by Sara Craven
She repeated it as she put on her prettiest lace briefs and sprayed her arms and breasts lightly with matching scent. As she applied her make-up and combed her hair into glossy waves around her face. And as she finally slipped on the knee-skimming cream georgette dress with the deep-V neckline, which discreetly signalled that she was wearing no bra.
Too obvious? she worried in front of the mirror. Or simply a means to an end? A message to Ian that at last she was his for the taking.
Absurd to feel even remotely jittery about something that was so natural and would be so right, she thought sliding her feet into low-heeled sandals that echoed the colour of the lapis lazuli drops in her ears. Yet for some reason, she did.
Ian was in the sitting room talking to her aunt and uncle when she arrived downstairs. When he turned in response to her quiet, ‘Good evening,’ and saw her standing in the doorway, his jaw dropped.
‘God, Clo, you look amazing—like someone from a magazine cover.’
‘You look pretty good yourself.’ And it wasn’t just his looks, she thought as she went to him smiling, appraising his black-and-white houndstooth tweed jacket, worn with dark trousers and the ruby silk tie which set off his crisp white shirt. He’d dressed to kill too, for this important night in their lives.
It’s going to be all right, she thought. It’s going to be wonderful.
She lifted her face, offering him her lips, but he reddened slightly and deposited a kiss on her cheek instead.
‘Have a wonderful time,’ Aunt Libby whispered with a hug, as Ian paused to have a final word with Uncle Hal on their way out. ‘I won’t wait up.’
Chloe detected a hint of apprehension in her smile and hugged her back. ‘Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now. I know what I’m doing.’
When Chloe was growing up, the Willowford Arms had been just a village pub offering good beer, a dartboard and a skittle alley.
Over the years, under successive landlords, however, it had changed completely. The saloon bar still offered tradition, but the lounge had morphed into a reception area and smart cocktail bar for the restaurant, now housed in a striking conservatory extension.
There were no great surprises on the menu, but the freshness of the ingredients and excellent cooking had earned the pub favourable mentions in the county magazine and various food guides and, even early in the week as this was, there were few empty tables to be seen.
The staff were mainly locals, and they all seemed genuinely pleased to see Chloe, if a little surprised. Ian, she noted with some surprise of her own, was treated as a regular.
‘That pork afelia you liked last week is on the specials board tonight,’ their waitress told him as she showed them to their table, where Chloe was thrilled to find champagne on ice waiting along with the menus.
‘Now there’s a bit of forward planning,’ she teased as their glasses were filled. ‘What a terrific thought.’
‘Well, I felt something special was called for to celebrate the return of the native.’ Ian touched his glass to hers. ‘It’s great to see you, Clo. It’s been a hell of a long time.’
‘I know.’ She smiled into his eyes. ‘But now, I promise you, I’m home for good.’
She paused. ‘Unlike, I’ve discovered, my aunt and uncle, busily transforming the Grange for the market and a major move. Rather a shock to the system, I have to say.’
‘It was a surprise to me too,’ he admitted. ‘But—things change. People move on. It’s the way of the world, and Hal’s put his heart and soul into the practice for a long time, so he deserves to enjoy his retirement.’
She toyed with the idea of some jokey comment on the lines of, however it means I’m going to be homeless. Any suggestions? but decided it was too early in the evening, confining herself to a neutral, ‘I’m happy for them too.’
Besides, the lead should definitely come from him, she thought as she sipped her champagne.
She’d played the scene so often in her imagination—hearing him murmur, ‘It’s so wonderful to have you back with me, darling. Stay for ever,’ as he produced the little velvet jeweller’s box—that she felt as if she’d somehow missed a cue.
‘I think I might try this pork afelia you’re so keen on,’ she said as she scanned the menu. ‘With the vegetable terrine to start with.’
‘It’s a good choice,’ he said. ‘I had it when I brought Lloyd Hampton, our new partner-to-be here. Wanted to convince him that he wasn’t altogether moving away from civilisation as he knows it.’
‘It’s clearly done the trick.’
