On the other hand, of course, it could have been caused by someone innocently walking past, perhaps not even Laurence. She was letting her imagination run riot, and if she didn’t rein it in she’d be a nervous wreck by the time she saw Stuart, which would detract from her account. Time to get a grip.
Jess had two phone calls that evening. The first, as she was walking back from work, was from Patrick, and he wasted no time on preliminaries.
‘Jess, please tell me you’ve been in touch with the police?’
‘I tried,’ she answered, ‘but the man I saw before is on holiday and I didn’t want to have to go through it all again.’ She heard him swear. ‘He’s back on Monday,’ she added quickly, ‘and I’ll certainly speak to him then.’ She didn’t dare tell him of Laurence’s possible eavesdropping.
‘I suppose that will have to do. I might tell you you’ve been causing me sleepless nights lately.’
‘Me too.’
‘Well, just watch your step.’ He paused. ‘Are you seeing Connor later?’
‘He’ll probably be round, yes.’
‘Then stick to him closely. You’ll be OK with him.’
‘Should I tell him?’ Jess enquired, half-dreading his reply.
Patrick thought for a moment. ‘Not much point at this stage, but if things suddenly hot up, then yes, he’d be good back-up; he’s closer at hand than I am.’
‘Now you’re making me even more nervous!’ she protested.
‘Good!’ he said grimly. ‘Call me at once if there are any problems. Promise?’
‘I promise,’ she said.
The second call, from her mother, came soon after, as she was arriving at the flat. Since she was the first back, she’d no need to retreat to her room.
‘Hope this isn’t a bad time, darling,’ Fleur began breathlessly, ‘but I’ve not had a second all day and we’re leaving tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Jess echoed, a sudden hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Yes; it’s an early flight on Saturday so we’ll spend the night at a hotel near Heathrow. I can’t believe that in about forty-eight hours we’ll be in Lima!’
‘Lucky you!’
‘Not sure what the internet connections are like down there, but we’ll send photos when and where possible.’
‘Well, have a wonderful time, all of you!’ A thought belatedly struck her. ‘Any news of Auntie Jen?’ she asked, guilty she’d not enquired before.
‘Better, thank God. She’s out of ICU.’ Fleur paused, then added diffidently, ‘Cassie and I will go and see her when we get back.’
Jess bit back her surprise. ‘And Cassie’s all right with that?’
‘Of course.’
She didn’t dare pursue it. ‘Well, that’s a relief; I’m so glad she’s out of danger.’ She heard a voice calling in the background.
‘Sorry, darling, I have to go. Verity can’t find her yellow fever certificate! Love you lots!’
‘Bye, Mum,’ Jess said, but Fleur had already ended the call.
She stood in the middle of the sitting room, feeling suddenly bereft. Useless now to regret not telling her father about the body in her flat when she’d had plenty of opportunities. He might have cancelled their holiday; she couldn’t imagine him flying halfway across the world if he thought she was in danger. But what could he have done, other than what she was now, if belatedly, doing herself? And they’d all been looking forward to that holiday for months. Her sisters would certainly not have thanked her for causing its cancellation.
If she could just keep things together till Monday, she told herself encouragingly, it would be all right. And what, for heaven’s sake, could either Maggie or Laurence actually do? She was letting her imagination run away with her.
Behind her the flat door opened and Maggie’s cheerful voice said, ‘Oh, you’re back! Get out the gin, for God’s sake! I’ve had the hell of a day!’
She’d read too many thrillers, Jess admonished herself; it was ridiculous to think she could be in any real danger.
‘Gin coming up!’ she said.
Kathryn stood at her sitting room window staring down the garden. The roses needed deadheading again, she noted, and the grass could do with cutting, though that was Justin’s province.
Was she doing the right thing? She’d thought she could go on keeping her cool until he came to his senses, as she was sure he would, but she wasn’t as strong as she’d thought, and after a couple of nights crying herself to sleep, she’d taken back control.
