A Taste of Love (11 page)

‘I
thought I’d get into the spirit of things as I’ve never been to Scotland before,’ she said, her hands on her hips wiggling from side to side. ‘What do you think of the tartan?’

He
threw back his head and howled with laughter, and then almost running across the room, he picked her up and spun her round in the air. ‘You’re my beautiful, gorgeous, sexy woman,’ he said. Then he set her back onto her feet, cupped her face in his hands and stared longingly into her eyes. ‘I love you, Helen. I quite simply adore every inch of you…’

She
caught her breath at his admission. She’d wanted to say the same on numerous occasions but had always held back because she wanted to hear it from him first. ‘And I love you too, Richard. I have done for ages now but was scared to say it.’

He
slid his hands around into the back of her knickers and hooked his fingers into the suspender belt and stroked the silky top of her stockings. The stockings and belt looked and felt fantastic – they were something he’d only ever seen in magazines or on shop posters. He groaned with lust, pulled her firmly against him and began to cover her face with kisses. ‘Never, ever, be scared to talk to me, darling – there isn’t a word you could say that would change how I feel about you.’

She
kissed him passionately, sucking his tongue till he thought he would burst, then he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

Chapter Twelve

The following Friday evening Richard wearily put his key in the cottage door and called out a greeting. Toot and Floot raced towards him wagging their tails and barking. At least the dogs are pleased to see me, he thought, as he wandered into the kitchen. Emily sat at the table picking at a chicken salad.

‘Hello,
love,’ he said planting a kiss on the top of his daughter’s blonde head. ‘Where’s Mum?’

Emily
looked up at him with Angela’s same blue eyes. ‘She’s at a council do and won’t be back till late. Your salad is in the fridge,’ she said.

It
was nearly three weeks since he’d seen his daughter, and although he’d sent her numerous text messages and an email he’d only had replies in one or two syllables.

He
tucked into his salad, trying to make normal conversation with her about school, the show jumping competitions and her friends, but found it awkward. When he’d told Helen about this she’d laughed, reassuring him that all sixteen-year-olds were the same, that he shouldn’t worry and within a couple of years she’d be like Christopher – much more amiable.

The
one piece of news he did get from her though was that there was a new chairman on the council who had just moved into the village and was causing quite a stir, especially with the women as he was a bachelor.

*

Angela was so late that evening and he was so tired that he didn’t hear her come to bed and the first sight of her was at breakfast next morning. She sat at the kitchen table with an angry scowl on her face. ‘Who the hell is Helen Walker?’ she snarled, waving the Glasgow flight tickets in her hand.

He
was furious that she’d been in his bag but was even more annoyed hearing her foul voice saying his lovely Helen’s name. ‘She’s a development technologist who works for me,’ he answered her stiffly. ‘And I’d rather you didn’t go through my bag and private things.’

She
slammed the tickets down on the table making the toast rack rattle, and hissed, ‘I can’t think for one minute what type of woman would have an affair with the likes of you, but if I find out you’re carrying on behind my back I-I’ll ruin you.’

He
hated her now. There was no other word to use for his feelings towards her but pure hatred. Just the sight of her made him shudder in repulsion and he wanted nothing more than to repack his bags and walk out for good. But that would spoil his plans. He took a deep breath knowing he had to play it cool for another couple of months. ‘I am not having an affair – you are being ridiculous. Helen came with me to Glasgow to look at all the Sushi products they have which are different to London.’

She
glared at him, scraped back the chair and stormed upstairs.

*

Richard whistled for the dogs then set out across the field to get away from her. He wasn’t a violent man but his blood was raging through his veins at a rate of knots and he needed to walk the temper out of his system. It was obvious that Angela thought him so boring and mediocre that no woman could possibly want him, which he found truly insulting. But there again, wasn’t that what he’d thought the very first time Helen had kissed him?

He
slowed his pace and slumped down on a split tree stump, bent forward and ran his hands through his hair. He should have torn the flight tickets up instead of pushing them down the side of his bag. But, he mused lightly, when you have a woman in tartan bra and knickers to handle it robs your mind of all sensible thoughts. He imagined her standing in front of him now in the suspender belt and stockings and that “come and get meˮ teasing look in her eyes and he tingled all over.

