by Penny Jordan
Kevin’s other guests were the Master of the local Hunt and his wife, who were also the largest local landowners; a pleasant couple whom Kate had met on several occasions and whose company she enjoyed, and a friend of Kevin’s from York, a barrister who had been at Cambridge with him, and whom Kate had met only once previously but also liked. His wife was an interior designer and they had turned their backs on London to return to Yorkshire. Like Kate, Lisa Flemming was a keen antinuker, to use the American term. All of them knew that she had been married and was separated, but none of them, not even Meg, knew who her husband was. Kate had wondered if she ought to tell Kevin, but although they were good friends there was no romantic involvement between them, and the knowledge that she and Jake were man and wife was embarrassing enough without extending that embarrassment to anyone else. After all, Jake was hardly likely to bring it up; not if he was escorting Rita, who presumably believed him to be ‘free’ and ‘available’.
Because she was preparing the meal, Kate decided it would be as well to change into her evening clothes at Kevin’s. The large Victorian house had any number of spare bedrooms, and when she arrived with her case on Wednesday morning, Mrs MacDonald expressed benevolent approval. ‘You can use the room next to the doctor’s. It used to be his parents’, and it’s got its own bathroom. Makes no sense rushing back to that shop to get changed and then risking getting a chill.’
It was a particularly cold day, autumn already giving way to winter several weeks too early. Most of the trees were denuded of their leaves, but Kate had grown used to the brief Northern springs and summers, both all the more poignantly lovely because of their brevity. As she had promised, Mrs MacDonald had paid special attention to the drawing room and dining room. Kevin rarely used them except when he was entertaining, and Kate was glad she had had the foresight to suggest that he turned their radiators on at the beginning of the week. Both rooms had working fires, and both were laid ready to be lit. The flowers she had ordered from the nearby town had also arrived, russets and bronzes to tone with the gold and green of the traditional dinner service she and Mrs MacDonald had unearthed. It was lunchtime before they had finished, the polished mahogany table gleaming under its weight of silver and crystal, Kate’s floral arrangement the single note of colour on the damask cloth.
‘Looks a rare fine sight, it does,’ Mrs MacDonald approved, when she came in with a silver salver of sherry glasses. ‘He’s a lucky man, is the doctor, having you to do all this for him. There’s many as wouldn’t have bothered for all that they think themselves the bee’s knees,’ she added disparagingly, and Kate hid a small grin. She was well aware of the enmity which existed between Rita and Kevin’s cleaner. Rita was a great believer in people keeping to their place, which she invariably considered to be beneath hers, and Mrs MacDonald was not a lady who took lightly to being condescended to.
At seven o’clock Kate pulled off her apron with a tiny relieved sigh and went upstairs to luxuriate in the relaxing warmth of her bath. Kevin had just returned, later than expected, and he too was changing. Some impulse she wasn’t anxious to examine too carefully had prompted Kate into being generous with the perfume she had poured into her bath. A new one for her, ‘Opium’, which Lyla had sent her for Christmas, in a lavish coffrette which included body lotion, perfume and talc. As she stepped into the bedroom wrapped in her towelling robe her feet left damp imprints on the carpet, and as she glanced at her watch she was dismayed to see how long she had lingered in the bathroom.
‘Kate, are you decent? I can’t fix this damned bow tie,’ she heard Kevin mutter impatiently outside her door. ‘Can’t think why Rita insisted on all this formal gear…’
‘I expect she’s got a new dress she wants to show off,’ Kate told him lightly as she opened her door, her mouth creasing in a humorous smile as she surveyed Kevin’s harassed features. His mousy hair stood on end and his dinner suit, although well fitting made him look ill at ease. Kevin looked best in the ancient tweed jacket and casual trousers he wore for doing his rounds.
‘Come and stand over here under the light,’ Kate instructed him, following him as he walked towards the head of the stairs. ‘Now I can see what I’m doing.’ Because she was not particularly tall, it was still necessary for Kate to stand on tiptoe to reach upwards to fiddle with the intricate fastening of Kevin’s bow tie. She was just on the point of succeeding when they heard the doorbell.
