Onwards Flows the River

by Caroline Windsor

  Hannah frowned. “Well, I thought she might be once – but she’s always denied it when I’ve brought the subject up.”

  “Well, she is, trust me. And now, of course, she thinks I’m trying to steal him away from her – which I’m not – and the whole thing has turned into the most ridiculous muddle. And the last thing I want is to spoil my friendship with Kate.”

  Jo threw Hannah an appealing glance, hoping she could shed some new light on the problem. But Hannah’s thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

  “I still can’t believe you actually hit him!” She giggled. “I’d give anything to have seen the expression on his face.”

  “Oh, get out, Hannah!” Jo flung open the door in exasperation. “Go and cheer Kate up, for goodness’ sake. She’s done it often enough for you.”

  o0o

  “Kate? It’s Hannah. Can I come in?”

  “If you must.”

  Hannah opened the door a crack and peered in. Kate’s bed was in disarray, the quilt rucked up, her book abandoned face-down beside her. A mound of scrunched-up paper handkerchiefs bore testimony to her recent bout of weeping. Kate herself sat hunched against the pillows, arms clasped around her knees, rocking like a baby.

  Hannah’s heart went out to her. She hadn’t seen her friend in such a state since her parents had been killed a year ago. And all this because of Aidan. If she hadn’t got the evidence of her own eyes, she’d never have believed it.

  “Oh, Kate.” She shut the door quietly behind her and crossed the room. “I’m so sorry. I did think once that you might be fond of Aidan, but I’d no idea you were really in love with him.” She perched on the bed and put her arms around her. They rocked to and fro in silence.

  “It’s no good,” a rasping sob made Kate’s shoulders heave, “he’ll never love me. I thought he might – once I’d left school and everything – but it’s as if he never even noticed me.”

  Hannah gave her a squeeze. “That’s men for you – never notice what’s right in front of their noses.”

  “He noticed Jo all right.”

  Hannah sighed. “I can’t imagine why – I wouldn’t have thought she was his type at all. She’s far too abrasive for one thing and she’s an atheist into the bargain.”

  A tear slid down Kate’s cheek and landed on her upturned book. “Your mother thinks that may be the attraction. She says Aidan likes a challenge.” Her shoulders heaved.

  “Hmm.” Hannah reached for the box of tissues. “Well, she could be right, I suppose. But, anyway, it’s all academic, isn’t it? Whatever my brother may or may not feel for Jo – she feels absolutely nothing for him. And that’s one challenge I don’t think he’s likely to be able to overcome.”

  Kate blew her nose noisily. “But even if he doesn’t manage to win her over – and I’m not sure I believe Jo anyway – it still won’t make any difference. Jo or no Jo, Aidan obviously doesn’t feel one little jot of affection for me.” Her sobs redoubled.

  “Damn my brother!” Hannah’s own eyes were watering in sympathy. “How could he be such an idiot? You’re ten times more suitable for him than Jo – why on earth can’t he see that?”

  Kate forced a wry smile. “Unfortunately suitability has nothing to do with it. Aidan’s in love – and there’s absolutely nothing you or I can do about it.”

  o0o

  “It’s New Year’s Eve and here we are, in London, with sod all to do. It’s nothing short of disgraceful!” Hannah kicked the table leg moodily.

  Kate pushed away the remains of her lunch. The dawning of the new year meant very little to her, but she knew that, for Hannah, the thought of being partnerless and partyless on the thirty-first of December was a humiliation not easily borne.

  “What do you want to do then?” She tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. “We could go out somewhere if you liked.”

  “Where? And who with? Nobody’s invited us anywhere – and I don’t want to spend the evening squashed up in some seedy bar looking as if I’m waiting to be picked up.”

  “All right then – why don’t we put on a special meal for ourselves here? Something a bit out of the ordinary – you know – duck with orange sauce, for instance, and a really yummy sweet. And a bottle of wine, of course.”

  “Or even two bottles.” Hannah’s expression brightened.

