‘Oh yes, Ploughman’s – it’s a sort of bread and cheese platter with a few extras thrown in.’
‘Is that all? I think if you’re going to drive, the very least I can do is buy you something a little more exciting than a cheese sandwich.’
‘It’s not a...’ but she found herself interrupted by his hand on her elbow as he led her over to say a brief goodbye to the girls.
‘So what are you going to have then?’
They were sitting upstairs in The Bishop, a little pub they’d found nestling on the riverbank of Kingston upon Thames. For a bitterly cold Monday at the end of February, it was surprisingly busy, in addition to being surprisingly warm, as he shed his jacket and, undoing his cufflinks rolled up his sleeves, his eyes on her thick shawl.
‘Here let me help you with that,’ not giving her any room for objection as he leant across and pulled it from around her shoulders before placing it on the empty chair beside him.
She felt his eyes on her gloves just as she felt a pause in the conversation but he didn’t comment further.
‘Oh, I think I’ll just have the soup.’
‘You will not!’
‘Excuse me?’
‘And if you say excuse me once more I’ll… I’ll lean across the table and kiss you.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Of course I would, you silly girl.’ He heaved a calming breath. ‘Now you’re going to join me in a burger, I’ve seen the way your attention hasn’t shifted from the man at the table next to ours.’ He hesitated, glancing at the pensioner with grey hair, coordination beard and bushy eyebrows. ‘Unless it wasn’t the burger you were drooling over?’
‘No, I can’t, I don’t want…’ She lifted the glass of lemonade and took a deep sip, wishing she’d decided to take the train, anything other than the embarrassment of what lay ahead. Looking up into his eyes she wondered why she’d ever thought them tawny. They were like hard lumps of immovable brown crystal, just as his chin with the cute cleft was just a decoy to hide his stubborn jawline and obstinate pull of his mouth. She was having a burger and that was that. The fact she’d probably need a bib like the toddler at the table in the corner hadn’t seemed to register to anyone except herself.
She watched him order the burger, simply nodding her head when he’d asked if she was happy with extra cheese and bacon. There was no point in arguing with him.
‘I don’t know how your daughter puts up with you.’
‘Evelyn is a very grounded teenager. She’d never opt for third best for some jumped up reason…’
‘Now hold on a minute…’
‘No, you hold on,’ his hand snaking across and pinning her good hand to the table. Before she knew it he’d easing off her glove and placed it in his pocket before gently repeating the process with her left hand.
‘You don’t need gloves, not with such pretty hands.’
Her eyes narrowed, as they joined him in looking at her left hand.
‘Yes, Cara, both of them. Granted the glove acts as a protection from clumsy oafs like me but there’s no need to be ashamed.’
‘I’m not ashamed,’ her voice now barely a whisper.
‘Aren’t you? We’ll see.’ Releasing her hand he sat back in his chair while the waitress arrived with their food, stopping her with a brief smile.
‘My, er, friend has hurt her hand, if I could have both plates?’
Was there no stopping him, her eyes suddenly awash with tears? Had he no idea what he was doing to her? She didn’t want his help. She didn’t need it and she certainly didn’t appreciate it. She felt like standing up and walking out and probably would have if he hadn’t continued speaking as if nothing had happened, all his concentration now applied to cutting her burger into easy quarters.
‘There’s nothing wrong with accepting help from others, Cara.’ He placed her plate in front of her, still not meeting her gaze as he picked up his recently discarded knife and cut his own burger into quarters to match. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before, so much easier and less messy than eating it in one.’
She decided to ignore him. He was obviously a man who just disregarded other people’s feelings and there was no point in letting her meal grow cold. Chewing on a couple of chips she eyed the bun, oozing with creamy stilton and bacon before lifting it to her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been out for a meal and ordered what she wanted, probably on her honeymoon, her teeth biting into the warm moist burger. It was all very well cooking for herself in the privacy of her own home but if truth be known, she’d never been very good in the kitchen and now, if it didn’t come ready wrapped from the chiller counter, she’d starve.
