‘But you said yes?’ His voice skirted between hope and disappointment.
‘No. Not really . . .’
‘Not really?’ he challenged her.
‘I said I needed to think about it.’
‘That’s not the impression your father gave.’
‘My mother told him I said yes. She lied.’ More tears were trickling down her face.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps she wants me to marry Connor. He’s rich.’
‘And what do you want, Jen?’ He looked away, and she could see the profile of his face, his neck, his Adam’s apple moving up and down in his throat.
‘I want to be with you,’ she said quietly.
The corners of his mouth curled and softened into a smile. His eyes seemed to sparkle. He stepped forward, and she held her breath as the space between them compressed. She closed her eyes, happy, delirious, dizzy, their kiss everything she’d hoped it would be.
‘Shit, there’s people coming,’ he said with a low, throaty laugh.
‘Over here.’ She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stables.
They ran inside the huge barn. Jennifer groped around in the darkness for the light switch but couldn’t find it. There were tiles missing from the roof, and the bright beams from a silvery full moon gave the space a beautiful natural light.
‘A hayloft,’ he smiled, cornering her against the wall. ‘Are we going to get jumped on by a wild animal?’
‘Here’s hoping,’ she whispered as he kissed her again, more passionately this time.
‘You know I think we’re trapped in here,’ he said as his mouth pulled momentarily away from hers.
‘We’re just going . . . to have to stay . . . for a while longer then,’ she said between kisses as he took his cue and started to unbutton the pearl buttons on her dress. They moved across to a hay bale, huge cubes of straw that were a perfect makeshift bed. His hands slid down the slim curves of her waist as he kissed her neck.
She lay back on the bale, impatient and hungry for him. The straw was scratchy, but the dress was a soft protective layer and she slipped it off her shoulders so that it was like a thin blanket for them to lie on. She shuddered as Jim swooped down to kiss her belly, then groaned as he cupped her breast, teasing it out of her lacy bra and sucking her nipple as his hand stroked between her thighs.
She used her palms to ease off her panties, the thin fabric curling down over her thighs. Jim paused to unbuckle his trousers and unbutton his shirt, and then he lay on top of her and kissed her some more, slowly, deeply, his firm torso pressing against her. She parted her legs, and he eased himself inside her. She curled her legs around him and grabbed his hair, arching her back as a sweet, intense pressure built and built and then crescendoed, toppling over into a white-hot crashing wave of release.
‘Happy birthday,’ he whispered as they collapsed exhausted on the hay. And as Jennifer looked up at the moonlight, she didn’t just feel another year older; she felt reborn.
Chapter Twenty-One
A cool breeze blowing over her naked body woke her. Jennifer’s eyes blinked open, and for a moment she didn’t know where she was. Another second and she registered something irritating her skin: straw. Her mind felt dull – a hangover – and there was someone lying next to her: Jim.
Jennifer’s next thought was that this was not good. She was half naked, her dress completely unbuttoned; one breast had popped out from its bra cup, her panties were off and missing in action.
But as she turned her head and looked at Jim, she felt a reckless wave of happiness and desire. Last night had been incredible, and she still couldn’t believe that her body had felt all those things that it had, right there on the hay. The sex had been passionate and impatient. She remembered him kissing her until she had fallen asleep, and her chin still felt sore from the roughness of his stubble.
She took a moment to observe him. He was still snoozing and looked quite angelic – that beautiful profile and long lashes wasted on a man. She wanted to kiss him again, but a distant squawk of early birds somewhere in the oak trees warned her that dawn was coming, and they did not want to get caught. Not like this.
Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost six a.m. Trying to stop herself from panicking, she sat up carefully, adjusted her bra and began to fasten her dress. When she was decent, she nudged Jim from his slumber. He stirred slowly.
‘Hey,’ he said, touching her bare arm and stroking the skin with his fingertip.
‘We should go, before things get awkward,’ she said with quiet urgency.
