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BOOK 4
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Being Yours BOOK 4
'Thanks, but I prefer toast and marmalade. Or just bread,' Paul added, 'if toast is any trouble.''It's what I always have,' she said, and departed to fetch it.The kitchen felt cold after the heated living room. So much the better; it always woke her up coming in here in the morning. In the neon-lit brightness she took the favourite leaf-patterned tray Gareth had given her last Christmas and set about loading it. Two knives, two teaspoons, two green Denby plates; she ticked them off in her mind as she put them on the tray, then turned to the row of mugs which hung under the wall-cupboard.I'll have the Japanese flowerbell this morning, she decided, enjoying the choice, and he can have - he can have this one. She unhooked her favourite, eggshell-fine mug with the bands of mauve, dove-grey and mandarin-orange. She liked it so much she hardly dared use it, but today was special.Idiot, she said to herself as she lowered the mug gently to the tray, what on earth's got into you? He's anot
Being Yours BOOK 4
'If the . . . the low-life who did this,' Paul corrected himself with an air of restrain, 'could get into the shed, he could have fixed other little surprises in there.' He turned and moved back the way he had come. 'I'll go and check.''Thanks,' Amy said humbly. 'Er ... I hope it'll be all right.''I expect it will be.''If it is,' she called after him, 'could you fetch the bread this time?'He did, five minutes later, with a report that everything else in the shed seemed exactly as it ought to be. Then he went up to shower again, and Amy went out to check the shed for herself. She found the lawn-mower still in the corner where she stowed it for the winter, the spade and fork and trowel and broom still on their hooks, her folding chairs still against the wall,and the spare plant pots still piled on the work bench, everything as far as she could see just as she had left it except for the little heaps and smears of soot round the doorway. After she had swept them together, picked them
Being Yours BOOK 4
But she didn't know if she could hope for that. She didn't know anything very much about Robert. One of the things that had depressed her in the last few days was discovering how little she had ever understood of his character. She had seen him - coupled with him -every other weekend for nearly three months, and never once had she remotely imagined that he could behave as he had last Friday.Nor could she ever have predicted yesterday's practical jokes with their mixture of menace and schoolboy silliness. And now, she couldn't begin to guess how long he would keep them up.Paul broke into her despondency by turning away from her with an air of resolve. Jim's shiny nose appeared again from under the table and this time the rest of him followed; Paul must have disturbed the dog's favourite leaning position by swinging sideways to stand up. He bent and stroked between the high, sensitive ears, then straightened once more.'I suppose I'd better get used to the hygiene rules of having a do
Being Yours BOOK 4
She resolved to try what he had suggested, but not now. I must be getting old, she thought as the spotlights dimmed away and the house lights blinked on. I really feel I've had enough for today. Twenty-nine and I'm past it.But when Paul rejoined her at floor level, his enthusiasm cheered her like a tonic. 'It's fun up there, isn't it? Who works the lights for your shows?''On this one, a couple of sixth-formers.'She stared up at him. For some reason the house lights made his tie seem bluer, and brought out the blue of his eyes. His hair had curled tighter and his olive skin shone a little, from the heat trapped under the roof she supposed, but it looked like sheer good health.The blue eyes sought hers. Thinking how haggard and worn she must look, she refused to meet them. If only he didn't always make her feel at a such a disadvantage.'Supposing we find somewhere to eat?' he suggested gently.At least he hasn't said I look as if I need it, Amy reflected. She knew she did need to e
Being Yours BOOK 4
'I can't remember,' Paul admitted. 'But there are lots of trimmings.''Cauliflower maybe, and broccoli, steamed, not boiled . . .' She broke off, the vision fading. 'Roast beefs a meal for Sunday dinner,' she told him sadly. 'They won't be serving Sunday dinner on a Tuesday evening.''Let's see, shall we?'From the outside the Half Moon was a traditional, cosy Kent pub, white-walled and gabled, standing by itself at the end of the village. Its sign intrigued Amy. Its painted, star-flanked half-moon had flying across it the last creature she would ever have expected to see over the peaceful, Kent-style hills painted below it.'A dragon?' she murmured, staring up at it.'Brings good luck,' Paul told her. 'This way.'After the cool night of the car park, the inn's bar greeted them with a luxurious warmth. As she and Paul picked their way through various groups who sat on squashy black leather benches round low white tables, Amy slowly took in pale walls with gilt-framed seascapes, a grey
Being Yours BOOK 4
'I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if you wanted a pudding,' Paul said. 'Or coffee . . .''Nothing more, thank you.'He paid the bill from an ancient, battered wallet of some soft leather from which the gilt flourish of his initials had almost worn away. The waitress, apparently satisfied with her tip, picked up their plates and departed.'Right.' He put away his wallet, and started to rise. 'Let's go . . .''Wait.' Amy stayed firmly where she was. 'I . . . I'm sorry I've left this till now,' she began, still awkward from his coolness of a few moments ago. 'I suppose it's because I've had a lot on my mind . . .''You want to pay your share?''Something like that,' she said, relieved to have the words spoken. 'How did you guess that was what I wanted to say?''I've had supper with one or two women before.''Oh.' Amy wondered why she should find that so surprising. He was an attractive man, of course he would know lots of women. She badly wanted to hear if he was currently seeing anyone, but e
Being Yours BOOK 4
'Does he really live alone in this great place?' Paul asked.'I agree it's miles too big for one person,' Amy said. 'He doesn't use half the rooms . . .' She broke off, hating to show that she knew the house from the inside, hating herself for knowing it. As she limped along at Paul's side, treasuring the warmth of his hand round hers, she wondered why her knee should suddenly feel so much worse. Could fear really have such a specific effect? But she wouldn't be afraid, she wouldn't.'He inherited it from grandparents, I think,' she added, trying to keep her mind on everyday things. 'He says it has happy memories of his childhood.'There, that helped, picturing Robert as a little boy with adoring grandparents. But the relief lasted only until she lifted her gaze to the broad window above and to the right of the entrance, the window of the bedroom where . . .No, she wouldn't think about that. Trying to keep her mind away from it, she stared instead at the little niche, sharp-edged in
Being Yours BOOK 4
'I'm sorry we've interrupted your dusting,' she said, polite as a visiting vicar. 'I don't suppose you get much time for chores, with your busy life.''I'd done most of it,' Sarah admitted ungraciously. 'You should have seen the dust and cobwebs - it was like Miss Havisham's wedding.''It . . . it certainly looks nice now,' Amy offered. 'Very welcoming.' She spoke from an half-conscious desire to conciliate, but quickly realized that what she said was true. Though the room might not be to everyone's taste it had a timeless, traditional charm which eased the eye and the spirit. With the fire lit and a trolley of homemade cakes and scones, it would be an agreeable place to be invited for afternoon tea.Sarah acknowledged the compliment only with an indeterminate noise, but dipped her head and regarded Amy from below thick, dark, untrimmed eyebrows.The idea of tea inspired Amy to another gambit. 'You said you were baking?''Sponge cake,' Sarah answered.I knew it, Amy thought, amused in
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