She’d also been extremely taken aback when he’d switched on the bedside lamp and passed back her mini-slip and panties.
‘Why?’ she’d asked tremulously. ‘I thought you wanted to... ‘
‘Make love?’ Max finished for her. ‘I do, Alison. I can think of nothing I want more. But do you want me to make love to you?’
Reaching for the bathrobe, Max had slipped it on. In the circumstances it was better Alison did not see him totally naked.
Alison had followed Max’s gaze to the gentle contours of her body, covered by the slightly crumpled sheet. Her fists were still clenched by her side and she bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘But I do want you, really I do,’ Max heard her plead.
Taking both her hands, Max had covered them with his own. ‘You know,’ he’d said kindly. ‘I honestly believe you do. But your heart is saying one thing and your body language another. Quite simply, Alison I don’t know which to follow.’
‘It’s just that I get so far... wanting you, and then it’s almost as if a shutter comes down and I’m not in the present, I’m in the past…’
Alison’s eyes had filled with tears. She wanted to tell Max why, but there was this terrible knot in her stomach. She’d never told anyone about it before, not even her mother, not even Bunty, even though she’d wanted to – desperately. Her eyes pleaded with Max’s. If only he could read her mind. Sense the shadows and see those dreadful haunting pictures which had taunted and twisted at her very being for the past ten years…
Alison had blinked hard, Max was talking, saying something about the present. ‘…Then won’t you tell me why the shutter comes down? For I believe you know the answer, Alison. We both do.’
We! Max had said. That was impossible! He couldn’t know, could he? He hadn’t been there!
Realizing he was treading on dangerous ground, Max had lowered his voice to the softest of whispers, urging her gently back to the past
‘You were looking after Tara... you’d stayed the night and were going for a walk together, remember? Did Tara forget something, did you go back to the house?’
‘Yes,’ Alison replied numbly. ‘Tara had forgotten the video we were going to watch. Her mother suggested we took it to my house. I thought it seemed strange as we could have watched it later... but Virginia had insisted. It was as if she didn’t want us there.’
‘Go on.’ Max said, his voice compelling her to continue.
‘When we got near the house, we couldn’t get back in – the back door was locked and bolted for some reason. We were going to leave when Tara remembered the spare front door key hidden in the stone tub and ... anyway, she was sure her mother was still inside. She thought she could hear her voice. The bedroom window was open, you see.’
Alison turned to face Max, her eyes filled with renewed fear. ‘Tara thought perhaps that her mother was really unwell this time, and I even thought about ringing the doctor, because Virginia often complained of headaches and frequently suggested I took Tara home with me.’
‘Did she indeed?’ Max said bitterly.
‘So… on this occasion, Tara and I naturally assumed she’d gone back to bed to rest.’
‘And had she?’
Evading Max’s question, Alison continued. ‘When we went in through the front door, we heard noises, horrid groaning noises. Noises we didn’t recognise. I thought I heard a man’s voice too and when I became suspicious I told Tara I thought we should leave. But she was frightened... frightened... for her mother. Ignoring me she ran upstairs…’
Max sensed fresh alarm in Alison’s voice and felt her nails dig deep into his palms. Please God she didn’t break down now.
‘I tried to stop her. I tried to call out,’ she said in desperation. ‘But no sound came. At the time I blamed it on my asthma, but I suppose it could have been panic.’
‘And what happened then, Alison? Did you follow Tara? Did you go upstairs too?’
Alison turned to stare blankly at Max, a frisson of fear reverberating through her body. One minute she had been standing at Virginia’s open bedroom door, reaching out for Tara’s hand, and the next she was here in this motel bedroom, in bed with Tara’s father sitting by her side!
Releasing her hands from his grasp, Alison had buried her head against his shoulder. ‘I can’t tell you Max! Of course, you’ve only got to turn on the television these days to see what we saw then… but at the time, having been educated at St. Katherine’s... I had no idea. As for Tara – it was such a dreadful shock. In fact it was just like that film...’
‘The film you watched the other evening at Evangeline’s?’
‘How do you know about that?’
