Love and Devotion (45 page)

‘I think it’s what we in the trade, Miss Swift, call a classic case of the earth moving.’

‘But what did you do?’

He raised himself up onto an elbow and kissed first her left breast and then her right. ‘I’ll show you again in a minute, if you like.’

 

True to his word, he did. And a lot more besides. At three in the morning, she crept across the road and fell into the soundest sleep she’d ever known.

 

 

 

 

At work the following morning Harriet was having difficulty staying awake and if it hadn’t been for Dangerous Dave surprising her at ten thirty with a cup of coffee and an iced doughnut, Howard may well have found her asleep at her desk. As it was, when he thumped on her door and came in she was leaning back in her chair, sucking the sticky remnants of the doughnut from her fingers and reliving with guilty shame all that had happened between her and Will. She had just told herself for the umpteenth time that it had been a night of proving that she was as spontaneous and sensual as the next person. What they’d done was nothing more than an exercise in proving a point.

‘Not disturbing you, am I?’ Howard said, eyeing the empty plate on her desk. ‘Seeing as you’re so in the zone.’

She snapped to attention in her seat and promptly knocked over a file with her elbow. She bent down to retrieve it from the floor and looked up to see Howard smiling oddly at her. ‘How are you fixed for Friday?’ he asked. ‘Any chance you can squeeze a trip to Dublin into your hectic schedule?’

She didn’t need to check her diary; she knew the day was free: it was her birthday. ‘No problem.’

‘Excellent. I’ll fill you in on the details later. Meanwhile, I’m off to the dentist for the joy of some root canal work.’

‘Ouch.’

‘No doubt that’s what I’ll be saying when the cheeky sod bills me. See you.’

He closed the door after him, and with the greatest of effort Harriet forced her brain to apply itself to the programme she was working on. No more thoughts of Will, she warned herself, adopting a much-favoured work position, that of sitting cross-legged in her chair. She soon changed her mind when she realised her body was too sore to sit that way. A picture flashed before her of her legs wrapped around Will’s waist. At once desire tingled up and down her spine. The colour rose to her face, just as it had at breakfast when her mother had commented how tired she looked and had then asked what time she’d got in last night. She swallowed and put the image of her and Will on hold and got on with some work.

She didn’t stop until after one, when she reached a convenient point to take a break. After making sure her door was shut, she settled in the chair again and closed her eyes. She would eat later, she decided. Her immediate priority was to catch up on some much-needed sleep. She was exhausted.

From the second the alarm clock had woken her, she had tried to remember the exact moment last night when she had relinquished her ability to think straight. In her determination to prove Dominic wrong and to prove she wasn’t as dull as he and Spencer had made her feel, she had somehow lost all sense of what she was doing. One minute she was satisfied that she hadn’t imagined the effect Will’s kiss had had on her, and the next she was panting for more. And the trouble was, she knew that having experienced that pleasure, she wanted more of it.

But she was going to be sensible.

And firm.

What had happened last night was a one-off. She would have to make that very clear to Will.

She opened her eyes in panic. The voice - the voice of her conscience - belonged to Dominic. She could see him clearly mocking her. Sneering at her. Taunting her.
‘Oh, so Miss Prissy Boots gets it now, does she? Now she knows what all the fuss is about. Well, my dear, congratulations, you’ve learned the all-important lesson: sex is the only thing that makes you know you’re truly alive. So what are you going to do about it?’

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep now, she went and stood at the window overlooking the car park and fiddled absently with the wooden slats of the blind. But the question remained, and though her body ached in places it never had before, she knew exactly what she was going to do. Heaven help her, but she couldn’t help herself. Dammit! Why was she so weak all of a sudden?

‘Oh, so you’re going to use him, are you?’
taunted Dominic’s voice.
‘How deliciously ironic. The girl who sat in judgement of my sexual proclivities has come a long way.’

