by Penny Jordan
‘Not always,’ he corrected her. ‘Perhaps I’ve been trying too hard not to betray my own preferences. Certainly I feel it’s healthy for me as a writer to take the harder path, to show that vulnerability need not necessarily always come packed in a seven-stone female of under five feet four.
‘After supper I wonder if you’d mind if I went straight upstairs and made a few notes? I’ve had something itching at the back of my mind for the last couple of hours that I’d like to get down on paper, and besides, I’m sure you and Katie have things you want to discuss.
‘We haven’t mentioned money yet. Naturally I don’t expect you to house me at your own expense. Normally when I do this kind of research, I rent somewhere and hole up in it for six months or so, until I’ve finished my first draft, and I have to admit that when Katie first passed on your invitation for me to stay here I was a little dubious about how it would work. However, you’ve put all my doubts to flight.’
Hazel had no idea what to say. She had to content herself with giving Katie an accusing look, which her daughter resolutely ignored.
Although this less than loverlike request should have pleased her, for some reason she discovered that once he had excused himself and left her and Katie on their own she actually missed his presence and had to stop herself from listening for the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.
However, now, while she had the opportunity, there were issues she had to take up with her daughter, and she did so as firmly as she could, demanding equably, ‘I know I am getting on in years, Katie, but I hadn’t realised I was suffering such severe memory loss that I don’t have the slightest recollection of having extended this invitation Silas has decided to accept.’
Katie grinned unrepentantly at her.
‘Well, I had to stretch the truth a little,’ she admitted cheerfully, pulling a face as she added, ‘Silas can be so punctilious about some things. I suppose it must be his age or something.’
While Hazel was still blinking at this unloverlike comment, Katie continued quickly, ‘The moment he told me that he was setting his new book up here in Cheshire and that he needed a base here to work from, I knew it would be a great idea for him to stay here, but I know what you’re like.’ She pulled another face. ‘You’d never have suggested it to him off your own bat—’
She broke off and looked at her mother in surprise as Hazel told her grimly, ‘You’re right, I most certainly would not have done.’
‘There you are, you see,’ Katie continued blithely, ignoring Hazel’s exasperated frown. ‘And I knew that Silas would never agree to come up here without a formal invite so I—’
‘Lied to him?’ Hazel offered grittily.
Katie’s eyes rounded in injured innocence. ‘Only sort of. You’re going to love having him here, Ma, and I’m going to feel so much happier knowing that you’re not on your own. I mean, the house is rather remote, and you’re here all alone now that I’m away.’
‘So it was all done for my benefit, was it?’ Hazel asked her acerbically. ‘Very altruistic.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest to her daughter that while Silas was staying here with her he was—comparatively, at least—safe from other women, and to tell her daughter that she had no intention of acting as a guard dog for her lover, but weakly she knew that she hadn’t the heart, and, to do Katie justice, she knew that her daughter had been concerned about her living on her own.
‘Well, whatever your motives, I don’t approve of the way you’ve manipulated us both. You’re not God, Katie. You can’t go round interfering in other people’s lives. What if I’d denied extending any such invitation?’
‘Oh, I knew you wouldn’t do that. You’re too loyal. Too soft-hearted. But you’ll like having him here, Ma. He’ll take you out of yourself.’
Hazel stared at her and said crisply, ‘Thanks very much.’
In actual fact she doubted if she would see much of Silas at all. She knew from her own experience that when she was working the last thing she wanted was constant interruptions—which reminded her, she would have to have a talk with her unexpected guest about mealtimes and so forth. She had just accepted a new commission herself, and, while she was quite prepared to invite Silas to join her for his meals if he wished, she had no intention of pandering to any kind of artistic temperament by providing food and beverages on demand. He must either fit in with her routine or make his own arrangements.
‘Just think how well it will go down at the WI,’ Katie teased her. ‘They’ll be asking you to give a talk on what it’s like living with a famous author.’
‘Hardly,’ Hazel told her repressively. ‘We’ve far more important and interesting subjects than that to discuss.’ She gave her daughter an austere look. ‘By rights I ought to march you upstairs and make you explain to your…to Silas just what you’ve done.’
‘Oh, come on, Ma. You wouldn’t do that, would you? He’d be furious with me…’
Furious with her? Hazel gave her a worried look. What kind of lover was it who was furious with his partner? Awful images of violence and oppression flitted through her mind.
‘He doesn’t…he isn’t…he isn’t unkind to you in any way, Katie, is he?’ she asked cautiously.
Her daughter was, after all, in her own eyes at least an adult, and it wouldn’t do to pry too much into her relationship with Silas. And besides, she was too much of a coward to want to be furnished with too many intimate details of what went on between them.
‘Unkind?’ Katie seemed to consider the question, and then responded thoughtfully, ‘No, not really, unless you include giving me the most grotty marks for my last essay.’
Either Katie had totally misunderstood her, or her fears were completely unreal. Fervently hoping that it was the latter, Hazel got up to clear the table and load the dishwasher.
‘I’ll do that, Ma,’ Katie offered.