‘Evangeline told me herself. She came to find me – in the churchyard by Tara’s grave, of all places. She told me what she suspected and said she wanted to help us.’
‘Why would Evangeline want to help us? I don’t understand.’
‘Neither did I, at least not initially. Poor Evangeline, I thought it was just one of her drunken ramblings, or another attempt of hers to get me into bed.’
‘Get you into bed! You and Evangeline have…?’
‘No! Thank God. Let’s just say she was always inviting me over, on the pretext of watching some film or another. I had the devil of a job convincing her I’ve never been interested in old movies. Unlike you, I think Evangeline had designs on my body.’
Alison gave an embarrassed smile. ‘I’m sorry, Max, I shouldn’t have encouraged you last night as I did.’
‘My dear, sweet Alison, I don’t wish to hurt your feelings, but compared to Evangeline, I don’t think you know the meaning of the word. And for that,’ he added quickly, ‘I shall be eternally grateful.’
*
Grateful too for a brief diversion, Alison knew she had to finish her account of what had happened on that eventful day. She described, how both angered and alarmed, Virginia and Miles had leapt apart in a vain attempt to cover their nakedness. Then, while mother and lover were fumbling for their clothes, Tara and Alison had made their escape. How they ran. How they fled down the stairs, their hearts pounding in their breasts, sick with disgust and sick with fear at what Miles would do and say, when he caught up with them.
For it was becoming obvious it was Miles who was in pursuit. Clad only in trousers, he’d run barefoot through the fields and hedgerows, with Virginia’s urgent plea. ‘Catch them! Stop them!’ ringing frantically in his ears.
But it hadn’t been easy running barefoot through fields of thistles and brambles. And when he’d seen two distant figures clamber over a wall and run towards the road, he was powerless to stop them.
Hearing a thud, a deafening squeal of brakes and a jagged scream - Alison’s jagged scream - as Tara ran headlong into the path of the oncoming car, Miles had returned to break the news to a distraught and inconsolable Virginia.
What followed of course, Max and Alison could only surmise. Gravely ill in hospital, Alison had made a slow and painful recovery from the accident, leaving her emotionally and physically scarred. At the same time Max was blaming Alison for his daughter’s death and Virginia - consumed by guilt, unable to confess the truth and knowing that Miles had left her - sank into the depths of depression, aided largely by tranquillizers and alcohol.
Now, in the cold light of morning, Max reached once more for Alison’s hand. With perfect clarity he saw it all. Tara’s death had been a needless waste of a young life, and as for Virginia... Sadness and anger welled up inside him. He must get out of this room! He needed some fresh air. Yet he also needed Alison.
Sensing his desperation, she reached out and drew him into her arms, just as she had on the night of the harvest supper. ‘It will be all right, you’ll see,’ she assured, stroking his head. ‘But I do think it would be better if we left now and went back to Church Haywood.’
Feeling an enormous sense of relief flood his body, it was Max’s turn to relax in Alison’s arms. For one awful moment, he’d half thought she was expecting him to make love
to her. He realized he should have known better. Alison, like himself, sensed their time in this place had come to an end. It was time to move on, time to face Constance and George and dear old Bunty with the truth.
Evangeline too for that matter, Max thought wryly. Now was the time to banish the rumours and secret whisperings once and for all.
In the cosy sitting room at Keeper’s Cottage, Bunty poured cups of strong black coffee and handed one to Alison. ‘You look as if you could do with this. You look as if you haven’t slept a wink. Oh! I didn’t mean...’
‘That’s OK, Bunty,’ Alison replied, pouring milk into her cup, ‘I know you didn’t, and rest assured nothing happened. Max was the perfect gentleman. We merely spent the night together.’
Bunty seemed almost disappointed by Alison’s pronouncement. She’d hoped that Max and Alison... well never mind, another time perhaps. She was certainly convinced there’d be another time.
The way Max had kissed Alison goodbye had borne witness to the fact. They were obviously very fond of each other. The important thing was that Max and Alison were together. At least she could go off to Australia knowing that Alison would be well taken care of in her absence. Max would certainly see to that.
