A Well Kept Secret (33 page)

“What can I say?” he asked quietly. “Perhaps it would have been better if I had never come to this house; I seem to have caused you nothing but misery and unhappiness.”

“But you haven’t” she protested. “I keep telling you, but you don't
listen
! It isn’t you, it’s
me
!
I’m
the one with the problem! I heard what Beverley said to you, I heard what you said to her, and you know what? I would give anything to have been able to come into the kitchen there and then to tell you that I would be more than happy to be as one with you all the way! To have a man I could look up to, a stepdaughter I could be so proud of, a home, and a stable life. Only I knew even as I so desperately wished for it, that it could never be, because I just couldn’t go through with it!”

There were tears in her eyes as she spoke, and he could see her shoulders quivering. More than anything he wanted to reach out, to comfort her, to crush her to him, yet he did nothing, knowing that such an action would only widen the gulf between them.

“June,” he said softly at last. “I can't tell you how much it hurts me to see you so unhappy.
 
I understand and accept how you must feel; I just wish I could wave a magic wand and make all the unpleasantness go away. Sadly, I can’t; this is real life and wands are in short supply. In my own way, I have been agonising also; because I simply could not come to terms with my own feelings. I haven’t been widowed long and I have never thought of another woman. Then I came here to Springwater House and met you. Ever since I first saw you, something happened, but I have been denying it to myself, even though you saw and recognised it long before I did. I want you to know that the doubt is over now. Maybe as you say, it can never be, yet that alters nothing; I need you to understand that there can never be anyone else for me now.”

She looked at him hopelessly, the tears still in the corners of her eyes.

“Then I shall have to go away,” she whispered. “It is the only answer because much as I want to be yours, it cannot be, and there is no sense torturing ourselves is there?”

“I cannot answer that, but do you not recall I said to you when we were talking earlier that I want to help you? I meant it, and nothing you have now said to me makes any difference. There are no strings attached to any help I can give and perhaps we shall never go beyond this point. Then again, maybe one day you will, and if ever you should, I shall be waiting. There is no need for you to make any hasty decisions; why not allow me to try to help you. Will you not at least give me that chance?”

She hesitated, and then sighed as she came to a decision. “How can I refuse?” she asked, but more of herself than Martin. “It is like you said; I cannot go on running for ever. If I don’t make a stand now, I probably never will.” She looked at him as she fought with her own feelings; doubt and desire so visibly conflicting within her. Suddenly gave a small, nervous half smile and stood up in front of him.

“May I ask you something,” she said in a very low voice.

“You can always ask me anything you like; you must know that.”

“Will you kiss me?” she asked, watching his face closely for any instinctive reaction. “I mean, kiss me as a man would kiss the woman he loved with genuine feeling; not just the perfunctory peck-on-the-cheek that means nothing?”

“You
really
want me to do that?” he asked, trying hard to hide his astonishment at the totally unexpected nature of the question.

“Martin, I
have
to start somewhere; I have to see if I can go through with it without flinching or panicking. Don’t you see; I want so much to be with you, and yet I am petrified at the thought! If I am ever going to experience anything like a normal life I have to start breaking down the barriers of a lifetime, and you are the only person in the world I trust, the only person who can help me. I know I am asking a lot of you, and I shall not think any the less of you if you don’t want to do this.”

He stood up slowly, and she moved nervously towards him to stand as close as she could, looking up into his eyes with a half hopeful half fearful expression upon her face. Slowly and tenderly, he put his arms round her, and drew her gently towards him. He could feel her slim body trembling through the thin material of her dressing gown as she lifted her face to his. He bent his head down to hers, and her eyes closed. Very slowly and gently, he drew her towards him, finally allowing his lips to caress hers as he kissed her long and tenderly. She quivered like a frightened fawn as he first touched her, and then as the seconds passed he could feel her gradually releasing the tension, the rigidity slowly fading from her body until at last she appeared to melt into his arms.

