by Dawson, H A
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And he doesn’t like salad. Raw onions make him sick.’
‘Drop the instructions, Leanne. I’m not an idiot.’
‘Just look after him. He doesn’t always say what he thinks.’
‘He told me exactly what he thinks . . . made it clear he wanted to stay on. He said your place was too depressing.’
Silence.
‘Yes, it’s true,’ he reaffirmed. ‘So now you know.’
‘It’s not my fault-’
‘You don’t need to say it. I know your Gran died. Look, you’ve said your piece. I’m going.’
The call ended. Cradling the phone in her hand, his words rattled. Tyler had been unhappy, and hated the misery and the grief and wanted to get away. What had she done? She should have put Tyler first; instead, self-pity became her overriding emotion. Unwittingly, she had pushed him away, and in the end, she got what she deserved.
It was not a competition by any means, so why did she feel as though she had finished in last place? Why did Darren’s smugness cut so deep? He had always been confident, but over the intervening years seemed to have developed an ability to be manipulative too. He had gained a son, a young man to be proud of, and someone to share his male activities with. Would he be presenting Tyler to his friends as though he had won a prize? Leanne pressed a cushion into her abdomen, the image horrifying, and stared into space.
She toiled with her thoughts. One side argued that Tyler had shown incredible wisdom and would be fine, but the other side cried out that he was young and needed constant protection. Her gut twisted. She chewed on her lip. She prayed for a solution.
Tyler’s footsteps padded the staircase and hallway. He opened the door and peered into the room.
‘Are you ready to go?’
She looked up, still fretting.
‘You okay?’
She looked down at the phone. ‘Yes.’
‘Who were you speaking to?’
‘Darren. He told me you were miserable here. Is that true?’
Flushing, he looked away.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult to be around. You should have said something.’
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘So tell me.’
He looked to his feet and folded his arms.
‘Please Tyler. I need you to be honest.’
His adrenaline leapt from his skin, his face filled with anger. ‘I never said I was unhappy.’
‘Did you say you wanted to get away?’
‘No, I . . .’
She studied him, searching for guidance. ‘He lied?’
‘Yes . . . I mean no.’
‘Which is it?’
‘He . . . he . . . why does it matter?’
‘Because it does. I don’t want him mistreating you.’
‘He’s not. He wouldn’t do that.’
‘So he’s not bullying you.’
‘No.’
She puffed out. ‘Please appreciate how difficult this is for me.’
‘You said it was okay for me to stay with him.’
‘Yes, because I thought it was what you wanted.’
‘And I still do.’
‘But for all the wrong reasons. If I’ve done something wrong, you have to tell me.’
Exasperated, he scurried away, first into the kitchen and then back upstairs. Her desperation to see even just a hint that Tyler had changed his opinion was driving her on; instead, the more she probed, the more she saw the opposite, and she felt herself slip further into a cavern of loneliness. She imagined the fun and laughter he would have with Darren’s family. She thought of her exclusion.
Leanne’s chest rose and fell as she exhaled. It was almost time to leave. She looked to the bags by the wall and told herself that it wouldn’t be forever. Soon, Tyler would realise his mistake and return to her, and in the meantime, she would have a chance to pursue her relationship with Steven. It was a win-win situation. What other choice did she have but to try to be positive?
Entering the village was like entering another world. It was a world that allowed her to be a different person, away from her duties of motherhood and the memories of Phillip. They had spent their entire life in that small townhouse and every piece of it, from the ornaments to the furnishings were reminders of a life lost. It was both comforting and distressing. She could relish the memories, vivid and heart-warming, yet they were also heart-breaking and had the ability to leave her in searing agony.
Honeysuckle Cottage had offered a new start. It was as though she could pretend she had never been married. Phillip had never existed there. She felt liberated and energised, and never more so than when she considered her previous meeting with Steven.
The tenderness of his fingers had tickled her skin, causing her body to convulse; his soft lips had danced over hers, connecting only when she felt sufficiently electrified; their bodies had converged, his firm chest not quite secreting his pounding heartbeat; their heat had escaped in waves, their adrenaline surging, their passion ignited.
Steven had pulled away. At the time, with her body quaking with lust, Leanne’s disappointment rose, but later and once her emotions had settled, she was appreciative of his gesture. It was too soon for anymore and she did not feel willing or able in her fragile state to seek comfort in their activity. Her heart still belonged to Phillip; their act would have felt like a betrayal. Had Steven felt the same? Was he still emotionally linked to Andrea? She ambled out of the car and sauntered into the store.
There was a middle-aged woman behind the counter and an elderly man with a small boy selecting a birthday card. She strolled by, heading to a refrigerator section for some milk. Meandering along the aisles, she filled her basket with biscuits, a cereal, and a loaf of sliced bread, and then, having paid for her selections, she exited the building and returned to the car across the street.
She slumped onto the seat, her body weary from the journey, and thought of Honeysuckle Cottage. Tonight she would listen to music and read a book, and tomorrow she would continue with her plans for her jewellery making business. Steven would pass about midday. She would offer him lunch.
