Past Loving

by Penny Jordan

  As her body tensed in self-defence, the need to protect herself made her respond with a vehemence that was almost aggressive.

  ‘I don’t really see that’s any concern of yours, Robert, but, if you must know, what I’ve seen of other people’s marriages hasn’t inclined me to make that kind of commitment. For every couple I know who are genuinely happily married, there seem to be two or three other couples who merely endure one another, who exist in mutual apathy and sometimes in mutual dislike.’

  ‘You don’t think that perhaps you’re taking a negative and biased view of marriage?’ he suggested quietly. ‘After all, no one really knows what goes on inside a relationship apart from the two people themselves. What can seem an unsatisfactory partnership to the onlooker might suit the couple involved very well. After all, these couples you mentioned whose relationships seem to be less than idealistic are still together, aren’t they?

  ‘Nothing to say?’ he probed when she made no response.

  ‘What can I say?’ Holly demanded. ‘Other than that, I’m astonished to hear you of all men defending the married state.’

  She didn’t bother to conceal either her bitterness or her contempt. Her throat felt raw as though she had been crying for hours and she was conscious of a sick shakiness weakening her body. What was the matter with her? Why was she allowing him to do this to her...to upset her so much? What did it matter to her how much his views had changed? He meant nothing to her now, nothing at all.

  ‘Tell me something, Holly,’ she heard him saying gravely. ‘Am I to be everlastingly punished and condemned for the sins and omissions of an immature and, dare I admit it, aggressively misguided twenty-two-year-old, who was too arrogant and too blind to recognise what he had? Yes, I was over-ambitious, and, yes, I did have my values the wrong way round, but I like to think that I’ve moved on a good bit from that boy I was then to the man I am now. I’m not saying that some of that learning process hasn’t been painful to others as well as to me, but I have learned, Holly. Why do you think I’ve come back here?’

  She had started to shake inside. She felt sick with anger and distrust. Was he really trying to pretend that he had come back because of her...that he regretted the way he had hurt her, the way he had left her?

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she told him tightly, ‘and neither do I care. As far as I’m concerned the past is over...dead...finished. You say you’ve changed—well, so have I. I’m not the girl I was at eighteen, Robert, and I certainly don’t regret that change. And if you’re imagining that I haven’t married because—because of what happened between us...’ She was shaking so much, she could hardly speak, but the words had to be said; out of pride if nothing else she could not, would not allow him to think that her single state had anything to do with him. ‘Well, you’re wrong. There have been other men in my life, you know.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure there have,’ he agreed, but his voice was terse and when she risked darting a brief glance at him he was staring straight ahead, his jaw tight and hard.

  The panic she had been trying to suppress all week bubbled over inside her. She was just about to tell him that she had changed her mind, that if he needed advice about his garden then he must get it from someone else, when he turned into the Hall’s drive.

  ‘Strange the way things work out, isn’t it?’ he commented curtly. ‘Here I am, back in the village which in my arrogance I thought was too small, too parochial for me, wanting nothing more than to settle down and raise my family here, while you, the one who claimed to want only the love of a husband and children, have become a successful and innovative businesswoman who apparently has no time in her life for any kind of permanent commitment other than to her career.’

  Holly’s throat was too constricted for her to speak. She ached to be able to give way to her emotions, to turn to Robert and to scream at him that he was the reason she had devoted herself to her business, that it was because of him that she was too afraid to let herself love again...that it was because of him that she distrusted her own judgement so much that she dared not allow herself to believe that a man could love her, could want her.

  How dared he come back here now and casually tell her that he had changed, that he had learned, that he now wanted all those things he had so fiercely repudiated before? Or had it just been her whom he had repudiated? She smiled bitterly to herself, imagining the kind of woman he would now marry, someone sleek and cool...a woman who would grace the home he would give her, a woman who would give him one or perhaps two perfect children, a woman whom he could wear on his arm like a prize. Not her kind of woman. The partner, the lover Holly wanted now was a man who would share his life with her, who would encourage her independence and her achievements, a man who would take real pride and pleasure in her success instead of simply seeing her as an accompaniment to his own.

  What Robert no doubt wanted was a younger Angela. Robert had stopped the car. Immediately she opened the door, jumping out quickly before he could come round to help her, before he could touch her.

  ‘I thought we’d have a coffee before we start,’ he told her after giving her a thoughtful look.

  She wanted to refuse, but her senses warned her that, like a hunting animal with its prey, he would quickly sense her vulnerability and take advantage of it. What did he really want of her? she wondered sickly as she nodded her head and followed him towards the main house.

  Surely he hadn’t been implying that he wanted to reactivate their old relationship? No, he couldn’t have been. Perhaps, then, he had simply been warning her that he was here to stay and that she must accustom herself both to that fact and the fact that he intended to marry—someone else. But why bother? After all, there must have been other women in his life since her, and she had never meant anything to him in the first place.

  Sick and confused, Holly barely gave the huge, dismal kitchen a glance as he led the way into it.

  ‘It’s not a patch on yours, I know,’ he was telling her. ‘In fact I could do with a woman’s advice when it comes to re-designing it.’

