by Jen Silver
“You’ve seen the tapes, I guess.”
Tess nodded eagerly.
Jay didn’t need a visual reminder of that day. Her first win…and on the fabled grass of Wimbledon’s Centre Court. The only thing she expected to take away from the tournament was a coveted green-and-purple branded towel. Since she was a wild-card entrant the crowd didn’t expect much from her either. Until she reached the fourth round…then the semi-final…and the final. Virginia Wade’s 1977 win was a faint memory in the minds of even the most ardent British tennis fans.
Jay won the toss and let her opponent serve. Why? A question that was asked many times during the first set. Games went with serve for the first five, then she was broken and lost the first set 6–2.
Her opponent won the first game off her in the second set. Jay returned to her seat aware that the crowd was with her all the way now. She was sure to lose, but she was all theirs, British through and through. It was inconceivable that she could win. She looked up from behind her towel and smiled. The cameras picked up that smile, and commentators remarked how relaxed she looked considering the tremendous pressure she was under.
Jay led the way out for the next set, and the crowd had to be told to be quiet as her opponent prepared to serve. From then on, Jay outplayed her, frustrated her at every hard-won point until serious errors took their toll. So it finished with scores in her favour at 2–6, 6–1, 6–0. The spectators couldn’t believe it. They had watched her demolish the highest-ranked player in the tournament with seeming ease in the last two sets.
When she saw the video of the match a few days later, the cringe-making remarks of the commentators were embarrassing. They sounded almost upset, apologetic even, that she’d won.
Tess looked up from her laptop. “There was a pitch invasion when you won, wasn’t there?”
“I suppose you could call it that. Totally flummoxed the officials. They were gearing up for the usual sedate ceremony. I certainly didn’t expect to be carried around the court by a group of well-dressed toffs chanting, ‘We are the champions’. The Duchess of Kent, of course, didn’t let it fluster her.”
“What did she say to you?”
“I really don’t remember. ‘Well played’, or something to that effect.”
The girl’s next comments shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She had obviously researched Jay’s career thoroughly before coming to see her.
“Your brother and his girlfriend were in the players’ box. That must have meant a lot to you.”
“His girlfriend? Oh, you mean Charley.” Jay struggled to keep her emotions in check. “Yes, it meant a lot that they were there that day.” She stood and walked over to the window. “Looks like a storm front’s moving in. You might want to leave now to get back onto the main road before it hits.”
†
Tess drove away, more questions than answers seething through her thoughts. The alleged storm didn’t materialise until she had reached Norwich and parked in the pub car park. As she suspected, Jay had used the weather as an excuse to get rid of her. When she reached her room, Tess texted Alice to let her know she was staying overnight and could FaceTime with her when she got home from work.
The Wi-Fi was good enough to let her do some Internet searching, and the first name she typed in was Stewart Reid. She already knew his was one of the bodies not recovered after the Piper Alpha platform explosion. Just three days after seeing his sister win the Women’s Wimbledon final. Further searches led to a brief bio of the petroleum engineer and the fact his only surviving relative was a Julie Ann Reid.
Tess could have kicked herself for not picking up on this before. When she’d googled Jay Reid initially, the information connected to that name and the Wikipedia entry only mentioned her tennis career.
Julie Ann Reid was also a common name so she got a lot of hits, but Tess found her easily enough now, listed as the managing director and senior consultant at CSC, a physical therapy clinic in London which helped injured athletes and armed-forces personnel get back on their feet, sometimes quite literally. J. A. Reid, BSc, MCSP, CSP, HSPC…an impressive list attesting to her professional qualifications. The full name of the business only appeared on the about us page on the website, causing another mental jolt for Tess. CSC stood for Charlotte Summersbridge Clinic.
Falling back onto the bed, Tess closed her eyes. It was almost too much to take in. When she had first seen the footage of that Wimbledon final, the camera had focused often on Stewart Reid and his companion between serves. Large sunglasses and a wide-brimmed straw hat obscured most of the woman’s face but something about her struck a chord. Now she knew why. Jay had called her Charley, but Tess had known her as Auntie Char.
†
Jay paced up and down, kicking at a loose stone on the patio. Tess Bailey-Roberts. No reason she should have recognised the name. But the face was all too familiar. She couldn’t blame Mo. Her friend and agent hadn’t known Charley or Stewart and she hadn’t met the girl, only arranged the meeting on the phone.
Taking her for a walk along the beach had helped assuage the tightness in her chest. Jay had succeeded in giving out little personal information apart from her involvement as a volunteer in the mammal-watch programme. But back in the cottage, answering questions and reliving her first Grand Slam win, she’d had to find an excuse to end the conversation.
The girl was no fool. She would have realised soon enough that Jay had wanted to get rid of her. Although Jay had agreed to meet up again in London the following week, she would ask Mo to cancel.
Chapter Two
“What did you tell her?” Mo gave the salad a final toss and brought the bowl to the table.
Jay handed her a glass of red wine and sat. “Not a lot. She asked about my tennis career. That’s all anyone wants to know about me. It’s all they need to know.”