Not
only did Helen want to make love to him three or four times a night but she really loved him. Which, he decided, was just as well because he was absolutely crazy about her and he knew it wasn’t just their sexual relationship that had irrevocably changed his life but it was her as a genuine, caring and generous person. Most days he felt glad to be alive; he noticed everything that was good in the world and appreciated all the little things in his life. And, he thought, as he gazed across the countryside, he felt so much more confident in himself. He loved the job, and was working hard to build better relationships with the children and generally felt much more optimistic about his future.

When
they’d first made love he’d worried about his lack of experience, and after years of never being able to please Angela he’d dreaded Helen being disappointed too. But he’d found that when the woman you were making love to enjoyed it as much as yourself, and she’d proved this by screaming his name during her climax, it made him feel like a king. And after the first couple of times they’d made love he’d stopped worrying about different positions and foreplay because it had all come naturally. He thought of her body now and knew that when they were joined together, whether it was in bed, on the settee or in the shower – it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Neither of them were shy in their nakedness or touching and taking pleasure from each other’s bodies. In fact, he thought grinning; she usually took more advantage of him than the other way round. The vision of her waking him during the night and riding on him until she relieved herself was an image that would stay with him forever.

He’d
decided to wait until Helen bought the apartment and then would offer half of the money so it could be their place together and not just hers. Then, he thought, and only then, would he be able to walk away from Angela and never look back. He slipped his feet out of his shoes and wriggled his feet in the grass –from now on every time Angela makes a derisory comment, he decided laughing, he would close his eyes and think of Helen in her tartan underwear.

As
the dogs raced towards him he picked up a twig and tossed it for them. Watching them fight and scamper after it made him think of Christopher and how much he missed him. This was his favourite field so with his mobile he took a photograph of the dogs and sent it to him. As he walked back towards the cottage he remembered the weekend in Durham. They’d stayed overnight in the Marriott hotel because of the long drive and after Christopher had gone back to his digs he’d sat on the end of his mum’s bed and told her all about Helen and how much he loved her.

‘And
do you think she feels the same way about you?’ Patricia had asked him.

He’d
nodded his head confidently. ‘I don’t think, Mum. I know she does,’ he’d said and told her about the night she’d had the nightmare. ‘That was the night I knew I’d fallen in love with her.’

‘Angela will bleed you dry of every penny you’ve got. Because money is all that matters to her...’ Patricia said thoughtfully.

‘I’m
going to have to account for that,’ he said nodding. ‘Helen is talking about buying an apartment when her house is sold and I’m hoping she’ll want to share it with me. I know my future lies with her now.’

She’d
taken his hand and smiled. ‘This is as good a time as any to tell you. But I’ve changed my will, Richard. I’ve put half of my money into trust funds for Emily and Christopher when they are twenty-one, and the other half is in your name only,’ she’d said.

‘Ah,
Mum, are you sure?’ he’d asked in amazement.

She’d
pouted. ‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Even if you don’t leave Angela I can’t bear the thought of her getting her greedy little paws on one penny of my money!’

He’d
shaken his head at her, then cuddled her tightly. ‘Thanks, Mum. It’s a relief to have you on my side…’

Chapter Thirteen

‘He loves me!’ Helen couldn’t help repeating the words over and over again to herself after they returned from Glasgow. She walked around in a dream and started to end her texts, emails and phone calls to him with the words. They were only three small words – but she said them with pride and an intimacy that was meant for him and him alone. With the sale of the house imminent she planned to spend the weekend clearing out cupboards which were crammed full of family memories.

There
was so much actual meaning in saying, I love you, she thought, as she began to empty wardrobes in the spare bedroom. The short word, love, didn’t seem big enough to encompass everything she felt and wanted to say to him. She wanted to squeeze and hug him, touch his body and have him deep inside her, listen to his quiet steady voice, make him happy, see the love shining in his eyes when he looked at her – the list, she thought, was endless. On the night she’d had the nightmare, when he’d lovingly stroked her hair, she’d wanted to whisper ‘I love you’, but she’d bitten her lip and remained silent, lacking in confidence and still unsure of his feelings for her. And that had been when she realised she’d fallen in love with him. It had been the first night they’d slept together without making love and it convinced her that their relationship wasn’t based upon sexual attraction alone. He’d listened to her, held her tightly all night and comforted her with love and reassurance –something Rob had never done.

She
filled black bags of old clothes and ornaments for the charity shop, and chastised herself for comparing the two men, because they were poles apart. But by doing this, she decided, it helped to confirm the difference in her feelings and she knew that what she felt now for Richard was true love.