‘Feeling better?’ his voice interrupting her thoughts.
‘I wasn’t feeling ill.’
‘Just annoyed at me, I get that. You won’t be the first woman I’ve annoyed, and you certainly won’t be the last.’
‘I don’t want your pity, Matti and I certainly don’t want your help.’
‘I don’t pity you, Cara. Believe me when I say what I feel for you is as far from pity as it gets.’ He continued speaking, ignorant or just avoiding the blush staining her cheeks. ‘Yes, I feel sorry for you; anyone would, but along with the sorrow is admiration, a great deal of admiration,’ he added, pushing his nearly empty plate to one side and resting his chin in his hands. ‘You’ve come out, well I don’t know of what kind of experience but whatever it was, you’ve survived. Now before you end up falling out with me once and for all, I’m ordering dessert and two spoons. But as I ordered the main, you can choose the pud.’
‘Where would you like to be dropped off again? You only said Berkshire and it’s quite big you know.’
‘I probably should say the nearest gym or weight loss farm after the size of that chocolate brownie.’
‘It wasn’t that big.’
‘Not that big, are you mad woman! It was the size of a small elephant,’ he replied, adjusting the waistband of his trousers. ‘These were loose last week.’
‘I can always let you walk. In fact, I probably will if you don’t tell me which way to go?’
They were walking along the side of the river, admiring the party of ducks swimming in unison across the gently rippling water.
‘It’s a little place called Wraysbury. The last time I visited, I took the train, which pulled into somewhere called…’
‘Sunnymeads, I know it well.’ Turning on her heel she started marching back to the car at speed as if she suddenly couldn’t wait to be rid of him.
‘Hey, what’s the rush; we’ve all day haven’t we?’
‘Not if I don’t want to be driving around in a strange car in the dark, we don’t.’
‘Do you want me to drive; I’m probably more used to a left hand drive?’
They’d reached the car, a bright green, left-hand-drive automatic they’d managed to hire from some specialist car hire company in London.
‘No, I’m good and anyway you’re not insured to drive it,’ she added, jumping in and starting the engine with the press of a button. ‘So whereabouts in Wraysbury exactly?’
She missed his piercing glance, concentrating as she was on performing a U turn out of the car park.
‘There’s a crossroads just before the church. The house is about half a mile up the road on the right.’
‘I know it,’ her only response as she reached out a finger and turned on the radio.
Of course I know it, haven’t I lived there for the last 25 years and, oh yeah – I just happen to be 25 so I’ve lived there on and off all my life. I’ve lived there all my life but it’s not home, it could never be home with her there.
Following Vicarage road to Northtonly Manor, she remembered the day her father had brought his secretary back from the office to help him with some paperwork, the day her life had changed. The day her life had changed forever.
What happened to her and Aaron hurt; it hurt in that gut wren
ching pain that would remain with her but good memories were starting to dim a little the strong feelings she’d had for him. She’d love him forever somewhere deep in her heart, but there were other men, her eyes swivelling slightly to capture the square capable hands of the man sitting beside her. Those hands didn’t belong to a musician, that’s for sure. She noticed hands. It was just something musicians did. Aaron had long tapering fingers made for reaching the range of piano keys whilst Sarah’s hands were surprisingly slender, almost too slender to carry around that saxophone of hers. This man might not be able to weave magic from an instrument but there were other kinds of magic, and that burger had been like nectar from heaven.
Chapter Nine
He’d spent enough time with her by now to know there was something she wasn’t telling him and, if there was one thing he hated more than surprises it was people keeping secrets from him. He couldn’t handle deception of any kind, one of the reasons he’d chosen law as a profession. It was also the main reason for him leaving the profession, he thought with a rueful smile. Criminal law and even corporate had its fair share of clients trying to pull the wool over his eyes. Whether it was murder or tax evasion (and there was little difference in his book) they were all setting out to deceive him and he didn’t like it. He’d sort of grown used to the little surprises Evelyn came up with every now and again, even the more unpleasant ones like fake cockroaches, but that didn’t mean he’d ever be comfortable with them.