How much of it was her fault? She was willing to accept that she wasn’t blameless; Justin was a passionate man whereas she was considerably more reserved, and at some level she’d been aware that this occasionally frustrated him. She loved him deeply but in her own less demonstrative way, and obviously that hadn’t been enough. Perhaps, she thought, with a wry twist of her lips, she should have ‘faked it’, but such subterfuge had never occurred to her.
She’d known, some weeks before her children’s intervention, that he was seeing someone, and not only because of the lipstick on the handkerchief. A couple of times she’d phoned his mobile to be met by voicemail and once, wanting his advice on something while she was in town, she’d called in at the office and been told apologetically that he’d been called out – unexpectedly, it seemed, since there were no appointments in his diary. When, that evening, she had enquired where he’d been, he’d obviously been caught off guard.
What did wives do in these no doubt very common circumstances? Write to an agony aunt? Run home to their mothers? Kathryn had no parents and the thought of confiding in some anonymous person was anathema to her. The fact remained, however, that she couldn’t go on like this. She’d given him the chance the other evening to be honest with her, and he’d not taken it.
So she had reached her decision, and was about to put it into effect. Though an only child, she had always been close to her cousin Anne, who, she’d sometimes thought, was better than a sister, since there was never cause for sibling rivalry.
She turned from the window to pour herself a strong gin and tonic. Then she seated herself in her favourite chair, picked up her mobile and, with slightly unsteady fingers, clicked on her number.
It had been a busy week at the office and there was a decided air of ‘Thank God it’s Friday!’ among the staff as it drew to a close. Jess, however, had mixed feelings; without the daily routine of going to the office, more time would be spent with the group – a prospect filled at the moment with uncertainty. But Connor would be there, she reminded herself, and there was surely safety in numbers. Then, on Monday, she’d speak to DS Stuart.
On Friday evenings the garden centre remained open till six and Maggie took her turn in staying late. She’d reminded Jess at breakfast that that evening was one of those times, and asked her to make a start on preparing the meal.
‘The boys are seeing to the booze as usual,’ she’d said. ‘Sarah’s bringing trout pâté and Di has made her special lemon and honey chicken. I’ll get the lettuce and tomatoes and some raspberries for dessert, but could you make a start on the potato salad? The spring onions are in the fridge drawer and I replenished the bottle of mayonnaise last week.’
Jess therefore arrived home with the prospect of peeling an inordinate number of potatoes, a pastime she didn’t relish. The family would be at the Heathrow hotel by now, she thought, fervently wishing she was with them. Her own holiday, though ultimately enjoyable, had to some extent been overshadowed by the trauma of finding Bruce Marriott, a trauma that had still not been resolved.
Firmly closing her mind on that subject, she tuned the radio to a music channel, filled a bowl with potatoes and settled down to her task. But after only about twenty minutes there was a knock on the door. She frowned and glanced at her watch, confirming that it was far too early for any of the group to arrive. Pulling off her rubber gloves, she went to answer it and, with a sense of shock, saw Laurence Pope standing outside, a quizzical smile on his
face.
‘Maggie’s not back yet,’ she said quickly, seizing on all she could think of to prevent his entering.
‘No, I know; she told me she’d assigned you the job of potato peeling, so I thought I’d come and give you a hand. It’s one of my specialities.’
So he’d known she’d be alone. She forced herself to say lightly, ‘Not necessary, really. You’ve time for a pint across the road – I’m sure you’ve earned it!’
But he was stepping past her into the flat and, with accelerated heartbeat, she closed the door and returned to her seat.
He extracted two bottles of wine from the carrier he was holding and placed them on the coffee table. ‘I’ll get the other peeler,’ he said, reminding her that he knew the flat and its contents as well as she did. Oh God, Maggie wouldn’t arrive for at least twenty minutes, depending on the traffic, Connor not for an hour at least. She wondered frantically if she could somehow contact him and beg him to come now.