  ‘Ask Angela. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to help you,’ Holly told him tersely.

  ‘Yes. I’m sure she will,’ he agreed.

  He was watching her. She could feel it, but she refused to turn round and look at him.

  ‘Holly...’

  His voice was unexpectedly gentle, tender almost. She could feel the hot rush of tears stabbing her eyes, the aching misery of the pain that flared inside her as she fought down her longing to run to him, to have his arms open to hold her, to have his mouth on hers.

  What was wrong with her? She mustn’t feel like this. It was treachery to her own principles, the destruction of all she had fought to gain.

  Why was she being so weak, so stupid, why was she allowing herself to fall into the same old trap? Hadn’t she learned anything, anything at all from the past?

  ‘Don’t bother with any coffee for me,’ she told him brusquely. ‘I’ll go and wait outside for you while you have yours. Oh, by the way, do you have any plans or drawings of the gardens?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s a huge pile of stuff in the library, but I haven’t had time to go through it yet. Some of it is so badly mildewed and damaged that it will probably have to be thrown out. I did get a pile of deeds and other stuff when I bought the place. There could be something among that lot.’

  His voice sounded flat and tired, defeated almost. Had she misread the situation? Could he genuinely have regretted the past? Could he...?

  Bitterly she squashed the hope beginning to flare inside her. What was she doing? He had told her once that he didn’t love her; she surely wasn’t going to allow him to do the same thing to her again...

  Quickly she opened the door and hurried through the maze of larders and store-rooms until she found the door into the stable yard. Once there, she stood still breathing deeply, trying to calm her inner tremors.

  Why on earth had she ever agreed to come here today? And why on earth
was she still so vulnerable to him? She hated herself for that—for still being weak and stupid enough to be swayed by his apparent desire to reach out to her...to apologise for the past.

  She was standing with her body hunched, staring into space when she heard the door open.

  ‘It’s this way,’ she heard him saying to her, and she stiffened as he touched her arm lightly, wheeling away from him to keep as much distance between them as she could as he indicated a wooden door in the peripheral wall.

  The door led into a traditional kitchen garden, now a riot of weeds and overgrown fruit bushes and trees—a veritable wilderness, Holly recognised as she studied it in silence.

  ‘If you intend to have a kitchen garden,’ she told him quietly, ‘all of this will have to be cleared. Some of the espaliered fruit trees could be retained, and it will require the attention of a full-time gardener. It will be a very expensive way of producing your own vegetables and fruit, but having said that—’

  ‘Having said that, there will be the advantage of knowing my family is eating healthy organically grown food.’

  Holly shrugged, trying not to react to that emotive word ‘family’.

  ‘You can buy organically grown stuff at the local supermarket these days far more cheaply.’

  ‘All right, let’s say, then, for argument’s sake that I want to retain the kitchen garden and that I can afford the costs involved. How long would it take to get it back in order?’

  ‘That depends on who you get to do the work and how many men they can spare. That and how skilled and experienced they are, but at a guess if you started now and if you were very, very lucky, and the weather was with you, you could have your first crops planted by next spring.’

  ‘Mm... Any suggestions as to who might do the job?’

  Holly shrugged. ‘It depends on exactly what you want, and how much you’re prepared to pay.’

  ‘Mm...well, that’s something we can discuss when you’ve seen the rest of the garden.’

  Two hours later, hot and sticky from the sun, and longing for a cool drink, Holly could only marvel at both Robert’s stamina and his ability to remain cool and fresh when she felt anything but.

  The gardens were far more extensive than she had expected and very, very neglected, but once long ago someone had cherished and cared for them, and, as she had pointed out to Robert with envy, the long borders protected by high yew hedges that separated the formal area of the gardens from the more informal, once restored, would be breathtakingly magnificent.

  At one end of them, a flight of steps led to an enclosed area of formal flower-beds and another walled garden, at the other the vista opened out to reveal a large circular pond, cherubs holding dolphins that spouted water into it. Beneath the canopy of huge lily leaves, Holly glimpsed the orange backs of some huge goldfish.

  Beyond the pond lay a lawn, a stone porticoed summer-house facing the pond and flanked on either side with a stone-columned pergola. Once roses had probably adorned the columns, but now they, like the overhead struts, had disappeared.

  As they made their way through the weed-infested lawn, Holly paused to admire the lines of the summer-house, impulsively stepping forward to go into it.

  ‘No!’

  The sharp command in Robert’s voice made her stiffen and turn round just as his hand grasped her upper arm, his fingers biting painfully into her flesh.

  ‘The roof isn’t safe,’ he told her, and as she glanced upwards she saw that there was a huge crack running across one of the stone ceiling segments.

  ‘I should have warned you before,’ she heard Robert saying as she stared sickly at the huge slab of stone poised so precariously.

  She was shivering despite the heat of the sun, feeling both sick and oddly light-headed.

  ‘Look, I think you’d better sit down.’

  She could tell that he was frowning without having to look at him. What a fool he must think her, but it wasn’t so much the shock of the near accident that might have befallen her that was making her feel so weak as the fact that he was still holding on to her. He had moved somehow so that he was standing behind her. She could feel the heat of his body; she felt totally engulfed by him...weak and vulnerable.

