Melting Ice (Roundwell Farm Trilogy)

by Rosalie Ash

  ‘We should go and check that he’s okay,’ he suggested hoarsely.

  Her head was spinning. ‘Yes, yes, I do realise that! He’s cutting a couple of new teeth. But I need to go and check on him. Not both of us!’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t wind him up again.’

  ‘He’ll never settle back to sleep if we both appear!’

  ‘Yes he will. Victoria, I never knew my father, never even knew who he was, his name or anything about him. My child is not going to have that deprivation. Do you understand?’

  Speechless, she dragged on her jeans and marched up the hall and stairs, aware that Matt was following her and totally unable to do anything about it.

  Archie was standing up in his cot, his face flushed and tear-stained. When he saw Matt behind her, his expression changed from distress to surprise, then happiness in a matter of seconds.

  Disbelievingly, Victoria watched Archie hold out his arms to Matt to be picked up. Matt obliged calmly, holding his little son against him with an easy, soothing motion.

  Moving stiffly, Victoria touched Archie’s forehead. ‘He’s a bit hot. I’ll give him a spoonful of Calpol,’ she said, ‘Then he just needs lying back down in his cot, and…’

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll settle him back to sleep.’

  She stared at Matt.

  ‘Okay, you’re welcome to give it a go,’ she said, calmly, even though her heart felt as if it was being squeezed in a tight fist. For Archie’s sake, she summoned up a smile and dropped a kiss on the soft little cheek of her son. Then she whispered goodnight and quickly left the nursery, not trusting herself enough to stay any longer.

  Back downstairs, she gathered up the remains of their supper things from the hearth, and stacked the dishwasher. Then she went back to the fire in the sitting room, and sat waiting, tense and incredulous, as Matt’s deep voice murmured soft words to Archie over the monitor.

  He seemed to be more than ‘giving it a go’. You’d have thought he’d been a parent for years. Uncertain how she should feel about that, but fairly sure she shouldn’t be feeling remotely angry or resentful, she poured herself another glass of wine, and stared into the fire and thought about what had just so nearly happened again between herself and Matt. That train of thought had heat flaring through her, a mixture of shame and humiliation gripping her. What had she been thinking of earlier? If Archie hadn’t woken up, would she really have just given everything to Matt, all over again, just like the first time?

  Surely, the impact of Matt’s last words should have shocked her back to a semblance of reality, even if her crying baby hadn’t interrupted them. ‘If you knew how much I’ve been wanting to do this to you again,’ he’d said.

  She was shivering now, in delayed reaction. She didn't want to be someone Matt 'did things to'. She didn’t want to be treated as a quick, easy lay by a man who didn't love her, even if he did have the power to reduce her to a mindless, boneless pool of raging hormones. She didn't trust him, she couldn't trust him. She would never trust another man again. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t face the pain of trusting Matt and being abandoned by him all over again.

  Matt had come back into the room. He came across to sit down opposite her, watching her intently, his eyes level and unwavering, rather as a cat watches a mouse.

  ‘I recognised your old teddy bear in the nursery.’ Matt smiled slightly, ‘Grunt, that was his name? I recall you saying you’d always hoped to pass him on to your children.’

  Her heart lurched, then she got a tight grip on her emotions. Matt had a good memory. That didn’t make him a good bet as a partner or a lover.

  ‘Yes. I’ve tended to keep him on a high shelf, until Archie is less prone to mass destruction.’ She gripped the stem of her wine glass tightly, ‘Is he okay?’

  ‘He’s asleep.’

  ‘How did you do that?’ She met his eyes with a huge effort. But in spite of her tension, she was genuinely curious. Archie usually took quite a long time to settle after waking in the evening.

  ‘I lay him on his stomach and patted him on the back. It’s a technique I remembered from the children’s home. It’s how they used to get a whole nursery full of babies off to sleep.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’ She took another small sip of wine, steeling herself, ‘Matt, about…earlier. You’ve proved your point. You said that you’d go, when you’d proved your point. And I would like you to go.’

  'Now I suppose you're trying to imply that you weren't enjoying what we were doing?' he said.

  'No, obviously I can’t pretend that I wasn’t enjoying it,' she told him, in a choked voice. 'But it’s not what I want! I can’t do that again, with you. There's no point even trying to explain. Just go. Please.'

  He stood up, staring at her in silence for a few moments. Then he walked over to her, bent to put one hand on her shoulder, and kiss her lightly on the top of her head.

  ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’

  Before she could form any words of response he went out of the room and quietly closed the door behind him. She heard his footsteps down the hall, heard the front door open and close.

  After a few minutes she heard the low roar of the Mercedes pulling out of the courtyard and receding into the distance as it disappeared down the lane from the farm.

  When she heard Elspeth come in at nearly midnight, and head upstairs to her room, Victoria was still sitting motionless, and the fire had burned down to ashes.

  Chapter Eighteen

  She was deeply asleep when the telephone rang, and for a few moments she struggled to shake free from a vivid, muddled dream. But Matt's harsh voice brought her abruptly back to reality.