*
Alison surveyed the room with a satisfied glow of pure pleasure and contentment. Even Max gazed in sheer disbelief at the total transformation from Great-grannie’s cluttered bedroom into the newly decorated ‘Rosie’s Ranch’.
‘It’s amazing Alison! I don’t know how you’ve managed it.’
‘Once the old utility furniture was taken out and I was left with the bare shell, even I was surprised at how much space there was. Do you think she’ll like it?’
‘Like it?’ Max grinned. ‘Let’s see, shall we?’
Outside the bedroom door, Rosie was jumping up and down impatiently. ‘Mum! Can I please go in now?’
‘No, you must wait until Max and Alison give you the word.’
‘When will that be? I’ve been waiting ever so long and...’ Rosie looked up expectantly. Max popped his head round the bedroom door.
‘How about now?’ he said, gesturing her inside.
All eyes were on the doorway as Rosie, fully recovered and wearing a newly dry-cleaned serape, stood transfixed on the threshold of her ranch.
Giving a whoop of joy, she rushed about the room examining it in every detail. Stopping first at the bunk bed, with her own desk beneath to work and play at, disguised as a western saloon bar, she then ran to the replica of the steam train, complete with tall steam funnel and cow-catcher front.
Opening each of the ‘carriage doors’ she squealed with delight, discovering a range of toy boxes complete with toys. Some she recognised and some she didn’t.
‘They’re from Nigel,’ Max explained, sensing her air of bewilderment.
‘Fancy him rememb’rin’ me.’ Rosie said, matter-of-factly, turning to look at Max.
‘How could anyone forget you?’ he said, watching her eyes dart in wonderment across the room.
‘A cactus! Look, Mum, I’ve got a cactus!’ Rosie pointed to the corner of the room.
‘Ah, but that one hasn’t got needle-sharp prickles,’ Alison interrupted, watching Rosie hesitate and reach timidly forward with the tip of her finger. ‘Those prickles are only painted on you see and the stem and branches are made from foam. You won’t hurt yourself.’
‘And you can hang your clothes on them,’ Michelle added with a bemused smile. ‘So there’ll be no excuse for leaving them on the floor.’
Leaving Rosie to run and find her spare serape, so she could hang it up on her cactus, Granddad Jennings appeared at the door.
‘Howdy, partners. Well, bless me! Alison. How on earth did you do that?’
‘It’s made from a couple of coat stands,’ she whispered. ‘I merely covered them with foam and fabric, then painted it. It’s perfectly safe and weighted at the base. It won’t topple over.’
‘Looks like you’ve thought of everything,’ Granddad announced.
‘Not quite,’ Alison said, knowingly, looking in Michelle’s direction. ‘Don’t forget, there’s still the lamp.’
At the mention of the word ‘lamp’, Rosie dropped the cream canvas flap (painted to look like a wigwam) that was hanging across the floor length cupboard. She looked about her dejectedly. The lamp! Alison had mentioned the lamp. No doubt Mum’s lamp. The awful crinoline lady she hated so much because it reminded her of Donna, Darren’s ex-girlfriend.
Wanting to forget about the lamp, Rosie turned her attention to the mural of the Grand Canyon. Set against clear blue skies, she saw there was even a Joshua tree with one branch in relief. She sighed deeply. It was even complete with birds with black and white feathers.
‘Guinea fowl feathers,’ Max said in surprise, recognising the contents from the carrier bag Alison had been given in the restaurant. He turned and smiled in Alison’s direction and in doing so caught sight of Rosie’s crestfallen face.
Stepping forward, he lifted Rosie into his arms. ‘What’s the matter, Rosie, don’t you like it?’
‘It’s lovely,’ she sniffed, watching her mother reappear with a large box, ‘but do I really have to have that crinoline lady by my bed?’
‘No, Rosie, you don’t,’ Michelle said, ‘I know you’ve never particularly liked it, especially as you’re dead against dresses of every description. And although Alison suggested a new lampshade for it, I wasn’t keen on the thought of coming in here one day to find my lovely crinoline lady with a noose about her neck!’
