‘It is. So, as I don’t renege on promises unless it’s a matter of life and death, Saturday it has to be. Just for the weekend. My plane goes at 5.30 a.m. In less than two hours after that I’ll be breakfasting on fresh croissants. You could come with me if you like?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Just throw a change of clothes in a bag. I’m sure you could stop with Genifer and Jean-Claude. They’d love to have you. You know, if it would make you feel more comfortable stopping with them rather than at my villa, seeing as we’ve only just met – as you so forcefully told the assistant in the paint shop.’
Morgan grinned at her but Carrie didn’t grin back. He was laughing at her, wasn’t he? Or teasing her at the very least. And she didn’t like being teased. Not at the moment anyway.
‘It’s not that, Morgan,’ she told him. ‘Honestly. I can’t do weekends. I told you.’
‘And you’re not going to tell me why?’
Carrie shook her head.
Morgan shrugged his shoulders.
‘As I said just now, Carrie, it’s too lovely an evening not to make the best of it. I’d like to show you the lake.’
And put like that, how could Carrie refuse?
Chapter Six
‘You could wear this,’ Morgan said, holding out a buoyancy aid towards Carrie.
‘No I couldn’t,’ Carrie said. ‘I don’t do water. And I can’t come to Cannes with you.’
‘Another weekend then?’
Oh dear, he wasn’t giving up, was he? Morgan was dangling a buoyancy aid in front of her, and she could see a sales ticket hanging from it.
‘But that’s new!’ Carrie said. ‘There’s still a price tag on it.’
‘I know. I had a job finding it in Grangeleigh, I can tell you. I could have bought any number of things with which to shear sheep or milk cows or feed chickens, but a buoyancy aid eluded me for hours.’
‘But you found one in the end.’
‘I did. But I had to guess your size …’
Morgan’s voice trailed away, his eyes resolutely on Carrie’s, but it still made her shiver to think his eyes had been on her – when she wasn’t looking probably – trying to judge her size.
‘You bought it for me?’
‘I did.’
Carrie was touched at his thoughtfulness, yet embarrassed, too, that he’d spent money on her.
‘I don’t like to think of you wasting your money on me,’ Carrie said, gently. After all a gift was a gift, whatever it might be, and Morgan had bought if for her – and no one else.
‘It won’t be a waste if you wear it. We can take the dinghy on the lake. I’ve got the trailer hitched to the Land Rover ready.’
Morgan tilted his head to one said, looked at Carrie questioningly – almost pleadingly she thought.
‘Now?’
‘Why not now? It’s perfect for sailing. It will give you a taster for when you do come to Cannes.’
‘I haven’t said I’m coming to Cannes.’
‘You’d love it, I promise you. Anyway, in the meantime, I’ve got an old waterproof you can wear. It’s one I had as a teenager – a bit faded and tatty now, but it will do.’
Oh yes, she thought, and I’m going to look so sexy in that – not!
She looked at her watch. She’d promised to call in on her mother later.
‘An hour?’ Morgan said.
My, but he was keen.
‘Three quarters,’ Carrie said. ‘I’ve promised my mother I’ll call in on my way home. The hire van should be here in time.’
She explained how her mother was anxious about answering the door in the dark, and how she bolted herself in once the streetlamps came on so that even with a key Carrie would be unable to get in.
‘It won’t be dark for ages yet. And I guarantee you’re going to enjoy this,’ Morgan said.
He raced off somewhere, coming back with an old windcheater.
‘Hold your arms out,’ he said, and Carrie duly complied with the demand, as Morgan fed her arms into the bulky sleeves and sealed the wristbands securely. Then he zipped it up for her, as though she was a child needing help. He did it so gently, his hands carefully gliding past the small mounds of her breasts without touching until he clicked the popper shut at the neck. ‘And now the buoyancy aid. I’ll need to pull tighter with that. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Carrie said as he helped ease her into it as he had with the windcheater.
‘You look great,’ Morgan said.
