Onwards Flows the River

by Caroline Windsor

  “Was there something else you wanted? A cup of tea, perhaps?”

  She shook her head. He frowned, but she could have sworn she saw his lips twitch.

  “If it’s brandy you’re after, I’ll have to disappoint you. I finished the bottle last week.”

  Again, she shook her head. Her legs felt weak with desire. She threw him an imploring look.

  “What then?”

  He tossed the towel aside and crossed the room.

  “Not this, surely?”

  He reached out and touched her face, tracing the line from her temple down to her jaw with an exploratory finger. She gave him a tentative smile. The finger continued its journey down her neck until it reached the topmost button of her black top. He raised his eyebrows and she gave a faint nod.

  Deftly, but with agonising slowness, his fingers worked their way down the ten small pearl buttons. She held out her arms and he slid the garment off her shoulders. He looked down at the creamy swell of her breasts in the lacy bra and smiled. Her body trembled with desire.

  Unfastening the button of her long, wrap-around skirt, he removed it with a flourish. She stood there, feeling strangely vulnerable in her black bra and knickers. She felt his hands on her shoulders, his kiss on the back of her neck sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. He undid her bra with a practised hand and laid it beside the skirt. His hands slid around her hips and he pulled her against him.

  o0o

  Jo knew something was wrong as soon as Esme walked into the office. Her bun was even more awry than usual and instead of her normally placid expression she wore a distracted air.

  She pushed aside the petty cash book into which she was entering the previous month’s expenses.

  “Is something wrong, Esme? You don’t look your usual self.”

  The warden sank down into her favourite battered armchair and gave Jo a weary smile.

  “I shouldn’t really be telling you this – and I know you’ll have the discretion to keep it to yourself...”

  Jo nodded impatiently.

  “It’s the management committee. They’ve been on to me about the state of our finances again.”

  Jo knew immediately what was coming.

  “You mean my job’s under threat?”

  Esme ran a distracted hand through her hair, dislodging several hairgrips from her bun.

  “Nothing definite has been decided yet, but it’s possible it’ll come to that in a few months’ time unless things improve dramatically.”

  Jo was silent.

  “Obviously I’ll do everything I can in the meantime, but I thought you had the right to know. If they do decide to axe the post of deputy warden, they’d probably give you at least three months’ notice – if not six months – so there’s no immediate worry.”

  “But you think I ought to be looking around for another job, just in case.”

  Esme nodded. “Keep your eyes open, dear, and if something that appeals to you comes up, then if I were you, I’d leap at it. The committee won’t be making a final decision for a few weeks yet – but I can’t say I’m over optimistic.” She gave Jo a worried look.

  With difficulty Jo forced herself to smile. “Thanks for the warning, Esme – I appreciate it. I’ll start looking for another job as soon as I’ve finished my A levels.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Jo slammed her well-worn copy of Wordsworth’s poems down on the desk and folded her arms crossly. Why, with all the wonderful poetry that the English language had to offer, had she had to end up studying such sentimental twaddle?

  There was nothing in his work which appealed to her. His nature-worship and deep affinity to all things rural were particularly alien – and as for his Intimations of Immortality – the religious sentiments made her want to puke. He was, needless to state, her sister’s favourite poet and she had tried, for Beth’s sake, to find some merit in his soul searching, but to no avail.

  Her mind, freed from the necessity to concentrate, swung back into worrying mode. Beth, in particular, was giving her cause for concern. She had phoned her only that evening, for one of their twice-weekly chats, and had sensed the desperation behind her sister’s determinedly cheerful tone.

  With her own future so uncertain, there seemed to be little point in contacting social services to request Beth’s transfer to another home. If her job at Harrison House came to an end she might well have to leave London if a suitable post came up elsewhere and Beth would only have to be uprooted once more.

  Her future stretched out before her like an endless nightmare. If she had had only herself to worry about, she would have coped easily enough. But the responsibility for her sister’s future weighed heavily upon her shoulders.

  Jo turned to look at the photograph beside her bed. Beth was such a gentle creature, so fragile and unworldly, it was hard to believe they had been born of the same parents. There, tucked into the same frame, was the most recent picture that she had taken – snapped in an unguarded moment as Beth and Aidan strolled, deep in conversation, upon the beach. The expression of adoration and hero-worship on her sister’s face was unmistakable.

  How close the two of them had become – and how grateful Jo had been that Beth had managed to find a person, almost a father figure, with whom she could share her deep spirituality.

  She had, if she was honest, returned to Cocklecombe that Easter with some trepidation. To her considerable relief, however, there had been none of the underlying tension which she had anticipated between herself and Aidan. He had treated her with consideration and respect – and had kept his hands to himself.

  Idly she let her mind slip into fantasy. She saw herself, as she had been for a while that Easter Sunday, sitting alone on the patio, reading King Lear, the only sound the gentle splash of the river against the landing stage far below.

  Though she was reluctant to admit it, the comfortable homeliness of Aidan’s house with its tranquil waterside garden had etched itself deep into her imagination. Beth, she knew, loved it with a passion second only to her love for its owner. What would happen if...

  o0o

  Locking the clinic door behind him, Tim set off at a brisk pace past the rose garden and across the lawn to The Willows. Approaching the building from the rear, he heard the sound of laughter coming from the office window. Peering in, he saw that all of the secretaries and most of the consultants – glasses in hand – were crammed into the tiny downstairs office.

