She nodded, confirming his suspicions, and when the man himself arrived in the middle of the afternoon, the two greeted one another like old comrades. David had very much liked the portrait and had asked for use of it for further publicity material. He claimed that a large, heavily featured man had to grasp every opportunity to appear as debonair to his constituents as Jason had made him look. David was a big bear of a man with woolly eyebrows and craggy features. He could appear distant, which was quite opposite to his personality.
As the afternoon mellowed toward evening, they sat on the terrace with Felice, the three of them discussing the nature of the publicity engine. Felice brought out a tray with glasses and a tall jug of Pimms and lemonade. The two dogs sat either side of David, happily flanking their owner.
“Have you photographed many famous people?” Felice asked
“Several. Although when I’m taking photographs for someone, it’s not really their status but their personality that I’m interested in, and that’s what I attempt to convey.”
“You aren’t one of those dreadful people who wait for movie stars outside restaurants to catch them when they have had one glass of wine too many?” Her tone was teasing.
“No.” Jason’s reply was emphatic, with a warning flicker of the eyebrows. “I prefer to work with someone, and I’m very cautious about the invasion of people’s privacy.” As much as he denied it, his mind was very much preoccupied with that particular subject. “David, you were in the Cabinet when there was that scandal, the minister’s wife who had been involved in nude sex shots years earlier?”
“Oh, yes, the Pendlebury affair.” David reflected. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s a curious subject, people’s reactions.” Jason grew thoughtful. “To one extent or another, we all have photos taken of us in the past that we don’t like, that will continue to exist ... immortalized on celluloid. It’s the idea that they can be so damaging to a career that concerns me.”
“Publish and be damned.” David slapped the table with his hand for emphasis. “I agree with you precisely; we all have skeletons to one degree or another. People shouldn’t be judged by their past. If it ever happened to me or someone close to me, I’d say face up to it and ride the storm, whatever the controversy. At the end of the day, you have to believe that no publicity is bad publicity. It’s just about whether people can face up to it bravely and soldier on.”
Jason reflected on what had been said. In theory it was true, but the bottom line was that he hadn’t wanted to be responsible for putting Zoë in that position, where she had to decide whether to be brave or to buckle.
“Georgina!” David exclaimed suddenly, pushing back his chair and causing the dogs to bound up, as well.
Cal and Georgie were on the steps to the terrace, approaching the party assembled there. David grabbed his daughter into his arms and crushed her against him. “It’s been too long, princess.”
“It’s only been twelve weeks, Dad.” Georgie looked pleased to see him but slightly embarrassed at her overwhelming bear of a father.
“Your friend, Jason, he took that photo we used in the campaign three years ago.”
“Really?” Georgie smiled at Jason proudly.
“And this must be Calvin, the artist?” David glanced at the sketchbook tucked under Cal’s arm. He put out his hand in greeting.
“Very pleased to meet you.” Cal shook his hand while David looked around at the gathering, beaming to himself, a man who was happy with his family and friends around him.
“I think the occasion gives just cause for a visit to the village pub, and a true heart-of-England meal, to celebrate.”
Behind him Felice rolled her eyes. She’d obviously been thwarted in her plan to fuss over their needs. However, Jason noticed she didn’t spoil his plans and went along with them.
“I want to hear all about my daughter’s new career and about how you three met.”
Jason glanced at Cal, who suppressed a smile.
Georgie shuffled her feet.
“And you must tell us what we can expect of traditional heart-of-England food,” Cal said, redirecting the conversation, much to Georgie’s obvious relief.
* * * * *
The Stuffed Trout was exactly the sort of country pub that advertising executives use to sell everything from crusty bread to life insurance. Hanging baskets and potted plants lined up along the front of the thatched and whitewashed exterior of the rustic pub. Bicycles leant up against wooden picnic tables while cyclists stopped to try the ales and rest a while.
