by Jen Silver
Jordan had been a subdued presence throughout the round, answering questions when asked. Beth thought it probably wasn’t easy for her having her boss present.
†
The last hour and a half would remain long in Andi’s memory. The adrenalin rush of winning a golf tournament was nothing to what she experienced in the beautifully engineered escape from the Salcombe Harbour Hotel.
As they walked through the reception area towards the main entrance, her father had pronounced loudly that he was going to take her on a tour of the harbour. The reporter and photographer were lurking by the check-in desk. Andi had thought, as they no doubt did, that they would be walking down to the centre of town. Instead, he quickly pulled her towards some steps by the side of the building. Before she knew it, they were down at the water’s edge.
There was a man in a rubber dinghy waiting for them. He jumped out when they arrived and greeted her father.
“Just the day for a little tour, Doc.”
“Sure thing, Bill. I’d prefer to go out under sail, but it would take too long with this breeze. Do you want me to bring her back here or down to the yard?”
“Here’s fine. I’ve got a few things to do at the club.”
As they motored away from the dock, her father explained the plan to Andi. He thought it was simple enough but Andi had her doubts. She clutched onto the seat in the middle of the small craft and tried not to think about how much water was beneath the all-too-thin layer of rubber.
“So, when we get to the South Sands Beach, I’ll bring her in as close as I can. You just need to climb up the rocks back to the road, and you’re almost opposite my house. Don’t drive through town. Go the other way and you’ll be able to get onto Sandhills Road. It winds around a lot but does eventually come out on the main road and you’re away.”
To take her mind off the rocking of the boat, Andi asked why Bill had called him “Doc”.
“They all do around here. Emeritus Professor Doctor is a bit of mouthful.”
“You do have a name.”
“Yes, but whenever I’ve introduced myself as Richard Green, they start singing that stupid Robin Hood theme song.”
Even though she’d been brought up in Canada, Andi knew the one he meant and started singing softly, “Robin Hood, Robin Hood, riding through the glen…”
“Enough. Or you can swim to shore.”
She looked across at him but he was smiling. This was his element, the expanse of water and the movement of the boat, a continual source of joy.
“You should come and visit,” Andi said as he started to steer the boat closer in to the shore.
“Visit where? I never know where you are from one week to the next.”
“Temperley Cliffs. Would you like to meet Freya?”
He smiled at her. “Yes, I would.”
“Bring Charmaine. Make a weekend of it.”
“You won’t force us to play golf, will you?”
“No, of course not. There is a sailing club nearby if you really can’t bear to miss a day out on the water.”
“Sounds promising. Yes, thank you. We’ll work out a date.” He turned his attention back to steering, navigating through the shallow waters at the entrance to the beach.
His plan worked perfectly. Climbing out onto the rocks had been the worst part. Once safely on dry land, she turned and waved. He was already backing the small craft away from the threatening rocks but lifted his hand to wave back.
Taking the route he’d suggested she soon found herself on the road back to Plymouth, laughing out loud at the thought of the reporter waiting at the main dock in the town for her return.
She was still on a high when she turned into the Temperley Cliffs drive two hours later.
†
Andi’s arrival coincided with Freya’s plans to take a long bath. Which was made longer when Andi joined her.
“This wasn’t the relaxation I had anticipated,” Freya moaned, barely able to breathe after climaxing and collapsing back into the two-foot depth of cooling water with Andi’s body stretched out on top of her. “Do you think we could retire to somewhere more comfortable?”
“I’m comfortable.”
“You might be, sweetheart, but I’m struggling to keep my head above water.”
Andi relented and helped her out of the bath. After a cursory towelling, they tumbled into the bedroom and onto the bed.
An hour later, dressed to go downstairs for dinner, Freya asked, “What’s got you so hyped up? I thought you’d be drained after driving to Salcombe and back.”
Andi laughed and told her about the escape from the hotel by boat. “It was like something out of a James Bond film. And Dad was enjoying every minute.”
Freya realised something had shifted in Andi’s relationship with her father. She had only ever used the word “dad” in a sarcastic way when referring to him before.
“Oh, and he wants to meet you. I invited him here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, of course not.” Freya smiled and refrained from pumping her fist in celebration. This was the result, the breakthrough in their relationship status that she had hoped for if Andi was happy now for her to meet a parent. “Did you set a date?”
“No. We were talking about it as we neared the bay and he had to concentrate to make sure he didn’t hit any rocks, and I was decidedly nervous about the next stage of the plan. But I’ll call him in a few days.”
Freya opened the door to the apartment and they set off down the stairs. Andi stopped suddenly and grabbed her arm. “Do you think anyone here will alert the press?”
“Tris talked with the staff before he left. Not all of them know who you are, but they certainly recognised Goran. I asked the golf pros to have a quiet word with their students. So, unless you’ve upset someone here, I think you’re safe.”
“It’s not me I’m really worried about. I don’t want a press pack turning up here, trampling over your flower beds.”
