It was pure chance that she saw him, ironically enough through the window of the café she’d visited with Patrick. He was seated just the other side of the glass, reading the inevitable newspaper. Without stopping to consider her action, she went in and sat down opposite him.
He lowered his paper and looked across at her. ‘Are you going to order me off the premises?’
She shook her head with a smile. ‘It’s not within my jurisdiction.’
‘Nor, I believe, are the beach or the promenade, but it didn’t stop you then.’
‘I didn’t actually—’ she began, but he interrupted her.
‘Look, my presence obviously offends you, but most of the times we’ve met haven’t been at my instigation. All right, I probably shouldn’t have joined you on the beach when you were in the altogether; but it was a chance you took, and I wasn’t actually trespassing.’
‘I know,’ she said, discomfited as always by those dark eyes. ‘Actually, I’ve come to apologize. As a hotelier, it’s my business to make visitors to Sandbourne welcome, whether or not they’re staying with us. I rather doubt that came across with you.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘An understatement, I’d say.’
‘Then I’m sorry. Let me belatedly make amends.’ She glanced round, hoping to order a coffee – since her companion had made no move to do so – but couldn’t catch anyone’s eye.
Giving up the attempt, she turned back to him. ‘Where are you staying, Mr Payne?’
‘You know my name.’
A slip there. ‘I always check the table reservations,’ she replied, less than truthfully. ‘So, are you at another hotel, self-catering, or what?’
He was silent for a moment, then said flatly, ‘I’m at Sunnyside. It’s a boarding house on the front.’
‘I’m aware of that. And how do you find it?’
He lifted a shoulder. ‘It suits my needs.’
He wasn’t helping her, she reflected ruefully; in fact, he was very heavy going. Then an idea came, and with it, a quickened heartbeat. ‘Have you been to the Fisherman’s Catch, farther along the coast?’
He shook his head, eyeing her curiously.
‘You should try it. Basically, it’s a fairly unpretentious little pub, but its seafood is out of this world. People travel miles to eat there.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ he said, ‘but my time here’s running out. You’ll be glad to know I leave at the end of the week.’
‘Then let me take you there as my guest,’ she said quickly, before she could change her mind. ‘To make up for my somewhat cavalier treatment of you.’
And on the way home, she thought, blood thundering in her ears, there’d be plenty of opportunity to park overlooking the sea, where she’d entice him into making love to her. That should banish all thought of—
He was staring at her, a strange expression in his eyes, and she had the absurd notion that he’d read her mind.
‘Let me get this clear,’ he said at last. ‘Are you actually inviting me to dinner?’
She nodded. ‘I want you to remember Sandbourne as a friendly place.’
Her mouth was dry as she waited for his answer.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I accept your invitation.’
Twelve
Jill returned to the hotel with a considerably lighter heart than when she’d left it. Excited by the prospect, she would have preferred their date to be for that evening or the following one, but Payne had previous engagements which he’d obviously no intention of cancelling. So it was fixed for Friday, his last night: which meant any lovemaking that took place would have no chance of repetition. A pity, but then once would be sufficient for her purpose.
She’d suggested they use her car, thereby both giving her the chance to select a suitable spot on the way back, and eliminating any restriction on his drinking, which, she hoped, would make him more susceptible to her overtures.
A week ago, she’d have treated the idea of seducing Payne with ridicule, but ever since her dream lover had metamorphosed from Patrick into his likeness, she’d felt a growing interest that had been fuelled by his continued lack of it. Well, she thought defiantly, she’d show him what he’d been missing.
It was at lunchtime the following day that the trouble started. Rain had set in during the morning, with the result that more guests than usual had returned for lunch, together with several non-residents, opting for a pleasant way to pass an hour or two.
When Jill looked into the office, Douglas was on the phone, and signalled that she should go to the restaurant ahead of him; where he joined her five minutes later, looking very pleased with himself.
