by Pamela Fudge
As the weekend approached, and with her aunt getting more and more excited by the promised outing, Roz found that she was getting more and more confused about her own feelings.
Instead of being pleased that she was about to be freed from a commitment that had long since outgrown its usefulness, she found that she was dreading the final break. She was beginning to store up every minute that she spent in Sam's company in a memory bank that held many moments from their shared past.
To make matters worse, she was also beginning to remember, in far too much detail, the kiss they had recently shared. Reliving it over and over in her mind was making it take on all the proportions of a major love-scene, and she found that she was looking at Sam with a new and intense awareness.
It's because he's a presentable man, she assured herself with monotonous regularity, not to mention the only one in your immediate vicinity. In London, he would only be one of many, and not half so noticeable or so inviting, but when she found herself becoming almost as excited as Aunt Ellen at the thought of going out to dinner with him, even in company, she decided that something had to be done.
The something she decided on was something that she realised she should have done very much sooner, and that was to ring Andrew. She doubted very much if he had taken the time to contact her. On reflection that was probably just as well because her mobile phone and laptop hadn’t seen the light of day since she’d arrived in Brankstone and become immediately embroiled in the whole engagement ending saga. Then she had simply found herself enjoying the break without the continuous interruptions that were normally accepted as part and parcel of her life. Calls and emails had simply been left un-checked – which would have been unheard of in London.
Anyway, as she reminded herself, she was on holiday from work, and she and Andrew had sensibly agreed before she came away, not to bother with phone calls. Two weeks apart was nothing, after all, when they had their whole lives together mapped out in front of them. However, it did still rankle – just a little – that ringing her anyway wouldn’t have occurred to Andrew. He wasn’t the most spontaneous of men. But perhaps that was something she could change.
She would invite him down to stay next weekend, she decided, let Aunt Ellen meet him. The break together would do them both good and she and Sam would have safely broken the news of the natural demise of the engagement to her aunt by then. Roz was sure she would be only too pleased and relieved to know, not only that Roz had someone else in her life, but that marriage in the near future was very definitely on the cards.
She waited until Saturday morning when Sam had taken her aunt to the cash and carry and she had the house to herself with no fear of interruption. It would be a good time for Andrew, too, because it was the one day that he could usually be found at home relaxing after a hectic week in the office.
Unwilling to unearth her own mobile and feel obliged to start answering missed calls and texts, she lifted the receiver of her aunt’s old-fashioned house phone, carefully dialled the number and found herself feeling unaccountably nervous as she waited for Andrew to answer. She could picture his vibrating mobile phone, the very latest and most expensive must-have piece of technology, sitting on the smoked glass and chrome table in the modern, minimalistic dock-side apartment, and see him sitting beside it surrounded by all the day's financial newspapers.
'Hello, Reynolds speaking.'
Roz physically jumped at the barking tone, and had to fight an urge to replace the receiver without saying a word.
'It's me, Andrew,' she began apologetically, and rushed on, 'Now, I know we decided we wouldn't ring, but...'
'Rosalind, darling - how lovely to hear from you.'
She couldn't help it, she held the phone away from her ear and stared at it in stunned surprise, before placing it back to her ear with a pleased smile.
'Well, I wanted to hear your voice,' she explained, more confidently, 'and hoped you wouldn't mind the interruption too much.'
'Always got time for you, my sweet, you should know that. But tell me, when are you coming home? I miss you.'
'Do you?' Roz was thrilled, and felt a warm glow at his words. He'd never been a demonstrative man, and she was becoming quite used to his abrupt manner, but it was nice to be told, once in a while, that you were special and your absence had been noticed.
'Of course I do. You know what it's like here without a partner. After all,' he gave a short laugh, 'no-one wants an odd number at their dinner table, do they?'
Roz felt as if she had been slapped, but then she struggled to be sensible, to remind herself that it was just his way and she was being too sensitive. He had chosen her as his life's partner, hadn't he? That had to count for something.
'I promised to stay two weeks,' she reminded him, and then went on tentatively, 'I was wondering whether you could find the time to come here – perhaps next weekend? Then we could travel back together. After all,' she rushed on, determined to have her say, 'if we're to be married, Andrew, you really should meet my great-aunt Ellen, and I know she'd just love to meet you.'
Perhaps that last statement was stretching the truth just a fraction, but Roz was well pleased with the way it sounded. She could almost see Andrew charming her aunt with his keen wit and clever conversation. How could she fail to be impressed?
'Me? Come down there?' the derisive laughter grated on her ear, and Roz found herself frowning as he went on, 'Me - in the heart of Dorset? I don’t think so, my sweet. All that clean air, dear God, the very thought makes me shudder.'
Disappointment made her edgy, and she found herself snapping, 'It would only be for a day or two, Andrew. I really don't think that's so much to ask.'
'Of course it wouldn't normally, darling,' his tone changed to a cajoling note, 'and I would willingly do it for you - if it were any other time, much as I detest too much sea air - but this coming week is one of my busiest, with important meetings almost every day, and you know I must have my weekends to unwind, or I simply couldn't cope.’