The interior was small and cozy, with low, beamed ceilings and staggered seating areas. It looked as if the place had been added to over the previous five centuries to accommodate the slowly growing population of the small village and the visitors who traveled to partake of its offerings. It had a warm atmosphere and a hearty welcome from a big, burly landlord. He sported a handlebar moustache, along with a pipe that never moved far from his mouth though it never seemed to get stuffed with tobacco or smoked at all. When he saw David and his entourage, he quickly cleared off his premier table, made jollier when he realized that they were going to sample the menu.
The food was excellent, but throughout it all Jason got the distinct impression Felice would rather entertain them with a dinner party at home. He observed her as she sidled alongside David, a cashmere sweater loosely tied over her shoulders, smiling as he greeted the locals with warm handshakes and anecdotes from the world outside Randlethorpe. She touched him just enough to catch the attention of the curious locals, but not enough to indicate whether they were an item or not -- a hand resting on his shoulder or a discreet touch on his arm to point something out. Whether she did it intentionally or not wasn’t clear, but the subtle smile on her mouth indicated that she more than enjoyed the wide-eyed speculation that evolved around them.
Attention was a funny thing, he reflected. Pretty much everyone wanted some of it. The right level of publicity and attention was good. Too much was bad, very bad. He had tried to keep his mind off Zoë, but it was getting harder all the time. His original reaction had been to bury his head in the sand. Greg would calm down and go away, eventually. Besides, if Greg couldn’t find him, what could he do? Nothing. Greg was powerless without him.
Despite that assurance, over the course of the day his hankering to resolve his guilt increased. He was pretty sure Zoë would have got wind of the potential exposé by now. That alone tortured him. He had to destroy the photos once and for all, simple as that.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said after the meal, while Felice and David were chatting at the bar with the landlord and his wife. “I’ve decided to do something to clean the slate over this situation with Gregory.”
“Oh, yes?” Georgie turned to him. “Have you come up with a plan?”
He nodded. “Greg’s lost his scoop, but I’m still not happy. I owe it to Zoë to lay it to rest once and for all. I’m going to head across country by train tomorrow. The photographs have got to be at my sister’s place in Edinburgh; I’m sure of it. I’ve got several boxes stored in her attic. I can’t think where else they would be. I just need to do it, to clear my conscience. I feel like I’ve let Zoë down.” The thought made the dull ache in his chest grow stronger. It had taken up residence there since he’d been forced to remember, like a constant nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Deep down he knew he’d already let her down, years before, but he hadn’t realized quite how badly, until now.
“I’m going to go up there myself and destroy the photographs and the negatives.” He was settled on his decision, and in the course of reaching it felt more relaxed than he had in days, as if his resolution had begun to ease a great weight from his shoulders.
“Sounds fair,” replied Cal. “But we’ve taken some time out for a break, and if Georgie is agreeable, we could drive up with you and --”
Georgie cut in before he had finished. “Yes, of course we’ll come with you. I’ve never been to Edinburgh before.”
/> “Well, okay, if you’re sure.” Jason thought it couldn’t do any harm, and the pair of them did help to stop him brooding on the issue around the clock.
Cal grinned. “Coming with you is the only way to ensure you stay out of trouble.”
“Hey, don’t push your luck, Austrian. I can just as easily go on my own.”
“Oh, you’re not planning to leave already,” interrupted Felice as she sidled back into her seat at the table. “You’ve only just arrived.”
“How about we stay until the day after tomorrow?” Cal said, for the sake of compromise.
“No harm in that. I’m only going to get rid of some old gear.”
“Great.” Georgie beamed.
Opposite him, Felice quietly sipped her brandy and smiled conspiratorially, as if she had something cooking up at the back of her mind. It triggered a reflex in Jason’s loins.
Staying another night was probably for the best, he decided. After all, what was the big rush? The photos had been waiting for over ten years. Another few days couldn’t do any harm.
* * * * *
Gregory Sutherland stormed out of the terraced house and slammed the door shut behind him. He strode over to the black Ford Mondeo that was double-parked outside and opened the passenger door. The three hired hands who waited for him expectantly slunk back in their seats when they saw the expression on his face.
