by Anne Mather
But she couldn’t have made love with Simon tonight, she assured herself grimly. Apart from anything else, they had spent the evening with her mother. Mrs Collins had insisted that if Rachel and Simon did intend to live together, she should get to know him better. A circumstance, Rachel couldn’t help suspecting, that owed more to the anxiety she’d seen in her daughter’s face when Ben brought her home than to any real desire to make amends.
And, typically, Simon had chosen to be unusually tolerant that evening. He had parried every criticism levelled against him with a jovial smile. He seemed determined to show Mrs Collins that he had a sense of humour, and Rachel felt even worse because she couldn’t respond.
‘Has Rachel told you, she and Daisy are coming to live in one of my cottages, until we can get married?’ he asked, catching her as she passed his chair, and pulling her down on to the arm. It enabled him to slip his arm about her, and, although Rachel had wanted to escape, her conscience kept her where she was.
‘I understand the matter’s under discussion,’ Mrs Collins had responded pleasantly, but the look she had exchanged with her daughter was anything but. ‘I fear Rachel’s husband may have some objections,’ she added. ‘After all, it will be less convenient for Daisy to catch her bus.’
Simon visibly squashed the retort he’d planned, and forced a polite smile. ‘Ah, but Daisy won’t need to catch a bus, when she starts at the school in Lower Morton. It’s the school I went to, and my father before me. If it’s good enough for us, I’m sure it’s good enough for Daisy.’
‘If she wanted to be a farmer,’ murmured Mrs Collins, under her breath, and Rachel, who had heard her, cast her a warning glance. ‘Well, I doubt her father will agree with you,’ she finished pointedly. ‘And nor, I suspect, will Daisy. She’s happy at Lady’s Mount.’
Simon’s smile thinned. ‘I do think this is a matter for Rachel and me to decide,’ he said, his arm around his fiancée’s hips tightening possessively. He paused. ‘I understand you’re going to live in New Zealand, Mrs Collins. I’m sure Daisy will want to go and stay with you. It’ll be easier if school fees aren’t involved.’ Rachel could sit still no longer. ‘Does anyone want a cup of coffee,’ she asked, ‘before I go and settle Daisy down for the night. The programme she wanted to see should be over by now, but if I don’t turn the television off she’ll watch it all night!’
‘She has a television in her bedroom?’
Simon sounded scandalised, and Rachel exchanged another defensive look with her mother, before saying swiftly, ‘It’s easier that way. Besides, all her friends have one. And it means we can both watch the programmes we like. I don’t care for the repeats of shows like Happy Days and Mork and Mindy, and she certainly doesn’t want to watch the news.’
‘Then perhaps she should,’ declared Simon, without thinking. Then, as if realising he was being too heavy, he leavened his words with a little humour. ‘After all, these are the kids who are going to be our future politicians! I doubt if Mork and Mindy have an opinion on the economy.’
‘No.’
Rachel decided not to elaborate, but as she repeated her question about having coffee she was aware of the tension in the room.
‘I’d like a gin and tonic instead,’ said her mother, as if desperate for a stimulant. ‘Perhaps Mr Barrass would like one, too. We don’t want to be up all night.’
‘Simon, call me Simon, please,’ he exclaimed, and then looking up at Rachel, he shook his head. ‘Coffee’s fine with me, darling,’ he assured her. ‘Unlike your mother, I never have a problem going to sleep.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ remarked Mrs Collins, in another aside only her daughter could hear, and after turning on the coffee-maker Rachel went wearily upstairs. No matter what he did, Simon was never going to win her mother over. And she, herself, was too tired tonight to continue playing pig-in-the-middle.
Which was ironic, she thought now, turning on to her back again. Because she had felt tired earlier. But that kind of tiredness didn’t last. Not when it was her mind that was keeping her awake.
‘You’re not really going to take Daisy away from Lady’s Mount, are you?’ her mother asked the next morning, after the little girl had left to catch her bus. ‘I think it would be a mistake, I really do.’