I’m not using him, Harriet told herself, and went back to her desk for her mobile phone. No more than he’s using me. We’re both adults, both getting out of this what we each want. It’s called fun. After what I’ve been through, I reckon I deserve it. What’s wrong with that?

 

In his office, while listening to the lunchtime news on the radio and eating a Pot Noodle - a nasty vice from his student days which he’d never grown out of - Will answered his mobile. He sat up straight when he heard Harriet’s voice. He’d wondered who would ring who first. He’d spent most of the morning dithering. He wanted to speak to her for the pleasure of hearing her voice and because he knew women usually demanded a follow-up call, but he worried that she would think he was being pushy and getting above himself. This latter concern stemmed from her lukewarm response last night when they were saying goodbye. He’d handed her a business card with his mobile number and asked the dangerously loaded question of when he might see her again. ‘I’ll have to think about that,’ she’d said.

Wrong answer! he’d wanted to shout. How about you saying you’ll show up at the shop for lunch and asking if I’d mind kissing you again? I’m sure Jarvis wouldn’t mind holding the fort while we got busy in my office.

Over the years he’d been on the receiving end of some tempting come-ons, but that line of Harriet’s -
I need you to kiss me again
- was without doubt the sexiest he’d heard. It had been her brisk, no-nonsense manner undercut by excruciating embarrassment that had done it for him. She had seemed so vulnerable. He suspected that she had no idea what a turn-on it had been. Prior to last night, he’d given considerable thought to what she might be like in bed, but the reality had more than lived up to his expectations. Crudely speaking, once ignited, she’d been hotter than hot and they’d had what would be termed by the pundits as ‘great sex’. He got the feeling she’d been pleasantly surprised by how good they’d been together. Or was that him plumping up his ego?

‘Hi there,’ he said, in his best George Clooney voice.

There was a pause before she spoke. ‘You okay, Will? You sound like you’re coming down with a cold.’

So much for George Clooney. ‘It’s exhaustion,’ he said. ‘I hardly slept a wink last night. But when I did drop off, I dreamed this incredibly sexy woman turned up on my doorstep and demanded I made love to her for hours on end. I know it was a dream because a guy like me could never be that lucky.’ He crossed his fingers, hoping he hadn’t overdone it.

‘That’s weird, because I had the same dream too.’

‘You did? You mean the woman turned up on your doorstep as well? The two-timing little minx!’

Her laughter had him relaxing back into his chair and putting his feet up on to the desk. ‘So, any chance we might get together again? I know it’s difficult for you, what with — ’

‘How about later tonight? I’ve got a parents’ evening at school, but I should be home by eight and with you by nine.’

‘Sounds perfect. Oh, but hang on, I’m seeing Marty for a drink.’

‘I could come over afterwards, when you’re back.’

The implication was clear, and any fears he’d had that she’d regretted last night were now gone. She was as keen to see him as he was to be with her.

 

Up on deck, Bob was polishing the brassware on board the
Jennifer Rose.
He’d been at it now for over an hour. One more porthole and then he’d go down below and make himself some coffee.

And then he’d ring Jennifer. He had to try to make her change her mind. She couldn’t possibly have meant what she’d said during their last conversation. It must have been a reaction to her illness and the medication she was taking. She wasn’t thinking straight.

When he’d phoned her at the weekend, her voice had been almost unrecognisable. Alarmed, he’d asked her if she was all right.

‘According to the latest doctor who’s seen me, I now have pneumonia,’ she told him. ‘I think they’re working their way through the medical encyclopaedia.’

‘I’ll come down at once.’

‘No. You mustn’t.’

‘But who’s there to look after you?’

‘Don’t worry, my children are rallying round now.’

‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital? Pneumonia’s serious.’

‘If I was a child or an elderly old dear, then maybe. But fortunately I’m neither. I need to rest, that’s all. How are you?’

‘Miserable. I ... I miss you so much.’