Freya punched her arm. “You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you? A press pack? Interested in your love life?”
“It’s more you and Tristan they will be interested in. You don’t want this place tarnished as a haven for lesbians before you’ve even got started.”
“It doesn’t seem to have harmed the Dinah Shore golf tournament, which is famed for attracting hordes of lesbians.” They had reached the hall now. “Don’t worry, we’ll handle whatever comes.”
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Of course.” Freya walked ahead of her into the dining room, head held high.
Chapter Sixteen
In the bar and over dinner, everyone was reliving their rounds and had stories to tell about each hole. Despite the sore muscles and aching feet, they were all keen to go out and do it again the next day. At the end of the meal, Jeff Palmer stood up to make an announcement. Beth was dismayed to learn that they wouldn’t be going out in the same grouping. The organisers were mixing things up, and he told them there would be a list posted on the reception desk in the morning. She thought that was sensible. It wouldn’t be fun to spend the night worrying about who your new playing partners were. There wasn’t anyone on the course she had taken a dislike to, but there were at least half a dozen she hadn’t really spoken with.
Beth hovered in the reception area, not sure she wanted to spend another hour in the bar talking about golf. And she had finished the two books she’d brought with her to read. If she had known she would be on her own for the full two weeks she would have brought more. Sam had been telling her for years that she should get a Kindle but she had resisted, thinking she wouldn’t like reading electronically. She enjoyed the feel of a book in her hands, turning pages, underlining passages, and making notes in the margins. Sam told her she could do all that with an eBook, as well as being able to share her notations, but she still wasn’t convinced.
Jordan came out from the dining room and stopped when she saw her.
“Are you oka
y?”
“Yes. I would like something to read. There isn’t anything in the so-called Library.”
Jordan laughed. “There are some golf magazines on the shelf by the fireplace, but I’m guessing that’s not what you want.”
“Too true. I’m golfed out today. What did they do with all the books? It must have been a library at some point in time.”
“Yes, it was. I gather there were a lot of valuable first editions, some with uncut pages. The former Lord Temperley donated them to the Bodleian at Oxford.”
“Wow! I would have liked to see some of those.”
“Anyway, all is not lost. Have you been into the Reading Room?”
“At the Bodleian?”
“No, here.”
“There’s a Reading Room?”
“Walk this way and I’ll show you.”
Beth followed Jordan down a passageway she hadn’t noticed before. They went down two steps, turned into another passage and there was a doorway with Reading Room carved into the wooden lintel.
Inside were three walls lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and only a small window on the fourth wall. The whole effect was cosy and welcoming. Jordan hit a light switch by the door and carefully angled spotlights illuminated the books.
“I haven’t had time to explore it much myself, but there’s a pretty good selection of different genres.”
“Gosh. This is a well-kept secret. I had no idea this was here.” Beth wandered over to the nearest shelf to read the titles.
†
Jordan sat in one of the armchairs and watched as Beth perused the shelves. She had actually only been in the room once before when she got lost trying to find the kitchen on her first day. With the subdued lighting, it was a bit gloomy, but she had thought it would be a good spot to spend a few hours of quiet reading on a rainy day.
“Oh, wow! There’s a whole set of Margery Allingham’s books here.”
“Who’s she?”
“A crime writer. Albert Campion was the main detective in her stories.”
“Oh yeah. Wasn’t there a TV series?”
“No, you’re probably thinking of Roderick Alleyn. He was Ngaio Marsh’s creation. Similar character and they were the same era.”
Beth picked a book off the shelf. “This one of Margery’s was made into a film. Tiger in the Smoke. The smoke in the story is the infamous London fog.”
Jordan waited while Beth picked out several books and then sat down opposite her. “Is it okay to take these to my room?”
“As far as I know. There’s no signing out book or anything.”
“I’ll put them back before I leave.”
“I’m sure you will.” Jordan hesitated before adding, “Are you going to drive back with Sam?”
Beth brushed the hair out of her eyes to look at her. “Yes. I wasn’t looking forward to the journey back on the train. And we can share the driving.”
Jordan leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. Now that she had Beth on her own, it was proving harder to say what she wanted to say. She took a deep breath. If she didn’t say something now the chance might not come again before the end of the week. “Beth, I know I said that getting involved with students was a no-no. But I’m very much attracted to you. Is there any chance you feel the same?”
Beth looked down at the books in her hand so Jordan couldn’t see her eyes. When she looked up again, Jordan was startled by the appearance of tears.
“Oh, God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s not you. I’m flattered, obviously. And I do like you.” Beth seemed to be struggling to put her feelings into words. “I’m just so confused at the moment. The affair with Lydia, obviously I know now, I shouldn’t have let it happen. Maybe it’s all the teenage hormones I’m surrounded with at school, I got caught up in the excitement of a secret liaison. But lately I’ve been feeling trapped, and it’s only too obvious now that Lydia will never acknowledge me openly as her lover. Sam has no such reservations and never has. Yet I threw that away, and for what?” The tears started to flow.
