by Penny Jordan
She had no need to worry, she told herself. He had obviously discussed it with Marcus Simons and he was hardly likely to be in evidence… far from it. She judged that he would be as eager to avoid her as she was to avoid him.
She couldn't spend the rest of her life avoiding the man; and she certainly didn't want to do anything that might give rise to gossip, even though common sense told her that it would be an extremely inventive, not to say intuitive, gossip who would make any connection between them.
Even to think in such terms made her feel guilty and grubby. She had always loathed anything underhand. If she had known that he was married… Realising that Bill Hobbs was patiently awaiting her decision, she promised that she would meet him at the farm after lunch.
The work on her new property was already forging ahead. Plywood panels had been removed to reveal a beautiful oak staircase, which was now being stripped of its ugly coat of paint and refurbished. She had chosen the reproduction Victorian sanitaryware which had seemed the most applicable to her plans for the house, but the work could not advance any further until the worn beams were replaced.
The whole house had been rewired; the underfloor work for the new plumbing was in hand. Things were progressing very well.
Two tough-looking teenage boys had come round and asked if she had any jobs they could do, and she had suggested that they might like to make a start on clearing the jungle that was her garden.
Amazingly, in view of their post-punk hair-dos, leathers and chains, they had proved remarkably knowledgeable, and she had been informed that her garden possessed a wide variety of fruit trees, plus raspberry canes and strawberry plants.
There was an old greenhouse down in one corner, with most of the panes missing, but they had assured her that the wood was sound, and had even offered to re-glaze it for her should she want them to.
She intended to ask Bill Hobbs if he thought the boys were up to the job. They had certainly worked wonders with the rest of the garden, and had proved surprisingly articulate whenever she had talked to them. But then, why shouldn't they? she asked herself, deriding herself for her burgeoning prejudice. Within a very few years she would be the mother of a teenager herself, and surely she hadn't forgotten the urgent need to shock and rebel that went hand in hand with those years?
Bill Hobbs was waiting for her when she drove up to the farm; this time she parked in the farmyard at the rear of the house. He opened the car door for her, giving her a welcoming smile. To her relief there was no sign of Marcus when she followed Bill into one of the barns.
The fireplace proved every bit as impressive as he had told her. She touched it with admiring fingers, shock jolting through her as she suddenly heard Marcus speaking behind her. She had her back to the door and hadn't heard him come in, but now her whole body was tensely aware of him, her hair prickling along her scalp.
'Bill, could you have a look at the window frames on the French windows before you go? I thought I noticed a touch of rot in them the other day…'
He was sending Bill away. Diana could feel herself beginning to panic as the builder good-naturedly responded to his request and moved towards the door. She wanted to call out to him to stay with her, but that would only give rise to just the sort of comment she was desperate to avoid.
She made a move to follow him, her heart pumping frantically as Marcus stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
'What do you think of the fireplace, Mrs Johnson?' he asked her, his tone exactly the right one in which one stranger would address another. How many times had he betrayed his wife? Diana wondered sickly. How many times had he shared with other women what he had shared with her that night…?
He reached out and touched her arm, and she jumped nervously, her eyes going blind with shock.
Bill had gone and they were alone. She withdrew from him as though just being close to him burned.
'Why did you send Bill away?'
'Because I wanted to talk to you,' he told her calmly.
Diana turned away from him trying to force her lips to stop trembling. What was he going to do? Accuse her of following him again?
'There's nothing for us to talk about.'
'Yes, there is. I want to apologise for my rudeness the other day. Please put it down to shock. You were the last person I expected to see, and it rather threw me.'
There was no doubting the sincerity of his apology. It took Diana aback, making her lose her temporary advantage.
'I didn't expect to see you either,' was all she could say, her voice husky with shock and relief.
She moved restlessly, tensing as he reached out and touched hard brown fingers to her left hand.
'That night… you weren't wearing this.' He touched her wedding ring and she felt herself flushing with guilt.
'I…'
'You told me that you'd lost someone you loved. I didn't realise you meant a husband.'
'I didn't realise that you had a wife.'
She saw from his shocked expression that she had surprised him. He opened his mouth to say something to her and then stopped as a woman's voice called his name.
'In here, Ann,' he called back without taking his eyes off Diana.'
'My sister,' he explained tersely to Diana, turning his head briefly in the direction of the tall dark-haired woman who came in.
There was a definite resemblance between them. Ann Chalmers had her brother's grey eyes, and his bone structure, softened to suit her strikingly feminine gestures.
'Ma asked me to remind you that she's going out tonight, so dinner will be early. Oh, hello,' she held out her hand to Diana. 'I didn't notice you there in the shadows for a moment.'
Diana didn't miss the speculative glance she gave her brother, and her heart dropped like a stone. She was quite right if that brother/sister look was anything to go by; Marcus Simons did have more women in his life than his poor wife. She felt indignation burn inside her at the open raillery in Ann Chalmers' look.
'Ann, meet Diana… Mrs Johnson,' he amended. 'She's bought old Mrs Simms' bookshop, isn't that right, Mrs Johnson?'
