A Child To Call Her Own

by Gill Sanderson

  She loved being with James. But the difficult thing was working out what kind of a relationship she was going to have with Tom. He was polite, even friendly, of course—but in a remote kind of way. There still seemed to be a barrier between them. And it seemed odd to say goodnight to him and then meet him for breakfast some hours later.

  He had been polite when he had explained that, though they had come together, if she wanted time to herself, by all means she was to take it. 'I'd rather spent my time with James and you,' she had said. 'That is, if you want me.'

  He gave her a wry smile. 'We certainly want you.' Then he spoilt it by saying, 'Your local knowledge is invaluable.'

  She hired a car for them, took them to places she remembered. And she came to realise that she was enjoying herself. She was relaxing. And Tom was relaxing, too.

  After three days she drove them along the coast and pulled up outside a large hotel. 'I'd like to go in here for coffee,' she said. She knew her voice Was high, trembling a little. There was nothing she could do about it.

  Tom looked at the name of the hotel—the Hotel Helena. 'This is where you used to live,' he said. 'Are you OK?'

  'I'm fine. I had some good times here, Tom, and I've come back to remind myself of them. In fact, most of what I've seen has reminded me of the good times.'

  'I'm glad,' he said.

  She knew he was glad. But there was still that remoteness in his voice.

  They went into the lounge and had coffee, orange juice for James. There was a small further shock. One of the porters there recognised her and was very pleased to see her. They chatted for a few minutes, and Maria felt even more welcome.

  Then James finished his juice and said, 'There's a smashing playground out there, Daddy. Can I go and play on the swings?'

  'Not now,' Tom said, and looked at Maria.

  'There's the English papers on the table,' Maria said. 'Why don't you read for a few minutes, Tom? I'll take James? I'll be all right,' she said, hoping it was true. 'Come on, James.'

  Tom watched the two of them walk away, hand in hand. He couldn't work out exactly what he was feeling. He had made up his mind about Maria. She could be a friend but she wasn't for him as a lover. Just for a while he had been tempted. They had slept together and immediately she had said that their relationship was to go no further. Well, that was conclusive. But still he had asked her again, on the promenade, and that had been fruitless, too. And in the days afterwards he had wondered if she had really been interested in him. The story about being afraid of small boys now seemed a bit doubtful. She was best of friends with. James.

  So, he wanted no more pain from Maria. But keeping his distance was hard.

  When they came back from the playground he could see that it had affected her. Her grey eyes were large, luminous with tears. 'I shouldn't have let you go,' he said. 'It upset you.'

  She shook her head. 'I needed to do it and it was good for me,' she said. 'It's over now, something has ended. Now I can look forward to the rest of my life.'

  'I'm glad,' he said.

  He couldn't conceal the fact that he was a little jealous of her new serenity. He wished he had it himself.

  As the time passed they got easier with each other. Maria had observed it before on holidays. She had seen so many holiday romances. And sometimes, she knew, they even lasted.

  As a worker, not a holidaymaker, she had wondered how apparently sane people could so quickly fall in love. Now she began to understand. She took a decision, something that was hers alone.

  * * *

  The next evening, when they were having dinner, she said, apparently casually, 'I hope you don't mind, Tom, but I was asking and there is one kiddie rep working. She's covering all the hotels. I remember her, she's a good worker. And tomorrow, after lunch, there's a trip to a local little zoo and playground. So far there's only three takers. So I've booked James on it. I think he'll be very happy with Melanie.'

  'And we can have the afternoon to ourselves?'

  'That's the purpose of having kiddie reps.'

  'A lot to look forward to.'

  'An awful lot. I love being with James, but tomorrow for a few hours we can act like adults. That OK with you?'

  'Fine,' he said. 'As usual, I shall leave the programme to you.'

  She could see the speculation in his eyes.

  The three had an exciting morning. They played in the playground for a while then they went to the local supermart and bought presents for Nana. They looked at the occasional yacht sailing round the promontory. Then they had a light lunch.