“The bastard has done a runner on me.” His tone was vehement.
He got into the passenger seat, slamming the door loudly enough to make all three men cringe. Gregory didn’t notice, nor would he have cared. He needed to let off some steam.
“He hasn’t been back here in three days. His housemates say he left a message on the answer machine telling them he was going out of town for a few days and not to worry. Other than that, no clues.” He swore loudly and hit the dashboard with his fist.
The driver turned the key in the ignition. “Where to now, boss?” he asked, somewhat nervously.
Gregory frowned. He stared ahead, unseeing. A moment later he gestured at the road ahead.
“Edinburgh, as planned. That’s it. We don’t wait any longer.”
“Don’t you need him for --”
“I don’t need him for anything,” Gregory interrupted the voice that had piped up from the back seat. “He might have said he doesn’t know where the photos are, but I don’t believe him for a minute. I reckon he’s on the road himself ... I bet he’s planning to publish them and collect!”
His fist clenched as he felt the money and the accompanying prestige slipping away from him. “We just have to make sure we get there first.” He glanced at the driver. “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Put your foot on it.”
The driver signaled and quickly pulled out into the traffic.
“If that little bastard sells those pictures before I get my hands on him, his life won’t be worth living,” Gregory muttered.
He was furious at this latest turn of events, and he had to remind himself that he had back-up plans, plenty of them. He was determined the trip to Edinburgh would result in something to make this damn thing worthwhile. Joel Elliot had been on his back, chasing him for the promised results. He’d also heard on the grapevine that Elliot was taking action himself. He was up to his neck in it, and he wasn’t the sort of guy who backed down, ever. His outside plan was to visit Zoë, tell her he had the material, and blackmail her with the threat of publication. Even if Jason got there first, he would get some hard cash for his efforts, and Jason would take the rap for the exposé. That would serve the little bastard right. The thought eased his rage, and he smiled smugly. Oh, yes, he had all eventualities well and truly covered.
Chapter Nine
A timid woman with blue-tinged gray hair peered down the narrow aisle in the shop. She had a miniature Yorkshire terrier tucked under her arm and facing front, as if it were a powerful weapon that was loaded and ready for use. The dog blinked nervously. Jason lifted the shopping basket over the woman’s head to enable her to get past. That action gained him the cautious respect of the village shopkeeper, who stood by the till with his arms folded, observing them warily as they made their selections.
They had slept late, and when they awoke, Cal went down to the kitchens for coffee before leaving to draw out in the fields. Jason had wandered down after him and found Felice sitting at the round oak kitchen table writing a shopping list. He’d been quite happy to help her when she had asked.
They’d been in the village greengrocers for nearly a half-hour, but Jason hadn’t noticed the time passing. He was too busy observing Felice. She had a way of touching everything that made his balls ache. Right at that moment she was testing an avocado for ripeness. It was having a devastating effect on him, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He was, however, content to carry her shopping basket for her and observe her interactions with the lucky objects she chose to examine.
“Good morning, Mrs. Fawcett.” Felice nodded over as the old lady and her terrier crept behind her, as if trying not to be noticed by the tall, elegant woman who more than filled the shop with her presence. Mrs. Fawcett blurted a hurried response and shot past. Felice was clearly an enigma who kept the locals gossiping about their parliamentary celebrity and his unusual housekeeper. Jason smiled to himself, his imagination running riot on what the villagers might make of the goings-on up at the big house. Felice was just the type of hot topic that kept the tongues wagging, that much had been apparent at the pub the night before. Today she looked smart but incongruous in close-fitting jodhpurs, riding boots, and a crisp white blouse. Whether she intended to ride at all was not an issue; this was clearly her about-town look, and it showed her immaculate figure off to perfection. Jason watched as she leaned over the salad stall and the blouse rode up, revealing the smooth, warm skin of her waistline. The curve of her rear was perfectly outlined in the jodhpurs.