Diana confirmed that it was, and was then forced to deal with a barrage of questions from Ann Chalmers.
'And your husband, what ?'
'Mrs Johnson is a widow.' The harshness of the curt words seemed to startle his sister as much as they shocked her. There was a brief uncomfortable silence, and then to Diana's relief Bill Hobbs reappeared.
'Couldn't see any rot in those frames, Marcus,' he announced in some puzzlement.
'No? Oh, all right then, Bill. Perhaps I was being over anxious.' Marcus was so unconcerned that Diana knew immediately that there had been nothing wrong with the windows, and that he had simply used them as an excuse to get rid of Bill. But to what purpose? Originally she had thought he simply genuinely wanted to apologise, but now she was not so sure.
It didn't take an expert in male/female relationships to correctly interpret that look that had passed between brother and sister. It was plain to Diana that Ann knew that her brother was far from being faithful to his wife and that moreover she suspected him of having some sort of mild interest in herself. Now that he knew that she hadn't deliberately followed him, was he contemplating renewing their physical relationship?
Anger burned within her. If he did think that, he was going to have a rude shock coming. Did he really think she was the sort of woman who carelessly jumped into bed with other women's husbands?
It was only when she was driving back to the pub that the full irony of her thoughts struck her. How could he know what manner of woman she was? He knew nothing whatsoever about her, and that was the way she had wanted it to stay, only fate had intervened and confounded her plans.
It was only when she was sitting down in her small private sitting-room that it occurred to her to wonder what her reaction would have been if he hadn't been married. If he had been single and uninvolved with anyone else, how would she have felt? She bit her lip and gnawed worriedly at it, disliking the question and th
e thoughts it provoked.
It was only in the morning that she remembered that she had not asked Bill Hobbs about her two young workmen, and as arranged they presented themselves at the shop first thing in the morning, eager to know if she was going to employ them.
Bill was at the farm arranging for the transportation of the new beams and Diana frowned over her dilemma. Her own instinct was to let them go ahead. They seemed sensible and knowledgeable about what they were doing. Whilst she was wondering what to do one of the boys nudged the other and said, 'Look, John, there's your mother. She's coming over.'
Looking up Diana saw Ann Chalmers coming towards the shop, as patently surprised to see her son there as he was uncomfortable to see her.
'So this is where you are. I hope the pair of you aren't bothering Mrs Johnson?'
She spoke to her son, but looked at Diana, who quickly shook her head. 'Not at all. In fact they've been most helpful in clearing up the wilderness that was my garden.'
She saw Ann Chalmers' frown deepen slightly, and then her son said gruffly, 'Dad said if I wanted a new bike I'd have to buy it myself so Mike and I are just trying to earn some extra money.'
Her frown still lingered, and Diana intervened quickly. 'Honestly, they've been a great help, and I'm just about to commission them to replace the broken panes of glass in my greenhouse.'
It was obvious from Ann Chalmers' expression that she had no qualms about their ability to perform this task, and Diana immediately felt easier about her own decision. As the two boys left, intent on measuring up for the glass, Ann Chalmers said hurriedly, 'Look, I was coming over to apologise for my gaffe yesterday, I had no idea you were so newly widowed. Charles the Vicar, mentioned it last night. You must have thought it was dreadfully crass of me to be so obviously pairing you off with my brother. Luckily for me he's used to my attempts to get him married off. Hardened to them, one might say…' She caught Diana's quick exclamation of shock, and paused.
'Is something wrong?'
'Oh no, it's just that I thought Marcus… your brother was married. The housekeeper mentioned a Mrs Simons.'
Ann's face cleared.
'She would have meant my mother. She lives with Marcus, because the farm has always been her home. In many ways it was a godsend when our uncle willed the farm to Marcus, although I must admit I half expected him to refuse to come home and take it over. I think it was the fact that it has been Ma's home ever since she was born that tipped the scales. So you thought Marcus was married,' she mused giving Diana a studied look. 'I can't wait to tell him that. He thinks that all married men have an unmistakable hang-dog aura about them.' She laughed heartily, unaware of Diana's chagrin. The last thing she wanted was for Marcus to know that she had been discussing his marital status with his sister, no matter how innocently.
The news that he wasn't married was something she found oddly disquieting. Why was that? She ought to have been pleased in view of her earlier shocked reaction to the distasteful information that she had made love with a married man.
Married or not, nothing could alter the transitory nature of their relationship, she reassured herself later when she was alone. Ever since she had realised that Marcus and his family played quite a large part in the small community she had moved into, she had been frightened—frightened that somehow the future she had planned for herself and her child would be threatened by his presence. And yet why should it? Even if it should occur to Marcus that the child she was expecting might be his, he was scarcely likely to question her about it. No, if he did have any such suspicions he was far more likely to want to keep them to himself.
So why did she have this unnerving prickle of unease, this feeling that in moving to the place she had somehow put both herself and her unborn child in a vulnerable position?
Forget about Marcus Simons, she told herself that night as she prepared for bed, but in the morning she discovered that forgetting Marcus was something she was just not going to be allowed to do.