For Martin it was an emotional experience such as he had never expected to experience again when Alicia had died. As his lips touched hers, the last remaining doubts faded away, and he knew at last that it was love. It was love, yet in a different way from the love he had felt for Alicia. The feeling of guilt that had been holding him back receded into the distance, and with the dawning realisation of true love, a new feeling of protectiveness blossomed, as he now knew that he would do anything in the world for her. He held her gently in his arms, and found himself wishing for that moment of bliss to go on forever.

Presently, she eased her lips slowly from his, and drew away from him. He said nothing, for there was nothing at all he could say he had not already expressed. He fought down the desire to enfold her again; to refuse to allow her ever to leave him, yet he did nothing. She looked up at him, and her eyes were glistening. For a long time they stood there, and not a word was spoken, for in a way, neither of them needed to speak, for what now existed between them was there in their eyes for all to see, and they both knew, and they both understood.

“I think,” she whispered at last, “that I should go back to my room now.”

She slowly moved away from him, making her way back to the door. He remained where he stood, not trusting himself to say or do anything. She opened the door quietly, and then moved out from the room, pausing to look back at him.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Martin woke suddenly, realising that he had overslept his usual time by almost an hour. No sooner were his eyes open than the events of the previous night came flooding back into his mind. He vividly recalled the emotions that had coursed through him as he had held June in his arms, yet as he remembered the old doubts about his own sincerity and his own inner motivation also came crowding back. Reviewed in the cold light of day it all seemed somehow totally unreal. The feeling that he was in a sense betraying his much loved and sadly departed wife was still hard to shake off, no matter how he sought to justify the way he now felt.

After June had left him, he had laid back on the bed turning things over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of what was happening. He had been in a complete turmoil, with one half of his being aching for her in a way that he had not ached for a woman since Alicia had died, whilst yet another part of his being sought to tell him that he was drifting into a fool’s paradise. How could he be sure that June
really
felt about him as he did about her? How could he be sure that she wasn’t simply making use of him in an effort to conquer her own demons? How could he possibly be sure about her if he wasn’t even sure about himself? Sleep was the last thing on his mind, yet somehow nature had eventually intervened, and he had dropped off without ever realising it was happening.

He rose quickly, slipping into the bathroom for a shave and a shower before venturing down stairs. It was well past nine o’clock, and there was much he wished to do before setting off to see his late uncle’s old housekeeper. First and foremost in his mind was seeing June again. For his own peace of mind he needed to see if she now regretted the actions of the previous night; he wanted to see the look in her eyes, the look he had seen the previous night, even if only to convince himself that what he had seen was true. He desperately hoped that everything was for real; yet he knew that he needed to be prepared for the fact that in the light of the new day it might all be different. He strode over to the kitchen and threw open the door and walked in.

June was standing at the sink on the far side of the room, and she glanced up as he entered and gave a slight smile of recognition. That smile meant so much to him, for it signified that at least she was harbouring no resentment for what had transpired between them in the night. Their eyes met, and in that instant he knew that he had not been fooling himself. She didn’t need to voice it, he could read it there in her eyes, and a tremendous feeling of relief flooded right through his system.

“I thought I heard you moving about,” she said brightly. “Your breakfast is about ready.”

“Excellent,” he replied in the same cheerful toned that she had employed, and settling himself at the table. “Are the girls up yet?”

“Not only up, they have breakfasted, and they are back at their tree house again.”

She scooped up a plate of bacon, eggs, tomatoes, and fried bread and placed it before him. There was absolutely nothing in her manner to indicate whether the events of the night still worried her. There was still much that had been left unsaid, and he guessed that she was waiting for him to take the lead.

“Thanks,” he said, picking up the knife and fork, “and if you can spare a few minutes, I’d like to talk?”

“Now, if you like,” she answered lightly. “I’ve done most of what I needed to do; I’ll just pour coffees and I’ll be with you,”
 
If she feared what he might say now that he had had the chance to sleep on the events of the night, it didn’t show.

