‘So you see, I am not the demure little office girl you first thought I was.’
She waited for his reaction.
He smiled at her. ‘I never thought you were,’ he replied, ‘but now you’ve told me that, I’m even more fond of you.’
Jane pretended to be surprised. ‘What? I don’t think you’re nice to know. You’re supposed to be shocked and disapproving.’
‘Sorry.’ Bob grinned at her as another cushion was thrown at him.
As they recovered from their interlude of play, Bob looked at Jane again. ‘You have a very nice apartment,’ he commented, looking around the room.
She nodded, serious again. ‘Yes, I like it very much. It’s nice and spacious.’ She paused for an instant, and then added, as if to answer an unvoiced question, ‘Graham left me very well provided for.’ She looked at Bob, waiting for his response.
He sensed immediately that remembering her loss was still painful for her. ‘Did you move here when you got married?’ he asked.
Jane shook her head. ‘We had a house in Richmond. I couldn’t bear to go on living there after Graham died, so I sold up and moved here.’ And then, grinning cheerfully, she remarked, ‘I’m nearer work now.’ She gave a little laugh.
Bob glanced down at the marriage certificate, which was still lying on the coffee table. ‘May I have a look?’ he asked.
‘Oh, please do.’ Jane grabbed the piece of paper and handed it to him.
As Bob studied the document, Jane suddenly remembered something. ‘Gerald had a look at it and he seemed to think I might have a relative somewhere.’ She pointed to the certificate. ‘Look at the name of the witness. Susan Carroll.’
‘Could be your father’s sister,’ Bob commented, still engrossed in the document.
‘You mean I could have an aunt somewhere?’ There was an element of excitement in Jane’s voice.
‘That could well be,’ Bob replied, looking at her again.
‘But why have I never heard from her?’ Jane was puzzled.
‘Perhaps a family feud or something,’ Bob suggested. Then he added, smiling, ‘That’s family history.’
Jane was thinking as she replied to his remark. ‘You know, I’m really looking forward to our visit to Great Wishington. I really want to find out more about my family.’
‘I’m looking forward to it as well,’ said Bob.
Jane looked at him for a second. It was time to nail her colours to the mast. ‘And, Bob, I’m quite happy to stay overnight somewhere.’ Now I’ve said it, she thought.
Bob was smiling at her. His growing affection for her became plain to see. ‘So am I,’ he said simply.
Chapter 8
Jane stifled a yawn as she drove her car through the early-morning traffic. A whole week had passed. Now she was on her way to pick up Bob, and together they would drive down to Great Wishington. At long last she hoped she would find some more information about her parents. Only last evening Gerald had popped in to help her install the family history program on her laptop, and he had appeared to be almost as excited as she was over the next day’s visit. ‘It’s only a small village and it’s not impossible that you could meet somebody who knew your family,’ he had enthused. The very thought had made Jane determined to exploit every aspect of the visit.
Her excitement for the day ahead meant that she had woken up much too early. By six o’clock she had showered and breakfasted. By half past six she had been ready to go, dressed in a white blouse and blue casual trousers. Somehow it was much too early, but she could stand the waiting no longer. With her family history file under her arm and her weekend case in her hand, she made her way to the parking lot at the rear of the apartments. After placing the suitcase in the boot of her car, she slid into the driving seat. She had the usual rummage to find one of the shoes she used for driving and eventually discovered it under the passenger seat. Slipping the shoes on only took a second, and after clicking her seat belt in place she turned the ignition key. The BMW burst into life. Slowly she drove out onto the road. The petrol gauge showed only half full, so she pulled into a convenient 24-hour petrol station and filled up. Then she was on her way towards Kew Bridge and the M4.
