by Penny Jordan
‘And the boy?’
‘Another member of your group has been trying to help him to no avail. I understood you’ve got a new member, Marsh Graham. Apparently he’s going to take over. It seems he’s had some experience in this field. He’s suggesting a course where the boy can find a legitimate vent for some of his frustration and aggression.
‘Personally I think it might be too little too late. Thank God Karen confided in you.’
It wasn’t just Karen who was afraid of the boy, Debra admitted later as she washed up her supper things. She too had experienced unease and apprehension when he looked at her.
Fourteen. She hoped Marsh could help him, otherwise who knew what type of man he might grow up to be?
CHAPTER FOUR
Debra had a meeting first thing in the morning. It was an innovation Marsh had instituted, an opportunity for everyone to get together and to discuss work problems.
Normally Debra would have joined in the discussions enthusiastically, but she couldn’t put Karen out of her mind.
She had phoned the home before leaving for work.
Karen was fine, the superintendent had assured her. She was not to worry. But she was worrying. She couldn’t help it.
She was still thinking about Karen when the meeting broke up. She got up to leave the office with the others, but Marsh stopped her.
‘If you’ve got a minute, Debra.’
She waited apprehensively as the others left, aware of their curiosity about why she had been asked to stay behind.
She could feel the anxiety mounting inside her. Had she done something wrong? Something she herself knew nothing about? Marsh had Eric Smethurst’s file; had he found some error in it, something she had overlooked or neglected?
An uncomfortable panicky feeling tightened her chest. Marsh opened the door from the conference-room to his own office.
Nervously Debra preceded him inside.
‘Sit down, Debra,’ Marsh invited her. ‘Would you like some coffee?’
She shook her head, her stomach churning too tensely.
‘You seemed rather preoccupied this morning,’ Marsh commented as he sat down opposite her.
His desk was between them, a heavy, solid and definitely inanimate block of wood, but it still didn’t prevent her from being acutely aware of him.
She could smell the clean freshness of his soap, and her heart somersaulted at the recognition; at the subtle invasive memory of that same smell on his body when he had held her in his arms.
She pulled back quickly from the thought. She had promised herself that she was going to be sensible; that she must concentrate on the plans she had made for herself. She was afraid of the desire Marsh aroused within her, she acknowledged, but that fear was her route to safety.
‘I know it isn’t always easy, adjusting to changes in our working lives,’ Marsh continued. ‘And the more sensitive we are, the more we react to those changes.
‘I admit I had my doubts about taking over down here. It’s always difficult when two firms amalgamate. There’s bound to be confusion and a certain amount of resentment. People coming in can sometimes seem to be insensitive, even unfair.’
Debra frowned. Was he suggesting that he might have been unfair towards her?
‘It’s true that I am only human,’ Marsh continued. ‘But I would hate anyone to think that I would allow my personal judgements and...’ He paused and frowned, getting up and walking over to the window, his abruptness startling Debra. There was a tense set to his shoulders as he stared out of the window. ‘And my feelings, ’ he went on tersely, ‘to influence my professional judgement. You’ve handled Eric Smethurst’s affairs very well. I didn’t take over the case because I doubted your ability to deal with it, Debra. Perhaps I did act too precipitately but...’
He thought her silence this morning had been caused by the fact that he had taken over Eric’s affairs, Debra recognised, and now he was trying to reassure her that that was not the case.
Immediately she corrected him.
‘It isn’t that. I do understand why you felt that someone else should handle Eric’s business. It...it isn’t work at all,’ she admitted a little guiltily, hardly surprised to see the way he was frowning when he turned round to focus on her.
‘I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t bring my personal problems into work with me, but I saw Karen last night. She was very distressed. One of the boys in the home has been threatening her.’
Debra gave a small shiver, her eyes suddenly bleak and just a little afraid.
‘I saw him myself. We were in McDonald’s. He was very.. .intimidating. I’ve had a word with the superintendent at the home. He promised that he’d do something.’
