by Anne Weale
‘About an hour and a half.’
‘If you’d shown up a little sooner you could have joined us for lunch.’ He noticed the hamper. ‘Oh, you brought some with you. Too bad I got here first.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have to eat alone. I had this guy for company.’ Pierce reached down to run his hand along the cat’s glossy back. ‘But I do have some things I’d like to discuss with Holly in private. As you’ve had her to yourself since before one, perhaps you wouldn’t mind my having her to myself for the rest of the afternoon. A lot of what we have to talk about wouldn’t be of interest to you.’
It was pleasantly said but there was no mistaking the firmness underlying the suggestion. Expressed in a courteous way, it was basically an order for Ben to take himself off and the sooner the better.
‘Oh...right.’ At first taken aback, Ben quickly adjusted his expression. ‘I’ll be off, then. See you around.’
But as he was turning away Holly grabbed his sleeve. ‘Wait... I haven’t thanked you for lunch yet.’
‘It was my pleasure, Holly.’
After a slight hesitation, he bent to kiss the cheek she offered him.
When he had gone, Holly said, ‘That wasn’t very friendly.’
‘I’m not feeling friendly,’ said Pierce. ‘How many times has he been here?’
‘Only twice. Why?’
‘I shouldn’t like to see him hurt.’
‘I’m not going to hurt him.’
‘The only way to be sure of that is to be unavailable next time he wants to date you.’
‘Today wasn’t a date. It was just a friendly lunch.’
‘There’s no such thing as a friendly lunch between men and women who find each other attractive.’
‘I don’t find Ben attractive. I mean, I do in a general way, but not personally...and I’m sure it’s the same for him.’ She was tempted to add, I know it’s the same for him, but felt that might lead to questions she couldn’t answer without breaking Ben’s confidence.
‘You may be sure, but I’m not,’ was his clipped reply. ‘You underestimate yourself. You’re very beguiling and Ben is very susceptible.’
‘Is he? What makes you think so?’
‘Fujiko says he’s unhappy. A love affair has gone wrong. He could fall for you on the rebound. He could fall for you, period.’
‘I can assure you he won’t. We like each other very much, but only as friends. There’s no special spark between us.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. How about making me some tea?’
‘With pleasure.’ She unlocked the door. ‘I’m sorry your plan fell flat. It’s a good day for a picnic.’
The cottage had no hall. The front door opened into the living room which was adequately but simply furnished. Holly had been free to put her own stamp on it with books and other personal possessions from a trunk she had acquired before leaving the house which had once belonged to her father but had later become her stepmother’s property.
The kitchen led off the main room. While she was filling the kettle and laying a tray, Pierce wandered about, looking at her books and the paintings hanging in place of the cheap and cheerful prints put up by the owners of the cottage.
‘This looks like a Seago. Is it?’ he said, looking at a small oil painting of an Arab market.
‘Yes, it’s the medina in Marrakech. My father bought it...an extravagance he never regretted. I think by now it must be worth many times what he paid for it, but I could never part with it. The painting next to it, of Venice, was my mother’s. It’s by Glynn Boyd Harte. My parents went to Venice for their honeymoon and she kept a diary in a notebook my father bought her on their first morning there. One day, when I can afford it, I’m going to have a holiday in Venice and go to all the places they went to.’
Pierce had moved on to look at the titles of the paperbacks filling some hanging shelves.
Her memory jogged, Holly clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, hell’s bells...I’ve never thanked you for sending me Daddy’s books. I meant to write you a letter and it went clean out of my head. How bad-mannered you must have thought me.’
‘We all forget things,’ he said easily.
‘I bet you never do.’
‘I have a PA to remind me.’
‘I feel horribly ashamed of myself. It was such a nice gesture on your part.’
He swung to face her. ‘Then how about a reciprocal gesture from you...? A kiss would be pleasant.’
He had her cornered, with no gracious way of evading him.
‘All right,’ she said, outwardly calm, walking towards him. ‘But I am very sorry I haven’t thanked you before.’
As Pierce didn’t bend his head, in order to put her lips to his cheeks she had to rise on her toes and steady herself with her palms on his chest.
‘Thank you now,’ she said, before kissing him.
He put his hands on her waist, preventing her from backing off. ‘A peck on the cheek wasn’t what I had in mind. You can do better than that.’
Now he did bend his head, finding her mouth and sending a surge of pleasure through every nerve in her body. She didn’t resist him. She couldn’t. This was where she wanted to be, held securely in his arms, her mouth parting under his.
It was Pierce who, some time later, put her away from him.
‘I think the kettle will have boiled by now.’
Relieved to be let off so lightly, for she knew that already she had lost the power to resist him, she hurried back to the kitchen, hoping her movements didn’t betray how dizzy with longing he had made her.
He followed her. ‘I’ll take the tray. Where do you want me to put it?’
‘On the table by the windows, please. I’ll open them. We’ll still get the sun and the chairs are more comfortable than the bench outside.’