  Melanie arrived after lunch in her minibus with the three other children. It was obvious that James was. going to get on with them all, they were chatting instantly. And Melanie hugged Maria, said they had missed her. The new kiddie-rep supervisor was all right but not as good as she had been. It was nice to be wanted, Maria thought.

  James was strapped in and Melanie took Tom's mobile phone number. Then they were off. Maria felt just a touch of apprehension as they waved goodbye. Not for James—he would be fine. But apprehension for herself—herself and Tom. Still, she had her plan.

  Perhaps he had a plan, too. 'We've got at least three hours to ourselves now,' he said. 'Is there anything special you'd like to do?'

  She chose her words carefully. 'I think we're both a bit tired,' she said. 'And we've had quite a full morning. Why don't we just relax for a couple of hours? My room has a better view than yours, we could sit and chat or read for a while.'

  'All right,' he said after a while. 'That sounds fine to me.' So they went to her room. The sun was out, they were both wearing light sweaters so it was quite possible to sit outside on her little balcony. They had a wonderful view of the sea, sparkling as it never did in England.

  On the balcony there were a metal table, two reclining chairs and another wicker couch. Tom sat on the couch. Maria sat by him.

  And now she was nervous. She could feel her heart beating faster than it should, knew that her colour was higher. 'Wait here a minute,' she said.

  At one time she had been quite an accomplished Spanish speaker. To her surprise, although she hadn't used the language for over four years, her skill had come back at once. She rang Reception, gave a quick order. Then she went back to join him.

  'James is having a wonderful time,' he said, 'largely because of you. But are you having a good time?'

  'I'm having a wonderful time. This is a holiday, Tom. It's time out. The usual rules don't apply. You do things on holiday that you'd never do at home.'

  'Like build sand-castles?'

  'And all sorts of other kinds of extreme sports,' she told him. And she met his questioning gaze.

  There was a knock on the door. Maria went to open it and let in a waiter. On his tray was a bottle in a silver ice bucket and two tall slim glasses. He placed them on the balcony table, and after Maria's quiet request opened the bottle and filled the glasses. Then he was gone.

  Tom looked at the bottle and glasses, looked at her. But he said nothing.

  'This is Spanish champagne, but I used to love it,' Maria said. 'I haven't drunk any for the past four years. But now we can drink it together.'

  She gave him a glass, took one herself. 'To the future,' she said. 'But mostly to now.' They both drank.

  She had forgotten how much she liked the sharp drink. Forgotten how exciting the bubbles were. But now she remembered and it was good.

  'I'm glad you're happy,' Tom said, 'because that makes me happy, too.' He smiled. 'And I like your choice of champagne. This is wonderful.'

  They sat in silence and had soon finished the first glass. It seemed perfectly natural when he put his arm behind her, leaned over to kiss her. His lips tasted of champagne, sharp and tangy.

  For a while she was comfortable sitting there, her arms loosely round his neck. She didn't feel the need to do anything much—not yet. It was good to sit there, to enjoy the touch of his mouth on hers and the touch of his lips on her cheeks, on her forehead. And
to feel the slowly mounting sense of excitement inside her.

  Finally he broke away. His arms were still around her, he held her and looked at her. She ran her hands through his thick blond hair, stared into his blue eyes. She could read excitement there but also perhaps doubt.

  'I know what you're thinking,' she said. 'And it's good of you. You know what I'm offering you, and you're wondering why. That's true, isn't it?'

  'Something like that,' he mumbled.

  'Well, this will be a once and only occasion, with no commitment on either side. And it's because I fancied you first when I met you first, that time when we knelt together by the old man who had been knocked down. And since then I've found that you're kind and thoughtful and gentle. But right now I fancy you because you're gorgeous. And we're on holiday and the rules don't count. Are you going to take me to bed?'

  He didn't answer, he kissed her again. Before he had been gentle. But now his mouth was urgent, demanding, and she thrilled at the thought of what was to come.

