was the matter with her? Until her mother had mentioned his name she had scarcely given a thought to Luke during the last ten years. Angrily she hurried back down the river path. She should be pleased that he had made such a success of his life, instead of coming here and mooning over a time she could never now recapture.

  Luckily her mother was still at the church when she returned and was unaware of her defection.

  Gemma endured the family dinner party her parents had insisted on giving the night before the wedding with as good a grace as she could muster. Privately she thought Sophy would have benefited from a quiet evening alone with her fiancé, rather than being subjected to the full formality of a lengthy meal. It struck Gemma as she looked at her that the other girl looked pale and tired. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked anything but bridal. Gemma's mother on the other hand looked positively blooming.

  'It's an absolutely perfect day for a wedding, isn't it?'

  Gemma was standing in the kitchen, drinking coffee with her mother's daily, who had arrived earlier than usual so that she could take over all the more mundane household chores, leaving Gemma's mother free to concentrate on the wedding.

  'She'll make a lovely bride, won't she? So pretty and blonde… I'd have thought you'd have been a bridesmaid.'

  Gemma was aware of the older woman's urgent curiosity, but she refused to satisfy it, saying lightly instead, 'I'd have looked silly, Mrs Briggs. I'd have been towering over Sophy, and besides little bridesmaids always look very sweet.'

  God, she was sounding just like her mother, Gemma reflected grimly. But at least she had been successful in diverting Mrs Briggs. She had started to tell Gemma about all the weddings she had attended, animadverting on the rival benefits of large or small bridal attendants. After ten minutes, Gemma's mind went into automatic shut-off. She poured herself a second cup of coffee, and then escaped with her mother's breakfast tray.

  This morning her mother was having breakfast in bed, and then the hairdresser would be arriving to do her hair. Once that was done there would have to be the final tour of the house and the marquee. Then the caterers would arrive. Gemma almost groaned as she thought of everything that would have to be endured before her brother finally became a married man.

  David was coming down the stairs as she went up them. 'I'm just going down to the Rose and Crown to check that all the overnighters arrived safely. Tell you what, why don't you come with me?'

  Leaving her to do all the checking while he sneaked off into the bar, Gemma thought sardonically.

  'I can't, I'm afraid, David. Mother's already got me marked down for half a dozen more jobs here.'

  'Just wait until it's your turn.'

  If it ever was, she wasn't going to get married like this. She wanted a much quieter affair, preferably just the man she was going to marry and the necessary witnesses. She would like a church ceremony, though. First she would have to find the right man.

  If she ever did, what would he make of her virgin state? Virginity had gone out of fashion, and she was uneasily aware of what an encumbrance hers would seem if she ever did fall in love; and then, unbidden and unwanted, the memory of Luke saying softly to her, "and it wasn't just how to kiss that I wanted to teach you", slid treacherously into her mind and she knew that if he had taught her how to make love she would have received that tuition from the hands of an expert. Even then, at twenty, he had had an aura of sexual expertise about him, even if she could only recognise it with hindsight. And why not? Luke was a supremely male animal and a very sexual one. She very much doubted that he had been alone when she had gone home to her chaste bed after the evenings they had spent together.

  Luke… Luke. Why on earth was she wasting so much time thinking about him? She would be far better employed worrying about how on earth she was going to get a congenial new job.

  There was nothing she could do about that here, she admitted to herself. Jobs in teaching were getting scarcer. The cutbacks were affecting everyone.

  The wedding took place on schedule at noon. After the ceremony and the photographs, the guests made their way to their seats inside the marquee.

  Gemma, who had been kept busy by her mother, either being re-introduced to old friends of the family, or running small errands, gave a faint sigh of relief, thankful that she wasn't sitting on the top table.

  As she stepped to one side to avoid bumping into one of the small page boys, whose satin knee pants were already ominously marked with grass stains, she collided with one of the other guests.

  Firm hands steadied her, a vaguely familiar voice exclaiming pleasurably, 'Good heavens, it's Gemma, isn't it?' And she turned to discover that her saviour was none other than Tom Hardman.

  'Tom!' She had no need to fake her delight as he kissed her soundly on one cheek. 'How lovely to see you.'

  She knew that David had kept up their school friendship, but it hadn't occurred to her that Tom would be one of the guests. He wasn't much taller than she was herself and the bright fairness of his hair had faded to a warm brown, but he was still a very attractive man, she recognised, as his eyes crinkled teasingly.

  'David did ask me to be one of his groomsmen but, unfortunately, I was tied up in business in the States and I wasn't sure that I would be able to make it back in time. Luckily I did.'