Roz didn't even bother to point out that he could do his 'unwinding' just as well in her company. She told herself that she should have realised that she was laying herself wide open for rejection knowing, as she did only too well, that Andrew didn't believe that a world existed outside of London. She had thought until very recently that she felt just the same and wondered what had changed in so short a time.
They spoke for a while longer, or Andrew did, promising tickets for a show he knew that she’s been longing to see and a meal in her favourite restaurant when she returned. He was obviously trying to make up for his refusal to do as she wanted, and Roz really did try to be grateful, but his lack of understanding hurt none-the-less and she could only feel relief when she finally replaced the receiver.
She wandered moodily round the house, trying to tell herself that everything would be all right once she was back in London again. It was too easy to forget how crazy it was there when you were away from the capital and your place of work for any length of time - and how taken up you could be with the pace of things, and the great need you felt to keep your finger firmly on the pulse.
'It will be all right. I know it will'
She spoke the words aloud, as if doing so would give her assurance, but she also found herself wondering if Andrew would ever so much as cancel a single meeting for her, whatever the reason.
What if she were taken ill? She found herself pointlessly asking the question. What if she were in labour with their baby? What then?
For a long moment the question made her stand very still, as she wondered for the first time if Andrew even wanted a family, and she realised that it was just one of the many things they had never got round to discussing. She hadn't been at all sure that she wanted one herself until that moment, but she suddenly knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that she actually did.
Yes, she nodded with a firmness that surprised her, she wanted all those things that she had professed to despise in the past. She wanted the husband, the h
ome and the family, in that order, and most of all, she acknowledged, she wanted the love to wrap it all up in. The burning question was - did Andrew want that, too, any of it?
She seemed to have been gazing out of the front room window for a very long time, staring with unseeing eyes at the now tidy sweep of the weed-free drive. She felt vaguely disenchanted with everything about her life and was filled with unusual doubts. She was actually fighting a strong desire to cry when the old estate car was swung into the drive with as much panache as if it were a Porsche.
She watched as Sam jumped from the driver's seat, performing an energetic leap across the wide bonnet before throwing open the passenger door and helping a smiling Aunt Ellen from the car. Suddenly, Roz was laughing, too, her ill-humour forgotten as she went out to help unload the shopping.
'And what have you been doing with yourself this morning?' Sam asked, dropping a casual arm round her waist and an equally careless kiss on her cheek.
Roz smiled up at him, letting the warmth of his greeting cheer her still more, as she replied carefully, 'Oh, nothing much, I'm afraid. I should have come with you and made myself useful.'
'Haven't you even put the kettle on?' Aunt Ellen chided. 'I'm spitting feathers here.'
'No sooner said than done,' Roz promised rushing ahead, pausing only to hold the door open for Sam, who was so laden down with boxes that he could barely see over the top. She was putting the kettle to boil when he emerged from the walk-in pantry and, when she held out a hand, he whipped a packet of chocolate biscuits out from behind his back with all the flair of a magician producing a rabbit from a hat.
'Do you think you can get Ellen to have a lie-down before tonight?' he said under his breath. 'She’s been on the go since first thing and looks worn out, but is still insisting that she's just fine. She won't listen to me.'
Not many men would be so caring, even of someone as special as Aunt Ellen, Roz knew, and Sam went up one more notch in her estimation. Watching him through the open pantry door as he unloaded tins, bottles and packets very expertly, she realised that he never seemed to concern himself too much about his image, or what people might think. Sam was absolutely his own person, and she knew very well how rare that was in a man.
'I thought I'd pop into Win's later, to find out what she's wearing,' her aunt proclaimed when she finally stopped pottering, sank gratefully into a chair and looked hopefully at the teapot.
'I wouldn't,' Roz advised, arranging the biscuits tastefully onto a plate. 'She told me, yesterday, that she intended to have a good rest this afternoon, because she's not used to late nights, and doesn't want to disgrace herself by falling asleep at the table. She's wearing her good navy suit with the black patent accessories - if that's any help.' The latter was only an educated guess, but as it was what Win usually wore out Roz felt quite safe making it.
Ellen looked at first taken-aback and then thoughtful. She sipped her tea in silence, but Roz was not surprised when her ploy worked and her aunt suddenly said, 'I think I might just put my feet up for an hour - and I shall wear my royal blue dress.'
Sam gave a jubilant thumbs-up sign from the doorway of the store cupboard, accompanied by a smile and a wink that caused Roz's heart to somersault most uncomfortably.
'I've got some cooling eye-pads that you're welcome to use,' she offered, turning her attention determinedly to her aunt, 'and I can do your hair later, if you'd like. I brought my hair styling paraphernalia with me and there'll be plenty of time.'
'Oh, would you, dear?' the older woman looked so pleased that Roz wondered why she hadn't thought to offer before, and she made herself a promise that she would make her aunt look a million dollars for her evening out.
The house was quiet, the lunch things all put away and Aunt Ellen had gone, quite happily, to lie down on her bed. Roz and Sam, with nothing else to do, made themselves comfortable in the sitting room.