‘Damn,’ Kevin swore, and swivelled his head automatically, undoing all Kate’s careful handiwork. ‘It’s only quarter to eight! Who the devil…’
Mrs MacDonald, who had expressed a formidable determination to stay and as she put it ‘help with the siding away’, bustled into the hall and called out to Kate, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’ She opened the door, and Kate’s heart sank as she heard Rita’s familiar shrill voice.
‘Oh no, I’m sure you’re wrong,’ she was saying. ‘I know Kate told me seven-thirty…’ She paused on the threshold, peering round with extravagant bewilderment. Damn her, Kate thought grimly. She knew Rita of old, and she had no doubts at all that her early arrival was designed to cause an upset, but she had succeeded way, way, beyond her wildest dreams, Kate acknowledged dazedly as she looked down into the hall and her eyes meshed with the icy grey ones of the man who had followed Rita inside. Had he always been so tall? Six foot two, she remembered, and the fact that she was looking down at him ought to have diminished him, but it didn’t. He hadn’t changed at all, unless it was to look harder, more determined than ever, and the cold scrutiny in his eyes relayed its own brutal message as he studied the untidy knot of hair on top of her head, down along the curves of her body disguised by the robe she was wearing…down…down until Kate felt her toes curling into the carpet beneath the protection-stripping acidity of that scrutiny.
‘Kate darling, what on earth are you doing?’ If anyone could lace arch suggestiveness with coy innocence it was Rita, Kate thought, gritting her teeth.
‘Fixing Kevin’s bow tie,’ she replied coolly, ‘but now that you’re here perhaps you would like to do it for me, while I get ready.’
‘Oh, but of course, darling,’ Rita all but purred. ‘Poor you…did something go wrong, or…’ Her glance slid sideways from Kate’s set face to Kevin’s unaware one…’or did we arrive at a bad time?’
‘You’re early,’ Kevin told her. ‘You weren’t supposed to be here until eight, and I got back late.’
‘But, darling, you’re ready,’ Rita pointed out slyly. ‘Kate’s been here all day, and she isn’t. Having problems, Kate?’
‘Not really.’ She forced herself to smile calmly. ‘Drinks are ready in the drawing room, Kevin. I shan’t be long…’ She paused by the door to her room.
‘Staying the night, are you?’ Rita enquired. ‘Oh, don’t be shy with me, darling,’ she added sweetly, ‘we’re all adults here, although I can well understand why Kevin put you in a separate room. Mrs Mac, Kevin’s cleaner, is a regular pillar of the Church,’ she explained to Jake, adding, ‘Oh, Jake, poor darling—I haven’t introduced you yet, have I? This is Kevin, your host, and…’
‘Let’s let poor Kate get dressed before anyone else arrives,’ Kevin suggested, interrupting Rita hastily. ‘Sorry about this, Harvey,’ Kate heard him apologising to Jake as she closed her bedroom door. ‘It’s all Rita’s fault, if she hadn’t insisted on this damned formal dress…’
She couldn’t stay here cowering away all night, Kate told herself shakily, hardly able to bear to face her reflection in the mirror. She looked like a child who had been beaten. Defeat lay starkly at the back of her eyes, her skin as pale as skimmed milk. She stared at the dress hanging on the back of the door. She had bought it on a mad impulse in London. Matt black silk, it was American, Calvin Klein, with long tight sleeves and a neckline that dipped almost to the waist at the front, where the silk was caught up in a soft knot, the skirt of the dress caught up in the same way, so that it revealed the slender length of her thighs when she moved. It clun
g so tightly to her skin that all she could wear beneath it was a pair of fine silk panties. The choker of pearls Lyla had given her as a wedding present did little to make the dress appear more modest, but in reality it revealed far less of her body than Rita’s rustling boned-bodiced taffeta. But it was the way it hinted at what wasn’t revealed that made it a dress designed by a man for a woman with his own sex in mind, Kate reflected as she brushed her hair and let it settle round her shoulders in a heavy cloud, knowing there wasn’t time to do anything else with it. Black high-heeled satin sandals, and the careful application of enough make-up to give her a gloss of colour, completed her preparations, tiny diamond ear studs winking in her ears when she moved and the chestnut curls drifted languorously against her shoulders.
