by Anita Waller
‘Looks like it.’
‘What sort of a mother am I, Freda?’ she said slowly.
‘A darn good one,’ was the sharp retort. ‘You’ve brought up that child under extremely difficult circumstances and she’s a real beauty.’
‘I should have seen something was wrong; she’s my daughter for God’s sake! John’s a son to me, not a son-in-law, and he must have been hurting so much. Why didn’t I see it?’
‘You probably did. I did but didn’t want to see it. Anyway, no point worrying about it, it’s their life.’
Brenda stared at Freda.
‘I don’t think we need to worry now. There’s a change in Amy, a sort of lightening. She’s suddenly started laughing. I noticed it first with Ken yesterday and couldn’t believe it.’
‘Ken?’
‘Ken Buckingham. I hired him yesterday to work the market garden. If you’d arrived five minutes earlier you’d have met him. He’s a real work-horse. I’m hoping it’s going to be okay.’
Freda stared closely at her sister-in-law.
‘Have you checked him out?’
‘Checked him out? No, not really. He’s just moved here from Yorkshire – running away from an ex-wife who can’t make up her mind whether or not she wants to be ex, so he says.’
‘So he says.’
Brenda laughed.
‘Don’t be so suspicious. I like him, he’s got quite a sense of humour and that very flat Yorkshire accent – I think he’s okay. You’re so against men, you can’t trust any of them!’
‘Quite right!’
‘No, it’s not right. I had a wonderful husband in your brother and you know it. I couldn’t have wished for better.’
‘Jack…’ Freda said quietly. ‘Yes Jack was different. I miss him you know.’
Brenda reached across the table to touch her hand. ‘I know. He never talked a lot but always listened and now I find myself talking, expecting him to be there, to listen and just nod in that way he did, wobbling his pipe up and down. I don’t cry though. I wouldn’t have wanted him to linger, not in the pain that would have followed if that embolism hadn’t released him first.’
Freda nodded.
‘And he wouldn’t have wanted us to be wittering on like this either. Now, shall we have a game of cards?’
The distant sound of a car engine brought a smile to Brenda’s face. ‘That sounds like John and Amy. They must have decided to come over tonight instead of tomorrow. Could be four handed cards.’
John had autographed the books and he handed them over to Brenda and Freda with a diffident air.
‘Don’t be so self-effacing, young man,’ Freda chided. ‘This is no mean feat, having a book published. We’re very proud of you and I can’t wait to read this. Is it sexy?’
‘Aunt Freda!’
‘Oh, Amy, don’t be such a prude. If there isn’t a bit of sex in it, it can’t be very true to life.’
‘It’s true to life. And I don’t think Amy was being a prude, she just didn’t expect you of all people to come out with it!’ John grinned.
He thought back to their love-making, to the uninhibited wildness that was in Amy and he felt warmth begin to spread through his body. There was nothing prudish in their shared passion.
He wasn’t unduly worried that last night she had turned away from him as soon as he had slid into bed – she had acknowledged that sex could be wonderful and he felt sure things would be okay between them.
Casually he took hold of his wife’s hand and raised it to his lips, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Brenda and she hid a smile of satisfaction as she touched the front cover of John’s book.
‘Many congratulations, John,’ she said softly. ‘As Freda said, we’re very proud of you.’
‘Not all my work, Ma. Amy did some of it and she’s done even more on the new book.’
‘And how long before that goes to Farmers?’
‘Another week at the outside. Then,’ he added wryly, ‘the real work starts.’
Brenda took the book to bed with her and read far into the night. She tried to be objective but felt a growing sense of excitement as the words tumbled from the pages. Her son-in-law was definitely not a run of the mill author – he had a wonderful far-reaching talent and it was with reluctance that she had to put down the book and sleep. She would never be up in time for Ken’s arrival.
Treverick glanced at his watch as he saw her bedroom light extinguish. Half past three? Maybe she was entertaining a gentleman friend… he jogged to the telephone box and dialled her number, a smile crossing his face. He could just imagine her annoyance at being interrupted – he waited.
‘Hello?’ he heard before quietly replacing the receiver. Half an hour later he rang again and then silently headed home, smiling all the way.
18
John stared with wonder at the face and figure of David’s new secretary. Her long dark brown hair echoed the beautiful brown eyes she turned towards him. She was tall and slender, and with long tapering fingers that emphasised the sheer femininity of her. The slight blush on her cheeks was pure English rose.
‘Dawn, get these contracts sent off will you?’ he heard David say from a distance. The woman smiled and took the documents.
‘Right away,’
Her voice, just as he had known it would, fitted the rest of her with warm, sensual perfection.
‘She’s an excellent typist, too,’ David said drily, following the direction of John’s look. ‘She’s off limits - you’re married. Now, the figures for Grave Matters are in and they’re through the roof. You’re number three in the best sellers list and we couldn’t ask for more. 1969 is definitely your year.’
John grinned. ‘And I’ve got some more news for you. If I can find a secretary within the next couple of weeks, you’ll have The Son finished by November.’