She was walking past the Rectory towards her new property when the Vicar emerged from the drive.
He greeted her with a smile and fell into step beside her.
'Ann Chalmers tells me that you are employing John and young Mike Henries to repair your greenhouse. I'd be interested in learning how they cope. I'm trying to establish a workforce of young people to do voluntary jobs for our elderly residents. It was Marcus's idea really, but I think it's a good one.'
Fortunately for her equilibrium, they had reached her shop, and Diana was able to excuse herself, having promised the Vicar to let him have a progress report on the boys' endeavours.
It was a pleasant surprise to walk into the building and discover that the job of replacing the worn beams was well in hand. Two men were busily engaged in making space in what was to be her kitchen, to take the fireplace she had bought from Whitegates farm.
Bill Hobbs came forward to greet her, grinning when he saw her amazement over the amount of work they had accomplished.
'It's coming along now, isn't it? Marcus called in this morning to check that we'd got the beams here all right. He was very interested when I told him what you planned to do. It seems he's been thinking of remodelling the Tudor part of the farm for some time. It needs it, of course. It hasn't been touched since before his uncle's time. Of course, the old man just wasn't interested after his son and his wife were killed in that road accident. Same accident that killed Marcus's dad, that was. It happened just after Marcus went to America.
'I suppose we all knew then that he'd have to come back to take over the farm. There are some as say he didn't want to do it, but then there's his ma to consider.'
Conscious of the fact that she was listening to what was little more than gossip, Diana quickly changed the subject, asking Bill how long he thought it would be before the major construction work was out of the way. After a sharp look at her, he took her hint and dropped the subject of Marcus and his family. Talking about him when he wasn't there made Diana feel uncomfortable; as though she were guilty of spying on him and his family. She had no desire at all to know anything about him, she told herself later, as she walked slowly back to the pub.
It was a hot day, and before she got there her thin cotton shirt was sticking to her skin, making her slow her brisk pace, and wonder anew at the restrictions imposed on her by her impending motherhood.
Until Marcus had so shockingly reappeared in her life she had never felt better. Pregnancy had brought a soft glow to her skin, and a new tranquillity to her mind. Knowing that she was going to have a child had helped her to face up to Leslie's illness and death. It was as though the child was God's way of giving her back something to compensate for the friend she had lost.
Perhaps some people would find her thoughts both foolish and blasphemous, but she found them comforting. Her baby wouldn't be a replacement for Leslie; that wasn't what she wanted anyway, but it would be a confirmation that life does encompass more than pain and hardship.
It seemed that, having once successfully completely banished the father of her child from her mind, Diana was now to be punished by hearing his name from almost everyone she met. Somewhere she heard that he had worked on his uncle's farm as a boy, but that he had always been independent, and wanted to make his own way in life. Someone else told her that he had had a good job working on a bloodstock farm in America raising horses, but that he had had to give it up and come home when his uncle died because there was no one else to take over the farm and to look after his mother.
But what struck Diana most of all was the great respect and admiration that everyone seemed to have for him. Whitegates was the largest farm in the area, and the Simons family a respected one, but Marcus, it seemed, was far more approachable and available than his uncle, who apparently had been a rather remote, aloof man. From the Vicar, Diana learned that Marcus had a keen interest in helping his fellow men; that he was generous to them in need.
She had felt so safe knowing nothing about him, hadn't wanted t
o know anything about him, but that unwanted knowledge was being thrust upon her, and it frightened her without her being able to analyse why.
She saw him once or twice in town, and on both occasions she deliberately hurried in the opposite direction, without being able to give herself a satisfactory explanation for her actions.
Another week went by, and the work on her property progressed. The time was approaching when she would be able to start ordering her stock. A few days in London, attending to one or two financial matters, and visiting the wholesalers while her pregnancy was not too far advanced, seemed like a sensible idea. In consequence she advised Bill, and Mrs Davies—who ran the pub with her husband—that she would be away for three days.
She left her car at home, and decided to travel by train.
It was a shock to discover how much the noise and pace of London disturbed her. This was her city, her home, and yet after a few short weeks away she felt almost alien here. The air tasted of dirt and petrol, and she felt choked by it. Her eyes ached for the sight of fields and trees, and her feet throbbed from the hard heat of the pavements.
Luckily her business was accomplished more easily than she had anticipated. All her friends had been people who shared the same professional world, and after the onset of Leslie's last illness she had let them drift away. She knew more people now than she had known all the time she had lived in London, and apart from Marcus's unwanted reappearance in her life, she had no regrets at all about her decision to leave.
She had some papers to sign for Leslie's solicitor, and afterwards she went to visit the cemetery, carefully carrying the small pot-grown bush of rosemary she had brought with her.
She planted it carefully, brushing away the tears that stung her eyes. She was not overly religious and in many ways she found it hard to associate Leslie with this small plot of land among so many other plots, but there was still something immensely soothing about the physical task of digging in the earth and planting the herb. She touched its leaves and sighed.
While she was in his office, Diana had mentioned her coming child to the solicitor, and he had cautioned her to make proper provision for the baby's guardianship, in the event of anything untoward happening to her.