“That just means she hasn’t met the right person yet. If the thought of taking on a special needs child puts someone off that much, then they’re not worth it.”
A vision of Melanie walking away from the school gates, holding Billy’s hand, flashed into her mind. The way she strode out so confidently contrasted starkly with Billy’s lopsided gait. Anyone who wasn’t touched by that had no soul. Surely, if the right man came along, he would welcome every aspect of her life, especially the way she coped with her situation. The way she always accepted Billy for what he was and never gave up on him.
“Allie? Allie?” Paul’s voice came to her as if from a long way away. She shook her head slightly, trying to relieve the rushing sound in her ears. Blinking away tears, she looked up at him as he moved over to where she was sitting and knelt before her. “Allie?” The touch of his cool fingers on her cheek felt good. Calming. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get upset.” He put his strong, comforting arms around her and pulled her towards him. “I’m sorry, Allie. I should have told you sooner.”
She relaxed into his embrace.
“It’s stupid of me to cry,” she said, breathing in his warm scent. “But I suppose I just feel for Melanie. I don’t know how she copes on her own and now I learn she has an abusive ex-husband who makes life even more difficult for her. Poor woman.”
Paul held her even closer. It was like being cushioned by steel.
“She copes well. She’s remarkable. But she wouldn’t want to see you waste your tears on her.” His deep voice seemed to reverberate through her body. “And, if it helps, the threats and visits are getting less frequent. It won’t be long before he gives up.” Allie nodded. “And if he doesn’t, there’s an injunction coming through any day now,” he continued, drawing back and looking into her eyes. “So there is a plan B, if you like.”
At arm’s length from him, she basked in the deep intensity of his gaze. His expression had changed from one of anger to one of desire, enticing her in. Her skin prickled with anticipation as his hands moved from her shoulders down her arms and he began to pull her towards him again.
“Now that’s sorted, as you Brits say,” he said, kneeling back while pulling her off the chair and firmly astride him, “maybe we could….”
“Could what?” She loved the feeling of being directed. He began to caress her back gently, in stark contrast to the dominance with which he had just handled her. She shifted her weight a little. His muscular thighs were as hard as rock. “Maybe we could see if the floor is more accommodating than my single bed,” he murmured into her neck. “If we’ve finished talking, that is?” His lips brushed her chest and she let her head fall back, pulling him towards her. There was still too much distance between them. The strength of his shoulders, of his whole being, took her breath away for an instant. Try as she might, she couldn’t make him come any closer. He was holding back and there was no way he was going to do what she wanted. Yet.
She opened her eyes and looked directly at him. The touch of his lips was driving her mad.
“Paul, stop teasing me.”
He looked up suddenly, a mischievous expression on his face.
“Sorry, Allie. Have we finished talking? Do we have any more secrets?”
The heat she could feel building up between her legs was becoming unbearable.
“No, that’s it. Finished. I’m happy with that,” she gasped. “Finito. Over. Done….”
“OK,” he said, pulling her back towards him at last and kissing her more roughly now. “Now, let’s try out that floor….”
As they changed position and he laid her down effortlessly on the deep pile rug, one thought occurred to her. Her stalker. She hadn’t told Paul about her stalker. The waves of passion were coming thick and fast now, sensations filling her mind, crowding out all higher thought. As his thigh pressed between her legs, she had trouble focusing on anything except her own pleasure. I’ll tell him later, she thought, as he ripped off her clothes, searching out every inch of her, tasting her, savouring her.
Then all logic disappeared as his shirt came off and she willingly surrendered to his passionate onslaught.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday evening in London was damp and drizzly. It was the kind of drizzle that didn’t seem to happen much in France, where it either rained, or it didn’t. Where sleek-haired women flaunted their look, or covered their heads stylishly. Either way, they remained effortlessly elegant, with not a frizzy lock in sight. Unless that was how their hairstyle was meant to be. As Allie stepped off the coach in the school playground and felt strands of hair begin to curl up, she sighed. Picking up her suitcase and beckoning to George and Harry, she made a mental note to invest in some hair straighteners and a can of hairspray. If her love life were about to take off again, she would need to make more of an effort.