  “Well, if there’s no sex on offer, I suppose a bit of comfort eating might cheer us up.”

  “I suppose we’d better ask Jo if she’d like to join us.”

  Hannah heard the reluctance in her tone and gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re right, we should. There’s only the three of us here after all – it’d look a bit mean if we didn’t.”

  Kate nodded. “I don’t really mind – it’s just that things are still a little bit awkward between us, you know.”

  “I know. But at least the two of you are talking to each other – even if it is a bit strained.”

  Hannah leapt up and went to fetch a pad and paper from the telephone table in the hall.

  “Right now, let’s make a list.”

  “Better get some fresh orange juice for Jo – you know she doesn’t drink alcohol.”

  “All the more for us then.” Hannah started to write.

  “I can make that Queen of puddings you’re so fond of, if you like.”

  “You’re a saint! And I’ll do a prawn cocktail for starters. We can do the duck and veg between us. I know Jo’s trying to finish an essay today, so we’ll leave her alone till tonight.”

  “Right then, if you’ve finished the list, we’ll take Sooty down to the supermarket.”

  o0o

  “Goodness, Hannah – what’s that fantastic smell? I’ve been positively drooling for at least an hour.” Jo, bleary-eyed from her day’s study, plonked her empty mug down on the kitchen table.

  Hannah laughed. “It’s the duck – or it could be the roast potatoes of course – or even the orange sauce. It’s not the prawn cocktail though – that doesn’t need cooking!”

  Jo looked at her suspiciously. “What unfortunate man have you managed to drag in off the streets then?”

  Hannah gave her a wounded look. “Nobody. It’s a special New Year’s Eve meal for you and me and Kate – just the three of us. Actually, I did drop in on Albert on the way back from the supermarket to see if he wanted to join us, but he’s going around to one of his racing cronies for the evening.”

  Jo cast a wary glance at Kate who was warming the raspberry jam for the Queen of puddings. “For me too, you said? I must admit I wasn’t expecting such a lovely treat.”

  Kate looked up and smiled. “Of course for you too – would we leave you out of an occasion like this?”

  So she was forgiven at last. Not that there was anything to forgive, of course – except in Kate’s imagination. Nevertheless, Jo felt a considerable sense of relief. These past few days of being at odds with her friend had upset her more than she had bargained for. The upside, however, of the solitary hours which she had spent up in her room, had been the satisfactory completion of a considerable volume of work. She felt in the mood to celebrate.

  “So,” she returned the smile, “are we dressing up for this very special occasion – or is it a slobby hens’ night in?”

  “Certainly we’re dressing up,” Hannah assured her. “Who knows how many Prince Charmings will be tripping through the front door once they hear there are three frustrated females locked up inside?”

  “Speak for yourself.” Jo gave her a sardonic look. “I’m not in the least frustrated – and I’m quite capable of having a good time without the dubious benefit of having some man around.”

  “Absolutely,” Kate agreed.

  “In that case,” Hannah poured herself a glass of wine, “I propose to have a long, lingering and delightfully smelly bath,
before dressing up to the nines to impress my two best female friends.” She raised her glass to them and swept from the room.

  o0o

  “That was every bit as good as Mum’s Christmas dinner.” Hannah licked the last traces of duck from her fingers and laid down the bone on her plate.

  Jo rose to clear the plates away. “I insist you leave all the washing up to me – you’ve spent hours in the kitchen today already.”

  “It was worth it though, wasn’t it?” Kate smiled at her. “We haven’t spent an evening together like this – just the three of us, I mean – since we went out to the Italian restaurant on your birthday.”

  “And you can’t possibly start washing up yet,” Hannah protested. “We’ve still got Kate’s Queen of puddings to come.”

  Jo grinned. “I thought you might like a break between courses after the amount you’ve put away – but obviously, I was wrong.” She heaped the plates into a tidy pile. “I’ll take these out to the kitchen and bring the pudding in.”

