by Sara Wood
When the class had been wound up and Tom went to get their raincoats, Kirsty hesitantly touched Helen’s arm.
‘Don’t think I’m interfering, but…do get your Dan to come. You need a husband’s support more than any of us,’ she urged. ‘Tell him money isn’t as important as personal support. Tom offered to take on another job to help make ends meet, but I said we’d manage. I’d rather he did his milk round and came home early as he does, giving me cuddles and cups of tea!’
Helen smiled again, this time rather wistfully. ‘I’ll mention it when he collects me. Look…I’d like us to meet up somewhere. Can we have lunch some time?’
‘Great!’ Kirsty enthused. ‘It’s getting boring being at home so much because of all this rain. I’ve forgotten what summer was like, it was so brief. Thank heavens we live on a hill, or we’d be flooded. What about you, any trouble with the floods?’
‘Fortunately we’re on a rise, too,’ Helen replied. ‘The village has been cut off twice because the river burst its banks and our lane was impassable for a while. If Dan hadn’t bought a four-wheel drive we’d be in serious trouble, stuck out miles from anywhere.’
‘Tell you what,’ Kirsty said, ‘it’s Bonfire Night in two weeks’ time. Our flat overlooks the High Street in Lewes and it gets a brilliant view of the procession. Have you ever been to the celebrations?’
Helen had certainly heard of the famous Bonfire Night there. Thousands flocked to the small market town to mark the fifth of November when Guy Fawkes had tried to blow up the Houses of Parliament and the King of England, some four hundred years earlier. And by all accounts, the event was spectacular.
‘No—Dan’s always longed to, but we’ve never found the time—’
‘Then find it,’ Kirsty said firmly. ‘With twins in the offing, it’ll be the last chance you have of behaving like normal adults on Bonfire Night for years and years! Come to us, both of you. Bring a bottle and a packet of crisps or something. It’s a fantastic sight. Tom’s a Bonfire Boy—’
‘A what?’ Helen giggled.
Conscious that the caretaker was hovering and hoping to lock up, they moved outside and stood in the porch.
‘There are loads of local bonfire societies,’ Tom explained enthusiastically. ‘You join up and pay a subscription and hold money-making events, then your society has its own bonfire with elaborate displays. You make collections on the night and all the money goes to charity—’
‘And you get to wear a costume,’ Kirsty said, her eyes twinkling. ‘Tom’s a pirate. Junior will be enrolled from birth if they can find an eye patch small enough. Honestly, you must come. It’s an amazing sight. You should see the Zulu warriors! You’ll never forget it. The whole street is filled with burning torches for as far as you can see and they roll blazing tar barrels down the road and there are fabulous bands—’
‘What about the rain?’ Helen asked doubtfully.
‘They march whatever. Maybe it’ll ease up by then. We’ve got two weeks, after all,’ Kirsty said. ‘Please come!’
‘I’d love to,’ Helen said on impulse. It would do her good. Get her out of herself. Though Dan would never come. ‘I’m not sure how Dan’s fixed, but maybe he’d take time off and come, too.’
‘Right. Be in Lewes before six p.m. because they close the town. Park off the street for safety. There’ll be thousands and thousands of people milling around. We can watch in comfort from our window. Here’s our address.’ She scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it over. ‘Must dash. See you!’
Helen waved goodbye, quite excited by the event. Soon after they’d arrived, the workmen had told her about the extraordinary celebrations, the huge bonfires, fantastic fire-work displays and set pieces—usually depicting somebody who’d been slated or exposed in some way by the newspapers. The builders’ enthusiasm had spilled over to her and she and Dan had been very keen to go one day.
When the car drew up, she could hardly wait to tell him that she was going.
‘All right?’ he asked with his usual cool detachment.
‘I am. Feeling great, actually.’
He flicked a glance at her face and she realised from his surprised expression that she hadn’t been this animated for ages.
‘The class was that good?’
She gave a small chuckle. ‘Oh, not the panting and stuff. No, I’ve made friends with one of the mums. Kirsty. She and her husband Tom have asked if I’d like to watch the Bonfire Parade from their window in Lewes High Street on the fifth. They have a fabulous view. It’s an unmissable opportunity.’