‘I’d say we’re past that point already, wouldn’t you?’ He smiled lazily, putting both hands behind his head. ‘The party’s over. We’re past being missed, so we’re in no rush to get anywhere.’
His casualness did nothing to calm her. ‘My parents will be going mad, and I don’t know what Connor is going to think.’
‘Do you care?’
Panic began to consume her.
‘Jim, they’re going to be worried about me.’
He sat up on the straw. ‘Don’t you think they know?’ he said simply.
She sighed deeply and acknowledged that he had a point. They had not been disturbed; no search party, as far as she was aware, had been sent out.
‘What are we going to do?’ she said finally.
‘What do you want to do?’ asked Jim, his eyes not leaving hers.
She knew what he was really asking her. What was she going to do with her life? Which direction was she going to take? Was she going to accept the life mapped out for her, or pick some exciting, uncharted new course?
Her own mini rebellions over the summer – leaving the art gallery in New York, coming home to Savannah, making her documentary – suddenly seemed quite superficial, as Jim dared her to make a decision.
‘Our timing’s been lousy, hasn’t it?’ she said.
‘It’s not great. We could have had a lot of nights like last night if only . . .’
‘If only . . .’
‘I should have kissed you at the cemetery.’
‘You were too busy calling me a serial killer.’
‘There were a dozen times I could’ve have kissed you. I just didn’t. I was scared of being turned down, so I never even tried. I thought it was better to have your friendship than risk being rejected.’
‘It was still the best summer of my life. Last night, when you kissed me, I was so happy. It was what I wanted, what I’ve wanted for a long time. But everything seems so complicated. I mean, you’re leaving Savannah. Tonight.’
‘I don’t have to,’ he said quietly.
She felt a surge of hope.
‘You’d stay?’
‘You might be able to twist my arm,’ he grinned.
‘What are you going to do, though? Delay your ticket for a week or two? You have college to get back to at the end of the month.’
‘Not necessarily,’ he said more seriously.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that we can be happy, Jen. Me and you. Together.’
‘In an ideal world, yes.’
He shook his head and looked angry.
‘We can create whatever world we want for ourselves, make choices to let that happen.’
‘And when your visa runs out in three months, you’ll be kicked out of the country, with no college place, resentful of me because we didn’t think about the practicalities . . .’
‘There’s ways around all that,’ he said, not looking at her.
What was he saying? she wondered to herself. She felt a flood of butterflies at the possibility in his words.
‘Jim, you can’t quit college. I won’t let you.’
‘Then come to England with me. We can get a place in London. I can study, you can study, work. I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t get on that plane and leave you here.’
‘I guess I’d better go and talk to Connor, then,’ she teased, feeling as if
she had let the brakes off and could freewheel to a life with Jim Johnson.
‘You know the National Film School, just outside London, is amazing. There are studios in Shepperton and Pinewood. Soho is chock-full of production companies and editing suites . . .’
‘You’ve got a real knack, you know.’
‘For what?’
‘For making life seem exciting and full of possibilities.’
‘People talk about being trapped, but we generally make cages for ourselves. Sometimes you just have to know when to say no and when you’ve got to say yes.’
‘Yes,’ she whispered as he kissed her.
Afterwards Jen found her panties and put them on, and as she watched Jim button his shirt, she felt buoyed and happy. She could hear voices out in the field and she knew that Marion, who lived in a small cottage next to the stables, would be up, and that she had to return to the house quickly.
They made hasty plans. A voice in her head reminded her that half of Savannah thought she was marrying Connor Gilbert, but as Jim made a check list of what they had to do, it all felt so easy, like ticking off a shopping list.
For his part, Jim was going to tell his parents that he was not returning to London. Not that evening, not yet. Friends of the Sittenfields were arriving at the Lake House at the end of the week, so there was no possibility of staying on there. Besides, they both knew how difficult it would be remaining so close to Casa D’Or. They decided it might be an idea for them to leave Savannah for a few days until they decided what to do next.
Jennifer instantly thought of her aunt Donna. Pensacola wasn’t too far from Georgia, and she imagined sunset beach walks with Jim along the Floridian sands.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said Jim as they loitered at the barn door.