‘I haven’t decided,’ said Rachel shortly, dumping their empty coffee-cups on the drainer. ‘Um—will you need the car today? If so, I’d better get going.’
Mrs Collins frowned. ‘I don’t think so. I had a lovely day in Cheltenham yesterday. Which reminds me, you still haven’t told me where Ben took you. With Daisy all ears, I didn’t like to ask. And then with your farmer friend coming last night, I didn’t get the chance.’
Rachel got her tone even with some difficulty. ‘Don’t you think you could call him Simon, Mother? I know you don’t like him, but you could at least use his name.’
Mrs Collins sighed. ‘Very well. I’ll try and remember.’ She paused. ‘So—where did you go?’
‘With Ben?’ Rachel could be obtuse, too.
‘Of course with Ben.’ Her mother looked a little tightlipped now. ‘I assume you’re angry with me for not warning you. Well, I did think about it, but I knew what you would say.’
‘Damn right!’ Rachel couldn’t disguise her resentment now, and she wondered how blasé her mother would be if she knew Ben had made love to her.
Not that what had happened between them could be graced by such a euphemistic description. They had had sex, pure and simple. However gratifying—however satisfying—it had been, she had no illusions about the outcome. She could only hope he didn’t intend to use what had happened as a means of manipulation. What would she do if he threatened to tell Simon?
‘There’s no need to swear.’ Her mother sniffed. ‘Perhaps I should have told you, but Ben was so mysterious when he rang that I didn’t think it was fair to spoil his surprise.’
His surprise!
‘But, if you don’t want to tell me about it, I shall quite understand.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Even if, whatever your objections, you were obviously in no hurry to get back. You two were absent for the better part of two hours! If I didn’t know better, I’d wonder if you didn’t have something to hide!’
Rachel braced herself against the sink. ‘And what if I have?’ she demanded recklessly, and then wished she hadn’t when she saw her mother’s stunned expression.
‘Rachel!’
‘Oh, I’m not serious.’ Rachel bent her head and turned away, pretending to be searching for a tissue in her bag. ‘If you must know,’ she was obliged to be honest now, ‘he wanted to show me a house, that’s all. Some manor house over at Watersmeet. He says he’s thinking of buying it.’
‘A house!’ Mrs Collins blinked. ‘Good heavens! Do you think he’s moving back to the district?’
‘Who knows?’ Rachel felt weary. ‘In any case, it’s nothing to do with me. Or you either, for that matter.’
‘So why did he take you to see it?’ She should have known her mother wouldn’t let it rest there. ‘What’s it like? Is it old? Did you meet the owners? Did he say you were his wife?’
‘It’s unoccupied,’ said Rachel flatly. ‘Apart from the housekeeper, that is. And I don’t know why he took me to see it. Unless he wanted to prove he could provide a better home for Daisy than I could.’
‘Ben’s not like that.’ Mrs Collins looked thoughtful. ‘It must have been a big house, if it took you over an hour to go round it.’
Rachel felt a faint trace of colour enter her cheeks at her mother’s words, and expelling an unsteady breath, she made for the door. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said shortly, gathering up her jacket. ‘I’ll see you about half-past twelve. I’ll bring some sausage rolls for our lunch.’
Simon picked her up at seven that evening. As her mother had agreed to babysit, he was taking her over to Kingsmead, to see the cottage he had told her about.
‘It’s not big,’ he said, as the Range Rover bounced up the track to the farm. �
��But it is cosy. And there are two bedrooms, as well as a bathroom. Septic tank drainage, of course, but that’s not a problem. And solid fuel central heating. Not something you usually find in cottages.’
‘Solid fuel?’ Rachel grimaced. ‘I’ve never had to light a boiler before.’
‘Oh, you’ll soon get used to it.’ Simon smiled. ‘And I’ll be on hand in emergencies.’
Rachel nodded. ‘Well, I don’t suppose there’ll be too many of those,’ she averred optimistically. ‘After all, if Ben’s agreeable, the divorce might be final by Christmas. Then, after we’re married, we won’t need the cottage, will we? We’ll be sharing the farmhouse with you.’
