Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) (8 page)

The two men looked up as she appeared and she was glad she had taken so much trouble with her appearance.

She had chosen to wear a new dress, grey and white, one of several she had bought in France.

Her hair, bleached white with the sun, swung loose to her shoulders, bare but for the shoelace straps of her dress, in contrast against the light gold of her tan. Joshua was first to his feet, but the patron was swift to leap up and dust off his chair and hold it for her, before leaving her alone with Joshua.

He sat for a moment and regarded her intently.

‘What is it?’ she asked, convinced that she must have a smudge on the end of her nose. ‘What’s wrong?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing. I was just thinking that coming to fetch you was one of my better ideas.’

‘Oh,’ she said, disconcerted by this unexpected declaration. ‘I think that was a compliment.’

‘You think right. Shall we go?’

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘On a mystery tour. Will you place yourself entirely in my hands?’ He held her with his eyes for a moment, demanding that she trust him, and she felt every nerve-ending stir as he took her hand and tucked it into the warm crook of his arm.

His hired Peugeot was parked in the square and as he opened the door a blast of hot air met them. ‘It’ll soon cool down, when we’re moving,’ he promised as she pulled a face.

He headed towards the exciting, marshy delta of the Rhone and once in a while Joshua pointed out something of interest, or a place he had visited and was sure she would like too, asking where she had been and what she had seen.

‘I think I’ve done too much sightseeing. I went to Gordes to see the Vasarély in the château last week and vowed that was the last. I’m afraid I enjoyed the boutiques far more.’

‘Is that where you bought the dress?’ he asked.

‘Don’t you know, Joshua?’ she asked in apparent amazement. ‘You’d better check my credit card statement on your friendly computer,’ she suggested and was rewarded with an appreciative grin.

The sun quietly died as they drove towards the delta, leaving the evening sky full of pinks and purples that reflected magically on occasional glimpses of flat water and turned a startled herd of wild horses from white to momentary amethyst.

It was dark by the time they drove into the square of a small white-painted town. Joshua edged the car down a narrow lane and then into the courtyard of a house that stood above the dark sea.

‘We’ve arrived,’ he said, opening the door for her.

‘Yes, but where exactly are we?’ she asked. Then she knew. The man that walked across the courtyard to meet them was a reflection of Joshua. Older, paler, the hair had never been so dark and was now well-salted with grey and his son had outgrown him in stature and build. But, despite his age, Joshua’s father was still a man who would turn heads wherever he went.

‘I’m so glad you’ve come, Holly,’ he said, holding out both hands to her. ‘Joshua has told me all about you.’ And after a moment in which he studied her intently, he bent and kissed her cheek. Then he put his arm around her shoulder and led her to a chair. ‘Sit down, my dear. Joshua will get us a drink and then we’ll have dinner.’

The evening was spent quite simply. They ate wonderful food, drank a little wine and talked. About France, about art. But whenever Holly looked up she found Mr Kent’s eyes fixed upon her. Once she glanced at Joshua, a question in her eyes, but, with the smallest shake of his head, he reassured her. He had not told his father the truth of her birth. He clearly considered that something only she had the right to do. And she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

‘Thank you for coming to see me, Holly. Joshua must bring you again when you’re both not in quite so much hurry,’ he said as he walked them back to the car. ‘Or, if he’s too busy to bring you, come yourself and stay, any time. I look forward to getting to know you better.’

She took his hand and he held it briefly for a second before turning away and, in the steady glow of the shuttered candle on the table, she thought she saw his eyes glisten and remembered that Joshua had told her that his father had loved Mary.

They were both silent as Joshua drove swiftly back through the darkness, but when they stopped once more in the village square he turned away from the hotel.

‘I thought we might take a walk by the river and have a cognac,’ he offered in reply to her questioning glance.

She nodded, but said, ‘I’ll stick to coffee.’ They began to stroll towards a cafe by the river. ‘I liked your father. Thank you for taking me to see him.’ Then, because it was somehow important, she asked, ‘It was him you came to see, wasn’t it? Not me.’

‘I spent yesterday with him. Holly. We had some business to sort out. But, unlike you, he’s not averse to using the telephone. The only purpose of my journey was to take you home.’ His expression was unreadable in the shadowy light, but his voice was utterly convincing.

‘Why?’

He seemed oddly disconcerted by her directness. ‘You were running away, Holly. Don’t make the same mistake that your mother and Mary were guilty of.’

After coffee, they walked for a while along the riverbank, listening to the hectic stridulation of the cicadas and breathing in the scent of the wild herbs crushed beneath their feet.

‘I love it here,’ Holly said at last.

‘The temptation to linger is almost overwhelming. But I’ll bring you back. I promise.’ She raised her head and turned to him, startled by the rare texture to his voice.

In that moment, when the cicadas were suddenly silent, when her heart held its beat, Holly
knew he was going to kiss her. Knew without doubt that she wanted him to kiss her. She turned so easily into his arms and lifted her face, offering herself to him. His mouth was warm, gentle, a kiss between friends, not lovers. Yet when he raised his head, just for that moment she could have sworn that his eyes flared with a sharp desire. But he turned abruptly and said, ‘We’d better be getting back. We have an early start tomorrow.’

* * *

Holly had thought that it would be a relief to get away from the brightness of the southern sun, but as they descended into the grey cloud blanketing London she pulled a rueful face.

‘It’s raining,’ she said.

‘Is it?’ Joshua glanced up briefly from a sheaf of papers that had apparently needed his undivided attention throughout
the flight. ‘It won’t last.’

After the almost dream-like quality of their evening together, when all problems had seemed suspended in a mixture of sights and scents heightened by his presence, the morning had brought Holly back to earth with a bump. Joshua had appeared in the early morning, hollow-cheeked as if he had not slept much, refusing anything but coffee. He had been almost sharp with her and clearly not disposed to talk.

