CHAPTER SEVEN
Davina woke in the morning as the bright sunlight touched her face. The open, uncurtained windows showed her a warm spring sky, and she looked at her watch. Great heavens, it was half past ten!
She jumped out of bed, feeling refreshed and ready for the day ahead. Showered and powdered, she chose one of her favourite fine cord suits, a moss green, with a pale pink angora sweater and darker green suede shoes.
She was not sure if her parents were up and made her way quietly down to the kitchen.
'Good morning, my love.' Her mother was dressed and cooking, and had obviously been up for hours. She sounded gay and, after a long and searching look at her daughter's more relaxed face, she went on with bacon and toast. 'I heard you move and thought you might like a cooked breakfast this morning.'
'Mm… yes, lovely. I'm starving, Mum, and I'll have the lot, whatever you're making.'
'Good. I waited for you, so we can have it together. I gather it was a big success last night,' her mother went on. 'Monica rang before they flew off this morning and she sounded happy and contented.'
'Yes,' Davina's voice was guarded and casual, 'it was all beautifully done—food, the band, everything.' She looked round. 'Where's Dad?'
'Oh, he's gone out with Jake.'
'What?' Davina shrieked.
'Davina, don't scream at me like that. Whatever…' Their eyes met. 'Yes, well, all right. I was a bit surprised myself, but Jake rang earlier to find out how you were, and your father took the call. They arranged to meet and Dad has taken him for a drink at the golf club.'
'Oh, Mum,' Davina sounded worried, 'I do hope that's all it is, and there's not going to be more trouble. I don't want Jake to be…' Her voice tailed off.
'I know, dear. I felt the same, and I tackled your father with it before he went. But he was quite adamant. He was only going to apologise to Jake about… well, about yesterday.'
'Well, I hope he sticks to that and doesn't make more mischief,' sighed Davina.
'I know what you must be feeling, but I'm sure it'll be all right,' said her mother reassuringly.
'I doubt if you know what I'm feeling,' Davina said drily, tucking into her scrambled eggs. 'How long have they been gone?' she added casually.
Her mother looked at the clock. 'Oh, about half an hour,' she said. 'Dad insisted they wouldn't be long.'
'I'd better go and pack my things, then.' Davina got up. 'That was delicious, Mum. Do you want me to strip the bed or shall I leave it?'
'Just leave everything. I've plenty of time now to see to it all.' Mrs Richards paused for a moment. 'I suppose we'll not be seeing you again now,' she said, anxious suddenly.
Davina turned back at the door. 'Whatever made you think that?'
'Well, your father thought after yesterday… the scene with Jake… that you wouldn't want to come back,' her mother said unhappily.
'What nonsense,' Davina said cheerfully. 'I'll be back for a weekend as soon as I can get away.' She stopped and hesitated. 'Of course, Jake won't always have the time to come with me, but you won't mind seeing me alone, will you?' She looked at the clock. 'I must go now.'
'Ina,' her mother's voice stopped her again, 'have you… talked to your father at all?'
'No… there really hasn't been the time.' Davina looked at her mother's anxious face. 'And we're due at Jake's father's.' She went back and kissed her mother gently. 'Don't worry, Mum, it's all going to be all right. It'll just take time.'
'Perhaps you're right, but I have a feeling, now that Monica is happily settled, it will be easier. He'll have more time to see the whole thing in perspective.' Mrs Richards patted her daughter's cheek. 'Yesterday I was very worried, I must admit. You looked so… shattered, somehow. But I can see it's all right again. Now go and get your things together before the men get back.'
The moment Davina saw Jake, she knew something was very wrong. When the two men returned, he was in a black mood, taciturn, grim and forbidding. While they were saying their goodbyes to her parents, he managed to smile and appear cheerful, but she knew him too well to be deceived. As soon as they had left the village he stopped pretending.
She tried to break the silence.
'Jake, will you tell me something about your family before we get there? About your life, things that I should know?'
'Oh, Davina, for heaven's sake, what for? You'll see it all when you get there and anything you don't know, you can ask me. Why should I start on a potted autobiography now? Leave it alone, there's a good girl.'