  Both stood. He wrapped his arms around her properly, then pulled their bodies together. She could feel the muscles of his arms, back and chest, knew from the pressure on her thigh just how desperately he needed her. At least as much as she needed him.

  Then he released her. 'Come inside,' he said. His voice was thick, hoarse with excitement. The same excitement as she was feeling.

  They stood by the foot of her double bed, and now she was a little nervous. What if she disappointed him? She knew she hadn't done so last time, but then they had both been filled with the excitement and terror of the fire. Now it was different.

  It was magic. He knew exactly what she was thinking. 'The last time we made love,' he said to her, 'we were in a hurry. We both needed someone to share our joy in just being alive. This isn't to be like that. I want to make love to you slowly, to enjoy every blissful minute. I know you're going to make me happy and I want to make you happy, too.'

  'Just being with you makes me happy,' she said. 'Do you want to undress me?'

  That morning she had dressed with care. This moment was not entirely spontaneous, she had thought about it, even planned it. She wanted to please him.

  First he eased her thin sweater over her head, threw it carelessly on the nearest chair. Then, button by button, he undid her shirt. He eased it out from under hep waistband and pulled that off, too. Then he caught his breath as he looked at her.

  It was the most expensive underwear she had ever bought. Especially for this encounter—if it ever took place. She had sneaked an hour in town yesterday, said she had some boring shopping to do. As she had slipped it on she had known it was different, it felt so soft. Bra and French knickers in the most delicate of black lace. And as she looked into Tom's now heavy-lidded eyes, she knew it had been worthwhile.

  He slid his fingertips along the insides of her arms, stroked them across the swell of her breasts. She felt her nipples tauten, swell with desire. He bent, kissed her shoulders, but no more than that.

  He was in no hurry. He didn't even try to unhook her bra, contenting himself with running his fingers, still very gently, across the black lace that contained her taut breasts.

  One hand moved to her waistband, undid the button there and then slid down the zip. She felt her jeans slide down her legs, waited a moment and then stepped out of them. He stepped back, and she heard him sigh as he looked at her. She'd never bought French knickers before. If this was the effect they had, then she'd buy more.

  Her earlier desperation had now changed. This was to be a long slow game, a symphony that could only come to a climax when the time was right. Each moment was to be enjoyed. And she was safe in the knowledge that they had all the time they needed.

  It was her turn. She pulled the sweater over his head, thrust down his chinos. She marvelled at the smoothness of his skin, the muscled arms and torso. And then the sight of him fully naked, his need for her only too apparent. Maria felt the blood rush to her cheeks, felt the thrill of anticipation grow even stronger.

  Now he reached behind her, dextrously undid the clip of her bra. It tumbled forward, down her arms. She threw it to one side, and he bent his head. In turn, he took the pink tips into his mouth, kissed them and she shuddered as the roughness of his tongue made her excitement mount even further. But there was a long way to go yet.

  He kissed her quickly, then reached an arm behind her legs and lifted her bodily onto the bed. She lay there, deliberately put her hands behind her head so that her breasts were outstretched, offering themselves to him. And she gloried in the excitement, the wonder, she saw in his eyes.

  The bed sagged slightly as he lay beside her. He pulled her to him, kissed her until she felt her bones turn to water. There was nothing this man could not do to her.

  He reached for the bottle of champagne. Carefully, he tilted the bottle so that a thin stream of liquid splashed down onto each rosebud-tipped nipple. She shivered at the coolness on her heated flesh, but smiled as. she felt the bubbles erupting on her skin. Then he took each breast into his mouth, licked away the coolness, and the sensation was so exquisite that she arched her back, trying to push herself even further towards him. 'That is so good,' she moaned.

  'I can taste your skin. I want to kiss you, every inch of you, all over your body. Maria, sweetheart, do you know what you're doing to me?'

  'I'm doing to you what you're doing to me,' she muttered. 'Tom, this is more wonderful than anything I've ever felt.'