‘A secretary? But I thought Amy did all your typing.’ David frowned. ‘She did for Rest in Pieces and Grave Matters but as you know she edits my work as well and I don’t think it’s fair to put everything on her. I can well afford a secretary so we’re going to advertise. Wouldn’t mind one like your Miss…?’
‘Mrs Dawn Lynch and believe me you don’t get many like her.’
‘I just bet you don’t,’ he said to himself. Standing, he reached across the desk and ruffled David’s hair. ‘I am only joking you know. Amy’s the only woman in my life and always will be.’
David nodded and smiled but he knew without having to have it spelt out that his long-time friend was half serious.
‘Whatever you say, John, whatever you say – just leave Dawn alone. By the way, is it still okay for you and Amy to come over on Saturday?’
John nodded.
‘Definitely. And don’t put Pilot to bed before we get there. Give us a little bit of playtime with him, for goodness sake. We don’t see nearly enough of him.’
‘It’s time you had one of your own. Have you…?’
A shrug of John’s shoulders spoke volumes.
‘It’s been tentatively discussed but…oh, you know Amy. She’s frightened of committing herself to the idea of adoption. Sometimes I think we should never – oh, forget it. I’m just feeling a bit down.’
‘Want to talk?’
John shook his head. ‘Nothing much to say. You know how much I love Amy but I don’t think she really loves me. I don’t think she can love. I think Treverick killed something inside her…I know, I know. It’s hardly surprising but there are times when I feel so damn lonely, so…’ He turned to leave David’s office. ‘Take no notice, David. I’m talking out of my arse.’
‘If you are, it’s the first time ever, mate.’ David spoke quietly, trying to suppress the worry he felt for John. ‘I’m always here – don’t forget that.’
John gave himself a mental shake-up and forced a laugh.
‘See you Saturday. And remember to keep Pilot up.’
He left David’s office feeling angry at how much of himself he had revealed. He wa
s almost through the outer door of the office suite when he heard Dawn Lynch call him.
He turned with a smile – her voice putting a silly grin across his face.
‘Yes?’
‘Would you mind…?’ and she waved a copy of Grave Matters at him. ‘I have all three of your books but this is the only one I have with me.’
He took the book from her and wrote his name on the flyleaf.
‘Okay?’ he asked with a smile.
She nodded, no trace of shyness or embarrassment in her manner. ‘Thank you. I’ll treasure it.’
‘Ah’, he responded with a twinkle in his eye. ‘But have you read it?’
‘As soon as it was released. I was a fan long before I came to work for Farmers. And I won’t insult you by pretending I wanted your autograph for my son or my mother!’
‘Have you got one?’
‘What?’
‘A son.’
‘Oh, I see. No as a matter of fact I haven’t – I do have a mother, though,’ she laughed.
‘And a husband?’
‘No, no husband.’
‘I’m sorry. I thought David said…’
‘Mrs. Yes he did. I’m divorced. No husband, no children.’
The slight tone of bitterness in her speech was apparent but John wisely refrained from continuing. Instead he smiled at her, lightening the mood.
‘Congratulations! An emancipated lady. And what does a feminist do in Padstow when she’s not working for David?’
‘I don’t live in Padstow for a start. I live in Rock. I prefer the other side of the estuary to this side. And I do very little really. I read a lot, enjoy the theatre, have a sizable record collection – I keep myself busy.’
‘So, can I tempt you into taking a trip to the theatre with me?’
Her laughter was infectious – her put down was excellently accomplished. ‘And will Mrs Thornton need a ticket as well?’
He paused for a moment. ‘You’re right, of course. Forgive me, Dawn, it was unthinkable that I should ask you.’ His words sounded stilted even to him.
‘That’s okay. Don’t let it bother you.’
He gathered up the items he had placed on her desk and walked to the door. Turning he looked at her for a moment.
‘See you around – it was good talking to you.’
‘And you,’ she said softly, ‘and you.’
19
Treverick was happy with his new job. He was starting at the bottom but that didn’t worry him in the slightest – his newfound confidence in his abilities ensured a quick climb up the proverbial ladder.
It was harder now to keep a watch on the two Andrews women; it had been necessary to move to London. When he had applied for the new position he had discovered the drawback that he would be away from Cornwall, but London wasn’t that far away and acquiring a car had made life a whole lot easier.
He guessed it would take anything as long as ten years before he could capitalise but he knew one day he would be rewarded for his patience.
He had completed two thirds of his project; his appearance was now so completely unlike the younger Ronald Treverick as to be entirely unrecognisable and this job was a way to get to the Andrews family easily and smoothly.
If Treverick permitted himself the occasional small smile of pleasure, it was to be understood.
The girl lying below him on the bed saw one of his rare smiles and assumed it was for her. She guessed the smile meant he was enjoying the sex but inwardly she wondered. If he never climaxed surely that meant he wasn’t getting any satisfaction?
She moaned and thrust with her hips; Treverick looked down into her face with its flushed cheeks and closed eyes.
No, not beautiful, but she’d do for the time being.
20
The Farmer residence was impressive. A large, six-bedroomed house set in extensive gardens, its walls covered with ivy and virginia creeper, it exuded an air of welcoming tranquillity. Pat loved it, loved the security it afforded after a childhood of tension and unhappiness.