Half an hour later she tried again.
'Did you discuss… I mean, when you were out with my father, did he say anything about… was he rude to you again, did he upset you?'
'He was not offensive, Davina, and I'm not upset. What makes you think anything to do with your family would upset me?' he drawled slowly. He paused for a moment. 'Look, Davina,' he went on, 'this week-end is nearly over. The worst is finished for you. So we've only my father to worry about now. Then I plan to get into the car and back to London as quickly as possible.'
Davina bit her lip and said no more. He was right, she was behaving like a silly schoolgirl. Why should she worry what he might be feeling? After all, this whole thing was his idea, not hers. If it had backfired on him—well, he had only himself to blame. She was not in the business of making things easier for him. He could keep his arrogance to himself from now on, she decided.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. How very different this journey was from the one they had shared two days earlier. It seemed a lifetime ago that they had talked naturally, easily with no constraint between them.
She had never been infatuated before. Was this what it felt like? All this fire and flame and desire to the point of wantonness? She wished she knew. She certainly wanted Jake, and wondered what it would be like to have an affair with him. Could she do it? Could she give herself to someone just for a while, until he got fed up or met someone more desirable? She knew plenty of girls who managed it and enjoyed it. Why then did it seem so impossible for her? Monica was right: she didn't think she could do it. Perhaps when they got back to London, all this would drop away. Maybe it was only the enforced intimacy they had shared that brought on all this heady emotion? That and Jake's expertise and experience. After all, he was expert at making love. With her complete lack of any proper experience she was bound to succumb to his attentions. It obviously meant nothing to him at all. He'd probably forgotten all about their lovemaking.
Perhaps they could return to their safe, comfortable, secretary-boss relationship when they got back to London. The more Davina thought about it, the more she felt it to be the answer. They would both forget all about this weekend. After all, they had been putting on a performance; Jake had said that himself… a performance for others. That was how the whole thing had started.
'Davina,' Jake was speaking sharply, 'we're nearly there. Are you asleep again? I don't know how you can sleep endlessly the way you do, just dropping off.'
'I'm sorry. No, I wasn't asleep. Just thinking.' She sat up.
'Mm…' He seemed in a better humour, and she glanced at him sideways. His face was certainly more relaxed, but she noticed again his pallor and the dark shadows under his eyes, more so than yesterday. She realised she knew very much less about him than he did about her after this week-end, and wondered if that state of affairs was about to be changed.
As they approached Mevagissey, Jake turned inland and they passed several signposts to villages above the harbour, until he swung off to Portheron. They travelled slowly through the village, past the church, unexpectedly surrounded by palm trees, reminding Davina how warm the climate could be on the Cornish coast. Below her she could see the headland in the distance with its coves and soft sandy beaches at the bottom of steep and rocky cliffs.
The road was now no more than a track, and Jake was slowing right down, until he turned sharply into an open wide gate up a gravelled drive to stop outside a beautiful old stone house set back int
o bushes of white and purple lilac.
'We're here,' Jake said briefly, and they both got out.
Davina could see a curving lawn to one side of the house, dipping away to what looked like a small lake, while a wood nestled against the other side of the house. She guessed the gardens at the back would face the sea. French windows downstairs gave on to a wide stone terrace running round to the sides of the house with a heavy carved stone balustrade. The Cornish stone of the house was covered to the upper floors in ivy which glistened in the sun and trailed across the balconies of upstairs windows. Suddenly the heavy oak front door opened, and a girl ran out and threw herself at Jake, kissing him passionately on the mouth. For what seemed an endless moment they were locked in each other's arms, and Davina felt a shaft of agonising pain tear through her, keeping her rooted to the spot.
A sudden barking broke the silence as a huge English sheepdog came bounding round the corner of the house, white fur flying, big black ears flopping excitedly, his widely spaced paws covering the distance in no time between himself and his master. He also flung himself at Jake, nearly toppling them both over.
Jake released himself to embrace the dog, but it was the girl who spoke first.
'Oh, Henry,' she sounded rather breathless, 'couldn't you have waited to let me have another minute?'