I do? I feel like a trussed up chicken, actually, was what she wanted to say. But even though she was anxious about being in a tiny dinghy she was excited too. She’d always had an adventurous spirit – and it had been Aaron who’d knocked it out of her, she realised now.
‘I’ll try not to be sick,’ Carrie said with a grin.
‘What do I have to do?’ Carrie asked, as Morgan helped her into the dinghy. How small her hand was in his, how warm and dry his hand was, and how safe she felt.
‘Sit there for a moment until I cast off. Then you’ll have to keep out of the way of the boom. I’ll need to go about quickly if we’re not to hit the bank over there.’
‘I hope not,’ Carrie said. ‘I can’t swim, remember.’
‘I remembered. Hence the buoyancy aid.’
‘Right,’ Carrie said.
‘I won’t confuse you with science right now, but you will need to move quickly from port to starboard when I tell you.’
‘Um …’
‘You don’t know which is which?’
‘Port’s left, but which is left on a boat?’ Carrie asked as Morgan raised the sails, secured the ropes.
‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll point. Okay? But we’ll need to move now because the breeze is filling the sail.’
The dinghy wobbled and Carrie clutched the side. Morgan pushed off from the bank and suddenly it was just them and the breeze and the lowering sun and a bird singing somewhere high in a tree. For half an hour it was just them, and Carrie could forget about Morgan having a woman somewhere he wanted to have children with.
‘Like it?’ Morgan asked. ‘Hang on tight! I’m going to go about now.’
‘It’s nothing like the cross channel ferry,’ Carrie laughed as they returned to an even keel. ‘I don’t feel the teensiest bit sick. Yet!’
‘Ah,’ Morgan said. ‘That could all change. Because in that basket there is some champagne. And glasses. And just so we don’t drink on an empty stomach I’ve brought some canapés from the deli in the village. Right, head down, I’m dropping the sail now.’
Morgan guided the dinghy to the bank and tied up. Then he opened the half bottle of champagne and handed the glasses to Carrie, their hands touching and in the instant they did, their eyes met and held. Carrie couldn’t help noticing that Morgan’s hands shook as he pulled the cork – the pop loud in the stillness of the late afternoon. There was a plop as the cork landed in the lake, and Carrie laughed.
‘Only one glass, then,’ she said.
‘Me too. My plane goes at dawn.’
‘That early?’
‘That early,’ Morgan said.
And the air seemed to be charged between them. There was nothing but silence because now even the birds had stopped singing. Carrie could feel the thump of her heart against her ribs – the effect of being so close to Morgan.
‘Shall I open this?’ Carrie asked, breaking the silence, pointing to the box of canapés.
‘Please. Then come and sit here or we might topple over.’ He patted the seat beside him in the stern, just wide enough for two. Carrie slid along the seat until you couldn’t have got a hair between her thigh and Morgan’s, but they didn’t touch. She didn’t dare.
‘Mmm, but those were so good,’ Carrie said, finishing a third smoked salmon blini. She’d already eaten two bite-sized wild mushroom vol-au-vents and a vegetable samosa.
‘Glad you like them,’ Morgan said, smiling.
‘All this fresh air’s given me an appeti
te. I can’t believe how peaceful it is here,’ Carrie said.
‘This was my sanctuary when I was a boy,’ Morgan said. ‘The place I always ran to in times of trouble.’
‘Are you running now?’ Carrie asked, turning to look thoughtfully at him.
‘From?’
‘Anything. Anyone.’
Morgan put down his glass and placed his hands either side of Carrie’s face and tilted her head to his. She didn’t resist, but she knew her eyes were wide with shock – she could see herself reflected in Morgan’s pupils.
Then Morgan touched his lips to the tip of her nose. He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, for her to push him away, or remonstrate – but she didn’t. She couldn’t.
‘Only from myself,’ Morgan said.
Then he brushed his lips against hers, just a feathery kiss, and she closed her eyes.