  ‘There’s a bench over there,’ he told her, indicating a stone seat almost overgrown by grass. ‘You go and sit down for a few minutes. If you’ll excuse me, there’s something I have to do.’

  Only too glad to be released from her physical and mental bondage to him, Holly stepped away from Robert, and walked shakily over to the seat he had indicated. By the time she turned round he had gone and she was completely alone. Well, not completely, she realised, as she saw a rabbit, apparently oblivious to her presence, hopping across the grass, pausing every now and again to chew busily.

  Given a good deal of time and even more money, these gardens could be breathtakingly beautiful, she reflected enviously as she closed her eyes and soaked up the heat of the sun. Already her imagination was painting them as they could be, imagining how they might look. They were large enough, too, to allow plenty of space for a play area for children, even for a cricket pitch and a tennis court, and in the paddock beyond the gardens there was plenty of space for a couple of fat, lazy ponies...

  A sharp pain twisted inside her. What was she thinking...imagining? Once before she had allowed herself to daydream of having Robert’s children, but then she had been a naïve, trusting fool, who had believed every word, every lie he had told her.

  She closed her eyes, not so much against the heat of the sun but more against the press of hot tears that burned behind her eyelids. She hardly recognised herself any more, hardly knew what emotional folly she was likely to commit next.

  ‘Holly, are you all right?’

  The low-voiced question made her tense and open her eyes.

  She hadn’t heard Robert’s soft-footed approach across the lawn. Now he was standing beside her, frowning down at her. He was, she noticed, carrying a blanket and a large picnic hamper.

  ‘I—I’m fine,’ she told him, instantly defensive and afraid, eyeing both him and what he was carrying suspiciously.

  ‘Lunch,’ he told her, smiling at her. ‘I thought it would be more pleasant to eat it out here. The house is far from comfortable at the moment.’ He added wryly, ‘I suspect I’m going to be living in my cottage for a long time to come as well. The architects tell me it’s going to take well into next year just to clear away the debris and start work on the renovations, and as for the trouble we’ve been having finding suitably skilled craftsmen...’

  He put down the hamper, and then hunkered down on the grass, spreading the blanket. ‘Come and sit down here,’ he told her, patting it. ‘It will be far more comfortable than that seat. Oh, and I’ve brought these as well.’

  Wrapped in the blanket had been two huge cush-ions, which he now propped up against a tree-trunk.

  ‘There was no need for you to go to so much trouble,’ Holly told him grittily as he opened the hamper. ‘We’ve almost finished. I could have gone home for lunch.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t you find that food is almost always more enjoyable when it’s eaten in the company of someone else?’ he asked her softly.

  ‘That depends on who the someone else is,’ Holly retorted bleakly, refusing to allow herself to acknowledge what she was beginning to feel.

  She had started to stand up and now he came over to her, taking hold of her shoulders and holding her far too firmly for her to move away.

  ‘Holly, can’t we declare a truce?’ he said quietly. ‘I know I hurt you, I know I behaved badly, and I know as well that from your point of view my apology is all too probably far too little and far too late. You were always such a compassionate, loving girl; can’t you find it in your heart to allow me the comfort of acknowledging how badly I treated you, of allowing me the make amends?’

  ‘By doing what?’ she demanded brittly. ‘Asking my advice on your garden and feeding me lunch?’

  Robert’s m
outh twitched as though he was about to laugh, and she was shocked by the thrust of sensation that pierced her, the desire to reach out and touch his mouth, to trace the well-remembered shape of his lips.

  ‘Well, not really. They were both more for my benefit than yours. I’m not asking you to forgive me—why should you?’

  ‘Then what are you asking?’ she asked aggressively.

  He gave her a sombre, brooding look, searching her face as though looking for something he had lost and desperately missed, and then he said slowly, ‘Perhaps just the opportunity to prove to you that I have changed.’

  ‘We’ve both changed, Robert,’ she told him fiercely. ‘I’ve changed too.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Yes, you have.’ She tensed in his grip. ‘You’re a woman now, Holly, not a girl. Can’t the woman in you find it in her heart to put aside the past and allow us to start again?’

  ‘There’s no reason for us to start again. No point. Nothing...’

  ‘Yes, there is. There’s this,’ Robert corrected her, and as she looked questioningly up at him she knew that he was going to kiss her...knew it and did nothing to stop him, to evade or check him...simply standing there with the sun on her upturned face and her body trembling as though she were in the grip of a dangerous fever.

  His hands against her face were sun-warm, and firm, his fingertips slightly rough as they smoothed her skin, his head blotting out the light, his eyes looking straight into hers.

  He had always kissed her like this, with his eyes open, whispering to her to do the same. When she had protested he had told her roughly that he wanted to see what she was feeling when he kissed her...that he wanted to look deep into her heart and her soul and to know that she was sharing with him his desire...his love.

  But now she kept her eyes open out of a need to protect herself, too afraid to close them in case she completely slipped away from reality to a place where she could only feel...a place where reason could not exist—a place from which the only exit was laced with pain and anguish. As she well knew...