‘That was the secretary of the Conservative Association on the phone, in quite a flap. Our revered MP is tearing himself away from his Italian villa to visit his constituency, along with an Italian delegation anxious to twin their town with Sandbourne. All last minute, and he’s asked her to book a table for ten for tomorrow night, to include the Mayor and various councillors. She was practically on her knees, begging me to fit them in.’
‘And can we? Surely we’re fully booked?’
‘Damn right we can, even if it means moving a table or two into the Garden Room to make more room for them. It’s quite an honour, though, isn’t it? We’re not the only four-star hotel in town.’
‘It’s a feather in our cap, certainly. I’m sure we can rely on Chef to rise to the occasion.’
‘And I’ve invited them to a champagne reception beforehand. No harm in pressing our advantage. So wear your most glamorous outfit, my love.’
Jill, her mind on Payne, had been only half-listening, and looked up, startled, as his words sank in.
‘Tomorrow, did you say? Oh Douglas, I’m sorry! I shan’t be here.’
He put down his fork and stared at her. ‘What do you mean, you won’t be here? You’d bloody well better be!’
‘Really; I’m going out for dinner with – a group of friends.’
‘Then cancel it,’ he said briskly. ‘You can do that anytime.’
‘As it happens, I can’t. It’s Priscilla’s fortieth, and I promised I’d be there.’
‘Jill, I don’t think I made myself clear. This is a fantastic opportunity for us. If the twinning goes ahead – and there’s no reason why it shouldn’t – we’ll be quids in from the word go. The Eye-ties will stay here during negotiations, and we’ll get plenty of publicity.’
‘I know, and I’m really sorry, but this has been booked for weeks.’
‘You’ve never mentioned it.’
‘I thought I had. Anyway, I won’t be missed.’
‘I’d miss you,’ he said. ‘Seriously, this is not negotiable. I need a hostess.’
‘Couldn’t they come on Saturday?’
He stared at her. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You want our MP and his guests to alter their arrangements to suit your convenience?’
His voice had risen, and heads were turning at nearby tables.
Jill leaned forward, hoping that by speaking quietly, he’d moderate his own tone. ‘Douglas, please! It’s all most unfortunate, and if I’d had more notice—’
His face was stony, and she went on quickly, ‘What time are they coming? Perhaps I could look in before I go? To meet them, at least?’
‘And then excuse yourself, on the grounds that you’ve something better to do?’
‘I’m trying to be helpful,’ she said.
‘But you’re not, are you?’ His voice was rising again, and conversation at the nearby tables had fallen silent. ‘On the contrary, you’re being totally selfish, as usual. All you ever think of is your own pleasure. God knows, I don’t ask much of you, but this is important to me – to us, dammit! I want you there, Jill. End of.’
Her face was burning. ‘Thank you for expressing your opinion of me so publicly.’
‘It needed to be said. I’ve put up with a lot—’
Abruptly, she pushed her chair back and stood up, flinging her napk
in on to her plate of scampi. Face flaming and looking neither to right nor left, she stalked out of the restaurant.
He caught up with her in the foyer, seizing her arm in a vice-like grip and steering her into the deserted office.
‘How dare you show me up like that?’ he demanded furiously.
‘You showed yourself up, with no help from me.’
‘God, I can’t believe you’re behaving like this!’
‘All because I won’t go to your poxy champagne reception? It’s not as though either of us will be present at the dinner, so what the hell is all the fuss about? You expect me to renege on a long-standing engagement for the sake of twenty minutes’ chat with a bunch of Italians?’
His face was congested with fury. For a second longer they confronted each other, both breathing quickly. Then his hand went stingingly across her face. She gasped, her own hand going up to it. Then she turned and ran out of the room and up the two flights of stairs, turning the key in the bedroom door as she slammed it behind her, and leaning, panting, against it.
Almost immediately, the handle rattled as he tried to come in.
‘Jill, open the door at once!’
She did not reply.
‘Look, I’m – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, but you goaded me too far.’