‘Yes.’ But Simon didn’t sound entirely convinced. ‘Well, that’s something I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Mother’s not very keen on sharing her kitchen with another woman. She’d been mistress here so long, she regards the place as hers.’
Rachel’s stomach hollowed. ‘So you want us to start our married life in the cottage.’
‘Of course not.’ But Simon’s face had reddened anyway. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m thinking of building a second house for us. Still on the farm, of course, but some distance from the main building.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s a good idea.’ Simon was quick to seize the initiative. ‘I mean—our very own home. And modern, too. Not like Kingsmead, which even I have to admit needs some updating.’
Rachel licked her lips. ‘And how long do you think it will take to build this second house?’
‘A few months.’ Simon was vague. ‘I’ll have to apply for planning permission, of course, and I’ll need an architect to draw up the plans. We could plan it together. You and me—and Daisy, too, of course. Don’t look like that. You must have known my mother wouldn’t take too kindly to having a child about the house. She’s too old …’
And too possessive, though Rachel tensely, remembering what her mother had said about Mrs Barrass not wanting to relinquish her role as mistress of the house. She refused to contemplate the possibility that the rest of what she had said might be true, too. Simon did want to marry her. He did! He was just considering his mother’s feelings, that was all. An admirable trait, surely.
The cottage was approached along a track made muddy by the spell of wet weather. It stood, remote and unadorned, at the comer of the north field, with little in the way of protection from the prevailing westerly winds.
Inside, it was a little more prepossessing. As Simon had said, it had two bedrooms, both of a decent size, and a big old-fashioned bathroom. Downstairs, there was a large room that served as both a dining and living area, and a kitchen that was fairly basic, but which sported a modem electric cooker. The heating, both for the water and the old iron radiators, was provided by the fire in the living-room. A disadvantage in hot weather, Rachel reflected, but not a problem at this time of year.
‘Well? What do you think?’
Simon evidently expected her approval as he stood in the larger of the two bedrooms, surveying his surroundings with undisguised enthusiasm. The fact that the room was still furnished with the previous tenant’s four-poster, and smelled a little musty, didn’t seem to bother him. Or the fact that there were lighter squares on the walls, where pictures or framed photographs, had been removed.
‘It needs—redecorating,’ said Rachel at last, choosing the least controversial reply, and Simon snorted.
‘Well, of course it does,’ he exclaimed. ‘But what does a bit of paint and paper cost? So long as the walls are solid and the roof doesn’t leak …’ He shrugged. ‘I mean, it’s not bad, is it?’
Privately, Rachel thought it was awful. Not because of its size, but because of where it was. Stuck out here, miles from anywhere, with a track that was probably impassable in the bad weather. What if there was an emergency? What if Daisy was ill? If her car was laid up she’d be helpless.
‘I’m—not sure,’ she said now, moving to the window, and looking out on the water-logged garden. Evidently the drainage left much to be desired, too, and she wondered if the musty smell was dampness.
Simon came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, and propping his chin on her shoulder. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s only for a few months. And it means we can be together. Isn’t that what we both want?’ Rachel stiffened. ‘What do you mean—together?’ she asked, restraining the impulse to pull away from him. Right at this moment, any kind of physical contact was an anathema to her, and she closed her eyes convulsively when he turned his lips against her neck.
‘What do you think I mean?’ he countered softly, his breath moist against her ear. ‘This will be our very own love-nest, with no one to interrupt us, or tell us what to do.’
‘No!’ That was too much, and uncaring of what he might think of her actions, Rachel twisted out of his arms. ‘That is—I don’t want myself—or Daisy—causing any more gossip around here.’
Simon scowled. ‘I suppose I have your mother to thank for this.’
‘No …’
‘Well, you were perfectly willing to accept my offer before she came on the scene.’ His lips curled. ‘And we mustn’t forget your husband, must we? I bet he’s put his oar in, as well.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Then what is it like? What’s changed your mind?’
Rachel sighed. ‘Simon, when you first mentioned the idea of us moving into one of the cottages, it was on the understanding that when my divorce was final we’d get married.’