“You’ll sleep well tonight,” she remarked, as her weary-looking children walked slowly over to her.
“I’m not tired,” insisted George, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
“Nor am I,” yawned Harry. “Can we play on Play Station when we get home?”
Allie shook her head.
“Certainly not. Bed, when you get home.”
“But we’ve got tomorrow off,” they chorused. Their voices had just enough of a whine to them to harden Allie’s resolve.
“I don’t care,” she said, firmly. “Tuesday is still a school day, and you need your rest.”
“But mum….”
“You can play tomorrow morning,” she promised, one eye on Paul as he descended from the coach, holding Billy’s hand. She focused fleetingly on his muscular arms as he bent to retrieve his bag. Remembering the feel of them around her, she blushed. “I want you in bed as soon as we get in,” she said, unable to tear her eyes away from him. “I’ve got things to do, and it’s late.”
Paul caught her eye from a distance and smiled. She knew without asking him that he would come home with her. There was a depth of desire in his gaze that made her stomach churn. She smiled back and then looked away quickly, conscious of her sons’ wide-eyed attention.
“Is Mr. Richmond coming home with us, mum?”
George’s voice was a little too loud for her liking. She glanced round hurriedly, taking in Miss Simpson and Paul in deep conversation now, checking a list, Melanie waving to her before leading Billy to the gate, and various children hugging their parents, chattering eagerly and bouncing up and down with excitement. I think we got away with that, she thought.
“Yes, he is,” she said softly. “He needs to check something.”
“God, mum. He’s taking ages looking over that homework,” said Harry, wrinkling his nose in puzzlement.
“Yeah, mum,” giggled George, huge eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Anyone would think he was your boyfriend…” He gave the last word the note of distain only an eight-year-old boy could.
“The idea of it!” Allie laughed out loud. “Of course he’s not…” Her voice tailed off.
“It’s OK, mum,” said Harry. His tone was long-suffering. “He’s only joking.”
“I know,” said Allie quickly. She was suddenly at a loss as to how to change the subject. Her eyes went from one boy to the other.
Harry turned to George, his expression serious.
“I don’t think mum likes that joke,” he said. “Tell us one of your ‘knock-knock’ ones instead.”
“Knock, knock…..”
Their voices faded into the background as Allie became aware of Paul at her side. He was close enough for her to sense every inch of his body underneath his clothes. I have become some kind of man-detecting radar, she mused. Only tuned into one particular man, of course.
“Mrs. Johnson.” His deep voice reverberated around her, seeming to caress her skin. “George and Harry,” he continued. “I need to come home with you to check something. Is that OK?”
“Yes, sir,” they chorused. Oh, to command such respect, thought Allie.
As he began to carry it effortlessly towards the gate, Allie noticed Miss Simpson glance over. She was in deep discussion with the coach driver, but looked at Paul for an instant, and then caught Allie’s eye. Allie saw a flicker of curiosity in her regard, tinged with amusement, before she looked away. Shit. She knows. Allie’s heart sank and she began to wonder at the practicalities of what they were doing. How long could it stay a secret? And what would be the consequences if it didn’t?
As soon as they drew up to the house, Allie knew there was something wrong. The front door was ajar and light streamed out onto the front garden from every window on the ground floor. The moment the car drew to a halt, Allie ran up the path and into the house, leaving a puzzled Paul to bring up the rear with George and Harry. As she ducked past the huge moths fluttering round the porch light, the first thing that hit her was the smell of fresh paint.
“James! James! What’s going on?” Her voice echoed around the hallway.
James emerged from the front room, roller in hand, hair tousled and speckled with white. He was followed by Jeremiah and Liz, both wearing overalls and holding paintbrushes.
“Don’t worry, Allie,” he began, moving swiftly towards her and placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ve had to do some emergency decorating.”
