Once (13 page)

This is kind of you, Thom,’ Nell repeated flashing beautifully white teeth at him.

‘No problem.’ He leaned forward and turned the key, bringing the engine into life.

Out the corner of his eye, Thom saw the woman tug at her loose skirt, pulling it back over her knees so that its hem lay across her lower thighs. Her legs were smooth and a light brown colour as though she, too, like the physiotherapist earlier, had taken full advantage of the season’s brilliant weather.

‘It’s so warm,’, she murmured distractedly and as if unaware how provocative the sight of her legs were.’ ‘S’pect there’ll be a storm later. What you think, Thom?’ She regarded him as though honestly interested in his opinion, her eyes wide and pupils jet black in the shadows of the Jeep.

He caught the faint muskiness of her natural odour - as far as he could tell, she wore no perfume - in the close confines and even through the sudden weariness that had come over him, he felt himself stirring.

There might be/ he replied, swinging the Jeep round in an arc.

‘It’ll clear the air.’ She lifted the hem of her skirt from her thighs, just an inch or so, as if to allow air to circulate.

Thom pretended not to notice.

‘You saw Sir Russell?’ she asked innocently, her hand bringing the skirt even higher up her legs.

‘Yeah.’ His mouth was dry.

‘And…?

‘And?’

degWhat did you think?’

‘He’s in a bad way.’

‘I think he hasn’t much longer.’ The index finger of the hand holding the skirt played up and down the skin above her knee, each journey a little longer, but never beyond a certain point.

Thom tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead. Tell me something,’ he said to get his mind back on track.

‘Anything,’ she replied before he could continue; she was obviously enjoying her tease.

‘You’re a qualified nurse? I mean, you’ve been trained, you’ve had practical training …?’

‘Don’t I seem like a nurse to you?’

‘Frankly, no.’

She gave a small laugh.

‘Do I take that as a compliment?’

He was beginning to get annoyed again and was grateful for that: it wasn’t easy to switch off from this woman’s flirting. ‘It’s just a question.’

Well, I’ve had some trainin’ and cared for many sick people over the years.’

‘But you said you’d made up some medicine for Sir Russell…’

Well, you could call it medicine. A lot of people come to me for my special brews and potions. Mostly country people

who know the old ways, although there are others - townies - who’ve heard about my cures.’

Thom could hardly believe his ears. ‘Are you kidding me? Sir Russell needs a professional nurse to look after him.’

‘His doctor comes at least once a week and he seems perfectly satisfied. I’ve been shown how to use the medical equipment and it really isn’t that difficult.’

‘Surely he would insist that Hugo hires a proper nurse. Sir Russell—’

‘Sir Russell is going to die, Thom. All the professional…’ she emphasized the word ‘… help in the world can’t alter the fact. So if my special mixtures can ease his suffering, then his doctor isn’t going to complain, is he? Remember, Sir Russell has already received the best treatment money can buy, now it’s just a matter of time.’

‘Surely he needs proper medication, drugs or pills, sedatives - stuff to deal with the discomfort and pain.’

They’re all at hand. You must have seen them, for yourself. Hugo and I have been trained to administer them so it isn’t a problem. I also bathe him, I clean his mess, I make his bed. I can do anythin’ a hired nurse can do, so please stop your worryin’. When I’m not there, that old pile of bones Hartgrove is always around.’

Now she had become a little irate and, Thom noted with relief, had ceased teasing him. But, as though having just read his thoughts, she smiled at him again and leaned across to touch his arm.

‘I know Sir Russell has been good to you, Thom - Hugo told me how he employed your mother, then saw to your education when she died - but he’s looked after in every way, I can promise you that.’

By now they had passed through the estate gates and had reached the main thoroughfare. Thom glanced at her as he waited for several cars and lorries to go by. The apparent sincerity of her expression surprised him.

‘Look, I’m sorry if—’ he began to say.

She put a finger to his lips. ‘I understand. You’re concerned for him, but then so are we all. ‘Specially Hartgrove - he scarcely leaves his master’s bedside. Have a little faith, Thom, just a little faith. I promise you I’m doin’ my best to keep Sir Russell as comfortable as possible.’

For a moment or two he could only look at her. The smile had gone and there was a faint crease in her brow; strangely it made her look even more attractive.

“Which way?’ he said.