'I never thought to ask,' Roz only spoke to break the silence, and because she wouldn't let herself believe that being alone with Sam could cause her to be tongue-tied, 'if you had actually got around to booking a table for tonight?'
He gave her a very straight look, and raised his eyebrows comically almost to his hair-line, before saying in the driest tone, 'Fancy me forgetting to do that!'
'You didn't?' then she laughed, but not as lightly as she might have wished. 'Oh, all right. I didn't really think you had - I was just checking.'
'Come and sit down,' he tugged at her hand until she sank onto the sofa beside him, 'and put your feet up. Do you want the TV on?'
She really wanted to say yes, but she was numbingly aware of the lean length of his thigh pressing against hers, and the warmth of his arm through the sleeve of her silk blouse was sending tingling messages to her brain that couldn't be ignored, no matter how much she tried - and she did try - very hard.
'Uh.'
It sounded like no, and the television remained stubbornly off. She wanted to move away, but knew if she did he was sure to guess why, and so it was simpler to remain where she was.
'That was a master stroke of yours, telling Ellen about Win taking a nap.' Sam relaxed back against the cushions, and stretched, before placing a careless arm along the back of the couch where it brushed tantalizingly against the sensitive skin at the back of her neck and sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.
God, she felt so cross with herself. She'd been home for a week now, had known Sam for seven long years and been 'engaged' for six of those. How was it? she asked herself furiously, that he suddenly had the power to make her feel like a gauche teenager, and he wasn't even aware of it - or her - for that matter?
'She did look a little tired,' Roz forced herself to concentrate on the idle conversation, and on relaxing muscles that were rigid with tension, ignoring with difficulty the close proximity of the man beside her.
'You looked a bit upset when we first got home,' he leaned forward, an expression of concern on his good-looking face. 'Haven't received bad news, I hope.'
She hadn't intended to say anything to anyone about her conversation with Andrew, but somehow, perhaps because he really seemed to care, she found herself telling Sam of all people all about it.
'I had thought that I might persuade him to come down towards the end of next week. It would really round off my holiday to have him stay here for a couple of days before I leave,' she admitted, trying not to let the hurt she was feeling show in her voice. ‘Then we could have travelled back together, but he's far too busy with meetings, and the paperwork that always results in, all the week. There's no way he could cancel anything, and of course,' she added loyally, 'I wouldn't expect him to.'
'Of course not.'
There was no hint of criticism in Sam's even tone, for which Roz was grateful and she went on, 'I had thought that once you and I had told Aunt Ellen about the engagement being off, maybe then, if Andrew had been able to come - well - she would have been able to see for herself how suitable he is for me.'
The way she said it, it didn't even sound quite right to her own admittedly sensitive ears, but again, Sam just nodded as if he knew just what she meant. She should have known that he would understand.
'And you're quite sure that there's no chance of Andrew changing his mind?' he asked, his tawny gaze never wavering from her face. 'Not even if you told him how much it would mean to have him here.'
It was a reasonable enough question, but it only served to make Roz more fed up than she was already. 'I'm quite sure, Sam, but I know that he would come if he could.'
'I’m sure he would come down if he was free,' Sam soothed, but even as he spoke Roz suddenly remembered a time, years before, when she had rung him simply because she was homesick and alone in London. She recalled, all too clearly, how Sam had caught the very next train to be with her, and rearranging his busy schedule he had stayed until she was settled and happy to be left once more.
'Yes, he'll come when he can.'
Who was she trying to convince? she asked hers
elf, but when Sam smiled at her like that, with disconcertingly tender look in his eyes, she even began to wonder if it really mattered whether Andrew bothered to come and join her at all.
CHAPTER EIGHT
That Roz was really quite angry with Andrew was a fact that she only really understood and acknowledged as she soaked in a deep and soothing bubble bath.
Yes, angry, she admitted, almost in wonder. She was angry that her wishes obviously didn't count for very much in his scheme of things, and angry - and hurt - that she clearly meant so little to him.
Was this really the man, she asked herself, that she planned to spend the rest of her life with? A man who was clearly impressed by her work ethic, but was ever willing put her personal happiness a poor second to even the flimsiest of work commitments, and second even to his own relaxation. How many times had he asked her to give up her own precious free time? - and how many times had she gladly done so for him? - yet he seemed to be only too willing to forgo time spent in her company for anything that wasn’t work related.
She stopped her train of thought quite suddenly horrified at the bitterness she felt towards the man she had come to believe she was so completely in tune with. She refused to allow herself to remember and accept that it was Andrew's tune that they invariably danced to and reminded herself, instead, just how keen he was to get ahead, and that it was to both of their advantages that he did.
'Sometimes, in life, you have to be single-minded,' she soaped her body busily, listening to the words as they were spoken aloud, as if that would give them more emphasis - more truth. 'It does no good to be faint-hearted in the world of business when there are too many people waiting to step into your shoes.'
Roz was beginning to feel better and, to keep the feeling going, she went on to recall all the times that Andrew had sent her flowers, the lovely jewellery he sometimes surprised her with, and the very evident pride he always took in her appearance.