Semi-Detached Marriage (6 page)

And she knew a glow of inner satisfaction as
she passionately returned his kiss, using every sexual wile she knew to
rouse-him into a violent storm of lovemaking, from which all outside problems
and differences were completely obliterated.

It was Saturday the next morning and Cassie
slept late, the strident ring of the alarm clock turned off and nothing to
disturb her except the usual incessant hum of traffic that was so much part of
the background that only its absence would have penetrated. She finally woke
about nine, turned over in bed and realised that she was naked. Simon wasn't
beside her, so she hurriedly slipped out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe, fully
aware that, although their quarrel last night had been more than adequately
made up, it still hadn't been settled. She padded out of the bedroom and through
the flat, looking for him, her bare toes sinking into the soft, deep pile of
the carpet.

He was sitting in an easy chair by the window
of the sitting-room, reading the morning paper in the soft February sunlight,
casually dressed in jeans and a sweater, an empty cup of coffee on the small
table beside him. As she came in he looked up, smiled and held out a hand to
her. Cassie went to him at once, took his hand and bent down to kiss him.

When she raised her head he kept hold of her
hand as he said, 'You look very sexy like that, still half asleep and your hair
tousled. I've a good mind to take you back to bed.'

Cassie laughed at him and backed quickly
away. 'Not until I've showered and cleaned my teeth, and then I'll be fully
awake and you won't feel like it any more.' She turned to go to the bathroom,
but paused in the doorway. 'What are the plans for today? Do you want to go
down to the Portobello Road antique market, or would you rather go up to the
West End to do some shopping?'

Simon regarded her levelly. 'Maybe we'll go
out later on, but right now I think we have some talking to do, don't you?'

The bright smile faded from Cassie's face.
'Can't it wait until some other time? Tomorrow maybe?' Simon shook his head in
a single, curtly negative gesture. 'No, we have to settle it here and now.'

Her voice tight and a little unsteady, Cassie
shrugged and said, 'Okay, if that's what you want.' She had spoken casually
enough, but her heart was beating rather fast and she felt strangely nervous
as, fully dressed and carrying a mug of coffee, she came to sit down opposite
him.

Simon tossed aside the newspaper and ran his
eyes over her, taking in her black sweater and long legs in black cord designer
jeans. If he also noted the wary look in her eyes that she was trying
unsuccessfully to hide, he gave no sign of it. He merely looked amused and
said, `Why the all-black outfit? Do you intend to take up cat-burglary or are
you going to a, funeral?' Cassie shrugged rather impatiently. 'I just felt like
wearing them, that's all.'

'Because they suit your mood?'

Her eyes flicked over him and then quickly
away. Damn Simon; he knew her far too well. 'I'm not in a black mood, if that's
what you're trying to imply.' She made a business of stirring her coffee. 'All
right, you wanted to talk, so why don't you start?'

'All right.' He leant back in the chair and
put his hands together, pyramiding his fingers, his face stem and serious, and
Cassie had a sudden insight into how he must appear to his colleagues,
especially those under him; highly intelligent, coldly efficient and rather
remote. For a brief second he seemed to be a stranger and the idea frightened
her, but then he spoke again and the feeling was gone. 'Straight question-after
sleeping on it are you willing to give up your job and come with me to
Scotland?'

'No.'

His dark brows flickered at the boldness of
her answer, but he went on, 'Not under any circumstances?'

'None that I can envisage.'

'I see.'

He paused for a moment and Cassie said
impatiently,

'Look, Simon, what's the point of this?
Nothing's changed since last night. I'm sorry, but I just don't want to go.'

The skin at his fingertips whitened as he
pressed them harder together, but he said easily, `But let's bear in mind that
you haven't even seen Kinray yet.' 'Kinray? Is that where the oil terminal is?'
'Yes. It's on the north-west coast of Scotland and is actually called Mull of
Kinray. As I told you, the house is about a mile from the terminal and hidden
from it by a range of hills. It faces the Atlantic and has the most marvelous
views of the sea and coastline, with the hills, purple with heather in summer,
to the right and behind it. The first time I went up I stayed there for a
couple of days and it was fascinating to have the whole valley, or glen as they
call it, filled with a mist that comes up from the sea in the morning, which
would gradually thin and then suddenly lift to reveal this most fantastically
beautiful scenery.'

Cassie gazed at him for a long moment, for
the second time feeling that she was talking to a stranger, but an entirely
different one this time; Simon didn't usually wax eloquent about places he'd
visited. And the idea that he had found somewhere beautiful made her feel
strangely jealous; she wanted to be the only beautiful object in his life. But
then she realised that he was trying to sell the place to her and that he was
bound to come over strong. So, to squash any hopes be might have on that score,
she said sardonically, 'It sounds extremely cold and damp. It must be hell
there in the winter, with the gales blowing in straight off the Atlantic. And
it must get snowed up all the time—they always have terrific amounts of snow in
Scotland.'

Simon looked at her for a moment over his
steepled fingers, then lowered them as he said, 'Strangely enough they don't
have very extreme weather in that area because it's in the path of the Gulf
Stream. You can even grow palm trees and other tropical plants there. That's
one of the reasons why the oil terminal was sited in that area.'

'So that they could grow palm trees?' Cassie
quipped. 'What are they going to do resort to palm oil if North Sea oil runs
out?'

'Ha, ha. Very funny.' Simon stood up
abruptly, anger in his face. 'When you've finished making cheap puns perhaps
you'd care to remember that this is our future we're discussing. Perhaps even a
future in which we would be able to see more of each other, not just pass one
another going through the door and correspond in notes stuck on the fridge door
or messages left on the answer-phone,' he added grimly.

Cassie instantly felt ashamed and got up to
follow him as he went into the kitchen. Plugging in the percolator, he stood
silently waiting for it to heat, his face averted.