Rosie giggled mischievously. Mum had obviously remembered Rosie’s earlier pirate phase and the time she’d discovered the same crinoline lady sporting a black eye patch!
‘So… as you’re not having my lamp,’ Michelle continued with knowing wink, ‘Granddad thought you might like these old things instead.’
Sensing that her mum was only teasing and, recognizing a familiar twinkle in Granddad’s eyes, Rosie wriggled free from Max’s grasp and approached the large cardboard box with renewed interest.
Peeling back layer after layer of crisp white tissue, she gave a further gasp of delight when two shiny brass replicas of old oil lamps came into view.
‘This one’s for your bedside table and the other’s for the ceiling,’ Granddad explained. ‘We wanted to make sure you liked them first.’
Like them? Rosie thought. Like them! They were absolutely brill!
*
Later that night, lying in Max’s arms, Alison sighed contentedly.
‘I only wish Nigel could have seen Rosie’s face.’
‘I know, it was pure delight to watch her.’
‘Oh, well, that’s another satisfied customer.’
‘It is if you’re referring to me,’ Max teased, reaching out to ruffle her hair. ‘I’m satisfied that at long last I’ve got you to myself. It seems like weeks since we’ve had time for each other.’
‘It is, for the simple reason you’ve been busy with Craven’s Stables and I’ve been dealing with Rosie’s Ranch.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Max, ‘and I’m prepared to bet there was one happy little girl, who couldn’t wait to go to bed this evening.’
‘Undoubtedly. She probably even suggested going to bed early.’
‘You mean like me?’ Max said, with the faintest of smiles.
Alison felt herself colour at Max’s earlier suggestion. Once they’d left Rosie and her family, they’d driven straight to London to Nigel’s flat. Nigel had gone to Vanessa’s parents for the weekend. There were wedding plans to discuss.
‘You’re sure you don’t mind Nigel’s flat?’ Max had enquired in a concerned voice, inserting the key in the lock. ‘I thought here we’d be more relaxed as opposed to a hotel, Nigel assured me we wouldn’t be disturbed. He said it would...’
‘It will be perfect,’ Alison said. Following him inside, walking to the window she added, ‘and the view across the Thames is simply breath-taking.’
Ignoring the
view himself, he was, after all, familiar with it already, Max had wandered into the kitchen, where Vanessa had left a large printed note. ‘YOUR SUPPER’S IN THE FRIDGE,’ it read.
‘In which case,’ called Max, opening the fridge door to examine the champagne and half of Selfridge’s Food Hall, ‘there’s no need to go out to eat. We could eat here, if that’s OK with you, Alison, and perhaps... have an early night?’
An early night! Alison had felt a familiar stirring in her stomach. An early night with Max in this sumptuous apartment, with its sweeping panoramic views of the Thames - and London by night - what could be more romantic?
Nothing could, she sighed contentedly reliving the moment when, taking her by the hand, Max had led her to the midnight-blue decorated bedroom. Turning the dimmer switches low, he’d murmured softly in her ear. ‘Midnight-black. What could be more perfect?’ Turning to unzip her dress, he’d let it fall silently to the floor, before lifting her into his arms and carrying her effortlessly to the bed.
Unlike the night they’d spent together at the motel, this time Alison didn’t lie with gritted teeth and clenched fists when Max moved deliberately towards her. Instead she rejoiced in unknown pleasures as his lips and hands moved expertly over her body, introducing her to such delights she hadn’t thought possible.
With a gasp of both pain and pleasure, feeling Max mould his body carefully and tenderly into hers so that it quite took her breath away, she was finally able to forget the tragic events of that summer, ten long years ago.
Only once, dimly recalling the animal noises emitting from Virginia’s bedroom, did the haunting dark, shadows bubble unpleasantly to the surface. Mercifully, they were only fleeting.
Feeling the sudden tautness in her body, Max’s senses sharpened and he looked down, his eyes desperately seeking contact with her own. Anxious to read her mind, to know her innermost thoughts, he made as if to speak and noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. Before he’d even uttered a word, Alison reached up and placed a finger on his lips. ‘
Secrets From The Past Page 24