  Damn! He had forgotten all about the leaving party for Sasha – in his opinion one of the silliest and most giggly of the secretaries. As he passed by the door, she lurched out and grabbed his arm. He could tell from her slurred speech that she was already making the most of her last day at The Willows.

  “There you are, you naughty man – I was wondering where you’d got to.”

  He freed himself with difficulty.

  “Is Kate in there?”

  “Not yet she isn’t – still chained to your typewriter I expect. If the pair of you don’t get a move on, there’ll be nothing left to drink.”

  “I’ll go and fetch her – we won’t be long.”

  He ran up the stairs and burst into her office.

  “Oh God – sorry – I should have knocked!”

  Kate, to his amazement, was standing in her petticoat, brushing her long blonde curls in front of the mirror. She flushed deeply.

  “Sorry – I was just changing for the party. I thought you’d already be down there.” She reached for the smart navy dress hanging behind the door and slipped it over her head.

  “The sports clinic was running late – I’ve only just finished.” An unexpected frisson of desire rippled through him. Reluctantly he tore his eyes away from the slender figure of his secretary.

  “I’ll go and sign the letters – let me know when y
ou’re ready.”

  She appeared five minutes later, her normally pale cheeks still tinged with the rosy hue of embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry, Kate, I’ve seen it all before – a thousand times.”

  “Not mine you haven’t!”

  Though she smiled, there was a slight tartness in her tone which surprised him. He wondered idly if she had a boyfriend – and, if so, how far she permitted their relationship to go. There was a virginal, don’t-touch-me quality about her which most men would have regarded as a definite challenge.

  “We’d better go down then.” He held the door open for her.

  “The party seemed to be well underway when I came up so I doubt it’ll go on for too much longer.”

  “Good – I don’t really feel in a party mood – and Sasha and I have never been particularly close.” She stifled a yawn. “I’ll have to stick to orange juice anyway. I didn’t have time to grab a sandwich at lunchtime – and I know what alcohol does to me on an empty stomach.”

  He followed her down the stairs.

  The office was pulsating with heat and noise and drinks were flowing freely.

  Sasha’s boss, an orthopaedic surgeon with hands like an octopus, and a wife who was far too good for him, was plying his soon to be ex-secretary with red wine. Tim watched him with disgust. The fact that Sasha was leaving him in order to get married the following week would in no way diminish her boss’s determination to get her onto the examination couch before the night was out.

  Soon he was deep in conversation with a fellow rheumatologist with whom he was jointly writing a research paper.

  The party was still going strong when Dr Mackenzie, a grey-haired consultant physician of considerable distinction and charm, laid his hand on his shoulder some two hours later. “Sorry to butt in – I know it’s none of my business, but isn’t your Kate looking a bit under the weather?”

  “Kate?” Tim’s eyes sought out his secretary. “She shouldn’t be – she told me she wasn’t going to touch alcohol tonight.”

  “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” murmured his colleague. “You’d better rescue her, Beecham my lad, the girl looks as if she’s about to slide on to the floor.”

  Hastily Tim pushed his way across the crowded room. Kate stood, half-leaning against the wall, her legs at a peculiar angle.

  “Kate?” He heaved her upright. “Are you all right?”

  She turned to look at him, but her eyes found it difficult to focus.

  “I thought you weren’t going to drink tonight – it’s a pretty stupid thing to do if you haven’t had any lunch.”

  “Never touched a drop,” she murmured happily. “Best orange juice I ever had.”

  Tim heard a giggle behind him and turned to see Sasha, vodka bottle in hand, her eyes laughing up at him.

  “You haven’t been spiking Kate’s drink by any chance?” he asked her coldly.

  She backed away nervously. “Well, just the odd one or two maybe.”

  “Damn fool thing to do!” Tim glared at her. “It’s as well for your sake that you’re leaving The Willows tonight.”

  Sasha retreated into the safety of her boss’s arms.

  “Come on, Kate.” Tim slid his arm around her waist. “I’m taking you upstairs. What you need is a strong black coffee.”

  Negotiating the long, winding staircase proved rather more difficult that he had anticipated. Though Kate seemed happy enough to accompany him, her legs had other ideas and crumpled beneath her with alarming regularity. By the time they reached the half-landing, she was giggling helplessly and his patience was wearing thin.

  “I’ve had enough of this!” He heaved her over his shoulder and carried her up the remaining stairs into his consulting room. She collapsed, still giggling, into an armchair.

  He made her a strong coffee and stood over her as she drank it. To his dismay the drink seemed to have little effect.

  “I’d better drive you home, Kate. A good night’s sleep’s the only cure for your problem.” He lifted her into his arms. “And since you can’t walk, I’m just going to have to carry you.”

  Her head lolled against his chest. The fresh, woody smell of the Sandalwood soap which she always used was strangely erotic and he controlled himself with difficulty. He kicked the consulting room door closed behind him and carried her, half drowsy, half giggling, down to his car.