Laurence returned with the peeler and another bowl, tipped some potatoes into it and seated himself opposite her, their knees almost touching. She was acutely aware of him, of his strength and of the danger she sensed in his handsome face and black eyes.
‘I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know you better,’ he said lazily, as though aware of her inward panic. ‘You’re a quiet little thing, aren’t you? Never volunteer much. So tell me, Jess Tempest, what makes you tick?’
She felt her face grow hot. ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean,’ she floundered.
‘Oh, I think you do. I get the impression that the group’s sometimes a bit too much for you and you’d prefer a quiet evening alone. Or perhaps,’ he added with a sly look, ‘with Connor!’
She held her voice steady. ‘I admit there are times after a busy day at work that I’d like the chance to relax.’
‘Then you chose the wrong flatmate! You and Maggie are chalk and cheese, aren’t you? So, tell me about your other friends. The one who phoned you the other evening, for instance.’
Her eyes flew to his face. The banter had left it and his eyes now had a cruel, cat-playing-with-mouse expression.
‘Rachel’s one of my oldest friends,’ she said, holding her voice steady. ‘It was she who came to Italy with me.’
‘Ah. I had the impression she’s Australian?’
Jess’s mouth went dry. After a moment, she forced herself to say, ‘I don’t know what gave you that idea.’
‘Must have been something you said. Maggie used to live there; did you know that?’
‘I knew she’d lived abroad. I don’t think she mentioned Australia.’ Jess glanced wildly at her watch. ‘Connor should be here soon!’ she added inanely.
His mouth twisted into an ironic smile. ‘On his white charger? You’re not a damsel in distress, are you, Jess Tempest, when we’re having a friendly conversation?’
‘No, I just meant—’
She was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and for a wild moment wondered if she’d somehow materialized him. Instead she heard Maggie’s voice.
‘Well, this is a cosy little domestic scene!’
Laurence looked up as she bent to kiss him. ‘Greetings, my love. Just getting to know your little flatmate.’
Maggie glanced shrewdly from one to the other. ‘Red Riding Hood and the wolf come to mind,’ she said. ‘Leave Jess to her spuds and come and help me unpack this lot.’
She went through into the kitchen and Laurence, placing his bowl on the table, rose slowly to his feet.
‘Such a pity!’ he murmured softly as he followed her.
FIFTEEN
Connor phoned while Jess was having breakfast. ‘Happy Saturday!’ he said. ‘I was wondering if you’d like a trip out somewhere? Drive into the country, walk, pub lunch, that kind of thing?’
‘Sounds lovely!’ she said. Nothing would suit her better than to be away from the rest of the group, particularly Laurence.
‘How about the Cotswolds, then? Bourton-on-the-Water, perhaps?’
‘Great!’
‘Right; I’ll be in the underground car park in half an hour. OK?’
‘See you there!’
Jess’s heart lifted at the thought of a whole day with Connor and she couldn’t help wondering if it would further their relationship in any way. They’d been out together a few times now – lunch, dinner, the cinema – but a light kiss goodnight as he dropped her back at the flat was as far as they’d progressed. And she admitted to herself that she wanted more, especially now when she was feeling so vulnerable.
The day was all she’d hoped it would be. The sun was high in the sky, the Cotswold countryside was at its best, and they drove with the car windows down, welcoming the refreshing breeze on their faces. Bourton was crowded, as they’d expected, but they managed to find a place to park and walked for some way alongside the river, stopping to look in shop windows and eating ice cream.
After lunch in a pub garden – a large helping each of moules and chips, washed down with spritzer – they returned to the car and drove farther into the countryside, delighting in the honey-coloured stone houses with their thatched roofs, ducks on a pond and even a game of cricket in progress on one of the village greens.
‘Chocolate box scenery!’ Connor remarked.
After a while they turned into a gateway on a country road, left the car and set off to walk to the top of a nearby hill. It was a steep climb and they’d little breath for conversation. By the time they returned to the car they were hot and tired and grateful for the bottles of water Connor had had the foresight to buy at the pub where they’d lunched.