  Gemma couldn't help her mouth dimpling into a smile as she responded to the frankly flirtatious look in his eyes.

  He was still holding her hand, and now he looked directly at both of them.

  'No wedding or engagement rings. Does that mean what I hope it means?'

  He was very direct and she liked that in him. She was also feminine enough to be pleased that she wasn't one of Sophy's bridesmaids and wearing the frilly confections of pale peach silk and bows that looked delightful on the four little girls that Sophy had chosen from among their combined small cousins. Instead, she was wearing a highly sophisticated and flattering silk suit that her mother had insisted on paying for. />
  Gemma had protested at first that she had plenty of things to wear and didn't need a new outfit that she could only wear once, but her mother had persevered and in the end Gemma had given in, making the proviso that the outfit must be one she could choose herself.

  They had found it in Samuel Cooper's in Wilmslow, their nearest Cheshire town, and, although Gemma had protested that it was far too expensive, her mother had insisted that she could not attend her brother's wedding wearing an outfit that had been worn before.

  Her suit was a three-piece really, in pure soft silk. It was French and cut as only the French know how to cut cloth. The skirt was dark grey and clung sleekly to her waist and hips, flaring gently past her knees. The jacket was vibrant yellow with grey revers, and the pretty spotted blouse that went underneath it was also grey and yellow. The shop had even been able to provide a matching hat in the same yellow, and Gemma knew without vanity that her outfit was one of the most elegantly expensive there.

  'Are you here on your own?' Tom pressed, looking round as though half expecting a man to materialise possessively at her side.

  'It looks very much like it. And you?' Gemma asked him.

  'Very much so, I'm delighted to say. I suppose you'll be on the top table for the meal?'

  Gemma shook her head. 'No, as a matter of fact…'

  'Marvellous. Perhaps we could sit together.'

  Gemma had done the place cards for her own table, and knew that Tom was not on it, so she shook her head.

  'You must have been paired with someone. Why don't we swap the cards round? No one will know,' Tom wheedled outrageously.

  Gemma laughed. He was wrong, her mother would know and she would be furious with Gemma for altering her carefully made arrangements. Gemma already knew that it was Luke who would be seated opposite her, so she shook her head again, more firmly this time.

  'Very well then, but at least promise that you'll dance with me later?'

  'I'd love to,' Gemma told him truthfully, glancing over her shoulder. 'I think we'd better go inside the marquee, otherwise we won't get anything to eat. I don't know about you, but I'm starving.'

  As with everything else, her mother had paid careful attention to the wedding breakfast menu.

  They were to start with asparagus, and then would come salmon soufflé served in a special cream sauce and accompanied by home-grown vegetables.

  For sweet they were having tiny wild strawberries with cream, and if the guests did not realise that this simple little repast had cost an absolute fortune, then it would only be because they were not of sufficient social standing to appreciate what was being served to them.

  Gemma was the last to arrive at her own table. From half-way across the marquee she was conscious of Luke monitoring her progress. Her Aunt Constance raised an interrogatory eyebrow at her as she reached her chair.

  'Sorry I was delayed,' she apologised. 'I met an old friend.'

  'Tom Hardman,' Luke interposed softly, watching her.

  Gemma was surprised that he had recognised him, because she wasn't aware that Luke and Tom had ever met. For some reason she felt herself prickle defensively, as though somehow Luke was mocking the younger man.

  'As a matter of fact it was,' she agreed stiffly.

  'Smitten, was he?'

  Gemma frowned across the table at him. Why on earth was Luke trying to goad her? 'I haven't the faintest idea,' she lied carelessly. 'We were just talking about old times.'

  Luckily, before Luke could bait her any harder, the formalities of the wedding breakfast began.

  After the meal, on her mother's instructions, Gemma started to circulate amongst the guests. Those who were either living or staying locally started to drift away for a brief respite and a change of clothes before the evening's festivities began.

  Gemma was surprised to find herself alone with Luke, and even more surprised when he suggested that they went for a walk.

  'Have you come to any decision about your job yet?' he asked her, taking her arm, and purposefully drawing her into a quieter part of the garden.

  Gemma relaxed as she realised that he wasn't going to torment her about Tom.

  'No, not really. I know I'm going to have to give in my notice, but apart from that…' She shrugged fatalistically. 'Teaching jobs aren't that easy to come by these days.'

  'Mm… Well, I have a proposition I'd like to put to you.' They had reached the bottom of the garden, where the river path led through the fields and down to their old meeting place, and by mutual consent they started to walk along it.

