More Than You Know (100 page)

“I can’t stand it either.”

And then he turned on his side and pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her. Hard. And quite … well, yes, impatiently. As he did most things. And as if he couldn’t get enough of her, fast enough.

And then … and then … and then …

She wanted him so much, wanted it so much, it shocked her. Everything—her anxiety, her grief, her remorse—was gone, thrown aside in its wake, in a great roaring, raging wave of desire, selfish, greedy, desperate. Her body took his in and could not have enough of it; she yearned, sought, soared into delight, into a clear, bright, brilliant pleasure that spread through her swiftly, sweetly, wonderfully, reaching into her most secret self, into her head and into her heart. And when finally she collapsed, trembling, weak with relief and release, she realised he was almost laughing, very quietly, his hand over her mouth, the sheet over their heads.

“God, you’re noisy,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“That and the bed combined. It was amazing. You are amazing.
I … I loved it,” he said after a pause, and the words surprised and touched her.

“Toby, it was lovely. Really lovely. Thank you. Do you think—” She stopped.

“What?”

“Do you think it would have happened if we hadn’t been here, if we’d just driven home and—”

“Not yet,” he said. “But it would only have been a postponement. I’ve thought about it ever since I first set eyes on you, in Philip Gordon’s office.”

“You haven’t!” she said, and she was genuinely and most sweetly astonished.

“Yes, I have. I might have seemed to be thinking about witnesses and evidence and rights of access, but actually I was thinking, ‘I wonder what she looks like without her clothes on,’ and ‘I wonder what she’s like in bed.’ I thought how very lovely you were, and how you were the very first woman for a long, long time who had … well, moved me, is the only expression.”

“Oh, Toby. That’s so … so nice.”

“It’s true. And now I know you look pretty good without your clothes on, and you are not half-bad in bed. How about you?”

“I just thought you were very scary.”

“Just?”

“Well, I found you a bit … disturbing.”

“Disturbing—such a sexy word. I feel a little bit disturbed again now, actually.”

“I—”

There was the sound of a door opening, footsteps in the corridor; the light showed through a crack in the door.

“We’re going to get expelled,” she whispered.

“Shush …”

The light went out again; the door was heard to close; the house became silent.

“Phew!”

“Yes, but …”

“Yes, but what …”

“I find I rather want you again. Even more. You?”

“I … might do,” she said, sitting up, pulling the pillows from under them, hurling them across the room.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s do it on the floor. Must be quieter.”

“But … will you be quieter?”

“I’ll try. Come on, come on; don’t keep me waiting …”

She woke up at six, back in bed, to find the sun flooding into the room and Toby gone; she looked round, alarmed. Had he fled, back into the anonymity of London, safe from the disgrace of flouting the rules of the bar?

He hadn’t. He came back in, one of the very small towels they had been given round his waist, his hair wet.

“Sorry. Went to have a bath. Now, listen. We have to have a talk.”

This was it. He was going to tell her it had been great, but it was over.

“From now on,” he said, affirming her fears, “we must forget this. Forget how we feel, how we’ve behaved, how we discovered each other. I cannot tell you how important that is. The merest hint of what has gone on and we would both of us be done for in that courtroom. If I am to fight for you and for Emmie, I must do it on my own terms, dispassionately and temperately, as if, indeed, you and I had hardly met. No exchanges of smiles or looks or—”

“Kisses?” she said, her face very serious, and he scowled at her until he realised she was teasing him.

“Kisses, fine. Anytime. Just blow them from the witness box, if you feel like it. No, Eliza, nothing. And I have to tell you something else. You may not like me very much as the week goes on. I shall quite possibly give you a hard time; I shall certainly give the other side a hard time. You could see someone quite … brutal. I think you should be prepared for that.”

“Yes,” she said, and she felt quite nervous suddenly. “Yes, all right. But—”

“No buts. It’s too important.”

So it had been just … just a momentary thing. Born of an accident.

“I was going to say afterwards. What will happen afterwards. Will we … Can you … Should I …” And then because his face had grown quite hard, shockingly so after what they had shared that night, she lapsed into silence and felt very afraid.

“Afterwards, if you still so wish, and after a very slightly decent interval, we can meet and explore each other and how we feel. I think I would like that, if you would. And with time, and possibly even a quieter, softer, less creaky bed.”

“Oh,” she said, and delight flooded her again, delight and relief. “Oh, God. Is it too late for me to … just kiss you again? I’ll lock the door.”