  “Meanwhile,” Hannah reached out for the wine bottle with a slightly unsteady hand, “I might just have another little drinky.”

  “Just as long as you don’t get up to your old tricks,” Jo warned. “I’ve no intention of cleaning up after you if you have one too many. And I’m sure Kate hasn’t either.” She headed for the kitchen.

  “Are you saying I’m drunk?”

  Kate heard the slight belligerence in her tone. “Of course she’s not,” she said soothingly. “She just wants you to enjoy yourself without making yourself ill, that’s all.”

  “Just one more glass...” Hannah summoned all her powers of concentration in order to transfer the wine from bottle to glass without mishap. “If there was a decent bit of male company around, of course, I’d be happy to stick to orange juice myself.” She gave Jo’s jug of fresh orange a slightly contemptuous look.

  “I don’t know if I’m decent, but I’m certainly male and I think you’ll feel a lot better tomorrow morning if you stick to orange juice from now on.”

  Hannah jumped as a long tweed-jacketed arm reached over her shoulder and removed the glass of wine.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” He sipped the wine appreciatively. “It’s getting on for midnight and I’d rather not see the new year in on my own unless I have to.”

  Jo appeared from the kitchen bearing the pudding. “Leigh! I had no idea you were around.” Her tone, Kate noted, was courteous but cool. “You’re too late for the duck I’m afraid, but perhaps you’d like to join us in some Queen of puddings?”

  “That’s kind of you, thanks.” He took a seat at the table.

  Kate watched him fascinated. There was a casual self-assurance about him, a confidence that he would find himself welcomed – or at least accepted – into any company which he chose to grace with his presence. He was, she guessed, about forty, and his face had the lived-in look of a man at home in the world. She envied him that, never having felt particularly at home in it herself. Nevertheless, there was something about him which made her feel slightly nervous.

  “This is Leigh Brennan – the artist who rents our attic as a studio.” Jo handed him a plate of dessert. “This is Kate – and Hannah – I wasn’t sure if you’d met.”

  “We haven’t,” Leigh inclined his head politely. “I tend to come and go at peculiar times, so all I usually see of your residents is the odd flash of dressing gown disappearing around a corner.”

  “Perhaps you’d prefer the odd naked body throwing itself at your feet,” Hannah muttered, still smarting from the abrupt removal of her glass.

  “Perhaps I would.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Though, that, of course, would depend upon the nature of the body.”

  Hannah caught his eye and flushed to the roots of her hair. God, the cheek of the man! What right had he to barge in on their meal and start dictating how much she should or should not drink? It was almost as bad as having Aidan around.

  He rose, poured a glass of orange juice and set it in front of her. “You’re looking quite warm, Hannah. This might cool you down.” He turned to Kate. “It’s getting on for midnight – can I pour you some more wine?”

  Hannah watched him covertly as he filled Kate’s glass. Why, she wondered, had God bothered to waste such an abundance of good looks on such an insufferable man. He was taller than Daniel but of similar broad-shouldered build, his black hair worn slightly long so that it curled over his collar. She examined his features with an artist’s eye. The skin was olive-toned, bearing a hint of Mediterranean ancestry; the nose strong – almost Roman, the mouth sensuous though on the thin side. As for the eyes – dark, deep-set and penetrating, they were definitely his most attractive feature.

  Aware of her eyes upon him, he turned to look at her and a slow smile spread across his face. She held his gaze and, as the clock struck midnight, the four of them rose to clink glasses and welcome in the new year.

  Leigh’s smile embraced them all. “To the New Year. May the 1970s continue to fulfil all our innermost dreams and bring health, wealth and happiness to all our friends.”

  Over the rim of her glass Hannah’s eyes met his and she knew, with a flash of intuition, that the new year would indeed fulfil at least one of her innermost dreams – though probably not in the way she had anticipated.