“What’s happened?” Allie asked, taking in at the same time Liz’s short dark hair pushed back under a huge flowery headband, and the specks of paint on Jeremiah’s nose.
The latter stepped forward and leaned against the banisters.
“Some idiot thought it was a good idea to daub stuff on your walls. So we decided it had to go.”
“Uh?” Allie’s reaction was to the point. “What do you mean? Someone just…” She found herself at a loss for words. “…came in and, er, daubed?”
“A bit like graffiti. But on the inside.” It was only on hearing Liz’s voice ring out around the empty space, that Allie realised all furniture and coats had disappeared.
Jeremiah, who had moved away from the staircase, was looking in dismay at the arm of his overall. It was covered in white stripes.
“Shit,” he muttered. His gaze alighted on the doorway behind Allie. “Sorry, kids. I mean…. Bother.” He turned to Liz. “I’ll have to do this banister again. Pass the gloss.”
As Liz went back into the front room, Allie took a closer look at her entrance hall. Devoid of mirrors, hooks and clutter, it looked huge. The smooth white walls showed no sign of anything being amiss. Despite the circumstances, she had to admit it looked like a professional decorating job. But what on earth had happened? Why?
Liz had reappeared with a pot of gloss paint and she and Jeremiah deftly touched up the stair posts. Aware of Paul standing close behind her, Allie focused again on James. She saw him give Paul a curt nod, and noticed a flicker of curiosity in his eyes before he switched his gaze back to her.
“We’re almost finished in the front room,” he explained, moving to bar her way as she tried to get past him. “But maybe you won’t want to see it yet,” he continued. “It might upset you, Allie.”
She glared at him.
“Let me past, James. I have to see.” She moved forwards. “This is my house, after all.”
He shrugged and stood back, glancing at Paul over her head.
“OK. But not the kids.”
She could hear Paul’s soft, deep voice as she walked past James towards the front room:
“Stay with me, boys. Let your mum have a look.”
Allie took a deep breath and went in. The pile of furniture in the centre of the room was covered with a couple of old sheets, and the walls were bare. Three of them were smooth, white and fresh. The remaining wall was covered in red writing. Although her eyes were immediately drawn to the colour, she made a conscious effort to take in everything else first, before looking at the words. When she finally focused on them, they leapt out at her, making her heart race.
LEAVE HIM ALONE, BITCH, OR YOU’LL DIE.
Oh my God. All of a sudden, she felt weak. Blood coursed round her body and her mouth felt dry. Who was this? Who hated her so much that they would break in and do this? These were the thoughts she remembered whirling round her head as she tried to turn round and saw James rushing towards her. Then the floor came up to meet her and the world went black.
The first thing Allie noticed encroaching on the darkness was a fuzzy, grey light, which crept in slowly from the sides. As the light increased, she began to open her eyes. Almost immediately, it brightened. Until it became dazzling enough to make her want to close her eyes again.
“Doctor? She’s woken up. Allie? Allie? Are you OK?”
The familiar, deep voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of her right shoulder. She forced herself to open her eyes again and was greeted by the sight of Paul, gazing down at her. She could see relief in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. Gradually, she became aware of cool sheets over her body, a soft pillow under her head, and a lamp on in the corner. Everything felt just a little fuzzy. “I think I am anyway,” she added.
“Hold on, Mrs. Johnson. Don’t try to get up yet.” The voice drifting over from the left was one she didn’t recognise. “I need to examine you before we let you move.”
She turned her head and winced. A searing pain shot across her temples, lingering behind her eyes. She felt as though she had the hangover from Hell.
“Just lie still,” the voice continued. “I need to check your blood pressure again, now you’re conscious.”
“What happened?” Allie’s mouth felt so dry, she had problems producing more than a croak. “I fainted, right?”
“Right.” The reassuring tone of Paul’s voice made her feel better instantly. “You were out cold for a while there. You had us worried.” She sensed his hand cover hers.