Relaxed, sipping at her water, Jess mused, ‘My family will be in Peru by now.’
‘Well, that’s a conversation stopper! How long have they gone for?’
‘Four weeks in all, taking in Bolivia, Brazil and Argentina. The trip of a lifetime.’
‘And you wish you were with them?’ he asked, half-teasing.
She smiled. ‘Not at this precise moment!’
‘You were down there last weekend, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, it turned out to be quite traumatic.’
‘Oh?’
She’d spoken without thinking; she’d no intention of telling him of the surrogacy or of her father’s fleeting association with Bruce Marriott, but Jenny’s accident was sufficient explanation and she related that. After a minute, she added, ‘And I bumped into Roger while I was there.’
‘Your ex?’
She nodded. ‘I’d gone out for an early morning walk, and he was there on the beach exercising his dog.’
Connor was quiet for a while, then he asked diffidently, ‘And how was it, seeing him again?’
‘Odd,’ Jess said simply. ‘He was so exactly the same.’
‘Any regrets?’
She shook her head. ‘No, we’ve moved on.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘That’s a relief! I thought you were working up to dumping me!’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ she said.
He reached out a hand and traced her face with one finger. ‘That’s good to know,’ he said softly.
She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but suddenly she was in his arms and they were exchanging the kind of kisses she’d been hoping for. When they finally separated he said a little breathlessly, ‘God, Jess, are you sure you’re ready for this?’
‘Why, aren’t you?’ she challenged.
‘God, yes, but I’ve been holding back. I was pretty cut up by my last break-up, and determined not to lay myself open to such hurt again. So I vowed not to get seriously involved with anyone for a full year.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But then I met you! The trouble was I knew you’d also split recently after a long-term relationship. I was terrified of scaring you off!’
She smiled. ‘Not much chance of that!’
He pulled her towards him again, burying his face in her hair. On the country road alongside them a tractor lumb
ered past, the driver leaning out with a ribald comment.
They laughed and waved back. ‘Time we were going,’ Connor said.
‘I don’t want today to end!’
‘Oh, it won’t!’ he assured her. ‘Not for some time, anyway! I suggest we go back to our respective abodes, wash and change, then go out for a slap-up meal somewhere to celebrate. Saturday takeaway at the flat doesn’t strike the right note somehow! Deal?’
‘Deal!’ she said happily.
By the time Hilary and Clive spoke again at the weekend they both had progress to report.
‘I can’t believe how smoothly it’s gone!’ Hilary said wonderingly. ‘The ESTA was a doddle, like you said. And I spoke to Pauline next door and she’s happy to keep an eye on the house while I’m away. I’ll ask the post office to hold any mail, though there shouldn’t be much, and I can put the lights on a time switch. When it gets darker in the autumn Pauline says she’ll come in to draw the curtains and pull them back again in the morning.’
‘That’s great, Mum, you sound very organized! I’ve been looking up direct flights to Denver, and though it’s a fairly busy time there are plenty available, the earliest suitable one being the week after next.’
Hilary caught her breath. ‘Goodness! As soon as that?’
‘Well, there’s no reason to delay, is there?’
No, there isn’t, Hilary thought, but with secret reservations. She had still not seen Justin; he’d sent a text saying he’d be round on Thursday, but then had to cancel as some business appointment came up. At this rate she’d have left for America before she could even tell him she was going. Well, she told herself stoutly, that was his funeral.
‘So how about we go for that, which would make it the tenth of August, and in the meantime I’ll send you a link to a website showing the layout of the ADU.’
‘That would be great!’ she said.
Later that evening as she was getting into bed a text pinged on her mobile and she leaned over to read it.
Monday, two p.m. Promise! Justin xx.
Saved by the bell! she thought whimsically and, turning out the light, settled down to sleep.
The Ties That Bind Page 18