‘Like that will make it easier.’ She smiled grimly. ‘I’ll deal with it. You see if you can extend your plane ticket. We should meet up again later this afternoon.’
The door shut with a creak behind them. Jennifer cringed with embarrassment as she saw that Jim’s pickup was one of the few vehicles left on the drive. She didn’t kiss him goodbye. Simply walked back towards the house with purpose. She turned round once and saw that he was sitting in the truck. As the engine growled to life, he gave her a wink that gave her a spring in her step.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The house was still and quiet. Grey-blue early-morning light filtered through the windows. Jennifer still had a fuzzy head, so she crept into the kitchen to get a glass of water. The sound of the water trickling out of the taps was as soothing as the liquid slipping down her throat. She was hungry too, and went over to the fridge to see what was in there. It opened with a pop, and light illuminated a dizzy array of leftovers: cold hams and miniature tarts.
‘Back so soon?’ said a voice behind her.
Jennifer gasped and pushed the fridge door shut. She was not surprised to see her mother standing at the kitchen door in her negligee, her arms folded across her chest. In the cool light and without make-up, Sylvia looked deathly pale. Her face was expressionless, which only added to her ghoulishness.
Jennifer clutched her glass of water like a talisman. For a second she wished that she had taken Jim up on his offer to come with her, but she knew she had to face this alone.
‘I was just going to bed,’ she said, standing a little straighter.
‘You didn’t say goodbye to anyone at the party. Not one person,’ said her mother coolly.
‘I’m sorry . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ her mother mimicked. ‘Do you know how embarrassed Connor was?’
‘I’ll speak to him later.’
‘If he’ll even see you.’
Jennifer pressed her lips together and willed herself to stay strong.
‘I have to see him. We need to talk.’
‘I can’t say I like the sound of that, but I suppose, under the circumstances, he might forgive you.’
‘Forgive me?’
‘You and Jim Johnson. One final fling before he goes home. Getting it out of your system.’
‘I’m in love with Jim,’ she said defiantly.
Sylvia gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Grow up,’ she hissed cruelly. ‘You have sexual desire. That’s all.’
‘It’s more than that,’ said Jennifer, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Much more. He’s not going back to England. He’s staying here and we are going to be together.’
‘You’ve gone mad.’
‘I have never felt more clear-minded,’ she replied, telling herself she could not weaken, could not turn back now.
‘You’re right, you should go to bed. Get some sleep. I’m sure you need it,’ her mother said tartly. ‘And when you wake up, you will go and find Connor – your fiancé – and do your damnedest to make it up with him.’
‘You told Dad that I’d accepted Connor’s proposal, didn’t you?’ She was testing her mother, but Sylvia’s expression barely cracked. There was no sign of surprise at Jennifer’s comment, just a slight hardening of her expression.
‘You needed a little push. That’s all.’
‘This is my life,’ Jennifer said, thumping her fist against her chest. ‘Not a move in your game of social-ambition chess.’
‘It’s not my fault that you don’t know what you want. Don’t see good opportunities when they hit you in the face. Instead you go tramping around with that boy from next door, who, believe me, won’t be quite so attentive now that he’s finally got you into bed.’
‘I’m not listening to this.’
‘No, don’t,’ said her mother, composing herself. ‘Go to bed. Things will be clearer when you’ve had some sleep. I know you’ll make the right decision.’ And she turned and walked back upstairs.
Jennifer stayed in the kitchen for a little while, half expecting David to come down and add his thoughts about the situation. But as she sat and finished her glass of water, she realised that her father hadn’t woken. She was glad about that. Didn’t want to see him. She remembered his proud, smiling face as he made the announcement about her engagement, and suddenly she felt cheap. Her feelings for Jim were still as intense as they had been the night before – hell, she almost blushed when she thought about the thrilling, secret places that he had kissed her – but still, she’d had sex with another man whilst in a relationship with someone else, and that was wrong.