Instead of joining the others in the drawing room she went straight to the kitchen to check on the meal. The vegetables were all prepared ready for cooking when everyone had arrived. Heaving a faint sigh of relief that everything was under control, Kate walked unsteadily into the hall, smoothing slightly damp palms against her hips as she took a deep breath and walked into the drawing room. Conversation stopped. Out of the corner of her eye Kate was aware of Rita regarding her with barely concealed chagrin, Jake at her side, his enigmatical grey glance slicing towards her, warning her that he was not deceived; that he knew she was still the vulnerable child she had always been, despite the trappings of womanhood she was now able to assume.
‘Kate… Kate, you look magnificent,’ Kevin muttered, plainly stunned by her appearance.
‘My dear, you did go overboard, didn’t you?’ Rita said nastily. ‘Did you go down to London especially to buy it? You should be honoured, Jake,’ she told her companion. ‘Kate’s normal attire is jeans and an ancient woolly jumper. Kate runs our local craft shop.’ She made it sound as though she had straws stuck in her hair, Kate thought irefully. ‘She’s also a fantastic cook, unlike poor little me!’ Rita batted her eyelashes winsomely.
‘I bought the dress in London, the last time I went to New York,’ Kate interposed coolly. ‘Another sherry, Rita? You prefer sweet, don’t you?’ Heavens, what was getting into her? Kate wondered. She was being nearly as bitchy as Rita. Fortunately the doorbell rang before the situation could deteriorate any further, and as luck would have it Lisa and Richard had arrived at exactly the same time as the Crabtrees.
‘Kate, this melon is delicious,’ Mary Crabtree enthused when they were halfway through the first course. ‘I’ve never tasted anything like it. By the way, I’ve made Alan promise to buy me one of your lovely jumpers for Christmas, and I mean to make sure he does,’ she added, smiling at her husband. ‘Kate designs the most beautiful jumpers,’ she told Jake who was seated on her right. ‘She sells them in London and New York and has a regular circle of knitters working for her in Ebbdale.’
‘She’s also absolutely anti your power station, darling,’ Rita cut in bitchily. ‘I swear she’d have us all dancing around it like those Greenham Common women if she could, wouldn’t you, Kate?’
‘It’s no secret that I disapprove of missiles being based in this country,’ Kate agreed smoothly, her eyes meeting Jake’s down the length of the table. ‘I’m a firm believer in multilateral disarmament, and I’m sorry if you don’t approve of that, Mr Harvey.’
‘Are you?’ Jake challenged softly. Everyone’s attention seemed to be riveted on her, Kate realised, and she could sense that Rita was furious at this turn of events. Kate knew quite well that the only reason Rita had mentioned her anti-nuclear stance was to draw it to Jake’s attention, not to make Kate the centre of everyone else’s.
‘Well, I for one admire and agree with Kate,’ Lisa was saying. ‘Oh, I know you don’t agree with me, Richard,’ she silenced her husband, ‘but the thought of what could happen if a reactor went wrong gives me the shivers, and I can’t believe that adequate precautions are taken with the transport of nuclear waste. You only have to read the papers…’
‘Yes,’ Kevin broke in eagerly, ‘that’s one aspect of nuclear power that worries me, and it’s one I wanted to bring up with you, Jake. During your predecessor’s time we campaigned hard to tighten up the safety standards, but Henry was a bit of a diehard… Please don’t think we’ve dragged you here tonight to bombard you with arguments and persuasion but if you could spare the time to talk with me about the safety standards…’
‘I am always interested in discussions that could lead to an improvement in that quarter,’ Jake surprised Kate by saying smoothly. ‘In fact at the station I’ve been working on in the States, we found there was a marked decrease in antipathy towards nuclear power once we invited the local people in to see how it works. We ran several tours, gave talks, asked them for their views and thoughts, and set up a working committee comprised of some of our staff and the locals…and you mustn’t lose sight of the fact that these stations often bring work to areas of high unemployment…’
‘Work, ill health and the potential for death,’ Kate interrupted bitterly. He was mesmerising them with his voice, with his reasoned arguments and calm approach, but she wasn’t deceived, not for a moment.
‘That’s a typically female and if you’ll forgive me, rather hysterical reaction,’ Jake countered coolly. ‘Coal mining, engineering, and many other forms of employment are hazardous, but I’ve yet to see a bunch of hysterical women gathered round a pithead screeching for it to be closed.’