That’s when she told him. ‘Bob, you’ve been so sweet to me, but really, it’s time to be sensible. You’re married. You have a wife and a family who all need you more than I do.’

‘That’s not true. They’re all getting on with their lives without me.’

‘What you mean is that they’re getting on without Felicity and you can’t bear that, can you?’

When he hadn’t responded, she’d said, ‘I’ll always be at the end of a phone to talk to you, Bob, but we can only ever be friends. I blame myself; I turned to you when I was feeling low and alone, but now I know better.’

Since then, he’d gone over and over what she’d said. Part of it was true: the bit about hating his family for being able to carry on without Felicity. It was callous and heartless of them. The worst of it was seeing Harriet so pleased about that house she was buying. How could she be pleased about anything when her sister was nothing but dust in the ground? They’d driven home with Eileen and the children all chattering on about how the rooms could be decorated and what a lovely time they’d have living there, and Harriet had selfishly waltzed off to have a drink with Will. Bob had almost aired the thought he’d vowed he never would: why couldn’t it have been Harriet who had died? Why Felicity? Why his precious Felicity? He knew it was a bad thought, but he couldn’t help it.

Satisfied that the brasswork was gleaming to perfection, he went down below. He was quite at home on the
Jennifer
Rose and knew where everything was kept. The boat was now safely moored at the marina, and as he’d promised Jennifer, he was keeping an eye on it for her. ‘You can take it for a run, if you like,’ she’d said. ‘I’d appreciate those new engine parts being tested properly.’

He hadn’t done that yet, but he’d got a rapport going with the older of the two men who ran the marina and they were quite happy for him to show up with Toby and potter about on the boat. He didn’t have Toby with him today, because he’d known that he had to be completely alone when he spoke to Jennifer. He didn’t want any distractions when he told her just how he felt about her. That he couldn’t go on if he didn’t think she’d be there for him.

 

Dora parked the car, switched off the engine and said, ‘You’ve absolutely sure you want to do this?’

Eileen knew her friend was doubtful about what they were doing, but the time had come to think about herself.

She was tired of always making allowances for Bob. It was her daughter too who had died, but the way Bob went on, you’d think no one had loved Felicity but him. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a proper conversation. All that passed between them these days was fragments of conversation, and now that he had become so critical, she was damned if she was going to put up with it any longer. Felicity’s death didn’t mean the living were condemned to a slow death as well.

‘Dora,’ she said, ‘I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.’

‘Then let’s go, girl.’

The office wasn’t at all as Eileen had pictured it. Where was the glamour? The promise of a romance and a new life? It looked more like a dental surgery waiting room. While they waited for someone to speak to them, she whispered to Dora, ‘It’s a bit down at heel.’

‘So was the train station where Trevor Howard met Celia Johnson in
Brief Encounter.’

Eileen giggled. Mostly from nerves. She had never cheated on anyone but now she was about to start living a double life.

The door opened and a plump, middle-aged woman came in, bringing with her a waft of strong perfume and slick professionalism. ‘Eileen, forgive me for keeping you waiting. You don’t mind me calling you Eileen, do you? Here at the Soiree Club, we like to keep things informal. So much more conducive to making new friendships, don’t you think?’ She smiled across at Dora. ‘But of course, Dora will have told you all about how we operate. Now then, I have your membership application here and I thought we might just run through it together. I think it would be advisable to pad out the section where it asks for hobbies and interests. As it stands, yours seems just a tad thin. What do you suggest we pep it up with?’

Eileen was at a loss. It was the part of the form that had worried her most. It had also made her realise just how little she did beyond the four walls of her home. She’d become as good as institutionalised.

‘Do you like to travel?’ the woman asked her.

‘Well, yes. But I haven’t actually had the chance — ’

The woman put a tick in the box opposite Travel.

‘And I’ll bet a pound to a penny that you’re a fine cook.’

‘Only very ordinary, everyday — ’

A tick went in the box marked Cordon Bleu Cook.

‘What about trips to the theatre?’