He whisked them through Passport Control and Customs with practised ease and his car was waiting at the kerb, a chauffeur ready to open the door for her and deal with her luggage.

‘There’s no need to take me home, Joshua,’ she said quickly, anxious to get away from his disturbing presence and put herself back into a more everyday frame of mind. ‘I can easily catch a bus.’

Last night was clearly as embarrassing in recollection to him as it was to her. He had only kissed her because she had practically thrown herself into his arms and she had no wish to be reminded of her own foolishness. But he was apparently unmoved by her protest.

‘Don’t argue; just get in.’

‘David would come—’

‘I’m sure he would.’ Holly felt her cheeks grow warm under his provoking gaze. ‘Or you could even take a cab, but since I insist on taking you home there’s no point in a prolonged discussion of the alternatives.’

He held the car door, his look suggesting that they had been standing on the kerb for quite long enough. She climbed into the back of the Rolls without another word, quite unable to explain that she didn’t want to sit by him, feel the warmth of his shoulder next to hers and know that he would be quite unmoved by the experience.

The car moved smoothly into the traffic, through the underpass and on to the motorway. He had been right about the weather. Already the sky was clearing and the sun was breaking through to light the distant, familiar view of Windsor Castle. She would soon be home, facing up to this new life. But without Joshua, she thought, there would be no great pleasure in it.

As they approached the junction where they should turn off to Maybridge, the
chauffeur moved out into the fast lane and accelerated to clear a line of lorries.

Holly frowned. ‘We’ve missed my turning.’ She turned to Joshua. ‘This isn’t the way home.’

‘Isn’t it?’ His eyes asked a question of her and, under their unwavering grey power, she found herself confused and unable to offer a coherent answer. She stared down at her fingers busily pleating the cloth of her jeans.

‘Ashbrooke isn’t my home.’

‘It could be.’ For a moment his eyes offered her a glimpse of hope, yet she hesitated, unwilling to make a fool of herself again.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then the sooner you get this over with, Holly,
the better,’ he advised impassively, and she knew she had been right. ‘Have you any idea what you will do with yourself now?’ he asked. ‘Have you made any plans?’

‘No,’ she said, making an effort to appear cheerful. ‘I suppose that’s why I stayed away so long. I’ve nothing to come home for.’

‘Not even David?’ She turned to him. Was that why he had held back last night?

‘Not even David,’ she said. Then, afraid that she had betrayed herself, she lifted her shoulders. ‘At least I won’t have to paint ‘bread-and-butter’ pictures now.’

‘I think you could safely say that.’

‘It’s a lot simpler that way. Absolute freedom requires a great deal more discipline. And I’m going to miss teaching.’

‘What about all the stuff you’ve been doing in Italy and France?’ he asked. The memory of the way his brows had shot up at the weight of her portfolio provoked a smile.

‘Some of it’s not bad. I’ll have to look at it in the cold light of day. To be honest I’d like to do something different. Something quite new. I always wanted to…’ She hesitated to expose herself to his ridicule.

‘Go on,’ he pressed, and she found herself telling him about a visit to the studio of a sculptor she had met in Florence and her interest in trying this, for her, very different form. He encouraged her to elaborate and the miles had flown by before she recalled that she was supposed to be annoyed with him for taking her to Ashbrooke.

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked after a while. ‘Or can you wait until we get home?’

‘Let’s wait.’ The weather continued to clear as they drove westwards and by the time they approached Ashbrooke there were only a few clouds to break up the eggshell-blue of the sky and the sun was striking warm through the car window.

‘We’ll call at the house first,’ Joshua offered in explanation as they passed the hotel entrance. ‘It won’t take long.’

‘Fine,’ she said, her careless tone covering a rising feeling of something between panic and excitement, and she almost held her breath as they turned and swept along the coast road to Highfield.

When they arrived she climbed out of the car and looked around her. She had barely had time to register the scale of the grounds on the day of the funeral. The garden near the house was cultivated with the sort of careless charm that required far more effort than neat beds to achieve. But above them and along the low cliff the land had been left wild.

‘I can’t believe just how lovely it is here.’

‘Yes,’ Joshua agreed. ‘We’d better get on, Holly. I simply need some decisions about the disposal of the furniture,’ he interrupted her contemplation.

‘Is it that urgent?’ she asked, thinking how good it would be simply to walk for a while on the soft, new grass.

‘If you sign the contract in the morning, we can wrap everything up the same day. Since you’re so anxious to leave.’

Not that anxious. Now she was here, Holly was in no hurry to go home to deal with David and broken guttering and a pile of other tedious things.

‘Everything?’ she asked. ‘Can we do everything in one day?’ It hardly matched the long-drawn-out problems that her friends had encountered when buying and selling property.

‘I told you,’ he said. ‘We’ve just been waiting for you to turn up and sign the contract.’

‘And if I hadn’t returned with you today?’ she asked.

He apparently hadn’t considered such a possibility, but he humoured her. ‘The company that wants to buy would have waited a few more days, I suppose. They’re very keen.’

‘A
company
wants to buy Highfield?’ She frowned. ‘As a home for one of their staff?’ she asked.

‘You won’t get a better offer,’ he said. ‘They’ve been after Mary to sell to them for a couple of years.’

‘But she wouldn’t? Why?’ He didn’t answer, but she persisted. ‘What exactly are planning to do with it?’

There was something measuring about the cool grey eyes. ‘Why do you want to know, Holly? You’ve made it quite clear that you won’t want to stay here.’

‘So I should take the money and run? Is that what you’re saying? You’d better give it to me straight, Joshua, or I won’t be signing anything. Who are they?’