“Yes, fine.”
She stood up; as she did so, Louise came sashaying across the room, sat down with a bit of a thump half on Matt’s lap, and laughed. He wouldn’t like that, Gina thought; he hated any kind of public intimacy. But … he smiled back at her and patted her thigh fondly as she slithered off it.
And then … then … No, couldn’t be, but yes, yes, it was; they stared at each other, clearly quite startled, and there was a pause, and then Louise leaned forward and smiled and kissed Matt—OK, very briefly—on the mouth. And then pulled back. And then he did the same. Equally briefly. And then they sat staring at each other again.
Gina walked forward, right up to their table, and, squaring up to them, said, “Is this a private love-in? Or can anyone join in?”
“Damn! Shit! Bloody animals. Oh, look at it. And it’s Friday evening; all the garages will be closed. Oh, bloody hell …”
The cause of this outburst was a couple of sheep that had clearly escaped their field and were ambling peacefully along the country lane; a corner had obscured them from view until the very last minute, whereupon Toby had braked, swerved violently, and slithered safely but rather irrevocably half into the ditch.
Eliza got out and looked at the car.
Toby got out and joined her. “We should have stuck to the main roads,” he said.
That we was generous, she thought; it had been her suggestion that they struck off the A road, which was thick with traffic.
He scowled at the car. “Bloody thing. But … point is—what do we do now?”
“God knows. We need a tow …”
As if on cue a very old Ford Anglia pulled up beside them, and a doughty-looking elderly lady peered at them. She was dressed in a Barbour, and Wellington boots, in spite of the lovely evening, her grey hair piled up in a straggly bun on the top of her head.
“Looks as if you need help.”
“Indeed,” said Toby, “and kind of you to stop. But I don’t think your car …”
She looked at him witheringly.
“Of course not. But there’s a breakdown garage in Deep Mallow; that’s the village a few miles along. Want a lift there?”
“That would be very kind. But won’t they be closed?”
“Oh, without doubt. But Jim—that’s the owner—lives on the premises. He’ll come and sort you out; come on; hop in.”
Eliza and Toby hopped.
Jim Douglas was clearly in awe of the old lady. He revealed as they drove back to the car that she was the widow of one Colonel Rockingham, resident of the manor house and the uncrowned queen of the village.
“Very nice lady, very generous, but you ’ave to do what she says or you’re sorry.”
Jim Douglas managed to tow the car out of the ditch, but there was some damage to the wheelbase. “Can’t do nothing with that till tomorrow, if then.”
“Oh, dear. We rather need to get back,” said Toby.
“ ’Fraid you won’t. Not in that.”
“Is there anywhere we could hire a car?”
“Not this time of night. In the morning, maybe. If you want to make a few calls, there’s a pay phone in the workshop, but I doubt you’ll ’ave any joy.”
They didn’t. Everywhere was closed.
“Looks like we’re stuck. No … no buses, I suppose.”
“What, this time of night? Last one goes at five thirty.”
“No taxi service?”
“What, in Deep Mallow?” He seemed to find this very amusing. “No, you’re here till tomorrow. There’s a very good pub down the road; you could get a meal there, and then my auntie—she’s got a B-and-B—she might be able to put you up; I could ring her. Just the one night, would it be?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He came back smiling. “Yes, she’s got the one room; nice one, she says, looks over the meadows. Fifty bob with breakfast, OK?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll tell her then. It’s just two houses down from the pub, called White Cottage, nice and convenient for you. You’ll be very comfortable; I can vouch for that.”
“Mr. Douglas—”
“That sounds perfect,” said Eliza. She smiled sweetly at Toby. “Very, very kind. Thank you.”
Toby stared at her, his expression a mixture of horror and amusement.
“Well, honestly,” she said, tucking into the very good pie and chips that the pub served, “we have to stay somewhere—we can’t sleep in the ditch—and it was obviously very clean. And so sweet of her, offering to lend us toothbrushes and stuff.”
“Yes, but … I mean … Eliza—”
“Toby, stop it. I’m not trying to seduce you, if that’s what you think. It was quite a big bed; we’ll manage. You can put a bolster down between us if you really want to …”
“Oh, God.” He looked quite desperate; she felt half-amused, half-insulted. “Did … did you speak to your mother?”
“Yes. I just said we’d had to stop for the night in a hotel; she’ll obviously assume two rooms and all that. Emmie’s gone to bed, and unless you’ve got any serious commitments you haven’t told me about, I don’t see why you’re quite so worried.”
“Legal protocol,” he said. “Surely you can see this is appallingly compromising.”
“Toby!”
“No, it’s true. Personal relationships between counsel and client are absolutely unethical. It would give your husband and his legal team the perfect opportunity to say I was unable to do the job I am required to do, that of advising the court as well as the client.”
“But we’re not in a personal relationship,” said Eliza.
“And who would believe that? Christ. Sharing a room and a double bed. Please, Eliza, use your brain.”
“I don’t have much of one, as you know. And who is going to tell? I’m not; you’re not. I doubt if Jim Douglas’s auntie will. So do stop fussing and eat your pie; it’s awfully good.”