Jake was scratching the dog's ears, sending him into a blissful ecstasy. 'How are you, wretch?' he asked, and stretched out a hand to Davina. 'Darling, this is Anita Woolland, a neighbour and a pest.' He pulled Davina to his side. 'This is my fiancée, Davina Richards.'
The girl's face was tight with dislike as she dismissed Davina in her smart outfit with obvious disdain.
'Oh, yes,' she said lightly, 'I've heard all about that,' and she linked herself to Jake's other arm, peeping up at him adoringly from under her lashes.
She was lovely, Davina noted. Dark curly hair rioted round a well shaped head, showing up almond skin, large brown eyes and a wide-lipped red mouth. She was wearing skin-tight leather pants and a stretch shirt that barely buttoned across her small pointed breasts. Very curvaceous and tiny, Davina guessed her to be about eighteen years old.
'Where's Dad?' Jake asked her.
'Inside, waiting for you.'
'Are we to be honoured with your company for lunch?'
'I can't,' she wailed, 'there's someone arriving and Daddy wants me to entertain him… do you think I'll be able to charm him, Jake?'
'I doubt it,' Jake said cheerfully, and she pouted.
'Oh, you're hateful!' she said mockingly.
'So hateful I was about to suggest a quick ride before lunch. Have you got riding clothes here?' He turned to Davina. 'You won't mind keeping Father company for half an hour, will you, darling?' He bent to kiss her cheek. 'I'm longing for a bit of fresh air.'
'No, of course not.' She knew she was blushing.
'Good. Now all I have to do is to placate Mrs Bateman and persuade her to delay lunch. Come on, imp, in we go,' and he gave Anita's bottom a light slap. She squealed with delight, and ran up the step ahead of him into the front door. Davina was suddenly bored with all the childish exhibitionism.
As they entered the hall she had a brief impression of a light, wood-panelled square entrance with huge black and white tiles covering the floor to the beautiful mahogany stairs leading to the upper floors. She stood still as a man in a wheelchair came through an archway from the back of the house. At the sight of him Davina drew in her breath with a sudden quiver. It was Jake's double.
The impressive height was there, clearly evident even in the wheelchair, the breadth of shoulder, the long legs and the piercing grey eyes. They were all there, even the finely chiselled mouth and the cleft in the centre of the chin. And then the illusion passed as he came forward into the light, and she saw that the hair was quite white, and there were deep lines running from nose to mouth. The eyes, though fiercely bright, were sunken and the cheeks hollow. But the expression was the same. She might have been looking at Jake as he could be, perhaps, one day. It was like a sudden glimpse into the future, and she felt rigid with shock, unable to move at the thought.
She turned to look at Jake behind her, and found him standing motionless, his eyes on her with a terrible dark, bleak pain in them. He seemed to be in the grip of some emotion, some memory that was tearing him apart.
Ignoring everyone, she moved swiftly over to him, took his hand and raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him gently on the cheek. He put an arm round her, gripping her convulsively to him, so that she could hardly breathe. She stood quite still in his arms, until he released her and his look returned to normal and he took her hand, leading her back to his father.
'You must be Davina,' the man in the wheelchair said in Jake's voice. 'My son isn't usually so remiss in his introductions. I am, of course, his father, as you noticed.' His voice was dry with some amusement in it. He held out his hand and she took it warmly in hers, noting the firmness of the grip and the dryness of the palm, hardened from working the chair.
Jake leaned down to kiss his father.
'Sorry we're late, Dad,' and he wheeled the chair round into the living room at the back of the house. It was low-ceilinged with huge dark beams, wide and long, probably running the complete width of the house, Davina guessed. At one end was a large grand piano, low sofas lined the back wall and opposite, the outer wall was made entirely of glass. This was now open to the midday sun which showed up the medley of blues in the room, from walls washed in pale Wedgwood to the tufted blue and primrose carpet and the velvet of upholstery and pale blue linen of the curtains. All round the walls were prints of sailing boats interspersed with family photographs.
Davina stopped in the doorway with an exclamation of delight.