She straightened. ‘What?’

‘Which way to your place. Left or right?’

‘Oh, left. Same direction as your cottage, but we turn off to the right before we reach your lane. Ill show you as we go.’

Nell sat back in her seat, leaning back against the raised headrest. The smile had returned, but this time it wasn’t for him. It was a secret smile.

‘Seatbelt,’ he told her as he buckled up himself, then turned into the main road.

‘Oh I don’t worry ‘bout that sort of thing,’ she replied pleasantly, looking straight ahead.

He shrugged and pressed his foot down on the accelerator pedal.

It took only a few minutes to reach Nell Quick’s home, which was situated at the end of a lane of similar-type cottages -redbrick, slate roofs, small front gardens. There was a good distance between each abode, the gardens bordered by low picket fences, with plenty of tall greenery between flowerbeds to ensure a certain amount of privacy. There was also an interesting variation in maintenance, some of these small homes well kept, one or two even made to look chocolate-box pretty - Thom guessed these might be weekend retreats for wealthy city-types - while others were badly maintained,

with peeling window-frames and front doors in need of a lick of paint, these no doubt occupied by locals who had probably been in residence for many more years than their upmarket neighbours.

From the outside it was difficult to tell into which category Nell Quick’s cottage fell, for its walls and roof were covered in creepers, only small sections of its structure and windows spared. As instructed by his passenger, Thom pulled up in front of the short cracked path leading to the open porch. The small garden was a mess, with flowers slowly being strangled by weeds, shrubbery growing where it pleased, and the low fence rickety, with several uprights missing. There was no gate.

“Will you bring the bike in for me, Thom? I keep it in the porch.’ Nell had already opened the passenger door and was climbing out without waiting for a reply.

Tm pretty busy—’

But she was already gone, a hand delving into the plastic bag for her door key, raincoat draped over her arm. What was he going to say anyway? I’ve got to get home because I’m pretty busy doing nothing?

Thom!’ She was under the porch, at the front door. Her call was more like a command.

He quickly released his seatbelt and swung the door open. What the hell was wrong with him? The woman was indulging in a little flirting, that’s all there was to it. My God, was he so vain that he imagined such a good-looker would be interested in him? Sure, he’d had a number of girlfriends in London, but his work was too important to him to let serious romance get in the way. And he was no stud, any female could see that. Nell was teasing him because she sensed his innate shyness, that was all. Probably did it to every man she met. Hugo certainly seemed taken by her. Thom remembered the way she had spoken to her employer and wondered again if anything was going on between them. Good luck to Hugo, if there was.

A tiny worry nagged at him. Hugo was soon to be a wealthy man despite the family’s downturn in financial matters. When Sir Russell died, then as the only son and heir, Hugo would inherit everything. He’d be a fine catch for any woman…

By now, lost in his thoughts, Thom was at the back of the Jeep, hands on the tailgate catch. Only Nell’s further call prompted him into action.

He quickly pressed the catch button and lifted the tailgate, then dragged the bicycle out. It bounced to the ground on its front wheel and he pushed it through the gateless opening in the fence, this time without bothering to lift the flat tyre; it made a scudding noise as he guided the bike along the worn path. By the time he reached Nell under the cover of the porch, she had opened the door to her cottage and pushed it wide. It seemed so dark inside, the shadows unnaturally deep, and Thom had a moment of unease. The door itself was of dark oak and was in two sections, a stable door whose lower section reached above his hips. He peered into the gloom, but could not make out much: wood flooring, wooden beams set in terracotta walls, a tall, plain chair-stool just inside the doorway.

‘Leave the bike there, Thom, and come inside,’ he heard her say as he leaned forward to see more. *You look hot. S’pect you could do with a cool drink.’

He caught himself and straightened up. ‘Uh, no, I’m fine. I’ll just be on my way.’ He leaned the Raleigh against the side of the porch.

‘Nonsense. You come inside, let me repay your kindness.’

Without waiting for further dissent, Nell disappeared from sight, leaving him with no other choice but to follow.