Leanne glanced at the carrier bag on the adjacent seat and wondered if she should go back inside and buy some salad. Her legs were heavy and her eyes drooping. She could come back tomorrow if need be.
She turned the ignition and eased along the High Street to a t-junction where she indicated left and glanced up and down. Just as she started to pull away, two people, a little distance to her right and walking away from her, caught her eye. Leanne yanked her foot from the accelerator pedal and put it on the brake, causing the car to jolt. The man was Steven, every curve and every flat edge of his body carved into her mind, but who was the woman? She was facing away and her arm draped across his back. Was it Andrea? Steven was smiling and his eyes were alight; irritatingly, he was relishing in her company. Leanne’s stomach knotted.
They headed into The Fox Inn. He held open the door. His companion turned her head. It was Queenie.
She returned home in an awful mood. Seated on the sofa with her legs crossed and her arms folded she scowled, her plans for a relaxing evening with her lovesick memories nothing but fantasy. Steven had said he didn’t know Queenie. He had lied. They could not have formed a friendship so quickly. And even if they had, for what purpose?
She clenched her jaw and formed a fist. Had their intimacy meant nothing to him? He was prepared to seek solace with someone else, so obviously not. Was Queenie willing to give him the full extent of her body in a way that Leanne had been unable?
Her body tightened as she relived the moment of her parting with Steven. She had felt him withdraw and so had pulled back. He had suggested they waited. He had said it. Not her. So why did she feel that once again she had left him in the lurch?
She sucked her tongue as she tried to understand Steven’s motive to date Queenie. It may not be a deliberate punishment, and it could just be that he wanted
to make full use of his freedom. But why Queenie? She was older than him, and not pretty even for her age. And her personality wasn’t appealing either. He could do so much better.
Pacing the room, her imagination was in free fall. Were they back at his house making out? Was Steven stroking her naked skin the way he had wanted to with her? Was she inhaling his fresh scent? Leanne needed answers. It was too late to go out, and anyhow, she didn’t want to go to the pub. If she had Janet’s so-called powers and those of her great-grandmother, then she would not have to imagine what was happening.
What had Janet been capable of? Had she acquired paranormal powers or practised witchcraft, or were her abilities a strong intuition? Her grandmother had never come across as a sensitive woman, rather headstrong and determined, so neither options seemed likely. Yet given the secrets that Janet kept close to her chest, she admitted that in some ways they were like strangers. She dared not even consider what else she might uncover beneath her grandmother’s hardened façade.
Janet’s absolute fear of the paranormal echoed in Leanne’s mind. Something had terrified her, stopped her from doing whatever it was she had done. Could she have practised remote viewing, a phenomenon using extrasensory perception to acquire impressions of a distant target? It intrigued Leanne, and whilst she knew little about it, she knew it had been used in the military. What if she could settle herself, follow the correct procedure, and get a feel for Steven’s behaviour? It was a fascinating prospect
Whatever had happened to Janet was probably nothing to do with the process she had used, but rather her interpretation of her discovery. More than likely, she had handled the situation incorrectly; her stubbornness had been renowned. Reminding herself of Luke’s reassurance of having nothing to fear, she concluded she could do no harm and headed up to her bedroom and lay flat on the bed. It was worth a try.
After an indeterminable amount of time, she had slowed her breathing to such a degree that it was as though she was floating, and she had silenced her mind, no longer aware of the natural creaks of the house. Determined to progress, she focused on an imaginary light.
Steven was in the centre, but the details were hazy and she fought to gain clarity. He was in a bar. There were people standing nearby holding glasses, chatting and laughing. There was someone by his side, a woman, Queenie.
The scene flickered in and out of focus as Leanne’s efforts faltered. She told herself to relax, breathe slower and focus deeper, and settled her mind on a vivid light. The image reformed.
They were in the corner. Queenie was leaning into Steven with her face closing in on his, and her hand was wandering up his thigh. She was laughing. She pressed her finger to his lips. She snuggled into him.
Their intimacy was unbearable, causing her to jolt and rip open her eyes. She stared at the ceiling, white with rippled wallpaper, and tried to calm her quickening pulse. It was too difficult. She sat up, eased her trembling legs over the edge, and wiped her heated brow. Steven was going to take Queenie home. She could sense it, smell it. She could read their thoughts and feel their lust. Shivering, she grabbed the duvet and wrapped it around her cold body.
The warmth was immediate, but it did not settle her agitated mindset. Despite sensing that the psychic vision had failed, and concluding what she saw was nothing more than her imagination, she still replayed the details as though they were real. It should not matter what Steven did and whom he saw. But it did, more than she dared admit.
Their next date, a meal out with Geoff and Teresa was imminent. She considered cancelling and her stomach knotted. Was she foolish for still wanting to see him?
Chapter 25
Standing in front of a full-length mirror, Leanne gazed at her reflection. Her royal blue dress was loose around her middle disguising her extra weight, yet shaped to avoid her looking as though she was wearing a tent. She placed her feet into her silver sandals to gain an extra few centimetres in height and straightened out the shimmering fabric. Satisfied with her appearance, she perched upon a padded stool situated at a dressing table and reached to a hairbrush.