‘This boy,’ Marsh questioned her tersely, ‘did he threaten you?’ Debra stared at him, caught off guard by his perception.
‘No...not exactly. But there was something about the way he looked at me... a... a knowingness .. .a...’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t describe it, but I knew somehow that Karen had every reason to be afraid of him.
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this.’
‘Rubbish—of course you should. That’s one of the reasons I’m here; to listen to everyone’s problems.’
‘Work problems,’ Debra told him wryly, ‘not personal ones, but that wasn’t what I meant. This boy...’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s the one we were talking about at the meeting, the one you’ll be dealing with.’
She bit her lip, hanging her head a little. The aims of their group were to help each and every child they had contact with, no matter what they might have done, and she felt it was wrong of her to tell Marsh something that might prejudice him against the boy, no matter how justified she knew her feelings and fears to be.
‘I see.’ Marsh turned back to the window. ‘So it was Karen you were seeing last night when you couldn’t meet me after work for a drink?’
He swung round as he asked the question, catching Debra off guard. She stared at him.
‘Yes. Yes.. .that’s right,’ she confirmed, a little confused.
His smile was unexpectedly relaxed and warm.
Debra blinked and tried to fight off the slow, sweet, toe-curling sensation that poured over her. She felt slightly dizzy, she recognised, and, although outside it was a rather dull grey day, she felt as though the sun had suddenly burst through the cloud and was shining with dazzling intensity. Her heartbeat quickened, a thrill of fierce joy and happiness bubbling up inside her.
And all because one man had smiled.
‘I know we got off on the wrong foot,’ Marsh was saying softly to her now. ‘But that’s behind us now. We have a lot in common, you and I, Debra.’
Debra fought valiantly not to respond to the warm promise of his voice.
He was probably just at a bit of a loose end, she warned herself. He was, after all, new to the area, and couldn’t know many people yet. No doubt he missed the hectic social life he had probably enjoyed in London.
To cover what she was feeling she said quickly and a little shakily, ‘Well, we are both accountants.’
She could see the laughter in his eyes.
‘Yes, we are, but that wasn’t quite what I meant. I was thinking more in terms of our... personal compatibility than the fact that we happen to have chosen the same career.’
Their personal compatibility. Debra swallowed, her thoughts rioting chaotically.
‘So you’re going home to... Tarford, wasn’t it...this weekend?’ Marsh continued easily. ‘Try not to worry too much about Karen. I can understand your concern, but now that the home is aware of the situation I’m sure they’ll keep an eye on it.’
Nodding, Debra stood up.
If it had not been for the fact that she felt so uneasy about her physical awareness of Marsh she would have been walking back to her office on air, full of admiration for his compassion and understanding, she admitted as she left him.
As it was, she was filled with a frenetic combination of elation and
anxiety that made it impossible for her to sit still and work.
Had he really said what she had thought he’d said, and what was she going to do about it if he had meant it?
Cravenly she acknowledged that, like the ostrich with its head in the sand, she would do nothing unless he did.
She might, after all, have misunderstood him. He might simply have been intimating that they could develop a platonic friendship based on their mutual involvement with the children’s group, and no more than that.
It was unnecessary for her to go looking for imagined problems, she reminded herself wryly She already had enough very real ones to contend with.
‘Debra, the rose is perfect.’
Debra smiled her happiness at her stepfather’s pleasure in her gift as he leaned over and kissed her.
It was a family ritual that presents were not opened until after the celebratory birthday tea, complete with cake and candles, which Leigh’s two daughters had helped their grandfather to blow out.
Now all the presents had been opened and the girls were arguing over which one of them had blown out the most candles.
‘Early bed for these two tonight, I think,’ Leigh commented to Debra. ‘Otherwise it’s going to be quarrels and tears. And no encouraging them to stay awake,’ Leigh warned Debra mock severely.