While he was carrying the tray, she found a packet of chocolate digestive biscuits and a plate to put them on. She had never felt less like snacking, but arranging the biscuits in an orderly circle gave her a reason not to join him until she felt more composed. She wasn’t used to handling these feelings he had aroused in her.
‘I’ll pour the tea, shall I? You might spill it,’ said Pierce once they had both sat down.
When she flashed a quick glance, he was smiling. He knew the effect his kisses had had on her, damn him.
‘I have an apartment in Venice,’ he went on. ‘We could spend our honeymoon there.’
For some seconds she couldn’t believe he had said what she thought he had said.
Reading her mind, Pierce added, ‘Yes, that was a proposal of marriage. Not a very romantic one, perhaps, but I can promise you a romantic honeymoon. Venice is the most romantic city in the world... as I expect your mother’s diary records.’
‘I can’t believe you’re serious!’ Holly exclaimed. ‘Why would you want to marry me, of all people?’
Pierce placed a cup of tea in front of her. ‘You’re the only one, of all people, I have ever wanted to marry.’
‘But you’re not in love with me...are you?’
‘I don’t think being in love as the best basis for marriage. Liking makes better sense. I like you very much, Holly. I knew you were the woman I’d been waiting for when you fell in love with Talavera. Falling in love with a house is different from falling in love with a person. A love affair with a house almost always lasts a lifetime. Where’s the pot from Talavera you told me about?’
‘It’s on the large bookcase.’ She went to fetch it and give it to him.
Pierce turned it over to look at the words painted on the base. ‘Perhaps one day we’ll go to Talavera together and choose some more pottery there. You are going to say yes, aren’t you?’
‘I need time to think about it. You’ve taken me completely by surprise. I—I thought you only wanted to get me into bed.’
‘I do want to do that... very much. I think you want to be there with me. But perhaps it might add to our enjoyment if we postponed that pleasure until
our wedding night. Which won’t involve waiting very long. When is your birthday?’
‘The day before Christmas Eve.’
‘Then why don’t we get married on your birthday and spend Christmas in Venice?’
‘That’s less than a month away.’
‘So?’
‘It’s terribly rushed. We’ve only known each other a short time.’
‘But our minds aren’t clouded by the usual illusions that cause so much trouble later when they start to fade and reveal all the faults and flaws which were overlooked before. I know you can be prickly. You know I like my own way.’
Holly started sipping the hot tea, hoping it would have a steadying effect. ‘I know I couldn’t bear being married to a man who was unfaithful to me...even if it wasn’t a love match,’ she said, in a low voice.
‘I shan’t be unfaithful. I shall have no reason to stray. On the whole, men don’t, if they have all they want at home.’
‘I’m not sure that’s true,’ she said. ‘Some men are compulsive gamblers or drinkers and some are womanisers.’
‘Any unattached virile man is going to make the most of his opportunities until he finds a wife,’ said Pierce. ‘We’re driven by a powerful urge to perpetuate the species. The fact that we can control the outcome of our couplings doesn’t alter the strength of that driving force. Once we have a woman of our own, the force has a focus. If I give you my word I won’t stray, you can trust me to keep it. You trusted me with your life when you flew to Devon in the chopper. Can’t you trust my promise that from now on you’ll be the only woman in my life?’
‘I don’t know,’ she answered honestly. ‘At the moment my head’s in such a whirl that I don’t know what to think.’
‘How long d’you think you will need to recover your equilibrium? A few days? A week?’
‘How can I say? It’s been such a bolt from the blue.’
‘Call me when you’ve made up your mind. Now I’d better call up the taxi service I used to get here. If I stay, I’ll be tempted to use undue persuasion,’ he said, his eyes caressing her.
He had made his phone call and was replacing the aerial when Parson joined them, jumping onto the third chair and starting to groom a paw.
‘I wonder what he and Louisa will make of each other... assuming you decide to join forces with me?’ said Pierce.
‘Joining forces makes it sound more like a business merger than a marriage.’
‘Marriage is a merger.’ Suddenly he reached across the table and captured one of her hands. ‘It would be very easy to sweep you off your feet, Holly. But I don’t want to do that...not yet. I’d rather reserve that for Venice. In the meantime, I’ll only say that, if you do decide to spend the rest of your life with me, I’ll do my utmost to make the future a happy one.’
The seriousness of his tone brought a lump to her throat. How could she refuse what he offered? It might not be the fulfilment of her secret dreams, but it was far more than her rational self had expected.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FOR two days Holly grappled with conflicting thoughts and emotions. Her head was at war with her heart and she had no one to turn to for wise advice.
Usually, when she had a problem, she would imagine talking it over with her father. Invariably, from among all the things he had said to her while she’d been growing up, there would be something to guide her to the right decision.
But her present dilemma was so far removed from anything she or he could have visualised happening to her that none of her father’s codes of behaviour nor anyone else’s seemed to cover it.
A marriage of convenience—which was what, basically, Pierce’s proposal boiled down to—had been nothing out of the ordinary in past times when women had been dependent on men from the cradle to the grave.