  Propping her up in the passenger seat he reached across her to fasten the safety belt. To his dismay, his brief encounter with her breasts seemed to bring her to life and her hand reached out and stroked his cheek.

  “Kate!” He removed the hand firmly. “Stop it!”

  He started the engine and accelerated out of the car park. As the sleek Jag purred down the Walworth Road he glanced down at her. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed. She stirred momentarily and muttered to herself – something about someone called Aidan.

  Tim grinned, despite himself. How embarrassed his demure, highly principled secretary would be if she ever discovered the full story of their evening’s adventure. Not that he had any intention of enlightening her. At least, he reflected, she was an affectionate rather than an aggressive drunk, and that was something to be grateful for.

  He turned into the square by St Andrew’s Church and drew up outside Harrison House.

  He switched off the engine and sat watching her. The moonlight streamed in through the car window giving her skin a ghostly pallor. As if aware of his gaze, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. Reaching up, she pulled him down to kiss her.

  Unable to control himself any longer, Tim found himself responding, first hesitantly, then, as the sweet smell of her roused his desire still further, with increasing urgency.

  Eventually their lips parted.

  He climbed out of the car and went around to the passenger side. Unfastening her seat belt, he swung her legs onto the pavement and hauled her upright. She staggered slightly, reaching up to entwine her arms around his neck. He disentangled himself and gave her a shake.“Stand up, Kate, for goodness’ sake!”

  Hastily he rang the doorbell.

  o0o

  Jo, catching up on some paperwork in the office, saw the Jaguar pull up outside. Such a smart car was a novelty in the square and she wondered to whom it belonged.

  When, after a few minutes, the occupants of the car showed no sign of moving, she twitched the net curtain aside and peered more closely at the vehicle.

  In the moonlight, she caught sight of Kate’s unmistakable blonde curls, saw her draw him down to kiss her, and realised – as the moonlight revealed another head, as blonde as hers, the identity of the unknown man. It was the Viking, as she had heard Kate so often laughingly describe him.

  Startled, she drew back into the hallway. So that explained Kate’s numerous late nights! Though working late at the office was more often an excuse used by men, Kate had turned it to her own advantage and fooled them all.

  As she watched, the man emerged from the car and helped Kate out onto the pavement. She seemed, uncharacteristically for Kate, to be somewhat unsteady on her feet. Jo sighed. She thought it was only Hannah who overestimated her capacity for alcohol. Now it seemed that Kate too had overindulged. Her friend, by the look of her, would need a helping hand up to her bedroom

  The sound of the doorbell chimed through the hall. Jo rose to her feet. Sometimes she felt as if she spent her whole life sorting out other people’s problems. Reluctantly she went to answer it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Spring – Summer 1972

  The meeting at Friends’ House the following Saturday had gone on rather longer than Aidan had anticipated and his subsequent drive from Euston to Harrison House, south of the river, had tested his restricted knowledge of the capital to the limit.

  Now, parking h
is battered Land Rover outside the hostel, Aidan was thankful that he had taken the opportunity to spend a night in the hostel rather than staying in a hotel near Euston as he usually did when visiting Friends’ House. Daniel had referred, albeit obliquely, to Hannah’s fling with the artist, Leigh, and Aidan was keen to make sure that his sister wasn’t about to make a spectacular fool of herself and ruin her chance of a degree. The opportunity of seeing Jo in her own surroundings also intrigued him and he hoped she would feel more relaxed in what was, after all, her workplace.

  He heaved his overnight case out of the back seat and dumped it on the pavement. Looking up at the elegant Georgian facade of Harrison House he wondered momentarily if his sister appreciated the charm of the building in which she lived. With its shabby, peeling paintwork the place reminded him of an elderly lady, now long past her prime, but who, nevertheless, retained a dignity and grace all of her own.

  He swung open the small wrought-iron gate, walked up the path and rang the doorbell.

  “Aidan!” Jo’s welcoming smile banished his tiredness after the long journey. “Come in.”

  He followed her into the spacious hallway from where the wooden staircase spiralled upwards to the first floor.

  “You must be exhausted after that drive! Let me show you to the guest room – and then I’m sure you could do with a drink.”

  “A pot of tea would be wonderful.” He followed her up the stairs. “But I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I know your exams are coming up soon.”

  “They start next week – but I could do with a break right now.” She showed him into a small, simply furnished room overlooking the square. “My room’s next door – if you’d like to come in when you’re ready. Meanwhile, I’ll see about the tea.”

  Aidan leaned over the banisters watching her petite figure with its boyish hairstyle, flying down the staircase. What was it about her that aroused him so? He had never found himself attracted to an atheist before, finding them, on the whole, to be shallow and over-worldly. But, despite her lack of faith, there was something distinctly Quakerish about the simplicity of Jo’s plain black clothes, her directness of speech and her single-minded dedication to whatever job she happened to be doing. He sighed. Despite the improvement in their relationship, Jo had given no indication whatsoever that she reciprocated his feelings for her and it was only by a combination of cold showers and exercising until he was physically exhausted that he had managed to keep his desire for her well and truly under control.