She crept upstairs to bed and tried to get some sleep. It wasn’t difficult, because she was so tired, and when she woke, sunlight was streaming through the shutters and she could hear the sound of the events team disassembling the stage and clearing up the mess from the night before.
The clock on her dressing table told her it was eleven o’clock. Her father would be at work now, and she knew that her mother would keep her distance, at least until Jennifer had done as she was told. She swung her feet out of bed and walked to the window. Sylvia and Marion were directing four men to take stage scaffolding through the side garden. Jennifer watched for a moment from the edge of the window, to keep out of view, and then went for a shower. A piece of hay fell out of her hair and she smiled, although only for a moment. Anxiety did that to you.
She sat on the edge of the bed in her dressing gown, towelling her damp hair, then threw the towel down, knowing she couldn’t procrastinate any longer.
She got dressed and put on her shoes – Jennifer hated the telephone at the best of times, so she wanted to feel as formal and armour-plated as possible when she called Connor – then looked at the phone sitting ominously on her bedside table. Her heart beating hard, she picked up the receiver.
A female voice answered after a few rings. She recognised Carolyn Gilbert’s sugary tones immediately.
‘It’s Jennifer,’ she said quickly, her heart thumping so furiously now she thought it would jump right out of her chest. ‘Is Connor there?’
‘Jennifer . . .’
If she was expecting instant frostiness, she was mistaken.
‘I didn’t get the chan
ce to say congratulations last night. How are you feeling?’
‘Feeling?’ she asked weakly.
‘The food poisoning!’ Carolyn said with surprise. ‘You know I always try and avoid shrimp, but I trusted those caterers. I recommended them to your mother, in fact, but I’m going to give them a wide berth from now on. What terrible, terrible timing. Everyone wanted to wish you well, but your momma said you were in the bathroom . . . She was very discreet about it, though, so don’t you go worrying.’
‘I’m all right now,’ Jennifer said, imagining her mother covering her tracks.
‘Good, because Connor’s daddy and I want to take you out for dinner tonight. To celebrate properly.’
‘Is Connor there?’ she said, wanting to wind this conversation up as quickly as possible. She felt bad enough as it was, and didn’t want to add lying to Mrs Gilbert to her list of sins.
‘He’s gone for a run. He’ll be back soon. You should come round. I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about. Lots of planning. I’m just heading out, so it will be nice and private for you.’
‘Let him know I’m coming,’ she said, knowing that she had to get the thing done.
* * *
Connor’s parents lived on the other side of the city, north of Hilton Head Island, officially across the border into South Carolina. Jennifer took the bridge across the Savannah River, but the traffic was bad and it took over an hour to get to their luxurious family home, a European-style estate with flourishes of French chateau that appealed to Carolyn Gilbert’s more flamboyant tastes.
Jennifer sat in her car in front of the house. Her palms were sweaty and she knew it was not from the heat of the midday sun.
She tried to focus on all the things she could do with Jim once all this was over. She imagined a road trip to Florida. Cumberland Island would be beautiful at this time of year, and Jim would love the haunting wilderness of the Okefenokee swamps, where they could take kayaks out into the canals and spot alligators and wildfowl.
She couldn’t wait to revisit London either. She had been twice before: once on a family holiday when her mother had been disappointed not to be able to go into Buckingham Palace, and another time on a school trip when they had been shunted around from gallery to heritage site – Westminster Abbey, St Paul’s Cathedral and Trafalgar Square. She had loved every single second of it: the city’s regal grandeur and its eccentricities, its red telephone boxes and black taxis, the ancient pubs that looked as if they were about to topple over, and the grand gilded stores – Fortnum & Mason, Harrods – that made her feel like a heroine in a Regency romance novel. But she looked forward to a different type of stay in the city. One where she was a local. Where she could go out to study or work, then come home to an apartment – a flat, they liked to call them in England – where she would huddle next to Jim on cold, rainy nights, an idea that seemed so cosy and seductive that she wished she was there now.
The House on Sunset Lake Page 18