‘I hope so. He’s a really good bloke, and his wife’s a doll.’
He’s married then? was also going to sound like a sharp elbow in the ribs, thought Chloe.
‘I shall look forward to meeting her,’ was her chosen alternative.
‘You’re bound to,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure that Lloyd is interested in buying the Grange. He and Viv have two children, and the third’s on the way, so they need the space.’
‘Well, yes. It sounds ideal,’ said Chloe, resolutely ignoring the pang of disappointment in the far corner of her mind which had visualised a very different future for her old home when she and Ian would also need more space than the cottage. Hopefully for the same reason.
When they took their seats at the corner, candlelit table waiting for them, Ian drank another half glass of champagne, then announced he was switching to mineral water.
‘Because you’re driving?’ Chloe, settling for a glass of house red, gave him a rueful look. ‘What a shame, because it’s a lovely evening, and we could easily have walked.’ And the cottage is even nearer than the Grange when it’s time for home …
‘Past all those twitching curtains?’ He pulled a face. ‘I’d really rather not. A vehicle at least gives an illusion of privacy.’
‘Talking of which,’ she said. ‘I gather you sold your last jeep to Darius Maynard.’
‘I heard he was in the market for something more serviceable in addition to that flashy sports car he’s so fond of. I’d decided to trade up, so it seemed like serendipity.’
She said slowly, ‘Yes, I suppose so. Although it seems odd—having him back here just as if nothing had happened.’
He shrugged. ‘It must have been with his father’s agreement, Clo, so it’s their family business, not ours.’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’ She played with a fork. ‘I understand Sir Gregory’s getting over his stroke.’
‘Indeed he is. Coming on by leaps and bounds, according to the latest reports.’
‘I’m glad. I always liked him, although he could be intimidating.’ She paused. ‘I used to go up the Hall when I was in my teens and read to Lady Maynard when she was so ill.’
‘How did that happen?’
‘I won a school poetry competition that she judged. I enjoyed being with her. She was the sweetest person. Darius was with her a lot too and I always felt that he was secretly her favourite.’ She paused. ‘I was always glad she didn’t know how he turned out. What he did to—Andrew.’ She bit her lip. ‘Betrayal’s such a terrible thing.’
‘It is,’ Ian said quietly. ‘But we don’t actually know the circumstances. Maybe they couldn’t help themselves.’
Upon which the first course arrived, and the conversation turned inevitably to the food.
And Ian was quite right about the pork, Chloe decided after she’d tasted one of the tender cubes of fillet, flavoured with garlic and coriander, cooked in wine, and served with savoury brown rice and mangetouts.
For dessert, she chose an opulent dark-chocolate mousse, well-laced with brandy, while Ian opted for cheese and biscuits.
‘You should have picked another pud, so we could share like we used to,’ she told him in mock reproach.
He gave a constrained smile. ‘Out of practice, I guess.’
For what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening, he took his mobile phone from his pocket and checked it.
And what a very annoying habit that i
s, thought Chloe as she ate her last spoonful of mousse.
Aloud, she said mildly, ‘Isn’t Uncle Hal taking your calls this evening?’
‘Well, yes.’ Ian replaced the phone in his jacket. ‘But I’m waiting for news of the Crawfords’ Kirsty. She’s a really good little bitch—won all kinds of shows already, and this may be her only litter, so it needs to go well.’
Chloe’s brows lifted. ‘But I thought it had already happened last night.’
‘False alarm,’ he said. ‘Main event still expected at any moment, and they want me to stand by in case of emergency.’ He signalled to the waitress. ‘Would you like filter coffee or espresso?’
She took a deep breath, summoning up courage she hadn’t thought she’d need. ‘Why don’t we make our minds up about that back at the cottage? It’s been a gorgeous meal, but a bit public for a proper reunion, don’t you think?’ She reached across the table, and touched his hand with hers. ‘I really think we need to spend some time alone together—and talk.’