After a moment, Cassie said exasperatedly,
'All right, I'm sorry. But let's face it, Simon, all you've done so far is try
to sell me something I don't want to buy. Okay, the place may be beautiful on
summer days when the mist lifts and the sun shines. But what about all those
other days: the days when it rains incessantly or the place is shrouded in
cold, damp mist for the whole twenty-four hours? I've been on holiday to
Scotland more than once with my parents, Simon, I

know how miserable the weather can be. And
even then  there's all the other things that would be missing- work,
entertainment, friends.'

The percolator started to bubble and the red
light went out. Simon switched it off and picked it up to pour himself another
cup of coffee. 'Couldn't you look on it as a sort of sabbatical, an interval of
peace and quiet in between work? You could always go back to work afterwards.'

'Simon, it's three years! In that time I'd
have lost most of my contacts, someone else would have taken my position and
consolidated themselves in it.

Fashion buying is just as much a cutthroat
business as anything else; if you leave it for any length of time there's
little or no chance of getting back. It's all or nothing.'

Simon looked at her keenly, the coffee pot
still raised in his hand. 'Will you at least meet me halfway by coming with me
to Kinray to see the place before making any final decision?'

Cassie shook her bead unhappily. 'Simon, it
wouldn't do any good. I've already…' Will you?' he interrupted her, his voice
suddenly harsh and cold.

She stared at him, realising that never
before had she ever deliberately defied her husband, that she hardly knew him
now that his will was crossed. It was something new and something she didn't
know how to handle. There was no other way out, so slowly, almost in a whisper,
she answered, 'Yes, all right. If that's what you want.'

'It is.' He set the coffee-pot down with a
snap. 'We'll go up there next weekend.'

Her lips drawn into a tight line, Cassie
glanced at him for a moment, then said, 'Well, now that's settled, perhaps we
can get on with the present. I'll go and get ready to go to the antique market;
if you remember we said we'd go and look for that little table we wanted for
the hall.'

She turned and went into the bedroom, Simon
watching her frowningly. She hadn't openly defied him, of course, but by
wanting to go out and choose something for their present home she had clearly shown
how little importance she placed on the projected trip to Kinray. It was just
going to be a complete waste of time, Cassie thought as she put on her
lipstick, watching her image in the mirror.

They would have a long, tedious and tiring
forty-eight hours in which she would take one look at the place and make the
same refusals as she had already made here. The situation would still be the
same, and all Simon was doing was postponing the inevitable. He was just being
infuriatingly stubborn and implacable. Because nothing, not even if Kinray
turned out to be another Garden of Eden, was going to persuade her to leave
London!

CHAPTER THREE

They left London for Scotland the following
Friday evening, and even Cassie had to admit that the journey was fairly
painless. A company chauffeur called to pick them up and drive them to Heathrow
Airport where a twelve-seater plane, again owned by Mullaine's, was waiting to
take them and ten others to Glasgow. There was no baggage checkin to queue at,
no sitting around in the departure lounge for the usual interminable wait, they
were just ushered into a private room and given a drink while their luggage was
put on board, then taken out to the plane with the others and took off within
minutes. The plane was smooth and luxurious, even if it seemed incredibly small
after all the large airliners that Cassie was used to on holiday trips, and
there was an attractive young stewardess to see to their needs.

 Cassie looked the stewardess over, noting
her pretty face, slim figure and trim ankles, and decided that she was too
pretty. The other men on the flight-she was the only woman passenger-all seemed
to find the girl attractive too, one or two of them openly trying to chat her
up, and Cassie wondered wryly just what they got up to while they were away
from home. Simon had told her that most of the workers had a contract in which
they worked every day for three weeks, then had a whole week off. From the look
of some of the men they were no saints, and she could imagine them getting up
to all sorts of mischief when they were away from home for so long.

The stewardess brought them drinks and Cassie
watched Simon as he took his, murmuring a word of thanks. For the first time in
their marriage it occurred to Cassie to wonder if he, too, was ever unfaithful
to her during his frequent trips away from home. Certainly the opportunity was
there, for it was obvious from the way the girl had looked him over when they
boarded the plane that she found him attractive, and would much prefer a young,
handsome junior executive to any of the rather crude labourers who were trying
to chat her up. But beyond giving her a brief smile of thanks, Simon showed no
interest in her at all, merely turning his eyes immediately back to the report
he was reading.

Cassie accepted her own drink and sat back in
her seat, laughing at herself for being a fool. Simon had no need to even look
at another woman, had he? Not when their sex life was so good, so completely
satisfying. In fact they had had very few differences, really, in all the three
years of their marriage. Small things, of course, at the beginning, when they'd
been getting used to living together, to being a couple instead of individuals.
But nothing major. Nothing till now, that was. She sighed and Simon turned to
look at her. 'Tired?'

'No, not really. Will we be staying at the
house you told me about, the site director's house?'

'No, at a hotel. The house won't be available
until the other man moves out at the end of the mouth. But I've arranged for
you to look it over.'

For a second Cassie was tempted to say again
that it was all a waste of time, but reiterating the obvious wasn't going to
help; it would only put Simon's back up and make the weekend even more
unpleasant than

it was already. She tried to think of
something else to talk about, but couldn't, so took a long sip of her drink.
After a moment Simon turned away and resumed his reading.

They spent that night at a hotel in Glasgow,
leaving there immediately after breakfast the next morning to be taken by
helicopter to the site at Kinray. It was the first time Cassie had ever flown
in a helicopter and she felt more than a little nervous. It seemed so much more
unwieldy than a plane, and the engine was so noisy that she wanted to put her
hands over her ears, but they were already occupied in tightly gripping the
arms of her seat.