“Mmmm, delicious.” She placed a clutch of bright green fennel into the basket he was holding.
“What will you be cooking?” Jason queried, in order to focus on something other than her magnificent bottom and her fingers rifling through the fruits and vegetables.
“For starters, oysters -- fruits of the sea and the food of love.” She smiled suggestively. “To follow, baked salmon with almonds, served on a bed of linguini dressed with garlic and fennel, and the freshest vegetables from the countryside. Afterwards, perhaps a tiramisu, just because it feels and tastes like heaven in your mouth.” She pursed her lips into a smoochy kiss, her expression filled with proposition.
Oh, great, Jason thought to himself. She’s going to feed us a meal full of aphrodisiacs. As if he needed that after having just seen her shopping. That was an erotic experience in itself. The way she drew her fingernails over the skin of a lemon and scented its zest had sent a dart of longing up his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand upright. A sensitive spot at the base of his lumbar region had tingled for a solid five minutes afterwards.
He was practically gasping for air by the time they finally left the greengrocers, laden with purchases. Thankfully, the day was much fresher. A breeze had swept in from the west, lifting some of the humidity.
“Mmm.” Felice stroked his upper arm while he loaded the boot of her Mercedes convertible, squeezing the bicep muscle as if she were testing it for ripeness, too. “Do you work out?”
“A bit of gym work; it’s mostly kickboxing that I get off on.” His body responded as if, by virtue of testing his bicep, she had checked out his whole physique with her hands. He was taut as a bow with the feeling of stimulation her action aroused. She had her hand under the cropped sleeve of his T-shirt and was holding his upper arm in a surprisingly firm clasp. He stood with his hands on the edge of the boot, waiting to see what she did next.
She glanced at the dressing on his forearm but made no comment, then smiled and slid her hand free. “Come, we better hurry; I must start cooking.” She indicated he could shut the boot and stalked round to the side of
the car, glancing back at him as she went.
“Already?” He looked at his watch as the boot slammed shut. It was early afternoon.
“Good things are meant to be properly prepared and ... savored.” Her gaze lingered on his body before she climbed into the driver’s seat. Jason paused with his hand on the passenger door handle, then took a deep breath before he got in beside her.
* * * * *
Georgie had slept late, and by the time she got downstairs to the kitchen, Maddie was the only one around. A note on the message board read “gone sketching,” beneath which was scrawled “gone shopping.” Next to his message Cal had drawn a caricature of himself holding a sketchpad. Jason had drawn a stick man with a big grin and what might be a carrier bag in one hand. She smiled and made herself some brunch, then decided to take the dogs for a walk down to the river.
The lane passed the house and joined the river a quarter of a mile away, where it rambled alongside the riverbank for nearly two miles before the river bent away and went eastwards. It had been one of her favorite walks, and as she traced the familiar route, she realized how much her life had changed since she had last been there.
The design course had more than lived up to her expectations. She was modeling her own designs already, and to good feedback. Her sex life had taken a dramatic step up. She had never been in such a decadent relationship before, but then, she’d never met a man like Cal before.
He was in her mind all the time. With Jason it was sex, fun, and camaraderie. With Cal it was something else. She couldn’t deny it. She should have been getting Justine’s advice about not falling for guys, and instead she was letting him reach inside her by spending more time alone with him.
His tale had touched her heart, inevitably, and it was clear to her that he was wary of caring in a deeply emotional way, and why. The only person he had ever loved and been loved by in return had left him too soon. But what he didn’t realize was that he already cared for others at that level. She was sure his friendship with Jason was built on something deep, respect and affection. The loyalty between them and the way they took responsibility for each other showed her that, whether they knew it or not. Men! Girlfriends would be more open about that side of things. These two thought they were so radical with their open, alternative sexuality, but they still kept their feelings locked up like most men would. Stiff upper lip and all that. She couldn’t help smiling over it.
Along for the Ride Page 10