‘Yes, of course we should, and I want that too,’ Ian said quickly. ‘But not tonight, Clo.’ He gave an awkward laugh. ‘For one thing, the cottage is in a bit of a mess. For another—there’s been barely minimum contact between us for a whole year now. I’ve hardly heard from you, let alone seen you. Being on opposite sides of the country didn’t help, either, and both of us being so busy. And now you turning up out of the blue like this is frankly the last thing I was expecting.’
He added quickly, ‘It isn’t that it’s not wonderful to see you, or that I don’t want you—please believe that. Just that maybe we should take it easy for a while—get to know each other again—before, well, anything …’
His voice tailed off uncomfortably and in the silence that followed, Chloe could hear her heart beating a sudden tattoo—a call to arms. Because the situation was going terribly, disastrously wrong.
Men go off the boil as quick as they go on it … Mrs Thursgood’s words rang ominously in her ears. But that couldn’t be happening—not to them …
She removed her hand, and sat back in her chair. Summoned a smile that would somehow manage to be calm and amused at the same time. And give no hint of her inner turmoil of shocked disbelief.
‘Actually, you may well be right in wanting not to rush things.’ She made herself speak almost casually. ‘Being wise for both of us, no less. And, anyway, taking our time could be much nicer. Even exciting.’
She paused. ‘Besides, you’re clearly up to your ears in work and the new plans for the practice. And I—I have to start looking for another job.
‘As for coffee,’ she added brightly. ‘I think I’d prefer decaf. And when the bill comes, in line with our fresh start, I insist we go Dutch.’
And she stuck to her guns in spite of his obvious reluctance.
Now all I want to do is get out of here, she thought, reaching for her bag, and the blue-and-gold fringed shawl she’d brought instead of a jacket.
But the Fates hadn’t finished with her yet.
As she walked back into the bar, the first person she saw was Darius Maynard at a table by the window, talking with apparent intimacy to a girl she’d never seen before, slim and very attractive in a sleeveless red dress, with blonde hair drawn back from her face into a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck
And it seemed Darius had spotted her in return, she thought, her heart sinking as he rose to his feet, smiling faintly.
‘What a delightful surprise. Lindsay and I have been to the cinema in East Ledwick and we just popped in for a nightcap. Would you care to join us?’
‘It’s a kind thought, but I think I’ll pass, if you don’t mind.’ She had no wish to allow any hint of the edgy state of her relationship to become apparent to those shrewd green eyes, currently assessing the deep slash of her neckline. Or expose it to the scrutiny of some strange blonde either. ‘Stuff to do tomorrow and all that.’
‘But the night is still young,’ he said softly. ‘So, what about you, Cartwright? Surely you can talk your lady round?’
‘On the contrary,’ Ian returned, a little frostily. ‘Once Chloe’s made up her mind, it usually stays that way. And I also have a busy day ahead of me. But thanks again, anyway.’
‘I see that leopards don’t change their spots,’ Chloe commented as they walked to the jeep. ‘Who’s his latest fancy?’
‘Her name’s Lindsay Watson,’ Ian said shortly. ‘And she’s his father’s resident nurse.’
Aunt Libby’s charming girl, thought Chloe and gave a faint whistle. ‘Under the same roof, even,’ she said lightly. ‘How very convenient.’
‘Not necessarily.’ Ian started the engine. ‘He’s not irresistible, you know.’
When they reached the Grange, Chloe turned towards him. ‘I won’t invite you in, but does the fresh start merit a goodnight kiss?’ she asked, her voice teasing. ‘Or do we just shake hands?’
‘Of course I want to kiss you,’ he said with sudden roughness. ‘Any man would. Hell, even Maynard was looking at you as if he could eat you.’
He pulled her into his arms, his mouth heavy and demanding where she’d expected tenderness—even diffidence. This was the moment she’d been dreaming of—longing for—yet she was struggling to respond, the thrust of his tongue between her parted lips feeling almost—alien.
As his hand pushed aside the edge of her dress to close on her bare breast, she tore her mouth free and sat up abruptly, bracing her hands against his chest in negation.
‘Ian—no, please.’ she protested hoarsely.
