A Special Kind of Woman

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Go away,’ she said very clearly, and fell back into the pillows with a groan.

  He was utterly heartless, she decided later when she’d calmed down a bit. He smiled a barracuda smile, leant over and plucked the quilt off her in one easy movement, walking out of the room with it and dropping it over the banisters.

  ‘I’ll see you downstairs in five minutes,’ he said, and she hurled a pillow at his head.

  He ducked back out of the way, and she heard his chuckle echo down the stairs and into the kitchen.

  Brute, she thought, lying back against the remaining pillow and wishing she could die. All the pillow-hurling had got the little men back from their tea-break, and she gave up the unequal struggle and slid off the bed, went into the bathroom and turned on the power shower and nearly blasted her skin off.

  She felt better, irritatingly, but she had to concede the point. Maybe he’d be right about the fresh air and breakfast as well.

  How sickening!

  * * *

  It was a beautiful day. They walked the dogs down through the fields and across the little bridge over the river, and then through the woods on the far side before coming back.

  It was quiet and peaceful, with nothing to disturb them but the song of the birds and the rustle of squirrels in the trees. There was a stile to climb over, and Owen helped Cait down and then somehow forgot to let go of her so that they strolled back hand in hand, and she magnanimously forgave him for her hangover—even though it had really been her own fault.

  ‘I’m sorry I was crabby,’ she said as they got back to the house, and he turned her into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose and smiled.

  ‘I forgive you. You were quite entertaining.’

  She closed her eyes and counted to ten, but while they were shut he kissed her again, only on the lips this time, and she forgot to breathe—forgot everything, including how far out of her league he was and all the other reasons this might be a bad idea, and she went up on tiptoe and kissed him right back.

  After a while he lifted his head and she sank down onto her heels again and rocked back and looked up at him, slightly dazed.

  ‘Breakfast,’ he said, his voice gruff, and she nodded and followed him in, her heart pounding.

  Nobody had ever kissed her like that. Nobody. Ever. Not in thirty-five and a half years.

  And all he could talk about was breakfast!

  Owen took her back to her flat at three, and once again Milly had tried to phone—the night before, and twice during the morning.

  ‘Get out of that,’ she said with a sigh, and dropped into the armchair by the phone. She punched in the number, crossed her fingers and forced a smile into her voice.

  ‘Hi, darling, how are you?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘Worried to death. Where have you been?’

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I should have told you. I went out for a drink last night and then we went back for coffee and it was late so I stayed over. What’s the matter? Is anything wrong?’

  ‘No,’ Milly said slowly. Damn. Cait could hear the cogs working. ‘Who were you out with?’

  What now? A direct lie, or the truth, when Owen hadn’t told Josh yet?

  ‘Nobody you know,’ she said noncommittally.

  ‘A man? Hey, Ma, have you got a man, after all this time? Amazing! Tell me all! What’s he like?’

  ‘I didn’t say it was a man.’

  ‘You didn’t have to. It’s in your voice, you sound different.’ A slight pause, then, ‘Did you say you stayed over?’

  Cait closed her eyes and prayed for the ground to open up. ‘Nothing happened,’ she said truthfully. ‘I stayed in the spare room. Alone. All night.’

  ‘Oh.’ Silence while her daughter digested this, then with the resilience of youth she moved on. ‘Anyway, why I was ringing was, there’s this ball coming up—the Hall Freshers’ Ball? It’s next weekend, and I don’t have a dress with me, and I don’t suppose there’s any way you could throw something together and send it down, is there?’

  ‘What, post it?’ she said, wondering what on earth it would cost and if it would arrive, but Milly was way ahead of her with it all worked out.

  ‘No, not post it,’ she said. ‘Josh’s dad is coming down next Friday for a conference. If I give you his address, you could let him have it, and he could bring it down!’

  Da-dah!

  Cait waited for a white rabbit to pop out of the end of the phone. So easy. Just make me a dress, give it to a man you don’t know—hah—to bring me, and hey presto! Madam could go to the ball.

  Never mind that her mother might not have time to do it!