  'Victoria? I'm sorry, I've just realised how early it is.' He sounded weary, with a trace of self-mockery. 'I couldn't sleep,' he added, by way of explanation.

  Propping herself up on her elbow, she glanced at the bedside clock in angry disbelief.

  'It's half past five in the morning, Matt!' she said coldly, stiffening as last night came flooding back. 'Where are you? Back in London?'

  'No, I'm still at the Golden Lion. Look Victoria, after last night…'

  'I don't want to talk about it,' she cut in awkwardly. Heat coursed through her again as she remembered her passionate response to him. How could she have let things get so out of hand?

  'I'm sorry I woke you,' he said, 'I'm not thinking too straight at the moment. But I've got to see you again, Victoria. Today.'

  'Today? Matt, I've got a lot of work to do. I'm sure you must have as well.' Panic was rising at the prospect of seeing him again so soon. Her voice rose slightly. 'Can't you give me a breathing space?'

  'I want to see Archie again,' he said bleakly. 'He's my son, Victoria. He’s seventeen months old and I’ve only just met him.'

  Victoria hesitated, gripping the receiver so tightly her knuckles were white. Then she expelled her breath in defeat. Defensiveness and resentment towards Matt couldn't change a simple truth. He was Archie's father, and he had a right to get to know his son. And last night, Archie had clearly demonstrated that he wanted to get to know his Daddy more than anything in his small world, hadn’t he? That was an irrefutable fact among a seething mass of doubts and fears which she was suddenly too weary to analyse.

  'All right. If that's what you want,' she told him slowly, her voice cool. 'I'll see you later, then.'

  'Maybe we could go to the park, feed the ducks, or something.'

  'If you like.' She replaced the receiver carefully, and lowered herself back on to the bed, feeling emotionally exhausted, but after a few moments, she sat up again. She might as well get up, there was no chance of getting back to sleep now. And if she made an early start to the day's chores, Matt's visit wouldn't throw her quite so far behind. She slowly showered, and brushed her red curls until they shone in a heavy cloud around her shoulders, then dragged on faded denims and a cream cashmere sweater. A brief glance in the mirror showed the ravages of a restless night. She looked pale and heavy-eyed. S
he brushed some blusher lightly over her cheekbones, then frowned at the effect. The colour stood out too starkly on the pallor of her face. She didn’t want to look like a sad clown. She rubbed it off again quickly.

  Then, hearing Archie rattling the various toys in his cot, she went to greet him, feeling the dark cloud lifting slightly in anticipation of seeing his dimpled smile of welcome.

  'Hello there, my poppet,' she smiled, lifting him out and hugging the soft, warm body against her. It was impossible to remain tense and miserable when she held her baby son in her arms. Holding him a few inches away from her, she examined him with a critical grin.

  'You're beautiful, but we'd better tidy you up. You've got your Daddy coming to see you again this morning! Can you say Daddy, say Dada?' She finished up, with a generosity of spirit which took her by surprise.

  ‘Dada..Dada…’ Archie parroted enthusiastically.

  Once she had introduced ‘Daddy’ as a subject of conversation, it seemed easier to accept. The day ahead no longer seemed quite so intolerable. She even hummed under her breath while she changed Archie's nappy and washed his face and hands, and dressed him in his smartest red towelling top with a picture of an apple on the front, and wriggled him into denim dungarees.

  'There, you look very handsome,' she told him solemnly, as they went in search of breakfast. With Archie safely strapped in his high-chair she made toast for herself and boiled an egg for Archie to squash toast soldiers into. He had just managed to coat his face with yolk and flick half the soldiers on to the floor for Rough to eat when Matt appeared at the kitchen door.

  She felt furious at the flutter of apprehension and excitement which cramped her stomach at the sight of him standing there in the doorway. He looked paler than usual beneath his tan and the white-blond hair was slicked back damply, as if he had just had a shower. His pallor seemed to exaggerate the gaunt hollowness of his cheeks and the shadowed sockets of his eyes. With a stab of shock she noticed a bruise on his cheekbone. Her elbow, last night. Oh God. Oh God. She wanted to rush over and throw her arms around him, but pride kept her rooted to the spot.

  'Good morning,' he said quietly, his eyes flicking over the domestic scene. 'Am I in time for breakfast?'

  'I should think so. What do you want?'

  'Do you have any muesli?' His face was unsmiling, but as he glanced at Archie she saw a warmth in his eyes she was certain he would never use towards her.

  'And how are you this morning?' he asked Archie solemnly. Archie responded with the impressive stream of babble he used to communicate with. Matt gave Archie a brilliant smile, and Archie gave a delighted giggle and beamed back.

  She produced the bag of muesli and a dish and spoon, and plonked them down on the table rather abruptly.

  'Thank you. I'd love some black coffee, if you're making some.'

  Shrugging off his Barbour, he sat down at the oak table and began tipping muesli into the bowl.

  'There's coffee in the pot over there. Help yourself.'