He looked at her and grinned suddenly. “You seem very cheerful about it.”
“I am. It’s a wonderful distraction from Monday. Now do try to stop fussing, Toby. It’ll be all right.”
Mrs. Rockingham appeared in the pub just as they were finishing their meal. She nodded at them, went over to the bar; Toby jumped up.
“Let me; it’s the least I can do. You’ve been so kind. What are you drinking?”
“Guinness,” she said. “A pint, please. Very good of you. May I join you for a bit? I won’t stay long; never do, just the one and I’m back off home to bed.”
“Us too,” said Eliza with an innocent smile at Toby. She was suddenly hugely enjoying this.
“Gina, please!”
“Please what, Matt? ‘Please go away’? ‘Please leave me to what is clearly a very enjoyable evening’? ‘Please don’t be embarrassing’?”
She nodded at Louise. “Hallo. Nice to see you again. You must forgive me for intruding. I’ve heard how much you’ve been helping Matt with his case. And I might say you’re doing a lot better with him than I am. He won’t even appear in public with me, never mind snogging. This is a very nice hotel, Louise; I presume you can have a room at very short notice. Most convenient. Well, I’ll let you get on. Enjoy your evening.”
And she was gone, her high heels clacking across the hard wooden floor.
“Oh, God,” said Matt, “I’m sorry, Louise. She’s a bit … highly strung.”
“You could say that. Or you could say she was a bit rude. Or a bit mad. Are you still seeing her, then?”
“Not … not really.”
“It sounds as if you are.”
“Look, you must feel very embarrassed in front of your manager and everything; maybe we’d better go.”
“What, up to a room, as the whole bar will now be expecting? I don’t think so. I think we should stay here, nice and calm, and carry on with the champagne.”
“Oh, Louise …”
“Matt! What’s the matter; what’s gone wro
ng; you look as if you’re going to … to cry.”
“I feel like crying,” he said. “Because I’m a complete and utter bastard. And I’ve made a complete and utter hash of everything.”
“Not a complete and utter hash. Complete and utter bastard—well, arguable, I’d say.”
“No, don’t. Don’t start trying to make me feel better about myself. You can’t. I’m a bastard, and I didn’t deserve Eliza, and I’ve behaved appallingly towards her, for years and years, and I don’t deserve Emmie, and I’m behaving appallingly to her, and … Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. Oh, Christ, I think I’d better go home.”
“No. No, don’t. Why don’t you come back to my place. Just for a bit. Just for some … whisky. Whisky and sympathy.”
Eliza woke up feeling very hot and longing for a pee. She eased herself cautiously onto her back and lay there for a bit, listening to Toby snoring. His concern about their situation was clearly not severe enough to keep him awake.
She slid as carefully as she could out of bed, cursing the creaking, worked her way towards the door and opened it, switched the landing light on, and scuttled along to the loo.
God, it was hot.
Back in the room, she tried to open the window, but it seemed to be jammed. She looked at her watch: only half past two. A long time ahead, to be this uncomfortable. Well … maybe …
She pulled her shirt off and lay down again. And then her pants. Toby was far too deeply asleep to notice.
She’d never get back to sleep—never. She lay there trying all the tricks: relaxing all over from her toes up, saying the alphabet backwards, counting backwards, counting sheep—she sighed. At least the snoring had stopped …
“You awake?” said Toby.
“Yes. Are you?”
“No.”
She giggled.
“It’s awfully hot, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I might try to open the window. Let’s see … Oh, damn, stubbed my fucking toe—I’ll have to put the light on …”
He sank onto the bed, rubbing his toe, and then turned and saw her. Sitting up, stark naked.
“Oh, God,” he said, and then again: “Oh, my God,” and then: “Turn the fucking light off, for Christ’s sake.”
It all happened very quickly after that.
She lay down and turned her head to him. And he reached out a hand and touched one of her breasts very gently and slowly. And then he said, “I … don’t think I can stand this any longer. You?”
“I can’t stand it either.”
And then he turned on his side and pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her. Hard. And quite … well, yes, impatiently. As he did most things. And as if he couldn’t get enough of her, fast enough.
And then … and then … and then …
She wanted him so much, wanted it so much, it shocked her. Everything—her anxiety, her grief, her remorse—was gone, thrown aside in its wake, in a great roaring, raging wave of desire, selfish, greedy, desperate. Her body took his in and could not have enough of it; she yearned, sought, soared into delight, into a clear, bright, brilliant pleasure that spread through her swiftly, sweetly, wonderfully, reaching into her most secret self, into her head and into her heart. And when finally she collapsed, trembling, weak with relief and release, she realised he was almost laughing, very quietly, his hand over her mouth, the sheet over their heads.
“God, you’re noisy,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“That and the bed combined. It was amazing. You are amazing. I … I loved it,” he said after a pause, and the words surprised and touched her.
“Toby, it was lovely. Really lovely. Thank you. Do you think—” She stopped.
“What?”
“Do you think it would have happened if we hadn’t been here, if we’d just driven home and—”
“Not yet,” he said. “But it would only have been a postponement. I’ve thought about it ever since I first set eyes on you, in Philip Gordon’s office.”