He sat there saying nothing but thinking everything. He sat there trying to work it all out and failing miserably. He sat there looking at the winter scenery of bare branches and bare roads as the rain persisted, soon turning into a hail storm and finally a light smattering of snow. He sat there seeing everything and noticing nothing.
The facts: he dealt in facts so what did he know. He knew she’d been in some kind of accident - something involving intense heat like a fire or a scald maybe. He also knew she was a widow but not when or how. He clenched his jaw because, in truth he knew very little about her. He knew she had the most amazing chestnut brown hair that fell in deep waves around her shoulders. He knew her eyes were liquid amber and he knew her perfume; a light wave of musk that followed her wherever she went. He also knew he liked her a little, perhaps more than a little, perhaps more than liked, his eyes flickering over to her hand.
He didn’t know what she thought of him and before he said or did any more on that front, he’d at least like to have an inkling as to whether she was going to push him away, laugh in his face or drag him somewhere hot and dark.
‘What’s the time?’ the sound of her voice breaking into his thoughts like a welcome friend.
‘A little after 3 o’clock,’ pulling his leather glove back over his wrist before turning a little in his seat to watch her. ‘We’re nearly there aren’t we?’
‘I’m not worried about that; I’m more worried about the state of the road. It doesn’t take much to make the roads around here impassable.’ She tilted her head in his direction, briefly meeting his eyes. ‘We can turn back now or risk having to stay the night – your choice.’
‘But,’ his attention now on the road ahead and the light flurry of snow starting to cling to the side of the road like white sugar frosting on the cakes Evelyn liked him to bring back from the Buttercup Bake Shop. ‘But surely it can’t be that bad?’
‘Believe me it can. This is middle England where some of the lanes are even too narrow for ploughs, even if we had them. It’s not like New York where they stockpile salt all year and are out in droves as soon as the first snowflakes fall. So, what do you want to do then? Can you call Evelyn; will she be all right without you?’
‘She’ll be more than all right,’ he said on a laugh, pulling out his mobile. ‘She’ll probably appreciate being let off the leash.’
‘Oh God, you’re not one of those overprotective dads are you? I had one of those, not a good idea in the scheme of things.’
‘Really,’ his finger hovering over the screen. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Because they’ll rebel as soon as your back’s turned. Because she’ll run you ragged with hot men and even hotter situations. Keep her on a long leash and she’ll find her own way back. Keep her on a tight one, and she’ll break it.’
‘And did you break the leash, Cara?’
‘Me, I snapped the bloody thing in two! If it wasn’t for…’
‘If it wasn’t for?’ His voice repeated.
‘Nothing. So, what have you decided to do Mr Hot Shot Lawyer? Carry on and be snowed in or turn back to check up on your daughter?’
‘Oh I think the hats are both reliable enough to take care of her and there’s safety in numbers, as they say.’
‘The hats?’
‘Yeah, the other two ladies with you – the purple beanie and the red bobble.’
‘You mean Mavis and Maggie?’ she said, exploding with laughter. ‘God, that’s rich. You sure do know people - Mavis is heavily into snakes, as in the hissing kind while Maggie has just started dating some stonking police officer in the NYPD who’s a cross between Ryan Gosling and Gerard Butler.’
‘Gerard who?’
‘Don’t worry about it, your daughter will know.’
‘I bloody well hope not!’ He exploded.
‘There, you see what I mean?’ she said, reaching out her good hand and placing it gently on his knee. ‘Take a chill pill, hun, she’s a good kid. In many ways, she reminds me of when I was her age; her enthusiasm for life, her talent…’
‘But you said you were a tearaway? How’s that meant to comfort me?’ he said, dragging his hand though his hair.
Lifting her fingers she squeezed them together in a playful pinch. ‘I said I was a rebel, not a tearaway, there’s a huge difference. And, anyway, I came good in the end.’ She paused, looking up ahead with a frown before heading through an open gateway. ‘Well, you made the decision; I hope it was the right one.’