It had been quite a hard week. Amy had been on holiday and that had meant extra work for Jane to get through. This had required her to stay late on two evenings. On top of that, Annette had been particularly difficult to handle at times. In spite of everything, Jane had sailed through the week, fired up with a new wave of contentment, inspired by the thought that her family history was at long last under way and by an awareness that her relationship with Bob was deepening. The events of the previous weekend had firmly cemented in place how they felt about each other. For the first time since losing Graham Jane had found someone she could relate to. In Bob she found many of the qualities that had so attracted her to Graham and stimulated the short bliss of her marriage to him. She now knew that Bob felt the same about her, and that made her heart sing and put her on top of the world.
As she cruised along the unusually quiet motorway, the events of the weekend came back to her. She had had a wonderful time with Bob. Her arrangements for dinner could not have been better. Her charm had obviously worked on Mario, who had greeted them on arrival at the restaurant with his usual exuberance and led them to a secluded table in the window. They had lingered a long time over the meal, chatting and discovering more about each other, relaxed by the bottle of wine they had shared. The evening was well advanced when they took their leave of Mario and his team and walked hand in hand slowly back to the apartment, content in each other’s company. The warm summer evening encouraged them to take much longer over what was normally a ten-minute walk.
It was close to ten when they arrived back at Jane’s apartment and slowly climbed the stairs. Jane fumbled in her bag for the keys and opened the door.
‘Here we are. Home again,’ she announced softly, entering the apartment first and holding the door open for Bob.
He followed her inside and slowly closed the door.
‘Home, sweet home,’ he agreed and gave a little chuckle.
Jane lifted one foot and removed the shoe. She performed the same procedure with the other one. Standing barefoot and holding her shoes, she turned to Bob.
‘How about a nightcap? Cocoa all right?’ Her suggestion was accompanied with an enquiring look.
‘Sounds a great idea. I’m all for it.’
‘I’ll make some. You go into the lounge and relax. And, Bob…’ She hesitated. The next bit was more difficult. She plucked up courage, perhaps encouraged by the two glasses of wine she had drunk earlier, and continued. ‘If you want to get a bit more comfy, you can change into my present for you. Have you seen it?’ She studied him. Her look was a combination of anxiety and amusement.
Bob looked at her for a second and then suddenly put his arm round her and drew her towards him. He could smell her perfume as he kissed her.
‘I did see it. Thank you very much. I’ll put it on right away.’ He looked at her, smiling.
‘I’m going to get out of this dress as well,’ Jane almost squealed, and with a quick peck on his lips she broke away and headed for her bedroom. ‘See you in a minute.’
In the privacy of the bedroom she quickly disrobed. It took only a minute to slip on her bathrobe, take a glance in the mirror and then add an extra dab of scent. As she turned to leave, she looked at the double bed and then discreetly turned back the duvet, before making her way to the kitchen.
Bob was already seated on the sofa when she returned to the lounge with two mugs of cocoa. She was pleased to see that he had changed into the bathrobe she had bought – and, thank goodness, he had opted for bare feet. Nothing was more off-putting than a man who insisted on wearing socks in such a situation. She set the mugs down on the coffee table and sat down beside him. He was scanning through the issue of Discerning Woman that had been lying on a side table. It contained the article on Angus Pike.
‘It looks quit
e good,’ he remarked, hardly glancing up from the magazine.
‘Yes. Amy and I were quite pleased with it,’ Jane replied. She took a sip of cocoa.
‘Did you lose many readers?’ asked Bob, as he picked up his mug. He turned to her and smiled.
Jane shook her head. ‘On the contrary, our sales went up nearly ten per cent.’ She smiled at Bob and then as an afterthought added, ‘but we did get a couple of letters complaining that the standard of the magazine was going down.’
Bob laughed. ‘You’re bound to get that from somebody,’ he said. He glanced at the article again. ‘He certainly paints erotic pictures,’ he observed.
Jane joined him to look at the feature. Both paintings featured practically naked subjects. One depicted a young woman kneeling on the floor of what appeared to be a prison cell, being observed by two evil-looking men. The other picture was reminiscent of the Perseus and Andromeda legend, with a young woman chained to a rock, apparently awaiting a fate worse than death.