“You haven’t!” she said, and she was genuinely and most sweetly astonished.
“Yes, I have. I might have seemed to be thinking about witnesses and evidence and rights of access, but actually I was thinking, ‘I wonder what she looks like without her clothes on,’ and ‘I wonder what she’s like in bed.’ I thought how very lovely you were, and how you were the very first woman for a long, long time who had … well, moved me, is the only expression.”
“Oh, Toby. That’s so … so nice.”
“It’s true. And now I know you look pretty good without your clothes on, and you are not half-bad in bed. How about you?”
“I just thought you were very scary.”
“Just?”
“Well, I found you a bit … disturbing.”
“Disturbing—such a sexy word. I feel a little bit disturbed again now, actually.”
“I—”
There was the sound of a door opening, footsteps in the corridor; the light showed through a crack in the door.
“We’re going to get expelled,” she whispered.
“Shush …”
The light went out again; the door was heard to close; the house became silent.
“Phew!”
“Yes, but …”
“Yes, but what …”
“I find I rather want you again. Even more. You?”
“I … might do,” she said, sitting up, pulling the pillows from under them, hurling them across the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Let’s do it on the floor. Must be quieter.”
“But … will you be quieter?”
“I’ll try. Come on, come on; don’t keep me waiting …”
She woke up at six, back in bed, to find the sun flooding into the room and Toby gone; she looked round, alarmed. Had he fled, back into the anonymity of London, safe from the disgrace of flouting the rules of the bar?
He hadn’t. He came back in, one of the very small towels they had been given round his waist, his hair wet.
“Sorry. Went to have a bath. Now, listen. We have to have a talk.”
This was it. He was going to tell her it had been great, but it was over.
“From now on,” he said, affirming her fears, “we must forget this. Forget how we feel, how we’ve behaved, how we discovered each other. I cannot tell you how important that is. The merest hint of what has gone on and we would both of us be done for in that courtroom. If I am to fight for you and for Emmie, I must do it on my own terms, dispassionately and temperately, as if, indeed, you and I had hardly met. No exchanges of smiles or looks or—”
“Kisses?” she said, her face very serious, and he scowled at her until he realised she was teasing him.
“Kisses, fine. Anytime. Just blow them from the witness box, if you feel like it. No, Eliza, nothing. And I have to tell you something else. You may not like me very much as the week goes on. I shall quite possibly give you a hard time; I shall certainly give the other side a hard time. You could see someone quite … brutal. I think you should be prepared for that.”
“Yes,” she said, and she felt quite nervous suddenly. “Yes, all right. But—”
“No buts. It’s too important.”
So it had been just … just a momentary thing. Born of an accident.
“I was going to say afterwards. What will happen afterwards. Will we … Can you … Should I …” And then because his face had grown quite hard, shockingly so after what they had shared that night, she lapsed into silence and felt very afraid.
“Afterwards, if you still so wish, and after a very slightly decent interval, we can meet and explore each other and how we feel. I think I would like that, if you would. And with time, and possibly even a quieter, softer, less creaky bed.”
“Oh,” she said, and delight flooded her again, delight and relief. “Oh, God. Is it too late for me to … just kiss you again? I’ll lock the door.”
“I really would
rather you didn’t,” he said, and she felt crushed and foolish, and then she saw that he was smiling. “Because if you did, various sequences might be set in motion and it would be getting late for the seven-o’clock breakfast Mr. Douglas’s auntie has promised us before driving us into Marlowe, and I would feel bound to repeat all my warnings, and—”
“Oh, do shut up,” she said. “We can be quick, very, very quick. Please, Toby. Please.”
And Mr. Douglas’s auntie, downstairs preparing the English breakfast for which she was famous in the area, looked up at the ceiling and shook her head at the noise of the bed creaking and thought how she really must replace it, and how nice it was to find a married couple who were so clearly in love with each other …
And meanwhile in London, in her chic, minimalist flat, Louise was also awake, staring at the bright morning sky, and thinking about Matt and his rather obvious alarm at her invitation back to her flat and the rather feeble excuse he had made about getting home and sorting out a few final details of his case.
Matt was also awake, afraid that he had overstepped the mark and belaboured poor Louise just one too many times with his misery and his remorse, and thinking she really was the only person who had ever managed to distract him from them, and what a long way they went back, and how much he valued her friendship and that he really should not trade on it so heavily. When the case was over, he would make a great effort to leave her alone. And let her get on with her own life. Until then, he seemed to rather need her.
And Georgina Barker, angry beyond anything, was counting down the hours until nine o’clock, which she felt was the earliest time she could decently ring Philip Gordon, Eliza’s solicitor, who had given her his home number, to tell him that she was prepared after all to appear as a witness.
“All rise.”
Mr. Justice Rogers walked quickly into the court.
Oh, God, thought Eliza, it’s started.
Oh, Christ, thought Matt, this is it. And terror united them as surely as love once had, terror at what they had done and what was to come, and their eyes met across the court, and both of them would have given all they had to be safely back in the past, with none of it begun.
More Than You Know Page 58