'You like it?' Mr Humphries was pleased. 'Come and sit down, my dear, while Jake pours us all a drink.' He wheeled himself expertly to the side of the sofa.
'Davina?' Jake was at the drinks cabinet.
'Just orange juice, please,' she said rather shyly, aware that Jake's father was looking at her intently.
'Would you mind, Dad, if Nita and I have a quick ride before lunch?'
'If you can persuade Mrs Bateman to hold back lunch,' he replied laughing lightly. He turned to Davina. 'As he'll have told you, Mrs Bateman looks after us and has done since Jake was a little boy. She's supposed to rule us with a rod of iron, but really Jake can wind her round his little finger. Disgraceful, isn't it?' he smiled at his son as Jake brought their drinks.
'O.K., Dad, I'll have a word with her and we'll be off.' He turned to Davina, kissed her lightly on the cheek, leaning down to flick one finger against an errant curl of hair. 'You'll be all right here for a bit?' he asked.
Mr Humphries answered, 'Of course she'll be all right. She's with me, isn't she?'
'Ah, the modesty of the Humphries men,' Jake murmured, and went out. Anita was obviously too restless to stay without Jake and followed him.
Davina wondered if she was following him upstairs and watching him change. Her hands clenched tightly in her lap as she told herself firmly it was none of her business how Jake ran his private life, either here or in London.
'Now let's be comfortable.' Mr Humphries wheeled his chair round, so that he was looking into her face as she sat against the light. 'Mmm,' he said with a sigh, 'I can see why my errant son fell in love with you. You're quite beautiful.'
Davina blushed. Oh, dear! she thought.
'Ah,' he said, 'and she blushes. That of course is irresistible. I thought they didn't make women who blush any more. I must congratulate my son.'
She looked away from him, wondering what he expected from her in the way of conversation.
'I'm not going to interrogate you, you know. Just have a chat,' he said, twinkling at her. It seemed both Humphries men could read minds. She smiled at him, suddenly quite at ease, and leaned back comfortably.
'It's cosy here,' she said, 'and I certainly envy you your view.'
'Well, I've lived here man a
nd boy, as you might say, for nearly forty years. That's a long time. When my wife died everyone said I should move, that memories would be too much for me. But I didn't, and I'm glad. I would have been miserable anywhere else. And Jake would have lost his home as well as his mother. Instead he grew up here and he loves it as I do… no, I'm glad I stayed.'
He coughed suddenly and couldn't stop. Davina felt helpless, not knowing what to do. He pointed to his jacket and she put her hand in the pocket to find a bottle. She shook out some pills and he took two as she brought him a glass of water from the drinks cabinet.
He drank and the coughing eased. But it had exhausted him and for a while they sat in silence. Gradually the colour came back into his face and he smiled rather ruefully. 'The penalty of being old,' he said. 'Now, tell me about yourself. I know you have a sister, because I believe she was married yesterday.'
'Yes. It was a lovely wedding and they're away on their honeymoon, giving my parents a well-earned rest.'
'And now you go back to London?'
She nodded.
'Tell me, have you liked working for my son?'
'It would be more than my job is worth to say no, wouldn't it?' she smiled at him.
'My dear, whatever we discuss here will not be repeated to anyone. I couldn't pump my visitors mercilessly to keep pace with the outside world if they didn't trust to my discretion.'
'Well,' she said simply, 'I love my job. Jake is the kind of boss who somehow gets the best out of us all. There are people at the agency who wouldn't like to work for him. He's exacting, demanding, but expects more from himself than from anyone else—that's probably why we all give him our best. He also gives praise and credit where it's due.'
'That's quite a testimonial. And are you a dedicated career woman? Will you go on working after you're married?'
She should have expected these questions, she supposed, but she was not prepared for them. And she hated lying to this man. She hesitated.
'I'm not really sure what a career woman is,' she said slowly. 'So many so-called career women stop being that when they get married or with their first baby. I don't like the phrase. Whether or not I go on working after… marriage… is something I haven't yet decided. I would certainly not want to work when the children arrive. I wouldn't want to hand them to someone else to bring up.'
Wedding in the Family Page 11