And she thoroughly enjoyed entertaining. Having Amy and John over for the day gave her a great deal of pleasure and she appreciated just how much John loved playtime with her young son. Sometimes she wondered about Amy, about how she felt towards the bundle of mischief hell bent on having the time of his life no matter who was there to join in with him – Amy was a very difficult person to understand.
She opened her mouth to remonstrate with the child – he was getting a little too loud – but John shook his head slightly and smiled at her as if to say leave him, he’s fine.
Pilot grinned up at John and then began to rain blows on his face.
‘I’m a boxer,’ he shouted then giggled as John placed a fist against his snub nose.
‘I’m a better boxer,’ his godfather declared, ‘and if you don’t behave I’ll prove it! I can beat any four year old on this earth!’
‘Sorry, John,’ Pat said. ‘That’s David’s fault - we’re working our way through all the sports to see which Pilot excels at. So far it’s tiddly winks.’
‘Tiddly winks, huh? Fancy taking me on, champ? Used to be pretty nifty at that myself…’ and the little boy took hold of his hand as they walked together across the lawn.
‘He’s lovely, Pat,’ Amy said, trying to squash the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface every time she saw Pilot.
‘Have you done anything yet about adoption?’ Pat as usual went straight to the heart of the matter. Only her appearance had changed in the eight years since they had left school. Her face had lost the elfin look, become more rounded, prettier, and she had put on a little weight following Pilot’s birth.
‘I can’t…’
‘But John would love a child. And so would you.’
‘Would I? I had a hell of a childhood – why would I inflict that on some other poor child?’
Pat stared at her in amazement.
‘But your childhood was so…extraordinary as to be almost unbelievable, Amy. How many children experience something like that? It wouldn’t be the same for your child.’
Amy looked across the expanse of green lawn obstinately putting her thoughts on hold. Who could say for definite that there wouldn’t be another Ronald Treverick out there, waiting for her child?
‘Let’s change the subject, Pat.’
Pat shrugged.
‘You can’t keep changing it forever. At least promise me you’ll think about it. John needs a child.’
She didn’t add what she was thinking – that maybe John needed a wife as well. She could see lines of tension that had appeared on his face and she wondered just how far Amy’s sexual revolution had taken her. She was only guessing but it wasn’t difficult to figure out that their relationship had taken a nose-dive.
‘Come on,’ she said, standing and placing cups on the tray. ‘Let’s go in. It looks as though we’re going to have to drag David off that phone.’
‘Don’t say a word to John, will you?’ There was pleading in Amy’s voice. ‘He’s in the middle of a book and can do without any hassle…’
Pat looked at her friend.
‘I won’t say anything but I think you should. Take a close look at him, Amy, a really close look.’
Dawn was on the telephone when John entered the reception area and she looked up, greeting him with a smile. She liked the tall young man very much and was all too aware of the physical attraction. Forbidden territory.
She held up a finger and mouthed one minute. In return he blew her a kiss. She felt herself begin to blush and turned her back on him as she continued her conversation.
‘Okay, Mr. Matthews, I’ll make sure it’s in the post to you tonight. Bye.’ She replaced the receiver.
‘And will you?’
‘What?’
‘Make sure it’s in the post. Whatever it is he wants.’
She laughed.
‘Of course – I never make promises I can’t keep.’
‘Never?’ He ra
ised one eyebrow and again she felt the blush start. He was blatantly flirting and she should have known how to handle it – would have known how to handle it if he hadn’t been so good-looking and pleasant with it.
She tried to be firm, to put him in his place.
‘No, never,’
‘But you’re divorced…’
‘I didn’t break the promises, he did.’
John managed to look contrite.
‘I’m sorry. That’s unforgivable, prying into your private life. Apology accepted?’
She smiled.
‘Of course. And you can pry all you like because I’m not telling you anything else. My marriage is over, wiped out and dismissed from my mind.’
‘Dawn, come for a drink with me?’
She shook her head, troubled by the response surging through her. She would love to be in the company of this man but…
‘No thanks, John. You’re married.’
‘Dawn…’
‘No, John. Drop it. And just how long do you think my job would last if Mr. Farmer found out?’
‘Oh, David’s a man of the world…’
‘Is he indeed? Why would I need to be a man of the world?’ David’s deep voice cut into their conversation and for a moment there was silence.
John was the first to break it.
‘We were discussing part of the plot of this damned novel. I’ve hit a bit of a writer’s block and I was considering sticking in a raunchy sex scene. Dawn said she didn’t think you’d appreciate it at that particular point but I think she’s wrong…’ John was aware he was waffling and was angry with his friend for causing his defensive attitude.
‘If in doubt, stick in a sex scene’. David paused and rubbed his chin. ‘Sounds like a good enough rule to me and there’s no getting away from it, it sells books. So did you want me, John, or has Dawn been able to help?’
‘Didn’t particularly want anyone, just happened to be in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d call in. But a coffee sounds like a good idea.’
‘Well, I’ve got a meeting but Dawn will look after you. Are we still on for golf on Saturday?’