  ‘What sort of dress?’ she asked, actually only too glad to get Milly permanently off the subject of her sleep-over party with Owen.

  ‘Oh, you know—something a bit like that gold one but less bad.’

  Cait nearly choked. ‘The gold one?’ she squeaked.

  ‘Yes, you know, that strappy thing.’

  Straps was all it was. It was the one Owen had jokingly pulled out, and there was no way her darling little daughter was going anywhere in a creation like that!

  ‘I’ve sold it,’ she lied, but Milly snorted.

  ‘You just don’t want me wearing a slapper’s dress,’ she retorted, hitting the nail on the head, and Cait sighed.

  ‘Why on earth would you want to?’ she asked with a touch of desperation. ‘Anyway, I don’t have time. How about a nice simple halter-neck dress with a pouffy underskirt and a stole? Or something slinky—a crêpe cut on the cross, or a shot-silk bodice and a black skirt? There are lots of them around this year—’

  ‘Mum, you’re boring! I’m not thirty! I want something young!’

  ‘So go and buy one!’ she suggested, but Milly sighed unhappily and so they started again, renegotiating until they came to some kind of compromise.

  ‘So, when will you start it?’ she asked, and Cait rolled her eyes.

  ‘I’ll look through my fabric stocks now. I’m sure I’ve got something that will do. I just hope it fits, because there’s nothing I can do about it if it doesn’t.’

  ‘It’ll fit,’ her daughter said with confidence, and Cait hoped she was right. Still, she could set up the model to Milly’s size, which would help.

  ‘OK, darling, I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Right—and, Ma? You have fun, OK? You deserve it. You’ve given up enough for me. It’s time you had some fun. Go for it.’

  Oh, lord. Cait felt her heart rising up in her throat and threatening to choke her. ‘Thanks, darling,’ she said unsteadily, and after a few maternal warnings about sex and drugs and alcohol and not working hard enough, she put down the phone and sat back, her mind whirling.

  Go for it?

  Really?

  Still, why not? As Milly had pointed out, she’d given up enough. It was time for her—and she ought to take advantage of every opportunity.

  Carpe diem—seize the day.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said with resolution. ‘By the scruff of the neck—if I can find the courage.’

  ‘I gather I’m conveying a ball gown to London on Friday when I go down for this conference,’ Owen said on the phone later.

  ‘If I can make it in time. I’ve got so much to do—including another Law essay for tomorrow night.’

  ‘You’re nuts,’ he told her, for the third or fourth time. ‘Anyway, what sort of dress? Haven’t you got one in stock that would do?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ve got one she wants, but she’s not having it. That gold one you pulled out,’ she told him, and he nearly choked down the phone.

  ‘Good grief! Can this be your daughter?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Cait said worriedly. ‘I’m just beginning to wonder that myself. The worrying thing is, maybe she’s more like her mother than is good for her.’

  ‘Oh, come on, now, don’t be hard on yourself because you made a mistake when you were a kid,’ he said softly, and she sighed.

  ‘I’ll die if she t
hrows her life away like I did.’

  ‘You didn’t throw it away,’ he corrected. ‘You spent it doing something wonderful—you gave Milly her life. Don’t underrate that.’

  ‘And she’s just told me I’ve wasted enough of my life and I should go for it.’

  ‘Go for what?’ he asked, sounding puzzled, and she told him about the conversation she’d had with her daughter about her whereabouts the night before.

  Owen laughed without humour. ‘I haven’t told Josh. I don’t have your courage.’

  ‘I didn’t tell Milly,’ she said drily. ‘She guessed. She said I sounded different. I don’t know if she believed me when I said nothing happened. I just felt sick telling her. I’m so afraid she’ll judge me.’

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he murmured. ‘She won’t—and even if she does in the short term, at the end of the day she’ll realise all you’ve done for her and she’ll come round. They need to grow up before they can deal with complex adult emotions.’

  They’re not alone, Cait thought as she struggled to rough out a design for Milly’s dress that evening. She was dealing with some pretty complex emotions herself, and she was way out of her depth.