‘You’re going alone?’
‘Definitely. It’ll be the last chance I have till the babies are nine or ten years old.’
He frowned. ‘You’re planning on driving there on your own, and coming back late at night?’
‘That’s the idea.’
‘I don’t think that’s wise.’
‘I’m going, Dan,’ she said calmly. ‘Are you going to chain me to the stove?’
His brows got closer and closer together. ‘I’d better give you a lift and return later to collect you.’
‘No, they close the town. If you’re worried about me being out late at night, then you’ll have to come with me. Kirsty won’t mind, she’s been dying to meet you,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to sit around with us. Once you’ve done the polite chat for a short time, you can disappear for a few hours. Tom’s in the parade, so he won’t be there, either. We two women can have a good natter. Do what you like, Dan. I’m going and that’s that.’
He grunted and seemed to be struggling with his interest in the procession and the ghastly thought of having to spend time with her.
‘All right,’ he muttered. ‘You’ve given me no choice.’
Helen felt nervous about having Dan around her, even for a short time during the evening. All sexual tension had now vanished. They’d been so cold towards one another lately that she wasn’t sure she could stand his glacial comments. The last time they’d been shopping, she reckoned she could have cut the atmosphere with a cushion.
In silence they drove through the rain, the headlights illuminating flooded fields everywhere. Dan seemed tense and annoyed, as if he resented her for forcing him to go with her on Bonfire Night.
He opened the front door of Deep Dene and, as usual, paused to politely enquire, ‘Anything you need?’
‘No, thanks. I’m whacked. All that panting and huffing. I’m going to bed,’ she replied, rubbing her spine.
‘Problem with your back?’ he asked.
‘A bit.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘Not surprising, when you think of what it’s having to support. If I didn’t know different, I’d say there was a cartload of monkeys in my tummy.’
Frozen-faced, Dan turned away. ‘See you tomorrow. Sleep well.’
‘Goodnight,’ she said in a forlorn little voice.
He hesitated, then, screwed up with tension, he strode quickly to his flat and went straight to his computer. As it whirred into action he wished he could have placed his hand on her abdomen and felt the babies moving. He was desperate to feel close to them. But he dared not touch her.
The last few weeks had been a trial of strength that he’d almost lost on several occasions. He was now so wound up with desire that he’d kept all contact to the bare minimum, punishing himself with cold showers, press-ups, fierce dedication to work and near rudeness to Helen.
None of that helped much. He still felt a knee-jerk response whenever he clapped eyes on her. Still wanted to tuck her into his shoulder and stroke her slender back, murmur wicked things in her ear and hear her giggle saucily as she did unspeakably erotic things to him. Sex was the very devil to control once it had been enjoyed.
There was something wonderfully sensual about Helen at the moment. The Empire line red wool dress flattered and concealed, and, despite proclaiming that she waddled like a duck with chronic corns, she moved gracefully, carrying her pregnancy with pride.
Everything about her was soft and t
empting. And he’d just elected to spend a good chunk of an evening with her in a couple of weeks! He groaned and decided to get out on the streets to watch the parade as soon as he decently could.
In the bedroom above he could hear her moving about. He sat staring at the monitor, aching for her. He couldn’t hack it. Even this limited ‘togetherness’ was destroying him inch by inch. If it weren’t for the babies, he’d have been off and halfway around the world.
And then came a crash and a simultaneous scream.
He was out of his flat and bounding up the stairs three at a time before he even drew breath.
‘Helen! I’m coming!’ he yelled.
Expecting the worst, nevertheless he felt a lurch in his chest when he saw her lying flat on the floor, a small occasional table overturned by her feet, ornaments and photographs scattered on the carpet.
‘Don’t move!’ he said urgently. ‘I’ll get an ambulance—’
‘No, for heaven’s sake, don’t!’ she cried, sitting up abruptly, her hair flying about her embarrassed face. Heartbreakingly beautiful. ‘I didn’t fall, Dan. I was lying down already. I’m OK, honest. Please go. Let me roll myself up in my own good time. I hate you seeing me so clumsy.’