  Jo set down her glass. “I’m sorry to be such a killjoy but I’ve been studying all day and I’m exhausted. I’m afraid I’m off to bed.” She smiled at Kate and Hannah. “And thank you both for a truly delightful meal. This is the first New Year celebration that I’ve ever really enjoyed.”

  “I’m shattered too – I think I’ll follow your example.” Kate rose and accompanied her to the door. “Good to meet you, Leigh – see you tomorrow, Hannah.” She glanced at her friend, hoping that Hannah, too, would decide to go to bed. But Hannah stayed firmly rooted to her seat, her right eye closing in an unmistakable wink.

  Leigh leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “So, it’s just the two of us then.”

  “It looks like it,” Hannah agreed. She glanced longingly at the unopened bottle of red wine on the sideboard. “I’d love another drink.”

  He rose and fetched the bottle. “I’ll pour you another glass with pleasure, but then I’ll leave you to it. I can’t stand the sight of a woman who’s had too much to drink, I’m afraid. It’s just a personal foible of mine.”

  Hannah knew when she was beaten. She shrugged. “Oh well, if you feel that strongly about it...”

  “I do.” He replaced the wine on the sideboard. “So, what shall we do? Perhaps you’d like to come and see my studio? Esme’s never taken you up to the attic I take it? There’s another studio, an empty one, next to mine.”

  Hannah shook her head. “I’ve often wanted to – I paint myself, you see. But I haven’t really had time, what with college and everything, so I never got around to asking her for the key.”

  “Come then.” He rose. “Let me show you.”

  Hannah stood up a trifle uncertainly. She leaned against the table for a moment, trying to gain complete control over her legs, and hoping against hope that she would prove capable of walking in a straight line.

  He took her arm. “Better not risk a broken leg on the first day of the new year.”Hannah leaned against him, enjoying the rough warmth of his tweed jacket against her bare skin, and allowed herself to be led upstairs to the top of the house.

  “This is my studio.” He flung open the door and switched on the light.

  Hannah gasped. Every inch of wall was covered with vast canvases and behind the door the remaining ones stood stacked five-deep against the wall. But what struck Hannah most was not the brilliant primary colours which covered the surface of the canvases, but their subject matter. For every single painting depicted a nude. There were nudes standing, nudes sitting, nudes lying, nude
s in every position known to man. And not one of them was male.

  “I’m sorry it’s a bit overcrowded – I’m having an exhibition in a couple of weeks’ time.”

  “Will you sell much?”

  “I hope so. I generally do.”

  It was confidently rather than boastfully said and Hannah knew that he spoke nothing less than the truth. For one thing was abundantly clear. Leigh Brennan, handsome, irritating and domineering though he undoubtedly was, was also a superbly talented artist.

  She thought of her own rather tentative attempts at life drawing and made a vow. From now on she would stick to landscape painting; there was no way she could ever compete with a talent such as this.

  “They’re amazing.”

  “Amazingly good or amazingly bad?” His eyes, lazily amused, watched her with interest.

  “Just amazing. I’ve never seen anything like them before.” She stared at the painting nearest to her. Close to, the bold strokes of colour slashed across the canvas looked crude, even ugly. But the further she stepped back the more the figure came into focus, revealing a subtlety of approach and a mastery of technique which astounded her.

  “Have you done any life drawing yourself?”

  She shrugged. “A little – at school. But it was all a bit, well, you know... modest.”

  “It was a boarding school I take it.”

  Hannah nodded.

  “So are you one of those desperately repressed virgins that they normally churn out?”

  Stung by his mocking smile, she instinctively lied.

  “Certainly not – do I look like one?” She assumed the sophisticated woman-of-the-world expression which she had so often practised in front of the mirror. Surely he couldn’t tell she was a virgin just by looking at her.

  He met her gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to penetrate to the depths of her being. She felt herself grow hot and, turning her back on him, moved away to examine some of the paintings on the far side of the room. One canvas in particular drew her attention – a slender brunette, with teasing eyes and a pair of legs which Hannah would have killed for.