It was just gone eight o’clock when Silas came back downstairs, and when Katie suggested that the three of them walk down to the village to have a drink in the pub, Hazel quickly made the excuse of having some work to do, feeling that she ought to at least make the attempt to allow the two of them some time alone together. Katie might be quite happy to include her mother in their company, but Hazel doubted that Silas could share her feelings. Although he certainly wasn’t betraying any antipathy to her company in his expression, but then he was very good at concealing what he was feeling. Too good, perhaps, Hazel worried as she determinedly refused Katie’s cajoling to accompany them.
Modern lovers seemed to lack the kind of intensity she had always imagined must go with being deeply in love, unless of course as established lovers Katie and Silas no longer felt any urgency to be alone together.
Katie still hadn’t said a word about the fact that she had given them seperate rooms, had seemed to accept it quite matter-of-factly. She felt the beginnings of a headache pressing against her temples and lifted her hand to rub the tension away.
‘Aren’t you feeling well?’
The quiet question surprised her. She turned round to find Silas watching her.
‘Just a bit of a headache.’
‘You should come with us. The fresh air would do you good.’
‘I… I’m rather tired. I think I’ll have an early night instead.’
Katie had run upstairs to get her coat, and for some reason she felt the sudden burn of tears stinging her eyes. It was all the tension and shock, that was all. That and the fact that she wasn’t used to people expressing concern for her, to being made to feel feminine and vulnerable by the concern in a man’s voice. She was probably imagining it anyway.
Why on earth should Silas be concerned about her? Yes, she was imagining it, she decided distastefully as she turned away from him. She was turning into one of those silly middle-aged women, so afraid of growing older that she had to fantasise that every male she met was in some way attracted to her. The thought revolted her.
She had been in bed for just over an hour when she heard them
return.
As they came upstairs together, they halted on the landing a few feet away from her door.
She tensed indignantly beneath the bedclothes when she heard Silas suggesting quietly to Katie, ‘Perhaps you ought to go in and check on your mother, she—’
To her relief, Katie responded immediately, ‘Oh, good heavens, no.’ But she realised that Katie had obviously misunderstood the reason for his question and had assumed it was concern for her which had prompted it because she went on to advise him, ‘Ma hates anyone fussing, especially when she isn’t feeling well. Besides, she’ll probably be asleep by now. Night, Silas.’
There was a brief silence during which Hazel tried not to imagine them locked in a passionate embrace, but if it had been passionate it had also been extremely short, because she had barely closed her eyes to block out the unwanted vision of their entwined bodies, Silas’s arms wrapped firmly round Katie’s slender, youthful body, his mouth—that very male mouth with its sharply cut upper lip, and so much fuller, softer lower one, caressing Katie’s—when she heard the sound of Silas’s door opening and Katie’s footsteps disappearing down the landing.
Now she could sleep, she told herself, but of course she did not do so. No—she spent virtually the whole of the night snatching at unrelaxing moments of sleep in between waking up to listen for the betraying sound of creaking floorboards and doors.
What was she doing to herself? she wondered bitterly with tears in her eyes. Of course she wanted to protect Katie, to prevent her from being hurt, but the images dancing feverishly in her brain, the thoughts whirling turbulently through her head, had nothing to do with those emotions.
It seemed inconceivable that she, who had never wanted or imagined herself wanting a lover should so suddenly and so embarrassingly find herself in this confusing and unwanted state of frantic awareness of and yearning for, of all the men, the one who was her daughter’s lover.
It was degrading, humiliating…
CHAPTER THREE
OF COURSE, with her having had hardly any sleep at all, it was perhaps understandable that Hazel should have fallen so deeply asleep just before dawn that she had slept right through her normal waking-up time, she realised grumpily, reluctantly opening her eyes.
Someone was knocking on her bedroom door, Katie no doubt, wanting to know why she was still in bed, so she called out, ‘Come in’.
She was just lifting her head from the pillow preparatory to getting up when the door opened, only it wasn’t Katie who came in—it was Silas.
‘Hope I didn’t wake you,’ he was apologising, ‘only I thought you might like a cup of tea.’
Hazel stared at him, completely lost for words. He was dressed in well-worn jeans and a clean shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. His hair was damp and as he came towards her she caught the scent of soap on his skin.
He was carrying a china mug of tea, which he put down on the table beside her bed.
‘How’s the headache?’ he enquired.
Hazel blinked at him. What headache? It was her heart that was behaving oddly, not her head. It was beating so erratically, so loudly that she automatically placed her hand over it on top of the bedclothes, trying to steady it.
‘Er—it’s gone.’
What on earth was happening? She wasn’t used to men invading her bedroom, bringing her cups of tea, enquiring about her health…especially not men like this one.
She was suddenly mortifyingly aware of the shabbiness of the nightshirt which had originally been Katie’s, the untidy tangle of her curls, and the fact that sunshine was streaming through her curtained window and sending far too sharp fingers of light across her bed and her face…
She wondered if he had taken Katie a cup of tea, and, if so, if he was now comparing her youthful freshness with the unattractive sight of her own early morning paleness.
‘Katie tells me you’re an illustrator,’ he remarked conversationally, apparently in no hurry to go.