She was virtually naked, he realised, just a gaping satin wrap slithering erotically around her body. He gulped, overcome, his limbs suddenly heavy, brain slowing, breathing rapid, mouth dry…the usual signs. Damn.
‘Why were you lying down?’ he groused.
She looked at him in wry amusement, her eyes bright, her mouth apologetic.
‘I was doing leg circles,’ she explained. ‘And I circled a bit too vigorously and knocked over the table. I’m terribly sorry to drag you up here for no reason at all. I’m so clumsy—’
‘No. Not clumsy.’ He was having difficulty getting the words out. They sounded stilted and unsympathetic. He tried harder. ‘Are you sure you’re not hurt?’
‘No!’ She gave a rueful laugh. ‘Only my pride. I screamed because the crash sounded so loud. It gave me a shock. I’m unhurt, honestly—’
‘Will you…will you be all right? The babies, I mean?’ he muttered.
Her hand went to her abdomen. Laughing grey eyes met his and he was drawn into their smoky depths.
‘They’re doing leg circles, too,’ she said softly. ‘Feel.’
‘I…don’t think…’
‘Stop thinking, Dan, and do what you want to,’ she coaxed. ‘These are your babies. Say hello.’
If she did but know it, he said ‘hello’ to them every time he saw Helen. But…he did want to feel them move. Desperately.
Fiercely controlling his delight, he put on the kind of concerned attitude a doctor might adopt and tentatively let his palm come to rest where she’d indicated.
Something—a hand, a foot—jabbed angrily at his hand and he jerked it away in alarm before replacing it.
Small bumps appeared at random, disturbing the smooth and gentle swell of Helen’s abdomen. His heart melted with love. Gently he stroked the silky skin and, lost in wonder, bent to kiss it.
Hello, babies, he said silently. Your father here. Hello, little ones. Hello, my loves. I’ll be a good father. Promise. Will love you with all my heart.
His mouth nuzzled softly, the warm sweetness of her infusing his lips with tantalising tastes. He put his cheek against her abdomen and stroked her lovingly while she coiled his hair in her fingers.
The amazing fact that he and Helen had been part of the creation of these tiny lives made his heart lurch. Awed, he slowly kissed every inch of her belly, silently repeating his promise to his babies that he would love and care for them all his life.
My darling, precious babies.
He was overcome with emotion. It flowed through him like a river, melting bone and sinew, and resolution alike. And somehow her arms had wound around him and she was sighing and he was exploring further, gently caressing her breasts, touching them with a lightly questing finger, his dark, glowing eyes mesmerised by the dark-centred nipples.
She shrugged off the wrap. Her mouth was on his and they kissed with a long, lazy thoroughness that tantalised more than any fast and fevered passion. This was adoration. This was worship.
With great care he let his lips brush her blissfully closed lids, his hands cradling her upturned face in awe.
Mother of his children, he thought hazily. And he had felt them move as if welcoming him—though they were quiescent now, perhaps sleeping. He shook with the wonder of it, needed to keep on kissing her to ease the huge lump of emotion that was stuck in his gullet.
It would be a complete tour of her body. His mouth would know every inch. His hands would follow. He needed to remember Helen in exquisite detail when he was alone.
Unexpectedly, she began to remove his clothes. Gradually he felt himself being swallowed by something dark and wonderful, drowning in a whirlpool of sensuality, her skin hot now, her body trembling, groans of need whispering from her lips.
‘Make love to me,’ she breathed into his ear.
He raised drugged and harrowed eyes. ‘No, Helen! No! I…hadn’t meant…’
‘Too late,’ she murmured.
‘I was only…’
It seemed impossible for him to say more than a few words before his throat closed up.
‘I know. But these things happen,’ she whispered into his mouth.
Wanting their union, he groaned and did his best to resist.
‘It—it was the emotion of the moment. Feeling the babies move beneath my fingers. It was…amazing.’
