Thicker Than Water (16 page)

‘Well, in my opinion, your most dignified approach would be to brazen it out. Behave as though lunchtime never happened.’

‘But he’ll bring up the reception again.’

‘Possibly, though I doubt it. Ironically enough, I think the slap will work in your favour. He’s now ashamed of himself, and I don’t think he’ll risk raising the subject again. You’re quite sure you can’t give in gracefully and attend the thing?’

‘Quite sure.’

Priscilla sighed. ‘Well, you know best. But Jill, if he ever hits you again, come straight here, you understand? He’s used up all his grace. One more time, and you have to get out. For your own safety.’

Jill gave an uncertain laugh. ‘I honestly don’t think he’s a wife-beater, Pris.’

‘He’s taken the first step. Don’t let there be another. Promise?’

‘Yes, all right.’ She smiled. ‘Thanks for making me see sense. It’s not like me to throw a wobbler; I don’t know what came over me.’

‘You’re OK now?’

‘Yes, fine. Balance restored, and as you say, the longer I wait, the worse it will get. In which case, I might as well wend my way back.’

Priscilla stood with her. ‘Good luck, then. And enjoy yourself at my party!’

Thankfully, Priscilla proved right. When Jill reached the hotel, Douglas was alone in the foyer. He looked at her searchingly and, she thought, with a tinge of relief. Perhaps he thought she’d gone for good. But all he said, gruffly, was, ‘You all right?’

‘Fine,’ she said, forcing her voice to lightness. ‘You?’

He nodded, and she nodded back, and, passing him, went on up the stairs. Please God let that be the end of it.

The subject wasn’t mentioned again. That evening, she did her usual stint in the bar, handing out menus to all and sundry with a dazzling smile, and though there was a palpable undercurrent, everyone returned it. And when the time came for dinner, Douglas made a point of seeking her out and threading her arm through his as they went together into the restaurant. But that, she feared, was window-dressing. Things had been said that could not be unsaid, and sooner or later, they’d have to be faced.

That night when he came to bed, he made love to her, roughly and in complete silence, as though inflicting punishment. Jill, however, found it stimulating, and even as she responded, wondered how the following evening would compare, remembering the whiteness of Gary Payne’s body as she’d seen it on the beach and imagining it above her, those dark, fathomless eyes at last coming alive and blazing with passion.

And that, she told herself, would be worth all the opprobrium Douglas might throw at her.

Throughout the following day she was restless and unsettled, chafing at the slow passing of time. The fine weather had returned; she met her friends as usual for coffee, exchanging a brief, complicit smile with Priscilla, and spent the afternoon in a secluded part of the grounds, topping up her tan in a strapless sundress and trying to concentrate on her novel.

She’d booked a table for eight o’clock, and had arranged to pick up Gary, as she now thought of him, at the far end of the promenade at seven thirty. Suppose, she thought, he wasn’t there, had decided not to show up? Would she wait for him? And if so, for how long? She couldn’t return to the hotel, since she was supposed to be at Priscilla’s party; nor could she arrive alone at the Fisherman’s Catch. And it would be too humiliating to seek refuge again with Priscilla, admitting that she’d been stood up. Well, she’d have to face that problem when and if it happened.

At five she went indoors and had a long and luxurious bath, then lay for a while on her bed, watching the hands on the bedroom clock. God, she thought with amused impatience, she was like a sixteen-year-old on her first date!

She was almost ready when Douglas came up to shower and change, and he stopped short at the door, gazing at her. She knew, with a little spurt of pleasure, that she looked good. The hyacinth-blue of the dress accentuated her tan, its lines the contours of her body.

‘I suppose you haven’t changed your mind?’ he said.

‘Sorry, no. Hope it goes well.’

‘Likewise.’ And he went through to the bathroom, stripping as he went.

She looked for a moment at the closed door, heard the shower come on. Then, with a sigh, she picked up her handbag and left the room.

It had turned humid, she realized, as she closed the garage doors, and on impulse she lowered the top on her little sports car. Reckless, perhaps, in that she’d be more easily recognized, but the wind in her hair was justification enough.

People were still strolling along the front – one reason why she’d designated the far end as their meeting place – and she forced herself to drive slowly, wanting to avoid the necessity of parking. It was some time since she’d come in this direction, and she noted odd changes along the way. The retirement home had a new coat of paint; the luxury block of flats was at last finished, with, according to the notice, only three remaining unsold; a new B and B had opened between the Grand and the Belle Vue.

Then she was passing the municipal baths and tennis courts, and the end of the promenade was in sight. She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was exactly seven thirty, and as she slowed down still further, a figure that had been leaning against the railings straightened and moved towards the kerb. So she needn’t have worried; he had come!

‘Smart little number,’ he said approvingly, as he opened the door and slid in beside her.

‘It suits me very well.’

‘Do you always drive barefoot?’

She followed the direction of his glance to her brown feet with their brightly coloured nails resting on the pedals.

‘Often,’ she replied, ‘and always when I’m wearing high heels.’

It was the first time she’d been this close to him, and there was no trace of the aftershave that was almost mandatory among the men she knew. Instead, she detected a faint, pleasing smell of soap and freshly laundered clothes. He was, she saw, dressed a little more formally than usual, in linen jacket and trousers and an open-necked brown shirt.

‘I wasn’t sure of the dress code,’ he said in half-apology, as the car moved off. ‘I’ve a tie in my pocket, but on the other hand, if a jacket’s too formal I can leave it in the car.’