‘And so we will.’
‘But when?’ Rachel spread her hands. ‘You say you’re not prepared to start our married life here. So are we supposed to put our wedding off indefinitely? Until some nameless planner decides that you can lay the foundations of the other house?’
Simon pushed his hands into the pockets of his hacking jacket, and rocked back and forwards on his heels. ‘I didn’t realise you were so desperate to get another ring on your finger,’ he said unpleasantly. ‘What does it matter how long we wait, so long as we get there eventually?’
‘It matters,’ said Rachel evenly, taking a backward step. ‘And, if it’s all the same to you, I think Daisy and I will stay where we are until we can get married. OK?’
‘No, it’s not OK.’ Simon was angry. ‘I’ve made special arrangements so you can have this place. One of my workers is getting married, and he asked me if he and his wife could move in here. I told him no, and ran the risk of losing him. Good cowmen are hard to find these days, and Billy Elliot is one of the best.’
‘Well, now you can tell him he can have it, after all,’ returned Rachel tightly, feeling the first twinges of a headache needling at her temples. She took a steadying breath and glanced towards the door. ‘Are we going to call and see your mother?’ she asked, determined not to let what had happened upset her. The last person she wanted to see at this moment was Mrs Barrass, but somehow she had to heal the breach, and losing her temper too would accomplish nothing.
Simon’s mouth compressed for a moment, but then, as if realising he was being boorish, his expression softened. ‘In a minute,’ he said, coming towards her, and grasping her upper arms. ‘We’re not in any hurry.’ He drew her towards him, his hungry eyes running possessively over her pale face. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added, bending his head to kiss her. ‘I didn’t intend for us to fall out over this. Am I forgiven?’
Rachel steeled herself not to turn her face away from his lips, wondering why she was suddenly so averse to his affections. It was his attitude, she told herself. The selfish way he had intended to ride roughshod over her feelings. Just because he had apologised, it didn’t mean it could be forgotten.
‘So,’ she said, keeping her voice steady with an effort, ‘you understand how I feel?’
‘I understand I haven’t gone about this in the right way,’ he amended softly, his hands sliding down her spine. ‘I think you need a little more time to adjust to the idea. Now——’ his hands settled h
eavily on her hips ‘—stop wasting time and kiss me. I have a notion to christen this old bed.’
‘No!’
Rachel was horrified, as much by her revulsion at the thought of letting Simon make love to her as by the idea of lying down on the musty bedspread. And it showed.
‘What do you mean, no?’ Simon was exasperated. ‘Rachel, don’t you think this has gone on long enough? All right, so you had a bad experience, and it’s taken some time for you to get over it. But, I’m a man, for God’s sake, not a boy. You can’t put me off indefinitely. You’ve got to come to terms with the fact that all men are not alike.’
They certainly weren’t, and Rachel was beginning to wonder what kind of a judge of men she really was. ‘Look,’ she said, pressing her hands against his chest, ‘it’ll be different when we’re married——’
‘When we’re married?’ Simon gave a scornful laugh. ‘We may never get married at this rate. For heaven’s sake, woman, you can’t honestly expect us to wait until we’re married to consummate this relationship. You knew what I had in mind when I first mentioned the cottage. Somewhere private, where we could be alone.’
‘No.’
Despite his resistance, Rachel managed to extricate herself from his embrace. She was unwillingly aware of the layer of fat that coated his chest and midriff as she forced herself away. Aware too, that she was making comparisons, when no comparison should be necessary.
She had been half afraid he might make something unpleasant of the encounter, but to her relief he merely brushed past her and started down the stairs. ‘All right, let’s go,’ he muttered irritably, the red skin above his collar at the back evidence of his frustration. ‘I told Mother we wouldn’t be much above half an hour. I don’t want her worrying that all’s not as it should be.’
Which was probably why he’d been so amenable, thought Rachel weakly, never imagining she’d ever have reason to feel grateful to Mrs Barrass for anything. But obviously Simon didn’t want her making any awkward accusations in his mother’s hearing.