‘And we’ve been wanting to touch one another for weeks,’ she said candidly.
Perceptive woman. Had it been that obvious? Had she seen the wealth of longing in his eyes, the desperate efforts he was making to stop himself from touching her?
‘It’s…not a good idea—’
‘To hell with good ideas,’ she husked.
He groaned. ‘I…can’t.’
‘I think you can,’ she said, placing her hand on his groin, and he felt himself leap to her touch, hard and throbbing. ‘Proof positive. I want you, too, Dan.’
He could have drawn back then. Just. But she kissed him artfully, curling her tongue around his, moving her breasts against his chest so seductively that his iron will was broken.
His mouth tasted her sweetness. His body became master of his head. ‘Is it still safe for you?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Be gentle. Please. Probably our last time.’
He disguised his choking cry by kissing her hard. Then with infinite care he drew her onto his lap. His pregnant wife. The woman he’d once surrendered to, had viewed as the one person who could save him from a life of inhibition and a lack of love—and who had failed him.
Though he still wanted her.
Last time, he told himself. And let his tongue coil around hers, invading her mouth, her eager response sending him over the edge and into the world of pure sensation he’d never thought he’d know again.
An extraordinary thrill claimed his entire nervous system, charging it with electric tremors that rippled through him over and over again. The silk of her skin, her frantic little moans, all conspired to intensify his pleasure as he devoted himself to arousing her in a languorous and complete dedication to the woman who carried his children.
Goodbye, Helen, he thought with a lump in his throat as she shuddered and swayed against him. And then he lost himself in the slow, powerful build-up to his climax, abandoning for a while the certain knowledge that this was the end of it all and from now on they would become as strangers to one another.
He wanted this to last for ever. Did everything he could to ensure it did, postponing the moment when cold reality would hit him and he would be her estranged husband once more.
But her movements foiled his plan and he felt himself spiral up to another plane, hover in a prolonged, sweetly pained ecstasy, and then float back down again. Helen slumped against him, spent, as replete as he. And suddenly hurting somewhere
in his chest, he withdrew from her arms, looking into her drowsy, slaty eyes.
‘Rub my back,’ she mumbled sleepily.
Breathing hard, he turned her around and pulled her buttocks against his pelvis, his fingers working the muscles of her back with a rhythm that was highly arousing for him. So he moved away.
‘What is it?’ she asked softly.
He couldn’t bear it any longer. This way of living was destroying him inch by inch. There was only one solution. He felt the hot pricking of tears and willed them to retreat.
‘Dan! You’re frightening me! Don’t look like that,’ Helen pleaded, kissing his mouth. He jerked away. ‘We’ve not done anything wrong. We’re married—’
‘That’s just it, Helen,’ he said harshly. ‘We’re living a farce and I can’t stand it any longer. We can’t stay married. We must make a clean break. It’s not right that we keep easing our sexual needs with one another.’
‘But—!’
‘I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say!’ he lashed, his eyes blazing with anger. ‘All the time we’re hitched up like this, we might as well be shackled. I want out. As soon as possible.’ He mustn’t weaken. Mustn’t let her dismayed face sway him. ‘Then maybe we’ll treat one another like acquaintances, instead of potential sex objects.’
She swallowed, the pain all too visible in her limpid grey eyes. ‘Sex,’ she said bitterly, ‘has a hell of a lot to answer for.’
‘So we take it out of the equation. I will be a lodger and the father of your children.’ He clenched his teeth together hard and came out with something to clinch his argument, something that would drive home to her what he intended. ‘If I need sex, then I will go elsewhere.’
‘I thought you had,’ she flung, clearly hurt.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. What did it matter what she thought?
‘I’ll see a solicitor in the morning.’
With a hastily stifled gasp, she dragged on her robe, her huge grey eyes fixed on his granite face.
‘Take me along, too. I will need a—a s-solicitor,’ she stumbled. ‘I’ll cite your adultery with Celine, of course.’
He tensed and then realised the futility of any explanation. Better this way. Better for his sanity. With a curt nod, he turned away, picking up his clothes.