Jordan moved over and pulled Beth to her feet, holding her close while she cried. It wasn’t exactly the seduction scene she had envisaged. Breathing in the scent of the woman in her arms, feeling the beat of her heart, this was the closeness she desired. But not the role of lover that she craved, merely the comforter, a shoulder for Beth to cry on.
“Sam should hate me, but she doesn’t. Maybe that’s why I feel so guilty.”
“I guess she’s confused as well.”
Beth stepped out of Jordan’s embrace and fished a tissue out of her pocket. She wiped away the tears and looked at Jordan. “Do you think you can put up with just being friends for now?”
Jordan managed a smile. “Of course. I’ll be here if you need to talk.”
“Thank you.”
†
The conversation with her daughter played over and over in Lydia’s mind as she continued the journey after dropping the young couple off at the Exeter train station.
Tara’s words stuck in her mind. “People will respect you for coming out.”
“But I’m a head teacher. Some people still equate homosexuality with paedophiles.”
“Oh, they’re just ignorant tossers.”
“I can’t risk it, Tara.”
“But, mum, some of the parents and kids at your school must know that Beth is gay. They’ve not publicly stoned her, have they?”
“She’s just an English teacher.”
“She’s still in a position of trust. They can’t be too worried about her corrupting young minds if she hasn’t been ostracised.”
“I can’t risk it in my position.”
“So you’ll destroy any chance of a happy relationship for the sake of your precious career?”
Lydia had shaken her head, frustrated at not being able to make her daughter understand. There was no other option as far as she was concerned, but Tara wasn’t ready to let the subject drop immediately.
“I feel sorry for Beth. She seemed like a nice woman.”
“Leave it, Tara. I can’t talk about this here.” Lydia got back in the car and after a few moments, Tara opened the back door and climbed in beside Dario. No more was said until they reached the station car park, and then it was just a brief goodbye as their train was due in ten minutes. Tara mumbled something about getting a bacon sandwich from the buffet car. The hug from Dario was warmer than the one from her daughter, and that said it all, Lydia thought.
The drive back seemed longer than the journey down to Cornwall, although once she was past Birmingham the volume of traffic eased considerably.
Hefting her suitcase into the hallway, the house felt emptier than it had the week before when she got back from the conference. She picked the post up from the floor and carried it into the kitchen. Mixing herself a gin and tonic, she sat down at the kitchen table and flicked through the mail. Mostly junk, but there was one official looking letter. She carried it upstairs to her office, along with her drink. Time to get back to work. Lydia booted up her computer to check her emails and start planning for the new term.
Chapter Seventeen
The last three days passed in a blur and the day Jordan had been dreading arrived too quickly. Friday morning, she checked her uniform before leaving her room. It was the last time she would have to wear it for more than a week. The next sessions were starting the Monday after next.
That was a lifetime away. For now she had to put on a smile and wave goodbye to this group after their final presentation. The competition days had been fun and gave her the chance to meet all the students she hadn’t had much contact with earlier.
When she reached the meeting room, the three men were already there. Jordan had to admit that Jeff was well organised. Expecting the presentation to be a dull affair, she was pleased to see that he’d made every effort to make it entertaining. It was set up more like an awards ceremony. While the students were finding their seat
s, a video was playing. It opened with a montage of images of golfers, male and female, playing on golf courses around the world. She recognised some of them—Pebble Beach, St. Andrews, Royal Troon, Sawgrass, Augusta National.
There were gasps from the audience when the image on the screen changed to one they all recognised, Temperley Cliffs. Jordan knew what to expect but the students were all startled as the clips switched to pictures of themselves, a compilation showing their efforts from the first days of learning on the driving range through to the competition on the course during this last week.
They had been used to seeing the instructors carrying iPads as an essential teaching aid. In the early sessions the students were shown what their swing action looked like and how it could be improved. What they hadn’t known was that they were being filmed on other occasions, too. The room was filled with laughter as they watched themselves struggling initially to hit the ball, then there were “oohs” and “aahs” when they were shown images where someone played a beautiful shot out of a bunker, or putted in from off the green.
Jordan hadn’t seen the finished production beforehand so she was as surprised as the audience to see pictures of herself and the other golf pros interspersed. She suspected Andi was the perpetrator although Jordan hadn’t noticed her doing it.
The film ended with the group photo they had all posed for on Thursday morning before the round. Jeff had wanted to do it when they were all looking enthusiastic about the day’s golf, rather than when they came off the course in various stages of delight or dismay, depending on how they had played.
Tony nudged her while the group was applauding. “Pretty good, huh.”
He had put the video together and was rightly proud of it. Jordan nodded and smiled at him. Once he’d realised she wasn’t interested in his amorous overtures, they had developed an easygoing relationship, allying themselves against the two older men. However, although Roger was annoying at times, she had to admit his students had responded favourably to his teaching methods and seemed to like him.