  He glanced up at her, suddenly appearing aware of her irritation, and raking a hand through his damp hair he flashed one of his devastating rueful grins. She felt the usual maddening struggle. Matt's smile was so rare, so potent, it was almost impossible to resist. Staring back at him silently, she tried to remain detached, but it was difficult not to think how beautiful he looked.

  'I'm sorry. I wasn't intending to demand waitress service,' he said softly. 'I'm feeling crap this morning, that's all. I drank too much malt whisky last night, kept the barman up late, and then I couldn't even sleep it off.'

  She swallowed hard. How charming he could be when he bothered to try, she thought cynically, slapping butter on her toast with more force than necessary. 'More fool you,' she remarked tartly, 'I thought you always drank in moderation!'

  'So did I.' There was a dry note in his voice, and catching his eye she reddened involuntarily. The implication was fairly clear. The frustration of last night had driven him to hit the bottle.

  Deciding silence was the wisest response, she watched him devour a huge dish of muesli and drink two cups of coffee, thinking how odd it felt, sitting here eating breakfast with Matt and Archie. Such a false impression of domesticity. As if they were a happy family.

  'Feeling any better?' she asked casually, as Matt leaned back and stretched wearily.

  'Yes, thank you.' His eyes lingered on her face for a few moments as if he was about to say more, but then he turned to smile at Archie, laughing at the eggy face which looked back at him.

  'I can see you're enjoying that egg, although you're having some difficulty locating your mouth, by the look of things. And I'll bet you hate being cleaned up. Correct?'

  Matt picked up the discarded spoon and offered more egg, which was impatiently thrust to the floor.

  ‘No more egg. Right, I understand,' Matt agreed gravely, and Victoria shook her head reprovingly.

  'It's very rude to throw your breakfast on the floor,' she lectured Archie, handing a damp sponge to Matt to use on the baby's face while she wiped the floor. She braced herself for the usual screaming session which accompanied face-wiping, and straightened in astonishment when it didn't materialise, to see Archie gurgling with apparent delight as Matt carefully sponged off the food around his mouth. She gazed at them both helplessly. It was unbelievable. The attraction between father and son was so potent, it was almost blinding. She watched as Matt lifted Archie out of the chair and swung him up into the air, laughing while the child giggled appreciatively.

  'How did you do that?' she demanded finally, half laughing. 'He always screams when I wipe his face.'

  'My lethal charm?'Matt suggested blandly, tucking the child on his hip with such practised confidence she frowned at him curiously.

  'Last night you got him off to sleep with no problems. Now you can wipe his mouth and he doesn’t yell the place down! You seem very relaxed with babies.'

  Matt looked vaguely flattered. 'It's because a couple of my sets of foster parents had babies. I was a useful extra pair of hands when they got too busy to cope. The babies seemed to like me, even when the adults decided they didn’t.' He grinned at her astonished expression. 'Maybe that accounts for it. Women don't have a monopoly on baby psychology, do they?'

  'No. And I'm impressed,' she admitted, laughing slightly. 'I don't think Andrew knows one end of either William or Jonathan from the other!'

  Matt was about to say something when Elspeth appeared in the doorway, yawning widely, in sleep tank and shorts with a cotton robe slung over, which she grabbed round herself in confusion when she saw Matt.

  'Oh! Good morning!' she exclaimed, blushing beetroot as she looked from one to the other. 'I didn't realise ... I mean, I thought you'd gone.'

  Victoria came to her rescue.

  'It's all right, Elspeth. Matt did go last night, but he came back early this morning,' she said blandly, determined to put the record straight. She didn't want Elspeth under the impression they had had a passionate reconciliation.

  'Oh, don't worry about me, don't feel you have to explain,' the Scottish girl beamed, clearly not believing a word. 'I'll just pop back upstairs and get dressed, since we've company for breakfast.'

  Victoria watched her go in exasperation, seeing from Matt's expression that he was enjoying the irony of the situation.

  'I find myself wishing Elspeth's fantasies were reality,' he said in a low voice, and before she could sidestep he had slid his free hand around the back of her neck, under the weight of her hair, and taken possession of her softly parted lips, his tongue exploring the shape of her mouth, and then probing inside and hungrily deepening the kiss until she was trembling and helpless. With a slight, violent twist of her head she freed herself, glaring at him furiously as she fought for control.

  'They're not reality, and never will be,' she whispered scorchingly.

  'No?'

  The silver gaze flicked down over the twin points of her nipples beneath the soft jumper. She caught her breath, then s
he looked ruefully at his bruised cheek.

  ‘Sorry if I injured you last night,’ she said, lifting shaking fingers to lightly touch the damage she’d done.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. Any pain from that was overshadowed by the pleasure that preceded it,’ he said, with a faint smile, ‘I’m reassured to know that you still lust after me.’

  ‘Oh go to hell, Matt!’ In spite of herself, she couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘I’ve been there.’ he said, ‘I’ve no desire to return.’

  She stared at him in silence. The ticking of the kitchen clock seemed oppressively loud.

  ‘You must tell me about it some day,’ she said at last, keeping her voice light, tickling Archie under his chin and laughing back as he responded, her heart threatening to betray her all over again.