“I really would rather you didn’t,” he said, and she felt crushed and foolish, and then she saw that he was smiling. “Because if you did, various sequences might be set in motion and it would be getting late for the seven-o’clock breakfast Mr. Douglas’s auntie has promised us before driving us into Marlowe, and I would feel bound to repeat all my warnings, and—”

“Oh, do shut up,” she said. “We can be quick, very, very quick. Please, Toby. Please.”

And Mr. Douglas’s auntie, downstairs preparing the English breakfast for which she was famous in the area, looked up at the ceiling and shook her head at the noise of the bed creaking and thought how she really must replace it, and how nice it was to find a married couple who were so clearly in love with each other …

And meanwhile in London, in her chic, minimalist flat, Louise was also awake, staring at the bright morning sky, and thinking about Matt and his rather obvious alarm at her invitation back to her flat and the rather feeble excuse he had made about getting home and sorting out a few final details of his case.

Matt was also awake, afraid that he had overstepped the mark and belaboured poor Louise just one too many times with his misery and his remorse, and thinking she really was the only person who had ever managed to distract him from them, and what a long way they went back, and how much he valued her friendship and that he really should
not trade on it so heavily. When the case was over, he would make a great effort to leave her alone. And let her get on with her own life. Until then, he seemed to rather need her.

And Georgina Barker, angry beyond anything, was counting down the hours until nine o’clock, which she felt was the earliest time she could decently ring Philip Gordon, Eliza’s solicitor, who had given her his home number, to tell him that she was prepared after all to appear as a witness.

“All rise.”

Mr. Justice Rogers walked quickly into the court.

Oh, God
, thought Eliza,
it’s started
.

Oh, Christ
, thought Matt,
this is it
. And terror united them as surely as love once had, terror at what they had done and what was to come, and their eyes met across the court, and both of them would have given all they had to be safely back in the past, with none of it begun.

And then Bruce Hayward rose to his feet and looked around the court … There was a silence, while he appeared to be waiting for absolute attention. He always did that, Philip Gordon knew, for as long as he dared.

Finally then: “My lord, we are here today to consider the case of
Shaw v. Shaw
, and the matter of custody of Emmeline Shaw, aged six. This is necessitated by the ending of the marriage due to the admitted adultery of her mother, Elizabeth Shaw …”

It went on and on, the catalogue of Eliza’s wrongdoing, until …

“We now come to the night that Mr. Shaw describes as being the last of his marriage. Mrs. Shaw was in Scotland, working, for three days; Emmeline was left in the care of the nanny and her maternal grandmother. Mr. Shaw arrived home to find the child unwell; she became dramatically worse; the doctor was called and he advised she be taken to casualty. She was crying for her mother, crying to speak to her; Mr. Shaw phoned the hotel where his wife was staying and was put through to her room; a man answered the phone. The man with whom she was
committing adultery. It was at that point, Mr. Shaw said, that he lost faith finally in Mrs. Shaw not only as a wife, but as a mother.

“I would submit, therefore, Your Honour, that Mrs. Shaw is clearly an unfit person to have charge of her child, and that sole custody be granted to Mr. Shaw.”

This was horrible. How could she bear it; how was she going to get through a week of this, of hearing these lies and innuendos and distortions of the facts? Toby had tried to warn her, but nothing could have prepared her for this … She looked at him across the court, sitting very still, very calm, studying papers, making notes, listening to Bruce Hayward with great attention, and felt a rush of rage that he could do that, not leap to his feet and her defence, saying,
That is not so, not how it was; this is not true, most assuredly not true
. Well, he had warned her, but he seemed a very different creature from the man who had made love to her only three days before …

“… Your Honour, I would now like to call Mr. Shaw …”

He looked very nervous, Eliza thought. He was really scared. Well … good.

“Mr. Shaw, perhaps you would like to tell us, in your own words, why you think you should have care, and indeed custody, of your daughter. You are, after all, a very busy man; you work long hours; why do you think she would be better off with you than her mother? Take your time.”

Matt cleared his throat.

“I have worked very long hours in the past; it’s true. But if I was to gain custody of Emmie—of my daughter—I would make sure that didn’t happen. I have a large company now, with many employees, and I am very well able to delegate all but the most complex tasks. I am already looking at adjusting my schedule to allow for me to be home very shortly after Emmie is back from school …”