  His head roamed her body as she lay there. He kissed the insides of her arms, the palms of her hands, her shoulders, her neck, but returned always to her breasts. And from time to time the rest of his body touched hers, and she felt the hardness, the dampness of him, and understood his growing desire.

  And there was her own growing desire. This was good, this was wonderful, but surely there was more to come? 'Tom, I want...I want...' she groaned.

  He knew what she meant. She felt his hand steal downwards, slide under the elastic of her knickers, gently ease them down. She wriggled, made it easy for him. And then they were naked together. Once again his head roved down her body. She felt his hands gently part her thighs, felt his cheeks on the damp curls there and then there was the warmth of his breath on her, the touch of his tongue on that most secret of places.

  Again her body arched. She grasped the pillow, then flung down her arms to grip his shoulders. 'Tom, Tom, please,' she cried. 'Oh, Tom, I can't... You must... It's too much and I...' She didn't know whether she was pleading for him to stop or to continue.

  He knelt above her, she looked into that dear face, now taut with passion. She put her arms around him, pulled him down to kiss him.

  And then she sighed as he entered her. They were together, they were one. She knew exactly what he wanted because it was what she wanted. And both needed. For a while they were gentle together, a soft easy movement that was as natural as life itself.

  It could not last. Sensation seemed to be spreading outwards from the very core of her. Something told her that this was the time, that there was more to be felt, to be enjoyed, that this was only halfway. So she opened herself to him even further, rocked with him as she felt his increased need, called out his name. And then, so wonderful that although it must have been over in seconds it seemed to last for hours, there came their joint climax. For a while the earth stopped. And then he collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, as was hers.

  'You're so good to me,' he muttered.

  'And you're good to me, too,' she answered.

  For a while they were happy just to lie there. Maria thought over what had happened, knew it was something she would never forget.

  She thought of what she had said to him, said so definitely. A once and only occasion with no commitment on either side. At the time she had meant it. Only now did she realise just how much she had been fooling herself. Tom meant everything to her. But she had made it clear that this had to be a once and only occasion. The words echoed in her mind, she knew they wou
ld haunt her for weeks to come.

  Of course, perhaps he'd ignore what she had said. But she doubted it.

  There might be no future. But there would always be memories.

  That night was their last at the hotel and Maria was enjoying herself. The dinner had been good, she'd shared a bottle of Spanish red with Tom, the ice cream they were eating was far richer than anything she ate in England. And a voice said, 'My goodness! It's Maria, Maria Wyatt in my hotel. They said in the Helena that you were back but I didn't believe them. Maria, it's so good to see you.'

  Maria looked up, then stood. There was a tall burly man with a beaming smile. 'John Kersh! John, it's good to see you, too.' She threw her arms around him, hugged him, kissed him on the cheek.

  When she released him John looked at Tom and James and smiled. 'Don't tell me you've brought your family with you,' he said. 'You were single when you left.'

  'I'm still single. This is my good friend Dr Tom Ramsey and his son James.'

  There was the necessary shaking of hands and Tom asked John if he'd join them. Maria noticed that Tom was hospitable—but also a little wary. He didn't quite know what to make of John, couldn't guess his relationship with her. Maria felt rather smug.

  'I'd love to join you for a minute. Now, if you're having coffee, can I get you a liqueur each from the boss's special bottle? And you, young man...' he looked at James '...may I get you a special drink, too?'

  'Yes, please, sir,' said the always polite James.

  John raised his hand and a waiter was instantly at the table. There was a whispered order.

  'John was my supervisor when I left,' Maria said clearly to Tom. 'He helped me a lot. I couldn't have managed without him.'

  'You were a star member of my staff, I had to look after you. Now, what have we here?'

  The waiter had returned to the table. There was the usual pot of coffee, with the small cups. There were also three glasses and a bottle of brandy. And for James a magnificent concoction of orange juice and froth, with two plastic flowers, two bendy straws and three sparklers sticking out if it.