‘Most of his paintings are like that. He showed me a book of them when I visited him,’ remarked Jane.
‘Have you thought any more about posing for him?’ Bob asked suddenly, looking at Jane. It was a question he had wanted to ask her for some time.
Jane feigned a disapproving look. ‘No,’ she replied simply. Suddenly she gave a little shy smile and added, ‘I can think of better things to do in my birthday suit.’
Bob leaned towards her. ‘I wonder what you have in mind,’ he said softly.
‘I could show you,’ Jane whispered, as their lips touched.
They both realised that it was the point of no return. The next instant they were locked in an embrace. They were oblivious to the magazine dropping onto the floor as they kissed and allowed their hands to start wandering over each other’s bodies to experience pleasures previously denied.
How long they kissed and embraced each other neither could tell, but suddenly Jane eased away from Bob and raised herself from the sofa. She took his hand and pulled him to his feet as he followed her urging. Their arms encircling each other, Jane led the way to her bedroom. Two mugs of unfinished cocoa remained on the coffee table.
*
Jane’s recollection of the weekend’s events was interrupted suddenly as she realised that her exit point from the motorway was looming up. She carefully circled the roundabout to ensure she took the correct road towards Tatting Green. She drove through several villages that were stirring into life, and in no time at all she found herself passing the hotel where Bob had taken her on the first evening they had met. She remembered the shock of the night porter’s statement, ‘Sorry, we’re full.’ Bob had been so kind and caring that evening, and in the more recent weeks of their developing relationship she had been concerned that her remark about not being a ‘one-night-stand girl’ had hindered their progress. When she reached the stage of being content to allow intimacy to take place, she had become more and more worried about this. She was well aware that she had manipulated events the previous weekend, and in a way it was completely out of character for her, but at the same time she had felt it was necessary. Suddenly the turn-off for Tatting Green appeared, and within a few minutes she recognised Bob’s house and turned into the drive.
It was at that point that she realised that she was extremely early. Both the car clock and her watch showed that it was only half past seven, a full half-hour before the time she had said she would arrive. On top of that, Bob’s sitting-room curtains were still closed. Suppose he wasn’t up yet? She began to feel embarrassed about being so early. She decided to wait in the car until some sort of activity showed in Bob’s house. With a bit of luck he wouldn’t have heard her car arrive. She slipped off her driving shoes, replaced them with her sandals and settled down to wait.
She was wrong. Bob had been up for quite some time and was ready for her. His weekend bag was carefully packed and stood in the hall adjacent to the front door. He had been busy in his bedroom, when he thought he heard a sound. It prompted him to go and look out of the front bedroom window and down at the drive, where he saw the deep blue roof of a car. He hurried downstairs and opened the front door. Jane saw him immediately and waved. The next instant she was getting out of the car.
She turned to him anxiously. ‘Bob, I’m dreadfully sorry. I woke up miles too early and miscalculated how long it would take me.’
The next instant he embraced her. ‘It’s fine. I’m all ready and it’s great you’re here early.’ He kissed her several times.
As they drew apart he still had his arm round her waist. He smiled at her. ‘Come on in. I’ll make you a coffee.’
He led her by the hand towards the front door. As she pressed the remote car lock with her free hand, she exclaimed, ‘Oh, a coffee would be marvellous. Perhaps keep me from falling asleep.’ She laughed.
Once inside the house, Bob ushered her into the kitchen. Being there brought back memories for Jane. She remembered that first evening she had met Bob. Even then she had been attracted to him, but now, a few months on, their relationship was on a completely different basis.
‘Black or white?’ Bob asked, clicking the kettle into life.
Jane was already seated at the table. She stifled a yawn. ‘Black, please.’
Bob produced the coffee and sat down opposite her. ‘What’s your week been like?’ he asked.