Debra had offered to baby-sit for her sister so that she and Jeff could have an evening out together.
Later, as the two of them were walking companionably back through the village to Leigh s house, the girls skipping ahead of them, Leigh asked, ‘You seem preoccupied. Is something wrong?’
Debra started to shake her head and then caught the wry look Leigh was giving her, and admitted instead, ‘Sort of.’
Hesitantly she explained the situation which was developing between herself and Marsh.
‘So?’ Leigh pressed her when she had stopped speaking.
Debra gave her a puzzled look.
‘Debra,’ Leigh told her in obvious amused exasperation, ‘I don’t think that many women would consider having a man they’re physically attracted to, and who’s obviously attracted to them, a problem.
‘In fact, most women’s worry would be that lie didn’t want them, not that he did.’
Debra flushed defensively.
‘I’m not like you, Leigh,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not interested in... in passion.’
Leigh had stopped walking and Debra had to stop as well.
‘You mean that you’re afraid of experiencing passion, don’t you?’ Leigh challenged her. ‘Debra, for heaven’s sake, you’re denying yourself one of the most intense and special human emotions there is...’
‘In your book,’ Debra told her fiercely. ‘I’m not like you, Leigh. I don’t want that kind of intensity in my life. It’s... it’s so destructive.’ Leigh’s face shadowed.
‘You’re thinking about Paul and me, aren’t you...about our divorce? But, Debra, it was out of Paul’s and my desire that the girls were conceived. Out of your so-called destruction...’ Tears clogged the back of Debra’s throat as Leigh told her quietly and sincerely, ‘It’s true that loving Paul, that wanting him caused me intense hurt and pain, but I’ve never regretted loving him, Debs, and I’d go through ten times that amount of pain rather than never experience the joy of loving someone so completely... of wanting them so completely.’
‘But I’m different. I don’t want that experience.’
‘Don’t you?’ Leigh challenged her. ‘Your mind may not want it, Debs, but your body, your senses, your emotions are telling a different story, aren’t they?’
Unable to contradict her, Debra turned away and started to hurry after the girls.
There was a sharp pain inside her chest. She wished Leigh had never raised the subject. She ought to have known that her stepsister wouldn’t understand, but then, as Leigh caught up with her and said gently, ‘Everyone’s afraid of commitment. .. of loving someone and of losing them. It’s a fear we all share, Debs,’ she realised that she had misjudged her.
‘You’ve never been afraid,’ she responded unsteadily.
‘No?’ Leigh gave her a wry smile. ‘Jeff wants to marry me. I know I love him. The girls adore him... and he certainly loves me and them, but I can’t say yes. I am afraid, Debs, but listening to you has suddenly made me realise how destructive that kind of fear can be, and how hurtful. It isn’t Jeff’s fault that Paul stopped loving me and left me. Because my trust in Paul was misplaced, it doesn’t mean that I can’t trust Jeff.
‘You can’t make plans for a watertight life,’ she added as they reached her small house. ‘It isn’t a column of figures where two and two’s always going to equal four.’
By concentrating on keeping her two nieces amused and illicitly awake while she was babysitting, Debra managed to convince herself that she was far too busy to think about Marsh.
But she dreamed about him that night; dreamed that he was holding her, kissing her, and that she was clinging to him, pleading with him, whispering to him to hold her and touch her, her subconscious allowing her senses and emotions the freedom to express their needs, which she denied them in her conscious state.
Fragments of her dreams which had lodged themselves in her memory came back to disturb her once she was awake.
She paused, shuddering a little as she brushed her hair, her reflection in the mirror of the bedroom which had been hers while she was growing up eclipsed by the hazy, vague images surfacing from her dreams.
Images in which she clung to Marsh, her body closely entwined with his, eagerly absorbing its intimacy, her face rapt with passion and desire.