A few moments later she placed the cups on the table, and sat opposite him.
 
She was, he noted, well turned out, and under the protective apron she was dressed in a far more feminine manner than he had seen before, and her hair was somehow fashioned in a more feminine style. It was hard to imagine that this was the same woman who, only a matter of a day or two earlier had looked so grim and forbidding.

“As I said yesterday evening,” he said, as he swallowed a mouthful of food and rested his cutlery down for a moment, “it would be better if you and the girls came with me today?”

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining things or not, but he thought he saw just the smallest flicker of relief in her eyes that he had not plunged head-first into far more sensitive subjects. It wasn’t that they were not uppermost in his mind, because they were. It was more a sense of caution; a natural desire not to be thought of as pushing her into decisions she might not yet be ready for that caused him to steer towards lest sensitive topics.

“You think it really necessary?” she asked. “It seems a bit of an imposition to have me tag along?”

He dealt with another mouthful of food as he considered his reply.

“Just call it a precaution if you like,” he explained, putting his cutlery down again. “In view of what you have told me about your husband and his associates I think that being alone here you may just be in danger. The possibility cannot be denied that the person who tried to break in here could be either him or one of his friends, and the only reason he would have attempted an entry was to get at you.”

“You still think he has been let out of prison?”

“You have to admit that it is a possibility you cannot afford to ignore. Maybe as yet we don’t know for a fact that he is at liberty, I just don’t want you to take the risk. I will be making enquiries this morning which will hopefully establish whether he is still safely inside or not. Even if he is, I’m not happy about leaving you here on your own; inside or not, you have already told me that he has friends willing to carry out his threats.”

“I wouldn’t be on my own, would I?” she protested. “I will have Beverley and-”

“And what good do you think two young girls will be if someone does try to get at you?” he interrupted pointedly. “No June, quite apart from the fact that I worry about you in this situation, I certainly cannot risk the girls becoming involved in it. Forget the work for once; I certainly won’t be complaining about anything. Look upon it as a trip out; I’m certain you could do with a break. It’s a seaside town, and the weather is warm and sunny. You can pack a picnic, and spend time on the beach with the girls while I go and see Mrs Jefferson. I don’t suppose I will be with her very long, and I’ll join you when I’m finished; now what do you say?”

He could see that she was tempted, and yet at the same time there was still that diffidence there, almost as if she was becoming increasingly aware that she was the hired help, and he her employer. To him there was no difference, no barrier, yet at the same time he could understand how it might seem to her, never having known anything better in her life.

“You really think that somebody might actually attempt something here in broad daylight?” she asked at last.

“By your own admission someone tried once before in broad daylight,” he reminded her. “It would be foolish to go on thinking that your presence here is unknown. You have to accept that what has been tried once may happen again.”

“I suppose you are right; I’m trying to fool myself,” she admitted after a moment’s thought. “If you are really sure you want me to come, then why not? I’m sure the girls will enjoy the outing, and I can look after them while you are busy.”

“I’m really glad you are coming,” he said, and meant it, “and yes, now that you mention it, I wouldn’t have known what to have done with the girls on my own.”

“Then I will pack a picnic, and make sure the girls are ready in time,” she said brightly. “When do you expect to leave?”

“I thought about eleven to eleven fifteen?”

“That’s fine.”

She paused, looking down at her coffee cup for a few moments, and then she looked up, staring straight into his eyes. He wanted to say what was in his heart, only somehow the words wouldn’t come.