Having brushed her dark brown hair, she applied hairspray and a touch of perfume to her neck. Deciding she had done all she could, she turned off the light and headed downstairs and towards the gentle sounds of the radio. The music was from a west-end show. It was not to her taste, but it was company. The silence, the absence of family, was overbearing, even after a few weeks, and she did not think she would ever get used to being alone. It was one reason she was still going out, maybe the only one.
Despite continuous pondering, Leanne had not found the courage or motivation to withdraw from her date, and had flitted between her choices until her head and stomach ached. Twice, she had created a text to cancel, and twice she had failed to send it. She had phoned his landline at a time she knew he was out with Tansy, and she had walked past the house, both weak attempts to enforce a decision. She believed her inability to resolve her agony was because she wanted him to admit to his betrayal and cancel. It was not because she wanted to spend time with him.
Her niggles vexed. Steven did not appear to want to admit to his betrayal. Maybe he didn’t think it mattered how many women he saw at once. They were both too old to use the excuse of uncontrollable teenage hormones as had been Darren’s defence when she had once highlighted his unscrupulous behaviour. Steven’s behaviour was inappropriate and she deserved a modicum of respect.
The doorbell sounded. She hurried along the hallway, her irritations on the tip of her tongue, and opened the door with a stony silence. Upon seeing Steven, who looked more handsome than ever wearing navy blue trousers, a yellow cotton shirt and a patterned tie, a warm glow oozed from her body. Her displeasure was gone, and a grin stretched across her face.
He reached across to her shoulders and planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘Where have you been all week? I’ve stopped by every day.’
She tightened. ‘I’ve had to pop out.’
‘I thought you must have been avoiding me.’
She turned away, reaching for her woollen coat and handbag. ‘No.’
‘I spoke to Teresa about the accident.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She acted strangely. I’m worried about her. She wouldn’t say what happened.’
‘Do you think it was Geoff?’
‘No, but I’m certain it was no accident. When I mentioned the grease, she lost her temper. I’ve never known her to be like that. She insisted that neither of us goes around there. When I asked her why she wouldn’t say. I . . .’ He folded his arms around his body. ‘I got the impression it was more you than me.’
‘So why are we going out tonight? I don’t need her doing any favours.’
‘I know that, in fact, I said as much.’ He reached for her hand and gave it a little squeeze. ‘She said they wanted to. She said she likes you. They both do.’
‘They have a funny way of showing it.’
‘I know. It’s all very peculiar.’
‘Is she normally like this with strangers?’
He hesitated and his voice dropped. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘It’s going to make tonight awkward.’
‘It won’t. I’ll make sure.’
She looked up, caught the compassion in his eyes. ‘I wish you hadn’t told me.’
‘I wanted to be honest with you. I don’t want any secrets.’
Stiffening, she averted her gaze.
He eased aside her hair and nestled his face onto the back of her neck; his lips dropped like butterflies along her neckline and the tips of his hair fluttered across her skin. Fighting an overwhelming yearning, she pulled free.
He gave her a questioning glance. She was not ready to confront him regarding Queenie; at the same time, she could not remove the image of his body entwined with hers. It dominated her mind, stilled her voice. It grappled. It drained.
‘You look and smell gorgeous by the way . . . irresistible.’
As irresistible as
Queenie? Leanne bit her lip and headed to the door. She was being childish, petty.
They sauntered to the car. Steven smiled sweetly. Half-heartedly, as she wondered how long she would be able to keep up the pretence she smiled back. With her body stiff, her gaze concentrated, she climbed in the vehicle. He started the car, reversed onto the lane, and headed back into the village. He turned into the new housing estate.
‘I thought we were going to meet at Teresa’s house,’ she said.
‘Change of plan. Teresa said she would pick us up.’
‘So you’re not driving?’
Grinning, he turned off the engine. ‘No. I might walk you home afterwards, unless . . .’ He leaned towards her, his warm breath moistening her face. ‘I feel like a teenager again.’
‘As randy as,’ she said, unbuckling her belt and hurrying out of the car.
He grinned.
‘Look, they’re here.’
He was sat in the car, dejected, and it reminded her of the movie Grease when Sandy walked out on Danny. For her, the power was satisfying, but her annoyance was greater. Was he the same with Queenie, and whomever else he dated? She would not be his latest trophy. She might be lonely, but she was not desperate.
The Green Dragon was once a sixteenth-century coach house with oak beams, flagstone floors, and log fires. At the rear of the property were fantastic views of a meandering river and woodland, both set in an undulating landscape. During daylight, the vista was visible through the restaurant windows; at night, the illuminated courtyard was the only view offered.
Leanne felt as though she was stepping back through time as she headed down some concrete steps, aided by a handrail, and into the restaurant. The room was small and elongated, with wooden tables along the length, a log fire set upon a plinth at the opposite side, and a drinks bar near the entrance. She removed her coat, inhaling the fresh scent of sandalwood, and hung it on the coat rack.