‘I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you,’ Morgan said. His hands still held Carrie’s face, and her eyes were still closed. Slowly she opened them, but didn’t speak. And she didn’t move. ‘Come to Cannes with me, Carrie, please?’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’ve already told you I can’t do weekends.’
She reached up to place her hands on Morgan’s and pulled them away from her face, but she did it gently.
‘Can’t or won’t?’
‘Can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’d rather not go into that.’
‘But you’re not cross I kissed you?’
‘I’d rather not answer that.’
‘Ah,’ Morgan said, as Carrie felt colour tinge her cheeks. ‘Then, I think you enjoyed that kiss every bit as much as I did.’
‘It was hardly a kiss,’ she said.
‘Well, I can soon rectify that!’ Morgan laughed, but Carrie put up a hand to stop him.
‘No! I can’t deny I didn’t enjoy it because it’s been a long time since anyone has kissed me – or wanted to kiss me – but I don’t think it’s right. You’re my employer and I think it is going to be best for us both if we keep it that way.’
Carrie scrambled to her feet and went to the side of the dinghy. She yanked on the mooring rope until the side touched the bank of the lake. Then she swung one leg over onto the shore, and then the other until she was standing on the grass glaring down at Morgan.
‘And we’ve both got responsibilities!’ she yelled at him, before turning towards the track that went towards the house. ‘Haven’t we? You to whoever it is you have asked me to decorate the nursery for, and—’
‘I can explain, if—’ Morgan called after her.
‘Forget it, Morgan. I’ll see you on Monday. Have a good weekend.’
As Carrie ran down the track, she prayed her hire van would be waiting in the drive.
Carrie got caught in a queue of traffic going into Farchester – a queue so slow that at times she’d killed the engine and simply waited for traffic to start again. The queue had only just got going again, but was creeping along – a snail could have moved faster.
Her lips were still tingling from Morgan’s kiss, as soft and as unthreatening as it had been. How could he? He was planning a nursery for his future family with his future wife and he’d kissed her – Carrie. And he’d got her out on the water under the pretext of having bought her a buoyancy aid especially so that she’d feel obliged to go, hadn’t he?
And then there’d been that moment when she’d opened her eyes after the kiss and all she’d wanted to do was put her arms around his neck, pull him to her, kiss him long and hard and feel him kiss her back. It had all been so perfect out there on the lake. The sun had hovered a long time in the sky, turning it a pearly pink, then crimson, before sinking.
Well, just forget him, Carrie Fraser, she told herself as she parked in her mother’s drive. It will just be another Friday evening for you while Mum decides what she wants to eat for supper on Saturday and for Sunday lunch. And then you’ll go to the supermarket on the way back to her flat and buy the groceries.
But something didn’t feel right as at last she arrived in her mother’s road. Her mother’s bungalow was in darkness. The hall light should have been on, but wasn’t. The curtains should have been drawn to shut out the night, but weren’t.
Carrie yanked on the handbrake and got out of the hire van. She slammed the door shut before running to the front door and ringing the bell. There was no response. Something was seriously wrong here, Carrie knew it.
Racing around to the back of the bungalow, Carrie found the spare – hopefully burglar-proof – key at the bottom of the garden under the watering can and raced back again, letting herself in through the kitchen.
‘Mum! It’s only me!’ Carrie called into the darkness, her voice a wobble of fear that she might find her mother collapsed somewhere. She snapped on the kitchen light. No dishes were on the side waiting for her to wash up as there often were if her mum knew she was calling.
After a rapid search of the bungalow, her breathing coming fast and shallow, it soon became obvious that her mother wasn’t around. Her wheelchair was parked and folded, as it always was when not in use, in the small hallway.
The place felt cold – as if no one had been in it for a while. Racing back to the kitchen, Carrie put her hand to the kettle – stone cold.
Might there be a note for her somewhere, telling her where her mother had gone? Carrie tried all the obvious places but found nothing. If only she’d been able to persuade her mother to use a mobile phone then she could have rung that, but her mother had always argued that there would be no point, she never went anywhere these days.
Well she had now – but where, and with whom?
