by Anne Mather
And how pathetic did that sound?
Parking the Ford beside the BMW, Fliss turned off the engine and opened her door. Sliding her legs out of the car, she wished she’d taken the time to change before coming back. Her sleeveless vest and canvas shorts were all very well for taking Amy to school, but they hardly created an impression of responsible motherhood. But then, she reflected, if she had changed, her father might have wondered why and that might have opened another can of worms.
Taking a deep breath, she rounded the car and mounted the steps to the heavy oak door. She couldn’t help noticing that no one had polished the brass work recently, or swept the terrace, and she pulled a wry face. It was true. She was developing a servant’s mentality. Go figure!
Dismissing such thoughts, she lifted the knocker and let it fall, wincing as it echoed around the building. There was no way anyone could ignore that.
There was silence for a few moments and Fliss was just considering knocking again, when she heard the sound of footsteps crossing the hall. They didn’t sound like a man’s footsteps, however, and she steeled herself for the ordeal of identifying herself to Matthew Quinn’s wife. She just hoped he’d clued her in to what had happened. She was going to feel such a fool if he hadn’t.
She straightened her spine, drawing herself up to the full five feet six inches she’d been blessed with. Squaring her shoulders, she looped back several strands of bright coppery hair behind her ears. As if that would improve her appearance, she thought wryly. She looked what she was; a slightly harassed woman in her mid-twenties, with a little too much weight both above and below her waist.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you—’ she was beginning as the door opened, and then broke off in surprise. ‘Diane,’ she exclaimed, recognising the girl she had used to go to school with. ‘Diane Chesney!’ She hesitated as the obvious thought struck her. ‘Or should I say Mrs Quinn?’
‘Diane will do,’ retorted the other woman shortly. She arched an enquiring brow. ‘Can I help you—Felicity, is it?’
Great!
Fliss blew out a breath. It was obvious that whatever the circumstances of Diane’s being here, she had no desire to rekindle old friendships. Fliss couldn’t believe she’d forgotten how much she hated her name, or that there was any doubt about her identity.
But it was also obvious that her—husband? Boyfriend? Whatever—had conveniently forgotten to mention the uninvited visitors he had had earlier.
‘Well…’ She murmured now, feeling even more inadequate in the face of Diane’s cool sophistication. ‘I’ve come to get my daughter’s rabbit.’
‘Your daughter’s rabbit!’
Clearly Diane had no idea what she was talking about. Her contemptuous tone proved it and, unwillingly, a memory surfaced of Diane using that tone to her before. It was when Fliss had first confessed to her friend that she was going to have a baby. She’d been seeking advice, understanding. But all Diane had done was urge her to have an abortion.
‘You’re too young to have a sprog!’ she’d exclaimed scornfully. ‘Do yourself a favour, Fliss. Get rid of it. I would.’
With hindsight, Fliss had to admit that Diane had had a point. She had been too young, too innocent, too infatuated with the boy who had taken advantage of her to know exactly what she wanted to do. She’d been afraid to tell her parents; scared of what they might say; desperate for a way out.
In the event, it was her mother who had come to her rescue. Lucy Taylor hadn’t thought twice. Fliss should have the baby, she’d said. She’d help her. Both her parents would help her. They’d also supported her decision to have nothing more to do with the father of the child. Terry Matheson had denied everything, of course, and thankfully he’d left the district long before Amy was born.
Nevertheless, Fliss’s pregnancy had driven a wedge between her and Diane. She’d had to postpone taking her higher-level exams for a year and, by then, Diane had moved on.
They could have resumed their friendship, of course, but Diane hadn’t been interested. She was having too good a time at university in London to care about a girl who, in her opinion, had as good as ruined her life.
By the time Diane graduated, her parents were telling everyone that she was an art expert, that she was going to be running a gallery in the smartest part of town. The fact that she rarely visited her parents was always conveniently forgotten. Diane was soooo in demand; soooo busy. They were soooo proud of her.
And now, here she was, apparently living with the man who, either with or without his consent, had become a minor celebrity in his own right.