  She loved Owen, of that she was sure. Whether he loved her or not was highly debatable. If he did—or even, come to that, if he didn’t—why hadn’t he made love to her last night? Heaven knows, she was more than willing, and she wouldn’t have put up much of a fight.

  Perhaps that was the trouble. Maybe he liked his women sober and co-operative, not falling asleep and stumbling drunkenly around. She just hoped she hadn’t disgraced herself. She didn’t think she had, but her judgement was a bit iffy and her memory was probably not entirely accurate.

  ‘Never again,’ she mumbled through a mouthful of pins, and stood back to look at her mock-up.

  It would do fine, she thought. A little tuck here, perhaps—yes, that was better. She rummaged through her fabrics, found something black and electric blue in a striking shot silk effect that would look stunning on her dark-haired daughter, and by the time she went to bed she’d put it together and hung it on the model to drop, so she could hem it the next day.

  Success. All she had to do now was her Law essay!

  ‘So this is it, then?’

  ‘Yes. Try not to crease it—even though she’ll throw it on the floor once she’s worn it, and I expect someone will spill something down it within the first five minutes.’

  ‘Or worse. Half of them had alcohol poisoning after Saturday night, apparently,’ he told her.

  ‘I am not going to presume to criticise,’ Cait said piously, and he laughed.

  ‘You were a very long way off alcohol poisoning.’

  ‘It didn’t feel like that on Sunday morning.’

  ‘You were fine. You were just a bit tiddly. I’m still feeling guilty.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, firmly squashing her smile. ‘When will you be back from London?’

  ‘Oh, late,’ Owen said with a sigh. ‘Friday night traffic is hideous. I thought I might avoid it and take Josh out for dinner. He said I could doss on his bed and he’ll sleep on the floor, but I think I need my creature comforts and, anyway, I have to get back for the dogs—unless you want to sleep there for me?’

  ‘I have to open the shop on Saturday,’ she reminded him, and he nodded.

  ‘That’s fine. I’ll come back tomorrow night late. Mrs Poole can go in and feed them at five, and they’ll be fine till I get home.’

  ‘Ring me when you get back—tell me how she looks,’ she said, and wondered if her voice was really as mournful as it seemed to her.

  ‘She’ll be fine. I might be very late.’

  ‘Still, please, ring. I want to know you’re safely home.’

  His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite read, and he put the dress down carefully and drew her into his arms.

  ‘I have to go now,’ he said, cradling her against his body. ‘I’ve got work to do before I can leave tomorrow.’

  ‘I might do my next Law assignment so I don’t have to stay up all Sunday night again,’ she mumbled into his shirt, and then she breathed in deeply and sighed with contentment. He smelt warm and familiar and absolutely right, a combination of soap and man that was utterly intoxicating.

  Maybe that was what had pushed her over the edge on Saturday?

  Owen lifted his head and smiled at her tenderly. ‘I have to go.’

  She nodded, and went up on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. ‘Don’t forget the dress,’ she reminded him, ‘or Cinderella won’t be going to the ball.’

  ‘Cinderella? Milly? Not a chance. By all accounts she hasn’t missed a single evening out—unlike her mother.’

  ‘Oh, her mother’s fine. Although…’ Cait tipped her head on one side and looked up at him with an ironic smile ‘…you know something? You know what I do for a living? I make and hire out ball gowns. And do you know I have never once, in my entire life, been to a ball? Isn’t that the silliest thing you ever heard?’

  He gave a slow, lazy smile, and pulled something from his pocket. ‘That’s just about to change,’ he told her.’ Saturday week—in Audley. It’s a fundraiser for the League of Friends of the hospital. I bought two tickets. So, Cinderella, you shall go to the ball!’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘YOU’VE taken your wedding ring off.’

  Owen glanced down at his finger, still strangely bare and feeling very naked, and nodded.

  ‘Yes, I have.’

  ‘Have you got a woman?’

  He looked at his son, trying to read his feelings and failing hopelessly. ‘I have met someone, yes.’