  'What sort of proposition?' She was frowning now, not really sure what Luke could mean.

  'I'm looking for a new assistant,' he told her calmly, 'but only on a temporary basis, and I thought you might like the job. It would mean coming out to the Caribbean for a couple of months—the development out there has reached the stage where I want to keep an eye on it.'

  Gemma was stunned.

  'Your assistant… but Luke, I haven't had the training for anything like that.'

  He stopped abruptly and she almost cannoned into him. He had his back to the sun so that she couldn't see the expression on his face, but she could have sworn he was laughing at her as he said softly, 'Don't worry about that, I'll teach you all you need to know.'

  She felt herself colour hotly, and was furious with both him and herself when he laughed. One cool finger lightly traced the path of the wave of colour that flooded up her throat and over her cheek.

  'Luke, this is ridiculous,' she protested as she moved away. 'You can't possibly want me to work for you. I don't know the first thing about the construction industry.'

  'Don't you ?' he asked wryly. 'I seem to remember you know quite a lot about it. You're a very intelligent woman, Gemma. I need someone like that… someone I can trust. But of course if Hardman is back on the scene I can quite understand your reluctance to leave. After all, if you play your cards right there you might not even have to find another job. He comes from a very wealthy family, as I remember. Just the sort of husband material your parents would approve of.'

  The mockery in his voice caught her on a vulnerable point, temper inflaming her eyes as she glared at him.

  'I'm not looking for a husband, Luke, you already know that. And if I was…' Her hands clenched. 'If I was, I'd be looking for a man that I could love and respect, not someone who would suit my parents.'

  He had moved slightly so that she could see him, and suddenly his lids dropped down over his eyes to conceal his expression from her.

  'Yeah, just as long as he's got the right accent and comes from the right background.'

  Gemma gritted her teeth against the hot denial burning in her throat. What right did Luke have to throw these insults at her? What had she ever done to give him the impression that her parents' opinions and way of life were important to her? She had thought that he knew her better, and it actually physically hurt that he should believe her to be cast in the same mould as her mother.

  'If that's what you think of me, I'm surprised you want me as your assistant, Luke,' she told him tartly.

  'It's because you are your parents' child, that I am asking you,' he responded, shocking her out of her anger. 'I'm a wealthy man now, Gemma, and having money brings its own burdens, as I've discovered. I'm getting a little tired of being pursued by dewy-eyed débutante types looking for a rich husband.'

  He said it so bluntly that for a few moments she was totally confused. 'The Caribbean's awash with them,' he added curtly, 'and it will be part of your job as my assistant to keep them at bay.'

  He saw the refusal forming in her eyes before she voiced it, and added softly, 'Another part of it will be to help me arrange an education programme for my labour force. A lot of them never got beyond high school, although it's not for lack of brains. School officially finishes at fourteen on most of the Caribbean islands, and further education can only be bought at a very costly price. I want to set up a system whereby any of my workforce who want to take adv
antage of it can attend evening classes. The development out there is going to take at least five years, and the way I see it the lessons will be an incentive to them to stay on.'

  'What sort of lessons?'

  'Mostly practical—engineering and construction courses, with the necessary maths and science thrown in.'

  'I'm not qualified to teach at those levels.'

  'That won't be necessary. I don't want you to teach; I just want you to help me to set it up and perhaps find the right sort of courses and teachers.'

  'But you said you only wanted a temporary assistant, for two months.'

  'Frightened that you can't do it?' he taunted.

  She knew that he was deliberately challenging her, but it made no difference. Before she could stop herself, Gemma said fiercely, 'No, I'm sure I can.' And then it was too late, and she saw from the gleam in Luke's eyes that he had her neatly trapped.

  'There'll be other duties as well,' he warned her. 'You'll be my main liaison contact between the site and my office there. There'll be times when I won't be around to handle problems, and it will be up to you to use your own initiative. The technical team I have out there are the very best; you can rely on them completely. I don't use any underhand or cost-cutting methods on my sites, and everyone who works for me knows that. The safety limitations are always observed, and I come down pretty heavily on any of the men I find abusing them. I'm telling you this just so that you know how things are run out there. I don't go for graft or any other kind of illegal operation, so if you spot something that looks like one, you tell me about it.'

  Why was he telling her this? She frowned. 'Do you have much trouble with that sort of thing?'

  'Occasionally, which is why I like to have it checked at the outset. I'm not asking you to play private detective, don't think that, I just don't want you getting the wrong idea. I don't turn a blind eye to anything illegal on my sites, and so I don't expect you to do so, either.'