No surprise there, then.
‘Amy’s rabbit,’ Fliss continued, trying not to let the other woman’s attitude faze her. ‘I spoke to your—er—?’
‘My fiancé?’ suggested Diane condescendingly, and Fliss nodded.
‘I guess,’ she said. She moistened her lips. ‘I gather he didn’t mention it.’
‘Why would he?’ Diane rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Fliss, but Matt and I have more important things to talk about than a bloody rabbit, for God’s sake!’
So she did remember her name, thought Fliss smugly. But Diane was annoyed about something. That was obvious. And it was evidently nothing to do with her and Amy.
‘OK.’
Fliss was trying to decide how to explain the situation in the briefest terms possible when Matthew Quinn himself appeared behind Diane. He was still barefoot, Fliss noticed unwillingly, his expression only marginally less hostile than his fiancée’s.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked impatiently, and then he saw Fliss. ‘Oh—Mrs Taylor.’
Diane snorted at this and he paused a moment to give her a curious look. Then, with a shrug, he went on, ‘Did you want something else?’
Fliss’s cheeks had flushed at Diane’s scornful reaction to her name, but she refused to be daunted. ‘It’s Miss Taylor, actually,’ she said, telling herself she didn’t care what he thought of her. ‘I’ve come to collect the rabbit.’
‘Ah.’ Matthew Quinn glanced again at the woman beside him. He frowned. ‘Forgive me, but do you two know one another?’
‘We used to.’ Diane answered him before Fliss could say a word. ‘But we lost touch many years ago.’
Matthew’s only response was a sudden arching of his brows, but Fliss had no intention of continuing this. ‘Is it all right if I back the car along the path beside the house?’ she asked. ‘Then I can just lift the hutch into the boot.’
‘What’s all this about?’ demanded Diane, clearly not liking the idea that Fliss and her fiancé had some unfinished business she didn’t know about. ‘Where is this rabbit, for heaven’s sake? And what’s it doing here?’
‘It’s a long story,’ said Matthew carelessly. Then, to Fliss, ‘You don’t have to move it, you know.’
‘Oh, I think I do,’ she retorted stiffly. She turned away. ‘I’ll get the car.’
By the time she’d reversed the Fiesta along the service lane, he was waiting for her. Still barefoot, he had hoisted the rabbit’s cage into his arms, and when she hurriedly got out to lift the hatch, he shoved the hutch inside.
‘Thanks,’ she said, a little breathlessly, noticing that he seemed out of breath, too. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No problem,’ he assured her, leaning forward with his hands on his thighs, taking a few gulping breaths of air. ‘God, I’m out of condition. I guess I need to get myself in shape in more ways than one.’
Fliss forced a faint smile. ‘I think you need to rest,’ she murmured carefully. Then, glimpsing Diane watching them from the corner of the house, ‘Thanks again. I’ll try and keep Amy out of your hair in future.’
CHAPTER THREE
DIANE was pacing about the kitchen when Matt came back inside. ‘D’you want to tell me what’s going on?’ she demanded, her grey eyes flaring with irritation. ‘How long have you and Fliss Taylor known one another?’
Matt gave her an incredulous look. ‘We don’t know one another,’ he sa
id, going to wash his hands at the sink. ‘How the hell would we? I’ve only been here a couple of days.’
‘You tell me.’ Diane was huffy. ‘You seemed pretty familiar with one another. And she obviously didn’t expect to see me. Didn’t you tell her I was coming down this morning?’
‘Oh, for pity’s sake!’ Matt dried his hands and then shoved them into his pockets so she wouldn’t see they were shaking. ‘Why would I tell her anything? I’ve only met her once before.’
Diane regarded him suspiciously. ‘So what was that rabbit doing here?’
Matt heaved a sigh. He badly wanted to sit down, but dogged determination—and pride—kept him on his feet. He should have known Diane would come here looking for trouble, but however appealing Fliss Taylor might be—and he couldn’t deny she was appealing—he wasn’t interested.