  Josh looked away, his eyes veiled. ‘I wondered if you would, when I went away.’

  ‘It wasn’t planned.’

  The boy shrugged, and Owen got the distinct impression he was trying to hide his hurt.

  ‘Josh, it’s just coincidence. I didn’t deliberately go out of my way to find someone the moment you were gone, but I met her, and the time seemed right.’

  ‘Are you sleeping together?’

  He felt the shock of the question right down to his toes, and almost glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone else in the crowded restaurant had heard. It seemed unlikely.

  ‘Not that I think it’s any of your business,’ he said in a low voice, ‘but, no, I’m not. Not yet, at least.’

  ‘But you might.’

  ‘I might.’

  Josh speared him with a penetrating stare. ‘Would Mum approve of her?’

  He thought of Jill and Cait, so different and yet in many ways so similar, and he nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘That’s all right, then. Just so long as you’re happy.’

  ‘I am,’ Owen said, and realised as he spoke that it was true. ‘I’m happier than I’ve been for years.’

  ‘Good.’ Josh changed the subject, obviously uncomfortable with it, and Owen eased out a sigh of relief and settled down to listen to the catalogue of wild parties and endless shenanigans the freshers had got up to since they’d last spoken.

  Good grief, he thought, Cait and I are going to have to get a great deal wilder to compete with that lot!

  ‘Just don’t spend all your money on alcohol,’ he cautioned, which was a rash thing to do, because he ended up shelling out for a set of textbooks that cost more than he would have believed possible.

  Ah, well, he thought, it’s only money. And then he wondered how Cait would provide for Milly, and thought again just how much she’d sacrificed to give the girl her chance in life.

  Suddenly he couldn’t wait to get back to her.

  ‘Will I do?’

  Cait twirled in front of him, the new gown she’d just completed swirling out around her and settling back with a silken whisper against her skin.

  It was a wonderful deep sapphire colour, perfect with her colouring, and it made her skin look like alabaster. Owen felt his body surge to life, and cleared his throat.

  ‘You look lovely
,’ he said, his voice sounding strained to his ears, and she smiled diffidently and coloured, a soft wash of pale rose tinting her skin and bringing her to life. Lord, she was gorgeous. He hardly dared trust himself to touch her, but he helped her into her coat with fingers that trembled to caress her skin, and when he brushed her shoulder accidentally with the back of his hand, heat shot through him.

  ‘I’ve got my overnight things,’ she said, and he nodded curtly.

  ‘Fine. Let’s go, then. The taxi’s picking us up from home in fifteen minutes.’

  He hardly had time to put her bag in the spare room before the taxi beeped outside, and he ran down, patted the dogs absently and ushered her out.

  It was a clear night, crisp and cold, and he knew it would freeze later. He’d lit the fire—partly for the dogs, and partly so they would have a focus of warmth when they came back so they could sit up and drink coffee and talk into the wee small hours of the night.

  He wasn’t thinking beyond that, wasn’t letting his mind or his imagination run away with him. He didn’t dare. One thing at a time, he told himself. One thing at a time.

  The ball was everything Cait might have hoped for and more. Everyone was elegantly turned out, and she recognised some of her dresses in the crowd.

  While Owen was getting them drinks, one of her regulars saw her and did a mild double take. ‘Cait?’ she said, and smiled a broad welcome. ‘We don’t usually see you at these things! How nice to see you on the other side of the counter, as it were. What a gorgeous dress!’

  She turned to the tall and rather striking man beside her. ‘Darling, this is Cait Cooper—she’s got that wonderful ball gown hire shop in Wenham, and she makes the most fabulous dresses. She’s amazing. Oh, that sounds so patronising, but it isn’t meant to be, Cait. You really are so talented. I can’t believe how lucky we are to have you.’

  ‘Aren’t we?’ Owen said, coming up behind her.’ Cait, allow me to introduce you to Ryan and Ginny O’Connor. By the sound of it you’ve met Ginny before, and Ryan’s someone I hope you’ll never meet professionally—he’s one of our A and E consultants.’