‘It isn’t just the manner of the work,’ Kate protested. ‘It’s everything that goes with it!’
‘If you mean missiles, that isn’t the purpose of Ebbdale’s station. It’s a nuclear power station only. Missiles are a separate entity, but again I can’t agree with you. They are a deterrent, whichever way you look at it. In a world of perfect human beings we wouldn’t need them, I’d be the first to agree, but unfortunately when Adam bit into that apple, he absorbed more than the mere knowledge of sex; mankind is its own worst enemy. For centuries we’ve systematically destroyed our planet and our environment…’
‘And now you’re prepared to go one step further and destroy it completely!’
‘Not personally,’ Jake assured her grimly. His mouth had tightened and she recognised the icy sparks glittering from the cold grey eyes. He had changed, she thought, watching him. There were the faint beginnings of grey in the matt darkness of his hair, hair she had loved to ruffle beneath her fingers, to stroke as he made love to her. ‘Try looking at the other side of the coin,’ he advised her harshly. ‘Nuclear power could free this planet from starvation and poverty, third world nations…’
‘Can’t wait to build missiles with it,’ Kate interrupted him huskily, ‘people are expendable, power is not!’
‘Oh, Kate, for goodness’ sake,’ Rita interrupted pouting a smile at Jake, ‘poor Jake came here for a meal, not to be harangued. Honestly, darling, you’d better watch it, you’re turning into a fanatic. Kate’s divorced, you know,’ she confided to Jake, making Kate feel sick inside as she forced herself to look into his implacable face. ‘Poor darling, she does tend to get dreadfully intense at times.’
Kate couldn’t bear to look at Jake. She excused herself stiltedly and rushed into the kitchen, half blinded by the tears of fury she couldn’t suppress. Lisa was behind her, her pretty face pink with sympathy and anger as she closed the kitchen door. ‘What a first-rate bitch Rita is,’ she announced. ‘Personally I’m sure she only did it because she could see how interested Jake was in what you were saying. She’s jealous that she might lose him to you.’
‘There isn’t any danger of that,’ Kate assured her, breathing deeply as she tried to regain control.
‘Oh, I shouldn’t be so sure,’ Lisa argued, helping her to load the heated trolley with the main course. ‘I saw the way he was looking at you, like a very hungry cat faced with a particularly delectable mouse, and Rita saw it too.’
‘Well, she needn’t worry,’ Kate said hardily, ‘He isn’t my type. I prefer men whose compassion isn’t in inverse proportion to the
ir massively inflated male ego!’ She heard Lisa’s indrawn breath, and turned quickly, colour flooding her pale face as she saw Jake standing in the door frame, the look in his eyes telling her that he had overheard every rash word.
‘Ah, Rita was wrong, I see. She seemed to think you had made a bolt for the kitchen to indulge in a fit of feminine tears. As I seemed to have been responsible for causing them I thought it my duty to come and ensure that you weren’t crying saltily into our dinner.’
Kate could tell that Lisa was surprised. She was watching them round-eyed with awe, and Kate supposed that it did seem a highly charged exchange for two people who were only supposed to have met for the first time a couple of hours ago. She wasn’t to know that tears had often been her refuge from the acid lash of Jake’s tongue, during their marriage. She hadn’t cried since he left her, and she certainly wasn’t going to start now.
‘On the contrary, you’ll find your dinner is completely salt-free,’ she told him coolly, ‘it’s far better for one’s health.’
‘Gracious,’ Lisa goggled later when she was helping Kate to remove the main course and bring in the dessert and the cheese, ‘he must have heard every word we said! I can’t think what would have happened if the two of you had been alone.’
‘He’d have strangled me probably,’ Kate admitted with a commendable show of uninterest.
‘Either that or kissed you breathless,’ Lisa agreed.
‘And to think he’s being wasted on Rita! He makes me feel weak at the knees!’ She saw Kate’s hand shake faintly and pounced. ‘Ah, I knew you weren’t as indifferent to him as you seemed. If you want my opinion,’ she added slyly, ‘all that verbal sparring can have only one real conclusion.’