“Yes, indeed you did, Mrs. Johnson.” The doctor wrapped something around her left arm and deftly proceeded to pump it up. “But luckily, you came around relatively quickly. And if your blood pressure is normal, then I think we can presume your losing consciousness was the shock of…. um,” his soft voice tailed off as he stopped pumping. “Events.” He let out some of the pressure. “Let me see…… Yes. It’s fine now. You’ll have a headache for a while. You need to rest. Drink plenty of water. Don’t do anything too strenuous. And you’ll need someone with you tonight.” He turned to Paul. “Will you be… I mean…” His cheeks reddened slightly as he directed his gaze quickly back to Allie. “You do have someone to look after you tonight, don’t you, Mrs. Johnson?” He hastily turned his attention to taking off the blood pressure band.
“She does, yes.” Paul smiled at the doctor. “She won’t be alone.” Allie felt a rush of warmth as Paul squeezed her hand.
“That’s fine, then. Any problems, give the helpline a ring.” The doctor fished into the chaos of his bag and instantly produced a laminated card, handing it to Paul. “Here’s a list of symptoms to look out for in the next twenty-four hours. If she should start doing any of these things, get her straight to casualty.” Paul nodded. “And here,” the doctor reached in again, locating another card. “….are all the numbers you need for help and advice.”
Paul chuckled as he reached over.
“You were obviously a magician in a former life.”
The doctor’s solemn look disappeared and his face relaxed into a grin.
“Probably,” he said, picking up his battered bag and heading for the door. “I rather like to think I was Ghandi, but I maybe I did tricks too. I’ll see myself out. You’ll feel better by tomorrow, Mrs. Johnson. Bye now.”
“Goodbye doctor.” Allie’s line of vision had only just caught up with him as he disappeared. A few seconds later, she heard the door slam downstairs, echoing round the empty hallway. The sound brought the events of a few hours earlier home to her. She fixed her gaz
e on Paul. “What happened?”
Concern flickered in his eyes.
“You mean, you don’t remember?”
“I remember up until I passed out. The red writing on the wall.” She thought for a moment. “There was red writing on the wall, wasn’t there?”
“Was, yes. It’s all gone now, and you have a freshly decorated front room. It was only the front room and hall, you know.”
“Oh.” Allie wasn’t sure quite what to say to that. “Good.” She sighed. “I mean…. You know what I mean.” She stopped for a moment. There was something else she knew she should ask about. What was it?
“The boys are staying with James for the night. So you can have a complete rest tomorrow.”
That was it. Her children.
“I’m not feeling too good, Paul.”
He sat up immediately.
“Do you feel nauseous?”
She smiled.
“No. Just a bit muddled in my head. As if my brain’s out of focus.”
He relaxed his posture a little.
“You need to sleep. You’ll feel much better in the morning.” He bent and kissed her softly on the top of her head. For an instant, she felt like a child being tucked in at night. “Try to sleep now,” he continued, easing her forwards and rearranging her pillows as he spoke. “I’ll be right here. Just call my name if you need me.”
She could hear him moving around the room as she closed her eyes. The last thing she was aware of was him getting into bed beside her. She could feel him stroking her head gently as the room began to spin and she fell into a deep, black sleep.
The next day, Paul woke up early. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, bouncing shimmering rainbows from the antique mirror onto the white wall. He glanced at his watch: six am. His neck felt a little stiff as he rolled over to face Allie, who was still asleep. With her light, wavy hair spread over the pillow and her cheek resting on one hand, she looked the picture of innocence and calm. He studied her face carefully. Her skin was smooth and there was at last more colour in her complexion. Looking at her now, you wouldn’t have known there was anything wrong. Not wanting to wake her, he rolled over again and got up in one swift movement. His clothes were in a heap on the floor. He picked them up, then pushed the window open gently to let in some air. The room was full of accumulated heat that was making him sweat, despite the fact that he was only wearing his boxer shorts. He managed to manoeuvre round the bed without making a noise. As the door creaked open, he cursed silently to himself, glancing back at Allie. He needn’t have worried. She didn’t move.
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