Page 58 of The Quiet Wife
“Have you started painting yet?”
He shook his head, watching the way her derriere swayed in the walking dress she wore.
“Why haven’t you started painting yet? It’s been weeks.”
He frowned, surprised by his mother’s tone. “I just haven’t reached that point yet. You know how it is. I need to work up to paint.”
His mother’s expression was sceptical. Rather like the one she gave him as a boy. It still made him squirm.
“What are you suggesting? That I’m dragging my feet to spend more time in her company?” He could see where she was going with this and thought it best to get it out in the open.
If he expected her to shrink away from such a direct assault, he was wrong.
“Yes,” she said firmly.
He sighed and scratched an eyebrow. “We’ve talked about this. I like her a lot. I’d go as far as to say I’m very fond of her, but that’s all. I’m not having an affair with her.”
“I know you’re not. I’m worried that you’re thinking about it though.”
“Honestly? Were she a single lady, I would court her. But she’s not. She’s married and, as such, admiring from afar is all I can do.” Even as he said those words, he knew he was lying to himself because he knew simply admiring her would never satisfy him.
“Good.” His mother squeezed his arm.
They walked in silence for a while until his mother broke it again.
“Her husband is a cold fish, isn’t he?”
“Mm hmmm,” Jemie muttered.
“Last night was very uncomfortable. I felt for Frances. I suspect Mr Leyland will get what he wants, and take over the company he works for, but at what cost?”
It was a damned good question.
His mother peered up at him. “Does she know your circumstances?”
He shook his head.
Before his mother could interrogate him further, Lizzie turned and called to them.
“Shall we stop here for some refreshment?” She indicated some trees and rocks with a long view out over the mighty river Mersey that shimmered, diamond like, in the sun. He could smell the water on the air. It was one of the things he loved about Speke. He gestured his approval.
“I’m ready for a drink,” his mother said, eyeing the sack on his back. Do you have sandwiches in there?”
He laughed at her unwavering appetite as they trudged along to join the ladies.
Frances was sitting on a rock, face up to the sun, a soft breeze stirring the locks that were breaking free from her pins. Eyes closed, lips parted, she looked like a nymph.
“Jemie,” Lizzie turned to him. “Be a darling and let’s see what is in that bag. Cook packed it for us, so I hope there is something delicious inside.”
“It’s heavy enough, so I imagine there will be something you like.” He let it drop to the ground with a thud, then passed the ladies a blanket to set out. He fetched a folding chair from the side of the bag for his mother, and then set to unpacking the food with Lizzie. As the delicacies emerged, they all exclaimed excitedly over ham sandwiches, pork pie, and lemonade together with slabs of lemon cake. They shared the bounty between them, and Jemie watched as Frances laughed and ate, the heavier weight from this afternoon seemingly lifted.
He took a long sip of the lemonade, and wished it was something stronger, before taking out a sketch pad and some pencils from his inside pocket. He propped himself up against a rock and sketched the ladies, the river, and even the trees.
“I haven’t had such a lovely day in an age,” Frances announced on a satisfied sigh.
Lizzie reached out and hugged her sister. Jemie was sure that she confided in Lizzie. He was glad she had someone. He just needed to stop wishing it was him because nothing good could come of it. He’d known that from the start, but what had been a sense of disappointment was growing into an almost overwhelming sadness. For once in his life, he had no idea what to do.
***