It was cool inside, and shadowy, the small windows fringed with creepers that obscured much of the light from outside. Compact might have been an estate agent’s description of the interior and cluttered was the word Thom would have added. There seemed scarcely an unfilled space in the

room: dog-eared magazines and weary-looking books were piled high on chairs and windowsills, while straw containers and dried herbs hung from ceiling beams; astrological symbols were daubed on the brown terracotta walls between inset wooden beams and a round centre table was crowded with clay pots and jars, more books and magazines, pens, coloured inks, a vase of pink lilies, cotton reels of various colours, needles pushed into the threads, tiny ornaments, and a few metres of red ribbon. A large copper kettle, its bottom blackened by fire, stood on one of the brick shelves inside a large (so large it took up most of the wall opposite) inglenook fireplace, an old-fashioned black cooking-pot on the other side, along with tongs and poker; the thick wooden mantelshelf above held many more pots and jars. A rickety-looking staircase next to the inglenook led to the upstairs rooms, its first turn lit by a small window visible from where he stood; an open doorway on the other side of the fireplace went through to the kitchen - he could see part of a sink and draining board from this same spot. On a sideboard beneath the window overlooking the road was a remarkably erotic carving in dark brown polished wood of a naked woman, only her thighs but not her pubis covered by a fold of the drapery she reclined upon; the tips of her long breasts caught the daylight from behind and one hand was positioned provocatively close to the dip between her upper legs. Through the opposite window overlooking the back of the property, he saw a garden that was even more unkempt and overgrown than the front; the difference here, though, was that vivid splashes of colour fought valiantly against the tangled greenness, these being different specimens of flora. He could see the side of a ramshackle greenhouse, its windows filthy with grime.

Although there were shadowy corners in the overcrowded room, and its beamed ceiling was almost oppressively low, it was not quite as dark as he had expected from the outside with the creepers crowding the windows.

‘So, Thom, what would you like your reward to be?’

Nell was standing by the lumpy sofa on which she’d dropped her coat and bag, one fist on her hip in a pose that was now familiar to him. She wore the same mocking (or was it provocative?) smile that he was also becoming used to.

‘No, I’ve really got to get going.’

Why was he being so coy? he wondered. Maybe it was because there was something about this woman that instinctively he did not trust. Or maybe you’re afraid you might have to perform, a sly little inner voice scorned. Maybe you think you might not be up to it now. After all, it has been a long time, hasn’t it? And your whole system has been knocked through a hoop.

‘Oh come on, just a lemonade, or a fruit juice,’ she persisted, her voice coaxing. ‘Something stronger, if you like. I’ve got gin. Or wine. Whatever you like.’

He sighed inwardly, knowing she would not give up until he acquiesced. ‘Okay, just a lemonade then. That’d be fine.’

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?’ she teased before disappearing through the doorway into the kitchen. Before she did so, however, Nell glanced into a gilt-framed mirror on the wall and gave a little push here and there to her hair. Yeah, Thom mused. He’d been right: there was something vain about this woman. But again, why not? She had something to be vain about. Take a seat, Thom, make yourself at home,’ she called back. Try the sofa - it doesn’t look it, but it’s very comfortable. Just dump my things on the floor.’

He went over to the sofa and placed the bag on the untidy table, then laid the light raincoat over the arm of the seat. He settled back.

Out of sight, Nell leaned against the kitchen dresser, disturbing the jars and pots standing on the middle shelf behind her. The shelves above and below were filled with more pots, some tall, others squat, and containers of various shapes and sizes. All were neatly labelled - basil, garlic, mint, marjoram, verbena, honey, and many more - while on

the topmost shelf there were oils - thyme, lemon, lime, rose and geranium. Her eyes closed briefly and her smile was no longer mocking; her expression was one of secret pleasure. Her tongue licked her upper lip, just once, making it moist, and there was a light sheen of perspiration on her forehead, on her neck, between the cleft of her breasts. When she exhaled, there was a light trembling in her breath.

Nell could not be sure if it was the man himself that aroused her this way, or the thought of what she was to do to him. He was certainly handsome enough in a certain way, and his body, although perhaps a little wasted after his illness, was young and firm enough to make the seduction a pleasure. Nell pulled at her long, light skirt, raising the hem so that her bare legs were uncovered. She ran her fingertips along the length of her thigh, enjoying the touch, the skin moist from the humid heat of the day, before sliding her hand inside her cotton panties, delving into the coarse black hair between her legs. She drew in a sharp breath when her middle finger dipped into her vagina, slipping easily through the raised lips, using only gentle pressure to open herself further.