Page 35 of One Summer Weekend
‘I thought he was at the time, but’ – an involuntary dash of bitterness – ‘I was wrong.’
‘Oh, Alicia.’ His sigh was impossible to decipher.
I kept my eyes firmly closed – and also my mouth, whichwas on the brink of all sorts of betrayal.
He cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’
The bed gave up his weight with a groan, and I heard him rummaging for his clothes. When the door slammed, I peeped through my lashes – just in case. But it wasn’t a trick; I was all alone, with no one to distract me from my thoughts.
I resolved to make sure there were no more littleinterludes in the motorhome. Once I was on the train back home, I reasoned, the danger would be over.In the meantime, safety in numbers. I would throw on the trousers and T-shirt I’d worn yesterday and head to the kitchen, in the hope of finding Midge or Bill.
Midge was at the table, sorting through a stack of Sunday papers. ‘Morning! Did you sleep well?’
‘Very,’ I lied.
‘Sucha pity you can’t stay for lunch – Jack says you have a train to catch. But Bill’s persuaded him to do a spot of fishing first, so you can have a lazy morning. What time’s your train from Manchester?’
I bit back an exclamation; Jack seemed intent on depriving me of a last opportunity to question Bill. ‘I’ll check my ticket’ – another lie, since I could get any train I wanted – ‘but it’s areal shame we can’t stay longer. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed meeting you.’ That at least was true.
‘Same here. Still, there’ll be other times. Now, help me with these newspapers. Bill takes the finance and business sections when he goes fishing – what do you suggest for Jack?’
‘Problem page and obituaries,’ I said, waspishly.
A peal of laughter. ‘Watch out, Jack – Alicia’s got itin for you this morning.’
I whirled round to find him right behind me. Our eyes met; I detected hostility in his, and no doubt he could see the same in mine. But all he said was, ‘It’s forecast to be another hot day.’
An involuntary glance downwards; he had on the same shorts as yesterday, with a different T-shirt. Less than an hour ago, those legs had been in a far more intimate position… I decided to wear shorts too, at least until we were ready to leave; it was time to play him at his own provocative little game.
I turned back to Midge with a bright smile. ‘I’ll go and get my shower.’
‘Mind, you won’t see Bill and Jack until later – they’ll be off soon, and taking their breakfast with them.’
‘Oh.’ A pause, while I debated my next step. In a burst of resolve,I spun on my heel, linked my hands around Jack’s neck and said huskily, ‘Let’s make up before you go. You know I can’t be angry with you for long.’
I’d hardly finished my sentence when he scooped me up in his arms. ‘That’s the best offer I’ve had in a while.’ His face was too close, the glint in his eyes too obvious a sign that he was enjoying my look of horror. ‘How long have we got, Midge?Don’t want to keep Bill waiting, but hey – a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.’ And, despite my squeals of protest, he carried me out of the kitchen. However much I struggled, he wouldn’t put me down. Somehow, he manoeuvred his way up the steps to the motorhome and, finally, deposited me none too gently on the rumpled bed.
‘Jack, no!’ My voice was sharp with fear; but was it fear ofhim, or fear of myself?
‘Don’t worry, this is as far as the role play goes.’ A different glint in his eyes now, impossible to fathom. ‘And sorry about the fishing, but I didn’t feel I could turn Bill down. Anyway, you’ll probably get as much out of Midge – if not more.’ And, once again, he walked away – leaving me to reflect on what might have been.
Even after my shower, I felt hotand angry. As a farewell gesture to any work agenda, I put on the olive-green shorts I’d brought – skimpy, but cool – and a tight-fitting sleeveless shirt with a sunflower design. My arms and legs looked pale and uninteresting; maybe I’d take some days off next month and sunbathe at my parents’ villa. The thought took me by surprise; it was as if I was contemplating a return to normality – or, atleast, what I imagined was normality for an unattached twenty-nine-year-old woman.
I found Midge on her own in the kitchen, loading a tray for two: tea, fruit, croissants, jam. She glanced up. ‘I thought we’d eat in the garden, there’s some nice shade near my studio.’
Intrigued, I followed her along a different path to a sizeable summer house with a table and chairs outside. Only twochairs; evidently a more private retreat than the bigger entertaining space we’d used previously. I peered surreptitiously through the windows of the summer house, but couldn’t make much out. In any case, it felt wrong to look without permission.
We sat down and Midge poured the tea. Around us basked the garden, breathing out its scents; the warm breeze ruffling the air seemed to amplifythe hum of the bees. The tortoiseshell cat strolled towards us and rubbed affably against my legs.
‘Hello, where’ve you been?’ I said, stroking its gleaming amber-and-black fur. ‘Haven’t seen you since we arrived.’Which seems a lifetime ago.
Midge handed me the plate of croissants. ‘You’re very honoured to see her at all. She’s a law unto herself – aren’t you, Toffee?’
We bothlapsed into a companionable silence, broken only by ‘More tea?’ or ‘Could you pass the fruit, please?’
I feel at peace, for the first time this weekend. Is it because of what’s here – the bees, the greenery, the cat? Or is it because of what’snothere – the man who destroyed my equilibrium almost as soon as I met him?
Eventually, Midge spoke. ‘Would you like to have a look round mystudio?’