But now, in the closing years of the twentieth century when, even if not in all countries, women had climbed every summit of achievement and no doors remained closed to them, such marriages were an anachronism.
Today, with the exception of gold-diggers like Chiara who would marry for money, women married for love. Which, judging by the divorce statistics, was no greater guarantee of happiness than marrying a man selected for you by your parents, Holly thought, with a sigh as, for the second night in succession, sleep eluded her.
Next morning she overslept, waking with a headache and the insoluble problem still looming over her.
While she was fixing her breakfast, she turned on the radio to hear the weather forecast, forgetting that, as she was up late, she wouldn’t catch the programmes she usually heard.
A man with a quiet voice not unlike her father’s was giving a talk. For some minutes, with Parson stroking her legs with his furry body and her mind on what she was doing, she listened to the pleasant timbre and good diction rather than to the subject matter.
Then the speaker began to recite some lines she had first heard at Stratford-upon-Avon, at a performance of Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.
‘“There is a tide in the affairs of men,
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
Omitted, all the voyage of their life
Is bound in shallows and in miseries.”’
The melodious voice continued but Holly was no longer listening. Suddenly, her mind was made up.
Why hadn’t she seen before what now, all at once, seemed obvious? Loving Pierce, she had no choice but to marry him. And perhaps, if she made him happy and helped to realise his dream of how Talavera could be, one day he would find that he loved her.
Wondering if, by this time, he would have left for his office, she tried his private number. After three rings, he answered.
‘Sutherland speaking.’
‘It’s Holly. Am I calling at a bad moment?’
‘There are no bad moments as far as you’re concerned. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. How are you?’
‘I’ll answer that when you’ve told me what you’ve decided. I take it you have decided?’
‘Yes. Is your offer still open?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then I’d like to marry you...I’d like it very much.’
There was silence at the other end of the line.
Wondering if, despite his assurance, when it came to the crunch he might be having second thoughts, she said anxiously, ‘Pierce...are you there?’
‘I’m here. I’m wishing you were. There are better ways to seal this kind of agreement than by talking. As bad luck would have it, I can’t come to you today and I have a raft of appointments tomorrow as well. But I’m free this evening. Could you come and have dinner with me?’
‘With pleasure. What time would suit you?’
‘Be here by six if you can. We have a lot to talk about.’
‘Until six,’ she said. ‘Goodbye, Pearce.’
‘And Holly?’ he said, with some urgency, in case she rang off.
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’ He had lowered his voice to a more intimate tone. ‘If you still have lurking misgivings about your decision, it’s the right one, I promise you. We’re going to be very happy together.’
‘I hope so...for both our sakes.’
‘You can be sure of it. Bye now.’ It was he who cut the connection.
In case she should need to stay in London more than one night, Holly took Parson with her. As the train was half-empty, she let him out of his basket to sit on the seat beside her, hoping that if a ticket inspector came by he wouldn’t insist on the cat being put back inside his travelling container.
From Liverpool Street Station, she took the underground to Marble Arch and from there walked the short distance to an inexpensive bed and breakfast establishment frequented by members of the Women’s Institute and similar organisations when they came up from the country to attend their annual conference or have a day’s shopping followed by a visit to the theatre.
The reason she hadn’t rung Chiara and asked to put up with her was that Holly didn’t
want to break the news to her stepsister until she had talked to Pierce again and become more used to the idea that by the end of the year she would no longer be Holly Nicholson but Holly Sutherland.
When she arrived at the B and B place, the woman who ran it looked at the furry face peering through the window in the basket and said, ‘We can’t take pets here, I’m afraid.’
‘He won’t be here for very long,’ said Holly. ‘I’m taking him out to dinner with me. He’s very quiet and well-behaved. He won’t scratch your furniture, I promise you.’
‘What about doing his business? Where’s he going to do that? Not in one of my bedrooms,’ the landlady said severely.
‘Of course not. He has a lead. I’ll take him for a walk last thing and again first thing in the morning. The thing is, I’d nowhere to leave him and tonight I’m celebrating my engagement,’ Holly explained.
The landlady’s face softened slightly. ‘There’s a shed at the back he could sleep in without doing much harm. But not if he’s going to start caterwauling and disturbing my other guests.’
‘Neutered tom-cats don’t caterwaul. Parson might miaow a few times while he settles down, but you see how quiet he’s being now. He never made a sound on the tube.’
‘Well, all right, I’ll make an exception,’ the landlady conceded graciously. ‘But kindly keep it to yourself. I don’t want myself inundated with people’s cats, do I?’
Holly arrived at Pierce’s front door at five minutes past six. She was tense with excitement, her insides quivering as they had before playing small parts in school theatrical productions and before her college interview.
When Pierce opened the door and saw what she was carrying, he said, ‘Is your acceptance conditional on your cat liking my cat?’
‘It will be awkward if they don’t get on.’
‘They’ll get on,’ he said confidently, taking the basket from her with one hand and cupping her chin with the other.
‘Hello again.’ He touched her lips lightly with his in a kiss of such unexpected tenderness that it took her breath away.