“June,” he started to say, but she cut him off quickly

“About last night,” she interrupted swiftly. “I’m really sorry I embarrassed you; I don’t know what came over me. I dread to think what you really think of me now, I-”

“June, you didn’t embarrass me in the slightest,” he broke in. “If you will pardon an old fashioned phrase, I can only say that I was honoured that you would trust me to the extent of actually coming. In the circumstances I doubt I would ever have had the nerve. I want you to know that I meant every word I said to you last night, and I mean them just as much again today. Maybe you haven’t fully realised it, but last night you let the first real ray of light back into the darkness of my bleak existence. When I woke, you were all I could think of, and yet I dreaded learning this morning that you had changed your mind and was going to shut me out.”

She looked at him searchingly as he finished speaking, almost as if she could scarcely credit what he was trying to tell her; delight and fear seemed to be there in her eyes in equal proportions

“Please tell me that you’re not just saying that to try to make me feel good, Martin,” she said in a voice that was almost strangled by emotion, “I couldn’t bear it if you were.”

He placed his cutlery down once more, reaching across the table to place his hands over hers.

“You and Beverley are the only people in the world I really care about,” he assured her, squeezing her hands gently to emphasise his words. “I know how hard it is for you, and I will wait for as long as it takes; and even if you never want me as a husband, I hope at least that you will regard me as a true friend, for I shall always care for you.”

She gave him a brief fleeting smile of acknowledgement mixed with relief, turning her hands to grasp his, squeezing them in gratitude.

“You weren’t the only one who was worried about a change of heart,” she whispered. “Ever since I rose this morning I kept dreading that you would come down here and tell me that the situation was no longer acceptable, that you didn’t want me, and that I would have to go.”

“I could never do that!”

“I’m just not used to anyone being decent,” she sighed. “I know I was wrong to doubt you, and I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think that men like you existed outside of the pages of an old romantic novel; even now I’m not really sure if I am dreaming or not. This whole situation is a completely new experience for me; you will have to give me time.”

“You can have as much time as you want, you must know that?”

She sighed, and then looked up at him again. “Can I tell you something quite dreadful?”

“You can tell me anything you like.”

“It’s going to sound silly; I mean, I’m a grown woman, yet if ever I am to live a normal life I need to tell you; I need to see your reaction?”

“June, all I want to do is to help you, and if it helps to tell me things, then I’m honoured that you think enough of me to wish to do it.”

She looked down at the table as if once again gathering her determination for something difficult, and then she looked up at him, watching his eyes closely as she spoke.

“When you kissed me last night, it was like I was two people. That kiss was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. I know it sounds ridiculous, only, well, it was like I was suddenly free of all the worries and fears that have filled my life up to that point. I don’t know how you did it; you somehow touched something deep within me I thought simply did not exist, a powerful need for another human being, a longing to be wanted for myself as a person. One part of me wanted you so desperately I could have cried while the other half dreaded the prospect of your touch. That one kiss awakened within me a sensation I have never experienced before in my life, and it thrilled me to the marrow. It was like an electric current coursing through my body; you have no idea how I longed for you to possess me there and then, and yet the very thought of you making love to me was so horrific I wanted to flee in terror.

What I am trying to say is; I have never known love, not
real
love. In all my life since I was taken into that children’s home I have only ever been possessed by men who needed the use of my body. There has never been any finesse, no tenderness, no feeling, only brutality and lust. From the time I lost my parents men have used me. I’ve been beaten, raped, sodomised, and utterly degraded, so I suppose it is no wonder that in my mind sex is always equated with pain and fear. I thought I genuinely loved my husband, only I didn’t really know what love was. He took me for a complete fool; somebody he knew would be as putty in his hands.
 
I was so in love with my own romantic idea of what true love would be I couldn’t see reality. The dream lasted right up to my marriage; the marriage that should have transported me into my idea of heaven, yet instead took me to hell!
 
All the romantic dreams that had flourished in spite of everything vanished on my wedding-night. Not until I was fainting from the pain of a terribly beating would my husband make what he regarded as ‘love’ to me. Until you kissed me, I hadn’t realised that there was a third kind of love; the kind that is based upon caring for another as they would care for you. It is a totally novel concept for me, and one that I am still trying to get used to.”