Carrie took several deep breaths to calm herself. There were no obvious signs that her mother had struggled with anyone, or that anyone had broken in, so Carrie decided to wait for half an hour before taking any further action. Her mother couldn’t have gone far unaided, that was for certain – and whoever she was with would soon bring her back, wouldn’t they?
But the minutes ticked by slowly, so slowly. When the half hour was up, Carrie rang her mother’s neighbours, but no one knew where she was. One of them said they’d seen the man deliver her lunch as normal.
Carrie sat at the kitchen table and watched the minute hand tick another five minutes slowly around the clock. Should she try the hospital to see if her mother had been admitted? Or the police? Yes, hospital first.
Carrie had just dialled the second number for the hospital when her mobile beeped.
Immediately she stopped dialling to answer it.
‘Mum?’ she said.
‘Er, no, Carrie. It’s me – Morgan.’
Morgan? Why him? Why now? Carrie could feel her heart rate increase and it was already going fast enough with worry over her mother. A wave of relief rippled through her that she wasn’t so alone if Morgan was on the end of the phone. She tried to find her voice to ask Morgan why he was ringing, but couldn’t.
‘Carrie? Are you okay? Where are you?’
‘I’m at my mother’s but … but … she’s not here.’ Carrie’s voice began to break.
‘But you were expecting her to be?’
‘Yes. I told you. But it’s not like her not to be here. I’m …’
‘Right,’ Morgan said. ‘I can tell you’re worried. Give me your mother’s full name, age and address and I’ll do some ringing around.’
‘You mean hospitals and the police,’ Carrie said, her voice small and to her own ears sounding a long way off. ‘I was just going to do …’
‘Name, age, address, Carrie.’
Carrie gave him the information.
‘Okay. Now sit tight. Try not to worry too much. There’s sure to be some very logical reason why she isn’t there. I’ll be with you in, say, forty minutes.’
‘But …’ Carrie began, but Morgan had already hung up.
Morgan had an early start in the morning if he was to get to the airport in time for his flight, didn’t
he? She wondered why he had called her anyway – to try and persuade her to go with him no doubt. But whatever the reason, she was glad he had – she felt bolstered by his taking charge of the situation.
Slowly, Carrie rose from her chair – all her hard physical work over the past few days and now this emotional worry was making her ache, as though she was going down with something.
She went to the hall window and peered outside. There was nothing but darkness. And then she saw a car’s headlights beam around the corner of the close. Carrie pressed her nose against the glass to see better. Not her mother – Morgan. She yanked open the front door to let him in.
‘Any news from the police or the hospital?’ she asked.
‘None.’ Morgan put an arm around her shoulder and steered her down the hall towards the lighted kitchen and a chair. ‘Sit down. I’m going to make you a cup of tea. Strong, not much milk, no sugar. Right?’
‘Right,’ Carrie said, and despite the worrying situation she was in, she couldn’t help smiling at the thought Morgan had remembered such a small, personal, domestic detail.
‘And something to eat. My guess is my little canapés were the last thing you’ve eaten today.’
‘Yes,’ Carrie said. ‘And that wasn’t very long ago. I’m not so weak I can’t make a cup of tea.’
‘But you aren’t going to. I am.’ Morgan pressed her further into the chair, then went to the fridge and found cheese and butter and some bread. Within seconds he had a rough and ready sandwich prepared. ‘Now eat.’
Carrie nibbled daintily at the sandwich, not really having the appetite for it but Morgan had been kindness itself in making it for her. It occurred to her how different her mother’s small bungalow was compared to Morgan’s beautiful house. How different their lives were – not that it seemed to be bothering Morgan at the moment.
‘Tell me about your mother,’ he said. ‘While we wait.’
So, as the minutes continued to tick around the clock and there was still no sign of Louise, Carrie talked. She told him about her mother being widowed so young, and how she’d had to work so hard to keep a roof over their heads. And about her father’s gambling which had left them so poor.
Gorgeous Reads for Christmas (Choc Lit) Page 31