‘I might have known it was my fault,’ she said quietly. She moved away to the mirror and gazed at the scarlet weal across her cheek and the small cut caused by his ring.
‘Jill, please!’
‘Go away, Douglas,’ she said.
And after a minute, he did.
Jill washed her face in cold water, applied fresh make-up to mask the stinging redness, and went downstairs. There was no one about. Douglas, to her relief, was nowhere to be seen, and the guests were still in the restaurant, the topic of their conversations not difficult to guess. She pushed her way through the swing doors and walked quickly down the path. The rain had stopped at last, but the pavements underfoot were wet, and heavy clouds still hung over the sea. They weren’t finished with it yet.
Once clear of the hotel, she took out her mobile and rang Priscilla.
‘Jill, hello!’ She sounded surprised; they’d had coffee together that morning.
‘Are you doing anything at the moment?’
‘Finishing lunch. Otherwise, nothing.’
‘Could I come round?’
‘Of course. Is something wrong?’
‘You could say so. Ten minutes be OK?’
‘Right. See you then.’
Priscilla was a good choice, Jill reflected, walking on towards the town. Angie and Kitty both had husbands, in whom they might confide; Priscilla was divorced, and could be counted on to keep her own – and anyone else’s – counsel.
She lived in an attractive house near the town centre. Jill had been there many times to play bridge, and turned into the gate with a feeling of thankfulness. Priscilla had the door open before she reached it.
‘Jill!’ she exclaimed, her welcoming smile fading. ‘Whatever’s happened to your face?’
Jill stepped into the hall. ‘It was the immovable object that met the irresistible force,’ she said grimly.
Priscilla hesitated, and when she didn’t go on, suggested tentatively, ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks, yes, I’d love some.’ She’d had virtually no lunch, but the thought of food was anathema to her. Coffee, on the other hand, might help to steady her. She was still incandescently angry at what she saw as her husband’s unreasonableness and his unforgivable humiliation of her in front of their guests. And the slap had shaken her more than she’d have expected.
Priscilla returned and set down the coffee tray. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s happened? You were fine this morning.’
‘Douglas and I have just had a regrettably public row.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘He told me in no uncertain terms what he thought of me, and rounded it off, as you can see, by slapping my face.’
‘So that’s . . .’ Priscilla regarded her with horror. ‘Was that in public, too?’
‘No, thankfully. But it – rather shattered me.’ Her voice rocked, and Priscilla quickly poured the coffee and handed her a cup.
‘I bet it did.’ Priscilla paused. ‘Do you want to tell me what the row was about, or shouldn’t I ask?’
Jill took a quick sip of coffee, burning her tongue in the process. ‘He wants me to attend some stupid reception tomorrow evening – the local MP and his cronies – and I can’t, because I’m going out. He expected me to cancel it, and when I refused to do so, blew his top.’
Priscilla said carefully, ‘This reception – is it important?’
‘Douglas seems to think so.’
‘And he wants you with him?’
Jill glared at her. ‘Don’t you dare take his side!’
‘I’m not, honestly. But – what are you doing, that you can’t cancel?’
A smile tugged the corner of Jill’s mouth. ‘Attending your fortieth celebrations.’
Priscilla’s eyebrows rose. ‘Well, thanks for the compliment, but you’re a bit late; they took place two years ago.’ She paused. ‘And what are you really doing?’
‘Having dinner with a man. At the Fisherman’s Catch.’
Priscilla stared at her. ‘You dark horse! The first I’ve heard of this!’
‘There’s not much to hear.’
‘This the first date?’
‘And the last. And, I have to admit, at my instigation.’
‘So who is he?’
‘No one you know.’ Jill hesitated. ‘Actually, he’s the one who came upon me sunbathing.’
‘Ah! Not gay after all! I did wonder if there was more to that than you told us.’
‘There wasn’t. Honestly.’
‘But you’ve obviously seen him again.’
Jill sighed. ‘It’s too complicated to explain.’