‘She has a kid,’ he said wearily. ‘But then, you probably know that. You’re the one who seems to know everything about her.’
‘I used to,’ declared Diane dismissively. ‘Personally, I haven’t set eyes on her or her kid for years.’
‘OK.’ Matt endeavoured to control his irritation. ‘Well, for some reason, the kid decided her rabbit would be safer in my garden than hers. She’d stowed its cage near the back door and I caught her feeding it this morning. That’s all there is to it.’
‘So—then what? You phoned her mother and asked her to come and get it?’
‘No.’ Matt was tired of this interrogation. He didn’t know why Diane had bothered to come if all she intended to do was pick an argument with him. Surely she knew he was supposed to avoid any unnecessary stress, and getting riled up about something so trivial was definitely unnecessary. He blew out a breath. ‘She came here looking for her daughter. No law against that, is there?’
Diane’s lips tightened. ‘I suppose not.’
‘Good. I’m glad we agree on something, at any rate.’ Matt turned away. ‘Want some coffee?’
‘So why didn’t they just take the rabbit with them?’ she asked after a moment, and Matt swore.
‘For pity’s sake,’ he snapped. ‘Does it matter? I’ve explained what happened. Let that be an end of it.’
Diane hesitated. ‘I—suppose it would have been difficult to move the thing without a car.’
‘Right.’
Diane nodded. ‘And Fliss didn’t know the kid had left the rabbit here?’
‘Diane…’
Matt’s tone warned her not to proceed, but she spread her hands defensively. ‘I just want to know,’ she said innocently. ‘I suppose Amy still regards this place as her second home.’
Matt swung round then, a frown drawing his brows together. ‘What are you talking about?’
Diane looked smug now. ‘I thought you were sick of talking about it,’ she mocked, and then, realising she was pushing her luck, she gave in. ‘Fliss used to work for the old man who owned this place,’ she explained. ‘I’ve heard she used to bring the kid with her.’
‘What work did she do?’
‘What do drop-outs usually do?’ asked Diane contemptuously. ‘She was his housekeeper, of course. When she wasn’t working in the pub, that is.’
Matt poured coffee into two mugs and handed one to her. ‘For someone who claims not to have seen the woman for God knows how long, you seem to know a lot about her,’ he said, sinking gratefully onto one of the two stools he’d brought down from London. He swallowed a mouthful of coffee, feeling the reassuring kick of caffeine invading his system. ‘Are you a snob, Diane?’
‘No!’ She was indignant. ‘But I can’t help it if I think she was a fool to throw away a decent education to be a single mother.’
Matt arched a dark brow. ‘Is that what she did?’
‘Yes.’ Diane scowled. ‘I mean, she was sixteen, for God’s sake. She must have been crazy.’
‘Obviously she didn’t think so.’
Diane shrugged. ‘More fool her.’ She shook her head. ‘It was the talk of the village.’
‘I bet.’
‘Well, it was so stupid. She could have had an abortion. No one need have known anything about it. It wasn’t as if the boy wanted to marry her. Mummy thinks her mother never really got over it.’
‘Ah.’ Matt was beginning to understand. ‘So you get your information from your mother.’
Diane looked offended. ‘There’s no need to take that attitude. Mummy thought I’d be interested. After all, Fliss and I used to be friends.’ She grimaced. ‘To think, I used to be like her!’
Matt was not prepared to get into that one. Instead, he concentrated on his coffee, knowing that sooner or later Diane would remember what they’d been talking about before the other woman had knocked at the door.
And he didn’t have to wait long.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘that doesn’t matter now. You were telling me what you intend to do with this place. I mean, look around you, darling. It’s going to take a fortune to make it anything like habitable.’
‘A small fortune, perhaps,’ he allowed, with a wry smile. ‘And I don’t intend to do it all at once. Just the main bedroom and a couple of reception rooms. Most of the changes are cosmetic, anyway. According to Joe Francis, the building’s sound enough.’