‘What’s the matter?’ He reached for her again. ‘Isn’t this what you want—what tonight was all about?’
Not like this—never like this …
‘But it has to be what we both want. You must see that.’ She spoke more calmly, moving back from him, straightening her dress with finality. ‘And you—to be honest, I just don’t know any more.’
Because suddenly you ‘re a stranger and I don’t like it. Can’t figure how to deal with it.
There was a silence, then he sighed. ‘God, I’m sorry, Clo. You must think I’m insane. I suppose it’s being without you for so long. So, can we simply forget tonight and start again?’
His face was looking strained, almost guilty, but perhaps it was a trick of the dim light.
She said quietly, ‘That’s a good thought.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Fine.’ She paused. ‘Then—goodnight.’
As she walked up the path to the door, she heard the jeep start up and drive away and realised her legs were trembling.
‘You’re back early.’ There was music coming from the sitting room where Uncle Hal was relaxing, his paper open at the crossword. ‘Have a good time?’
‘As always,’ she returned cheerfully, lowering herself into the chair opposite. ‘What are you listening to?’
‘Mozart, of course. A selection of favourite arias, and this is mine starting now.’ He turned up the sound a little. ‘The Countess lamenting her lost happiness from Figaro. “Dove sono I bei momenti”.’
‘Oh, yes, I remember,’ she said slowly. ‘When you took Aunt Libby and me to Glyndebourne for her birthday. It was wonderful.’ And quoted, ‘ “Where are the beautiful moments of pleasure and delight? Where have they flown, those vows made by a deceitful tongue?” ‘
He nodded. ‘A supreme moment of artistry.’
Then the poignant music and the soaring melancholy of the exquisite soprano voice captured them and held them in silence.
The aria was still in Chloe’s head, plangent and heart-wrenching, as she went up to her room.
Maybe not the ideal thing to have listened to in the circumstances, she acknowledged wryly as she got ready for bed.
Yet nothing had really been lost, she thought. They’d just got off to a rocky start, that was all. And somewhere soon, with Ian, she would find that those ‘moments of pleasure and delight’ hadn’t disappeared at all, but were still waiting f
or her.
It will all be fine, she told herself, turning on her side and closing her eyes. I know it.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I MET Sir Gregory’s charming nurse last night,’ Chloe remarked, watching her aunt extract a tray of scones from the Aga. ‘She was in the Willowford Arms having a drink.’
Aunt Libby shot her a swift glance as she transferred her baking to a cooling rack. ‘And you thought—what?’
Chloe shrugged. ‘That she seemed intent on charming her patient’s son and heir.’
‘You mean she was with Darius?’ Her aunt’s brows lifted.
‘Well, they’re both single, so why not? Another blonde, like Penny, of course. He runs true to form.’ Chloe espied a crumb escaping from the rack and ate it.
‘I never noticed he had any particular preference,’ her aunt said drily. ‘However, Lindsay Watson’s a lovely girl as well as being extremely capable with a lot of sense.’ She added slowly. ‘Darius could do far worse.’
‘And often has.’ Chloe tried to encourage the edge of another scone to make its bid for freedom and had her hand slapped away.
‘Those are for the WI tea, madam. If you’re hungry there’s plenty of fruit in the bowl.’
‘Yes, Auntie dear.’ Chloe examined a fleck on her nail. ‘But how do you think Sir Gregory would feel about it—Darius and his nurse I mean?’
‘Thankful, probably,’ Mrs Jackson returned briskly. ‘It’s high time that young man married and had a family. It’s his duty and exactly what the Hall needs, so it could well be the best thing all round. Besides, it would be good for his father to have grandchildren. Give him a new interest in life. Nurse Swann who helps with some of the night duties says he gets bored, which in turn makes him impatient—and that isn’t helping his recovery.’
‘No,’ Chloe said slowly. ‘I can understand that.’
She was less sure about her inner vision of Sir Gregory’s stern stateliness under siege from a pack of blond infants.
While the image of Darius the married man was something else again.