‘But important enough to risk Douglas’s wrath?’
‘Well, of course, I wasn’t expecting that. The MP thing only came up this morning, and he told me over lunch.’
‘But couldn’t you postpone your date, to keep the peace? Fix another day?’
Jill shook her head. ‘He’s going home on Saturday.’
‘He’s a visitor, then? Staying at your hotel?’
‘No, one of the boarding houses. Look, Pris, I appreciate this probably doesn’t make sense to you, and I really can’t go into it all. Sufficient to say I desperately need to see him before he goes, in order to – prove something to myself. It’s really important.’
‘If you say so,’ Priscilla said doubtfully. ‘So – what do you want me to do?’
‘Give me a bed for the night.’
‘Oh, now look—’
‘How can I go back there and face everyone, when they heard what he called me?’
Priscilla leaned forward. ‘Jill, love, listen to me. Of course you’re welcome to stay if that’s what you really want, but honestly this isn’t the way to play it. The longer you put off going back, the harder it will be.’
‘So how do you suggest I play it?’ Jill demanded sullenly. ‘Meekly trot back, and let him slap me again?’
‘Didn’t he apologize?’
She nodded reluctantly. ‘He followed me upstairs. I’d locked the door, but he called through it that he was sorry.’
‘Well, in my opinion, your most dignified approach would be to brazen it out. Behave as though lunchtime never happened.’
‘But he’ll bring up the reception again.’
‘Possibly, though I doubt it. Ironically enough, I think the slap will work in your favour. He’s now ashamed of himself, and I don’t think he’ll risk raising the subject again. You’re quite sure you can’t give in gracefully and attend the thing?’
‘Quite sure.’
Priscilla sighed. ‘Well, you know best. But Jill, if he ever hits you again, come straight here, you understand? He’s used up all his grace. One more time, and you h
ave to get out. For your own safety.’
Jill gave an uncertain laugh. ‘I honestly don’t think he’s a wife-beater, Pris.’
‘He’s taken the first step. Don’t let there be another. Promise?’
‘Yes, all right.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for making me see sense. It’s not like me to throw a wobbler; I don’t know what came over me.’
‘You’re OK now?’
‘Yes, fine. Balance restored, and as you say, the longer I wait, the worse it will get. In which case, I might as well wend my way back.’
Priscilla stood with her. ‘Good luck, then. And enjoy yourself at my party!’
Thankfully, Priscilla proved right. When Jill reached the hotel, Douglas was alone in the foyer. He looked at her searchingly and, she thought, with a tinge of relief. Perhaps he thought she’d gone for good. But all he said, gruffly, was, ‘You all right?’
‘Fine,’ she said, forcing her voice to lightness. ‘You?’
He nodded, and she nodded back, and, passing him, went on up the stairs. Please God let that be the end of it.
The subject wasn’t mentioned again. That evening, she did her usual stint in the bar, handing out menus to all and sundry with a dazzling smile, and though there was a palpable undercurrent, everyone returned it. And when the time came for dinner, Douglas made a point of seeking her out and threading her arm through his as they went together into the restaurant. But that, she feared, was window-dressing. Things had been said that could not be unsaid, and sooner or later, they’d have to be faced.
That night when he came to bed, he made love to her, roughly and in complete silence, as though inflicting punishment. Jill, however, found it stimulating, and even as she responded, wondered how the following evening would compare, remembering the whiteness of Gary Payne’s body as she’d seen it on the beach and imagining it above her, those dark, fathomless eyes at last coming alive and blazing with passion.
And that, she told herself, would be worth all the opprobrium Douglas might throw at her.
Throughout the following day she was restless and unsettled, chafing at the slow passing of time. The fine weather had returned; she met her friends as usual for coffee, exchanging a brief, complicit smile with Priscilla, and spent the afternoon in a secluded part of the grounds, topping up her tan in a strapless sundress and trying to concentrate on her novel.
Thicker Than Water Page 15