They chatted about the week’s events. Their telephone conversation finalising the arrangements for the weekend had been brief because it had been on the evening when Gerald had been with Jane sorting out the family history program on her computer.
It was Bob who brought the conversation to a close. ‘Shall we get under way?’ he asked politely.
Jane immediately jumped up. ‘Oh, yes, please. I’m feeling quite excited. I can’t wait to get to Great Wishington.’
Five minutes later Bob was locking the front door and Jane was unlocking the car.
‘Would you like to drive?’ she asked hopefully.
Bob grinned at her. ‘I was hoping you might ask me,’ he quipped. He had been looking forward to driving Jane’s car.
Jane handed him the key and slipped into the passenger seat. She was glad he was going to do some of the driving. She stifled another yawn. ‘The coffee hasn’t kicked in yet,’ she laughed.
Half an hour later they were cruising along the M4. They had been chatting non-stop since starting the journey, but gradually Jane’s comments and replies became more spaced out, and then she became quiet. Bob glanced at her. Her head was cushioned against the headrest and she was asleep.
Bob smiled. He guessed that being up early and her tiredness had finally overcome her excitement. He was quite excited himself and was genuinely looking forward to helping her discover her roots. He was also enjoying driving her car. The BMW was comfortable and purred along the motorway. The brief driving experience so far had already persuaded him to buy a more up-to-date car for his own use. He looked at Jane again. She was turned slightly towards him. One of the top buttons on her blouse had come undone and the gap exposed the swell of her breasts. Out of politeness he quickly focused on the road ahead again, but the glimpse had stirred memories of the previous weekend. He knew that their relationship was now on a different basis. When a man and a woman had shared intimacy, their feelings towards each other altered. They shared secrets no others had access to. A bond had been established between them that was unique.
He knew that in a way Jane had engineered what had happened between them, but he admired her for it. She had done it with finesse and style. He had thought it might happen during the weekend. For weeks now when he had touched her, his body had demanded more, but she had beaten him to action. When Jane had tactfully instigated their union he had been a ready participant. In her bedroom they had kissed passionately, their hands no longer limited by decorum. He had peeled back her bathrobe, exposing her body, and she had willingly done the same with his, her hands caressing his chest. His fingers had found the clip of her br
a, and a second later his hands were caressing her breasts. Bathrobes abandoned on the floor, he had led her to the bed. Their lovemaking had been controlled but passionate. Eventually Jane had uttered a little cry, and the fruits of his own labour had burst forth a second later. Afterwards, they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
Bob had awoken to hear a voice talking to him. Jane stood at the foot of the bed, fresh from her shower, dressed in her bathrobe and holding two mugs of steaming tea in her hands.
‘Room service,’ she had laughed.
They had chatted over the tea and then breakfasted on the balcony that adjoined Jane’s lounge, enjoying the early morning sun. Afterwards they had walked hand in hand along the river. After a pub lunch, Bob had had to leave. This time their parting had been slightly different from on previous occasions: now there was the promise of even better things to come.
*
It was Jane waking up with a jerk that brought Bob’s thoughts back to the present. She struggled to get herself together, glancing here and there.
‘Gosh,’ she said. ‘I must have nodded off. Have I been asleep long?’
Bob smiled at her. ‘Only about half an hour,’ he replied, slowing down for the traffic that was now building up ahead of them.
‘I’m awfully sorry.’ Jane’s embarrassment was steadily growing.
Bob laughed. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said.
‘Where are we?’ Jane looked around, at the same time retrieving a sandal that had come off and wandered under her seat.
‘Not far from where we have to leave the motorway,’ observed Bob.
‘And I’ve let you do all the driving,’ she commented, making a face.
Bob smiled. ‘I’ve really enjoyed driving a decent car. I think it’s finally convinced me to update my banger.’
Jane continued more quietly. ‘I bought this one just after I lost Graham and moved into the apartment. It doesn’t get a lot of use really – just the occasional pleasure trip or one for work now and then.’
The Golden Anklet Page 7