She had never seen herself like this before, never created or felt the need to create this other Debra, her hair a wanton tumble of dark blonde silk, an erotic contrast to the lean male body against which it fell, her own body taut, yearning, trembling in the extremity of her need, and on her skin the sheen of her desire-induced perspiration. Her nipples taut and hard, dark with the blood that pulsed beneath her flesh, but most disturbing and unfamiliar of all was the expression on her face, the taut, shivery urgency of her breathing, the words of need and desire that floated through her memory, incoherent pleas, whispered phrases, things she had never imagined herself capable of thinking, never mind saying.
It wasn’t real, she reminded herself shakily. It was just a dream. It couldn’t happen. It must not happen.
‘That was a wonderful lunch, but what we all need now is some exercise,’ Leigh announced firmly next day.
Debra protested that she was too full even to think of moving, and then reluctantly got to her feet, following Leigh’s example.
‘Never mind the washing-up,’ Leigh instructed their parents. ‘We can all help with that when we come back. Let’s make the most of the sunshine and enjoy it. We needn’t walk very far. Just down to the river and back.’
They weren’t the only people taking advantage of the fine weather. The village was a popular beauty spot and a good centre for several excellent local walks.
Debra smiled as she heard a small child exclaiming in awe at the date above one of the shops.
‘1590. That was hundreds and hundreds of years ago.’
‘Thousands probably,’ another child chipped in, while a patient parent started to correct his error.
Leigh’s two daughters, familiar with this summer inrush of visitors, were displaying the superiority they felt as local inhabitants, and Debra watched the by-play with tender amusement, unaware that she herself was the object of someone else’s observation until she heard a male voice speak her name.
‘Marsh!’
Her recognition of his voice was immediate, shock overwhelming caution as she turned round and saw him standing a couple of feet away.
Numbly she took in the casual shirt and jeans, the workmanlike walking shoes and the local map he must have been studying when he’d seen her, and her agitation subsided a little.
How silly of her to assume that he had come here to seek o
ut her, when he was obviously here to walk and explore a little of his new habitat.
‘Marsh?’ she heard Leigh querying interestedly at her side before smiling at Marsh and extending her hand, saying wryly, ‘I believe I owe you an apology. A case of mistaken identity.’
‘Ah, the lady detective,’ Marsh responded.
‘I am truly sorry about what happened,’ Leigh told him. ‘No wonder you were so angry.’
Debra saw Marsh’s head turn in her direction. ‘A little,’ he agreed, ‘but it did have its... compensations.’
Debra swallowed. Her mouth had suddenly gone very dry. She had an insane compulsion to wet her lips with her tongue-tip; to relieve the dryness which seemed to be making them swell and throb a little.
Marsh was still looking at her. She wanted desperately to look away, but for some reason she couldn’t.
She could hear Leigh calling to their parents, ‘Come and meet Debra’s new boss,’ and felt a panicky urge to turn and run before it was too late, but too late for what?
Her mother was smiling at Marsh while Leigh introduced them. She heard Marsh making a reference to her stepfather’s birthday. Both men laughed; the sound was mellow, harmonious somehow, as though they had immediately reached out to one another on some special male level which for a brief spell excluded the watching women.
‘Have you just finished your walk, or were you just about to begin it?’ Debra heard her mother asking.
‘I was just about to begin it,’ Marsh told her. ‘But there are so many walks to choose from that I wasn’t sure...’
‘Why not come with us?’ Leigh suggested immediately. ‘We’re only walking as far as the river. A pre-washing-up attempt to offset the effect of Mum’s Sunday lunch.’.
They all laughed... except Debra. She was too bemused, too confused... too filled with a sudden sharp sense of events slipping away from her in some way to do anything other than glance anxiously from Leigh’s face to Marsh’s.
Surely he couldn’t possibly want to come with them? He was dressed for walking; they were only going for a short stroll, but he was already falling into step with them, and somehow Debra discovered that she was walking next to him as they separated into smaller groups to navigate the busy narrow street.