‘Er—yes…children’s books.’
‘Are you working on a commission at the moment?’
‘I’m just about to start one,’ she told him truthfully.
She saw him frown as he exclaimed, ‘Won’t it be inconvenient for you, having me here?’
Honesty warred with loyalty to Katie and loyalty won.
‘Not at all,’ she fibbed. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I expect they’ll ask me to give a talk about it at the WI.’
What on earth was the matter with her? She was behaving like a complete fool.
‘Ma.’
She saw Katie coming in through the door with relief.
‘Not interrupting anything, am I?’ Katie enquired archly as she entered.
Hazel could feel herself flushing, protesting automatically, ‘Really, Katie, I—’
‘Just teasing, Ma,’ Katie assured her. ‘Mm—tea in bed. You lucky thing. Why didn’t I get one?’
‘Perhaps because you didn’t merit one,’ Silas told her drily, causing Hazel to stare at him in confusion. What was he trying to do? Make Katie jealous? Of her own mother? Ridiculous. Of course not…
‘I… I—er—think I’d better get up,’ she announced quickly.
‘Good idea,’ Katie agreed. ‘What shall we do today, Ma? I thought Silas might appreciate a guided tour of the area. You know, Gawsworth and that sort of thing.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Hazel agreed. ‘Will you be gone all day or will you come back for lunch?’
Katie was frowning.
‘Well, that’s up to you. What I meant was, why don’t you take Silas to Gawsworth? I mean, it’s much more your sort of thing than mine, you know so much more about it, and you know that I’m not that interested in history. Besides, when I was in the off-licence I bumped into Susie, and she’s asked me round there today so that we can catch up on all our gossip. You don’t mind, do you, Ma? I mean, you love going to Gawsworth, don’t you? You’re always saying how much it inspires you and how you never get bored with it.’
Hazel had no idea what to say. Katie was looking appealingly at her, almost willing her to agree. But why? Surely she must want Silas to herself? Unless of course there was something wrong—unless perhaps they had had a quarrel. Perhaps over last night’s sleeping arrangements. Maybe Silas had tried to insist that Katie spend the night with him and maybe Katie had felt impelled to refuse because they were under her mother’s roof. If that was the case and she was the cause of their quarrel, then perhaps she owed it to her daughter to do what she plainly wished her to do.
Swallowing down her reluctance, she began uncertainly, ‘Well, if Mr…if Silas doesn’t object to having me as a guide, I’d certainly love the opportunity to revisit Gawsworth.’ She had in actual fact been thinking of paying the house a visit anyway.
It was true that she found endless inspiration in its black and white fade, its homely collection of rooms, its history, but she was sure that Silas could have no wish to visit the house in her company. She waited, expecting him to point out to Katie that it was her company he wanted, that he would have plenty of time to undertake his research for his new book once she, Katie, was back at university, but to Hazel’s astonishment he turned to her and said with what appeared to be genuine pleasure, ‘If you could spare the time to come with me, I’d really appreciate it. Katie’s told me that you’re a very keen local historian, and I suspect I shall be picking your brains on more than one occasion during the next few months. I only hope you don’t come to regret your very generous offer to house me.’
‘Great, so that’s settled. Since I’m not to be offered a cup of tea I’m going to get dressed,’ Katie announced cheerfully.
She headed for the door, leaving Silas to get off the bed where he had been sitting.
As he got up his movements dislodged the duvet, which slid sideways exposing, to Hazel’s mortification, the upper half of her body in its totally unsuitable covering of a pink and white candy-striped nightshirt embellished with a large picture of a cat.
Hardly suitable nightwear for a woman of her mature years, and, while the rest of her body was extremely slender, she was not after all a girl of eighteen and her breasts were far too clearly revealed by the slightly too close-fitting garment.
She made a dive to recover the duvet at the same time as Silas bent down to do the same thing. Their fingers touched briefly, her skin burning as she snatched her hand away, a wild flush of colour dyeing her skin scarlet as Silas looked towards her.
Perhaps he had merely been going to apologise; or perhaps he had not intended to say anything at all, but, whatever his intentions were, they seemed to be forgotten as he tensed, so obviously and so unexpectedly that Hazel automatically turned her head to see what it was that had compelled his attention.
When she realised that it was the soft swell of her own breasts on which his gaze was transfixed, and, even worse, that her nipples, those delicate and normally exceptionally primly behaved indicators of feminine sexual arousal, were flaunting themselves in rigidly taut pinnacles that pushed wantonly against the soft, worn cotton of her nightshirt as though deliberately begging to be touched…kissed.
Hazel couldn’t help it. She gave a tiny shudder of self-revulsion and closing her eyes, rolled over on to her stomach and through the muffling thickness of her pillow whispered huskily, ‘Please go.’
She was still shivering long after she had heard him leave.
How on earth could she get dressed and go downstairs now, behaving as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened? And what if Silas chose to tell Katie what had happened? She gave a small moan of despair and self-contempt, longing to simply keep her eyes closed and stay where she was, but she couldn’t do that. She was a mature woman, not a child, even if she was not behaving as one.