‘You’re fine as you are,’ she said.

He was nervous, she realized; almost as much so as she was, and she was again conscious of that quality in him that had first intrigued her and that still gave her a frisson – a sense of watchfulness, of something kept tightly under control. She wondered half humorously if she’d know any more about him by the end of the evening, acknowledging that she didn’t care either way, as long as they made love on the way home. And with the thought came an unmistakable tweak of desire, the first she’d felt for him. Perhaps she’d been fooling herself that the planned seduction was simply to prove a point.

The car park at the Fisherman’s Catch was almost full, and as they walked round to the front of the building, it was clear that a lot of people had elected to eat outside.

Jill turned to Gary. ‘Would you prefer in or out?’ she asked him. ‘You choose, it’s your last night.’

‘Inside,’ he said promptly. ‘I’m allergic to mosquitoes.’

They went together into the low-beamed room, also thronged with people sitting at the bar and moving between the tables, and he followed her through the crowds to the door of the restaurant, where a waiter checked their reservation and led them to a window table overlooking the garden, and, beyond it, the darkening sea.

‘Much more civilized,’ Gary murmured, as the waiter, having spread napkins on their knees, moved away.

They hadn’t spoken much on the drive, and there was still a certain reserve between them, which Jill was unsure how to breach. He didn’t seem to have much small talk, and it was she who’d opened every conversation.

‘So –’ she began brightly, when they’d ordered drinks and been handed large, handwritten menus – ‘you’re off home tomorrow. Where exactly is that?’

‘Manchester,’ he replied. ‘Not “exactly”, as you put it, but near enough, any road.’

The northern phraseology was the first she’d noticed; perhaps he fell into local speech at the mere thought of home. Or, more likely, it was simply that until this evening, she’d spent barely five minutes in his company.

‘And you teach sport and PE, you said?’

‘That’s right. It keeps me in good shape, and since most of the kids enjoy it, I don’t have too much hassle with them.’

She glanced at his hands, the fingers square-tipped and ringless.

‘Married?’ she asked casually. Not all husbands wore rings.

‘No.’ He half smiled. ‘I’ve managed to avoid that so far.’

‘Girlfriend, then?’

‘Yep, I’ve got one of those.’ He met her eyes. ‘You ask a lot of questions, Mrs Irving.’

‘Jill, please.’

‘Jill does, and all.’

‘I’m sorry, but we can’t sit in silence all evening.’

‘Do I get a turn, then? Quizzing you?’

She looked at him quickly, felt a tug of alarm. ‘Of course,’ she said steadily, ‘though what you see is what you get. You probably know quite a bit about me already.’

‘Aye, I do,’ he said.

She waited uneasily, but no questions were forthcoming. Perhaps, after all, he thought he knew enough.

‘All right’ she said quickly, ‘if you don’t like personal questions, tell me what books or films you enjoy.’

He held her eyes, his own as always unreadable. ‘I go for murder, every time,’ he said.

She shuddered, shaking her head quickly. ‘I’m quite the opposite; I hate anything to do with violence. My husband laughs at me, because I refuse to follow cases in the news. I just try to – block them out.’

Their drinks arrived and, driving or not, Jill felt in need of hers. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She thought briefly of Douglas back at the hotel, entertaining their MP and the Italians; almost wished she was there. She gave herself a little shake, and, seeming to realize he was proving a poor companion, Gary picked up his menu and said, ‘Well, then, what do you recommend?’

After that, it was easier. Though conversation didn’t exactly flow seamlessly, it was less stilted, and they discussed various topics, including education today, global warming and the economic climate – none of them Jill’s favourite subjects, but he seemed to find them interesting.

The waiter returned for their order, and though she’d recommended several dishes, Gary selected the same as she did – potted shrimps, sea bass and crème brûlée. As, Jill recalled, he had done at the hotel. Was he trying to make a point? This was turning out to be an evening unlike any other, and she was beginning to have serious doubts that her plan would succeed.

‘You weren’t always blonde, were you?’ he said suddenly, as they drank their coffee.

Startled, she forced herself to laugh. ‘Don’t tell me my roots are showing?’

He shook his head, and, after a minute, said in explanation, ‘You haven’t a blonde’s complexion. Brown eyes, and so on.’

‘Plenty of blondes have brown eyes.’

He made no further comment, but she could see he wasn’t convinced. And he was right, damn him, though she’d been a blonde longer than she cared to remember.

‘They tell me gentlemen prefer them,’ she added flippantly, and he gave a short laugh.

The evening was winding down. People at nearby tables had left and the restaurant was beginning to empty. Jill called for the bill, unsure now whether to proceed with her plan, even though, with the possibility of its abandonment, her desire for him was strengthening.

They walked together into the warm darkness, and as they reached the car, Gary said, ‘There must be an inland road to Sandbourne, surely? Shall we go back that way? Might as well see a bit of the countryside while I’m here.’

‘You won’t see much in the dark,’ she answered, her heartbeat quickening. Because although most of the inland road wound over moorland, it also passed through copses that would afford ample privacy for lovemaking. ‘But by all means,’ she added, ‘if you’d like to go that way, of course we can.’

There was no moon, and once they’d turned off the coast road with its various attractions, the only light came from their headlamps. Neither of them spoke, both staring straight ahead at the narrow road. Every now and then, a rabbit scuttled out of the way of their wheels, and an occasional call of an owl reached them as it hunted overhead.