I hope so too, his mind now on his daughter and whether he should have trekked back to London because that snow was settling and settling fast. She’d been right about the snow but that didn’t mean she was right about Evelyn. Heaving a sigh he leant forward to admire the square Georgian building built along neo-classicist lines by some long forgotten ancestor, which was looking just a little more dilapidated than the last time he’d seen it. He waited until she’d stopped in front of the steps before reaching in the back for his briefcase.
‘Well, thanks for the lift; I’ll see you back in London, sometime tomorrow if I’m lucky.’
‘No worries and you’ll see me before then, probably supper.’ She ended, hopping out of the car and heading for the boot where she removed a sheath of flowers that must have cost more than the gross national product of The Channel Isles.
‘You’re coming too, but…’
Walking up to him she smoothed her hand across his shoulders in the most wifely of moves before raising a finger under his chin. ‘A slack jaw isn’t a good look Mr Hot Shot Lawyer. Your Mrs Angent is my stepmother.’
Her stepmother
He’d have liked to pull her to a stop to find out, at the very least why she hadn’t told him but she’d moved to the front door and was ringing the doorbell by the time he’d managed to organise his thoughts.
His forehead wrinkled as he joined her. ‘Why are you ringing the bell if this is your home?’ his tone matching his expression.
‘Let’s get something straight, Matti,’ her gaze intractable. ‘This isn’t my home. It hasn’t been my home now for a very long time and, whilst Pauline may have married my father, that in no way makes her my mother. I’m here out of duty, that’s all.’
He moved slightly apart, the door opening just in time for him not to have to reply. If he replied, if he said exactly what he wanted to say, he’d be sure to regret it. He’d give her a piece of his mind for a start as to what she was playing at, leaving her stepmother to struggle to put food on the table and coal in the fireplace. The frail woma
n opening the door with a gentle smile didn’t need flowers; she needed so much more than a few hothouse designer blooms.
‘Ah my two favourite people in the world, and together as well.’ Mrs Angent, resplendent in conservative grey trousers and matching cotton top reached out a cheek first to Cara and then Matti.
‘We’re not together, Pauline; I merely gave him a lift. Here, these are for you,’ she said, thrusting the flowers into her arms.
‘Why thank you, that was sweet of you Cara. Come in. Come in out of the cold, and the snow,’ her eyes widening at the sight of her garden now transformed into a winter wonderland. ‘Oh my, I don’t think you’ll be able to drive back tonight, though. I take it you were both only planning on dropping by in passing?’ Her green eyes twinkling with hidden mischief.
‘Well, I can’t speak for Mr Bianchi but I really need to get back to town as quickly as possible, I’m on a trip with the school.’
‘Of course you are, darling.’ Her smile kind.
‘And I’m with her. Well, not with her but…’ He stumbled to a halt trying to dig himself out of the hole, which was threatening to swallow him whole. He only managed not to blush by biting the inside of his cheek. It was bound to hurt later, but there were a lot more important things at the moment than a mangled mouth.
‘What he’s trying and failing to say, Pauline, is I’m teaching his daughter.’
‘A lucky coincidence, just like the way I met your father when they sent me from the temp agency.’
‘No, it’s nothing like that at all, Pauline.’
’Perhaps not, darling,’ her glance uncertain. ‘Anyway, come into the parlour, it’s the warmest room in the house and I’ll go and pop the kettle on. I made scones earlier and I think there’s some fruit cake left over.’
‘Where’s Peters, he normally helps with stuff like that?’
‘Oh, well, he’s well past retirement. He’s living in a nice little cottage in the village.’ She headed to the door, only to pause as Matti reached it before her. ‘Why thank you, Matti. I won’t be a moment.’
The Englishwoman Trilogy: Box set of: Englishwoman in Paris, Englishwoman in Scotland, Englishwoman in Manhattan Page 42