“Not quite all.”
“Of course she wants to know what I’ve done since then. So I took her down to the beach.”
Mo smothered a laugh. “Poor girl. She wasn’t dressed for a hike.”
“Hey, she’d driven all that way. Might as well have a close-up look at the sea. I think she enjoyed it.”
“A lecture on marine conservation wouldn’t have been high on her list of topics.”
Jay pushed the lettuce to the edge of her plate. “Well, she must be a good actor. Either that or she has a high threshold for boredom. Didn’t yawn once.”
“Did you make another appointment to see her again?”
“I did.”
Mo wished she had been able to convince Jay to see a therapist all those years ago. She hoped the journalist could draw Jay out. Her employer’s next words shut that idea down.
“But I want you to cancel.” Jay finished her wine and poured another generous measure.
Mo saw the darkness lurking in her friend’s eyes, something that usually only showed up on three significant dates throughout the year. “Why? Did she upset you in some way?” Mo didn’t think the attractive young woman she’d met outside the cottage looked at all threatening. “Oh shit. You made a pass at her.”
“Fuck no!” Jay gulped some more wine.
“What, then?” Mo moved the wine glass away. “No more of this until you tell me.”
Jay sighed and leant back in her chair. “She’s Charley’s daughter.”
“Charley had another child?” Mo reached for her own glass of wine. She thought she knew all the details of Jay’s early life, but this was news.
“She was in her third year at Uni and wanted to carry on to do a Masters. But the course involved a lot of travel expenses that her scholarship fund wouldn’t cover. So she agreed to be a surrogate for these two women she knew. One had been her biology teacher in high school. They were both over thirty and wanted a child but neither of them were able to carry one.”
Mo pushed Jay’s wine glass back across the table. “Wow. And this Tess is the result?”
“Yeah. Apart from her looks, she’s the right age. And sh
e has her father’s eyes.”
“You knew the sperm donor?”
Jay took another slug of wine. “My brother.”
“Christ! So that means you’re her aunt.” Mo sipped her wine. “Biologically-speaking, that is.”
“Got it in one. Charley didn’t talk about her much. I knew she visited the family on occasion, usually when I was at a tournament abroad.”
“Does the girl know?”
“If she does, she didn’t let on.”
“Are you going to let Josh know he has a sister?”
“No.”
“Why not? He might like to know he has a family, apart from you.”
“We’ve done all right.”
Jay’s steely look alerted Mo to the fact she had overstepped the mark, again. But sometimes Jay needed a prod. “Of course you have. If you’ve finished pushing that tomato around your plate I’ll get the stew.”
†
Jay knew she was only fooling herself if she thought Tess was easily put off. If she even had a fraction of Charley’s determination she wouldn’t let go until she’d ferreted out the truth.
“What have you got on this week?” Mo asked, placing the dish of Irish stew on the table.
Jay didn’t think she would be able to eat anything, but the aroma was enticing and she appreciated the change of subject. “Some new clients at the clinic. Seeing Amanda tonight. Taking Josh out for dinner tomorrow.”
They ate in silence until both their plates were empty. Jay shook her head when Mo offered her another helping.
“No thanks, I’m stuffed.”
“What time do you need to be at Amanda’s?”
“She said she’d be home by eight, but there’s no rush.” Jay glanced at her watch. Eight thirty-five. Even if Amanda did get back to her flat on time she’d want to shower and change.
“You’re not wearing your engagement ring.”
“I’ve told her I can’t wear it when I’m working.”
“You’re not working now.”
“Or when I’m working out or making love, so there doesn’t seem much point in taking it on and off between those times.”
“You’re a shit fiancée.”
“I know.”
“The wedding is in three weeks. Have you even thought about what you’re going to wear?”
“Don’t fret. It’s all good. I’ve left Friday afternoon free this week. Josh and I are going suit shopping together.”
“You’re not buying something off the peg. This is going to be a classy affair.”
“Yeah, I thought we’d pop into Marks…” Jay laughed at the look on Mo’s face. “Honestly, you’d think you were the mother of the bride. Relax. We’ve got an appointment with a tailor on Savile Row.”
“Have you met her parents yet?”
“No. Considering she’s their only child, they don’t seem in any rush to meet me. Her mother’s more concerned about missing a few operas in Venice. And her dad’s always somewhere between Dubai and New York. I get the feeling it would be different if she were marrying a man.”
“Oh. You mean because it’s two women, it doesn’t really count?”
“Exactly. And then there’s Josh. Will they want to accept him as part of their family?”
Mo put a hand on her arm. “Hey. I’m sure that won’t be an issue. Everyone loves Josh. And, believe it or not, he’s a grown-up now, quite capable of fighting his own corner.”
“Yeah, I just can’t help worrying about him.”
†
Amanda checked her watch again. The cab had only moved a few feet since the last time she looked. She would be lucky to make it back to her flat by nine at the rate they weren’t moving. Walking was out of the question with the rain pelting down. She should have left the pub earlier, but joining colleagues for an after-work drink helped maintain Jay’s idea of her lifestyle as a City high-flyer.