‘But what does it matter?’ protested Diane, setting down her mug with hardly controlled frustration. ‘Matt, you’re not going to stay here. You may kid yourself that this is what you want, but that’s just a passing phase. As soon as you’re feeling yourself again, you’ll realise that you can’t live anywhere but London. Your job’s there; your friends are there. You don’t know anyone in Mallon’s End. Except Mummy and Daddy, of course, and you don’t really care for them. Admit it.’
‘I know Mrs—Miss Taylor,’ remarked Matt, knowing it would annoy her. But dammit, she was annoying him right now. ‘And you don’t know what I want, Diane. What you’re talking about is what you want. How do you know my priorities haven’t changed?’
‘Because I do know you!’ she exclaimed fiercely. ‘You’ll soon get bored doing nothing. Even if you don’t need the money.’
Matt shrugged. ‘We’ll see.’
‘Oh!’ Diane’s exclamation was impatient. ‘All right, what about me? Have you thought about me at all? I can’t live here. My job’s in London.’
‘I know that.’
‘And?’
Matt bent his head, rubbing palms that were suddenly slick with sweat over the knees of his pants. ‘And—I think it would be a good idea if we cooled it for a while—’
‘No!’
‘Yes.’ Matt knew he was being harsh but he really didn’t have a choice. Not in the circumstances. ‘Help me on this, Diane. I need some time on my own; time to get my head straight.’ He paused, considering his words. ‘Pretending things are the way they used to be isn’t going to do it.’
‘It could.’ Diane quickly crossed the room to kneel at his feet. ‘Darling, don’t do this to me. To us. We’re so good together.’
We were, thought Matt flatly, making no attempt to touch her. ‘Diane—’
‘No, listen to me.’ She looked up at him appealingly, her heart-shaped face alight with enthusiasm, grey eyes entreating now, eager to persuade him she was right. ‘I can help you, darling. You know I can. But not if you send me away.’
‘Dammit, I’m not sending you away,’ he muttered grimly, but she wasn’t listening to him.
Moving his hands aside, she replaced them with her own. For a moment, she was still. And then, watching him with an almost avid concentration, she slid her hands along his thighs to the apex of his legs. Her intention was clear. When she licked her lips, he could see her anticipation. Then, she spread his legs and came between them…
Matt couldn’t let her go on. With a surge of revulsion, he thrust her aside and sprang to his feet. Somehow he managed to put the width of the room between them, his pulse racing, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. But it wasn’t a good feeling. He felt sick, and sickened, by what she’d trie
d to do, and he could hardly bear to look at her now.
‘Well…’ Diane got to her feet, bitterness and disappointment etched sharply on her flushed face. ‘You had only to say no, Matt. There was no need to practically knock me over in your eagerness to get away from me.’
Matt groaned. ‘Diane, please—’
‘At least I know where I stand,’ she went on, patting down her skirt, brushing a thread of cotton from the silk jersey. ‘What happened in Abuqara, Matt? Did you suddenly acquire a taste for different flesh from mine? Or was it something even more extreme? A change of sex, perhaps?’
Matt’s hands balled into fists at his sides. ‘I think you’d better go, Diane,’ he said harshly. ‘Before I forget I was brought up to be a gentleman.’
She stared at him for a moment, and then her face crumpled, the coldness in her expression giving way to a woeful defeat. ‘Oh, Matt,’ she breathed, scrubbing at the tears that were now pouring down her cheeks, ‘you know I didn’t mean that. I love you. I’d never do anything—say anything to hurt you.’
Matt felt weariness envelop him. It was all too much. Diane was too much. She had no idea how he was feeling and he didn’t have the urge—or the patience—to deal with her histrionics.
That was why he’d bought this house in the first place. He’d known Diane would not be able to accompany him and he’d persuaded himself that she’d come to see it was the best solution for both of them. He still cared about her, of course he did. But she had to understand that his attitude had changed, his aspirations had changed. He was not the man he used to be.
God help him!
‘Look,’ he said at last, crossing his arms against any attempt she might make to touch him again, ‘I know this has been hard for you, Diane. It’s been hard for both of us. And I don’t expect you to give up your life in London and move down here.’