She sat back and closed her eyes. Jay had a key and could make herself at home. Maybe they could shower together. That thought and the images that followed sustained her through the next few minutes of tortuously slow progress.
It was ten past nine when she made it through the door of her penthouse flat. “Honey, I’m home,” she called, removing her shoes, sodden just from the short trip from the taxi to the door of the building.
There was no answer and the living room was in darkness. Amanda adjusted the light switch to an ambient glow. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out her phone to see if Jay had left a message. Ever since their engagement, her lover had been increasingly lax with her timekeeping. That would have to change once they were married. These mysterious weekends at some unspecified location would have to stop as well. She didn’t mind Jay spending the evening with Mo, although even she seemed to have taken a vow of secrecy about these excursions. Jay had muttered something once about training. But Jay didn’t need to train. She kept in shape though, and Amanda appreciated that. Josh had proven just as tight-lipped on Jay’s movements on the few times she’d got the boy alone.
Still, only a few weeks to go. Once they were wife and wife, there would be no secrets between them. Amanda shed her wet clothing as she walked down the hall. She dropped the garments off in the laundry room before heading into the bathroom.
†
The shower was running when Jay entered the flat. She dropped her passkey on the small table by the door and wandered into the living room. The view along the river at night always caught her attention. She stood by the window and gazed at the lights on Tower Bridge, almost close enough to reach out and touch.
Amanda wouldn’t have been able to afford this place even with her high level of earnings over the last fifteen years. Her father had snapped up some riverside real estate when the warehouses were abandoned. Prices for these flats now were in the multi-millions.
Jay never felt entirely comfortable here. Another thing they hadn’t really discussed; where they would live after the wedding. She didn’t want to leave her mews house in Kensington. It was now also worth millions, but when she’d bought it with what was left of her share of her parents’ life insurance, it had been almost derelict. The remainder of the prize money from her tennis successes enabled her to give it a complete makeover. It had been enhanced further by Josh’s architectural embellishments, which had formed part of his final-year university project.
And then there was the cottage that Amanda knew nothing about. It had been Charley’s dream to live there, at least part-time. She wanted to be close to the Sea Life Sanctuary at Hunstanton so she could offer her services to the seal-rescue centre and hospital. Shortly before she disappeared, Charley had started training to be a marine-mammal medic.
Leaning her head against the glass, her breath misting up the view, Jay made the decision to put off making a decision. For the foreseeable future, Josh could continue to live at the mews with Ritchie. Escaping to the cottage at weekends would be more problematic, though. Perhaps she could tell Amanda she was in the Territorial Army and had to train regularly to be battle-ready in case of regular army shortages in Afghanistan. Unlikely she would be sent there at her age, even if she were in the TA.
Arms reached around her waist, and Amanda’s heady jasmine-scented aroma enveloped her senses.
“Hey, babe. What are you thinking about?”
Jay hated being called babe. But she didn’t want to start an argument. As she pushed back from the glass, Amanda had to loosen her grip or fall over. Jay turned and repositioned the naked woman’s arms about her torso and bent her head for a kiss. It was easy to deflect Amanda’s questions and she couldn’t speak with Jay’s tongue probing her mouth. The moans that did escape were an invitation to keep going.
†
It was still dark when Amanda opened her eyes. She was an early riser, always in the office by eight thirty and ready to go. Unlike many of her colleagues who stumbled in at nine o’clock bleary-eyed, clutching mega cups of triple-shot coffees.
Memories of the night before washed ov
er her as she breathed in the evidence of their extensive lovemaking. Just the thought of Jay’s tongue giving her pleasure had her insides churning again. It took her another moment to realise she was alone in the bed. Reaching for her phone, she checked the time. Six thirty-five.
Damned if she was going to let her lover leave without giving her what she needed. Hoping to catch her in the bathroom, she was disappointed to find it empty, although the shower walls were still steamy from recent use.
Jay was in the kitchen, fully dressed and draining a glass of orange juice.
“You don’t have go yet, do you?”
“Yeah. I’ve got to go home and change before work.”
“You should start leaving some clothes here. Then you wouldn’t have to leave so early.” Amanda pressed herself against Jay, giving her no option other than to hold her. “I’m so ready for you. Please, Jay. I need you inside me now.”
Jay’s expression was hard to read; her eyes darkened with either rage or lust, Amanda didn’t know. She’d trapped Jay’s leg between her own and could feel her arousal soaking into her lover’s jeans.
With seemingly little effort, Jay disentangled herself, and Amanda felt the loss keenly. But then Jay stroked a hand down her cheek, continuing down her body, lingering long enough to tweak a nipple. Amanda closed her eyes, anticipating the feel of those long fingers moving inside her again. She was so ready, the insides of her thighs already coated in moisture. She wriggled with pleasure as Jay’s hand pressed against her mound and the questing fingers teased apart the wet curls.
Amanda cried out, each slow stroke bringing her closer to the edge. “Deeper, please, Jay!” But with only one more gentle touch pressing lightly against her engorged folds of tender skin, she lost control, crying out Jay’s name over and over.