*

On Monday morning when she saw Richard in an early morning site meeting she decided he looked tired and miserable. Later that night, while they lay holding each other in bed, he told her about the depressing silence and atmosphere all weekend at home. She’d looked worryingly at him but he’d kissed the frown on her forehead, pulled a funny face then licked her cheeks until she was helpless with laughter.

This,
she noticed, began to form a pattern over the next month. His look of sadness usually lifted by lunchtime on a Monday and by early evening he’d dramatically perked up and was always back to his normal happy self.

At
work within the same four weeks, and after another retailer visit, the new lines were all signed off and she began to start launch preparations. Using Helen’s information the specification team drew up the documents and product profiles they needed – Richard had his final costing reports with sales forecast ready, and the process technologists were finalising production trials in the factory.

*

‘It’s been such a hellish month. I’ve been so busy at work I’ve had to do most of the packing at weekends because I’ve worked late nearly every night of the week,’ Helen told Rachel one Saturday morning.

They
were sitting in the kitchen on stools looking at the bare walls and benches cleared free of kitchen equipment and knick-knacks. The house sale was ready to complete within the next week and Rachel was at home for the weekend.

‘It’s sad to look around at the house nearly stripped bare. But at the same time you must be excited about moving into the new apartment,’ Rachel said.

Helen
smiled. ‘I am and I hope you are too. I’ve been telling myself to look forward and not backward while I’ve been packing. But there are lots of memories in this old place…’

Rachel
sipped her coffee and nodded in agreement.

Helen
touched the side of Rachel’s cheek tenderly. ‘I’ve kept some of your old school reports and pictures you drew for us though. I just couldn’t bear to throw them out,’ she said. ‘And there’s two bags of stuff in your room you need to sort through and either keep or chuck out’

Rachel
jumped up. ‘I’ll sort it later,’ she said heading to the stairs. ‘I’m meeting Dad at twelve in Covent Garden.’

Rob
had told Helen that he was buying an old property with Stephanie and she’d agreed a deal with him to take their old furniture, which gave her more money to buy smaller modern pieces for the apartment.

*

Later that afternoon Helen was sitting on the edge of her bed folding clothes when she heard Rachel arrive back and thump up the stairs calling for her.

She
stood in the doorway with a flushed red face. ‘So when were you going to tell me?’ she shouted, both her hands scrunched into fists on the side of her jeans.

Helen
turned to face her with a sinking heart and wondered what Rob had said now to upset her. ‘Oh, love. What’s he done now?’

‘Oh,
he hasn’t done anything, Mum. For once he’s the only one telling me the truth!’

Helen’s
mind raced with confusion. ‘Eh? Wh-what are you talking about?’

Rachel
sneered. ‘I’m talking about you having an affair with your married boss.’

Sweet
Jesus, she thought panicking, how on earth had they found out about Richard? Her body tensed in shock and her heart began to race. She could feel sweat form on her top lip as she stared at the disbelief on her daughter’s face – in that instant she looked remarkably like her father. ‘Oh, love, I’m so sorry,’ she croaked.

‘You’re
sorry,’ she snapped. ‘What are you sorry about? Sorry I found out – or sorry that after the pact we made to tell each other the truth, you’ve been lying to me for months?’

Tears
formed in the back of her throat as Helen remembered the day in the garden. ‘I’m sorry about it all,’ she stated flatly. ‘But more sorry that you’ve found out like this.’

Once
again she felt she had to justify her actions, but now it was to Rachel – the same as she’d done to Karen. For God’s sake, she railed, this was her life. She was a grown woman so why did she have to gain permission to have a relationship with a man?

Rachel
stormed around the small bedroom ranting. ‘Dad said he’d bumped into Tom in a club last week who’d drunkenly told him everyone at work was talking about you having an affair with the new manager. And that he’s married with two kids!’

Helen
sighed heavily and wanted to say that it wasn’t like that, but she knew it was best to let Rachel get it out of her system.

‘Dad
says you walk around like Miss Goody-two-shoes and all the time you’ve been knocking off a married man! Can’t you see that you’re doing exactly what Dad’s young dolly-birds have done to you! And even if you have no shame about cheating on another woman – what about his children? I mean, for Christ’s sake, Mum, just because your home has been broken it doesn’t mean you have to do the same to someone else,’ she yelled. The last sentence seemed to take all the wind from her and she slumped down on the stool in front of the dressing table and stared at the carpet.

Helen moved cautiously towards the end of the bed and laid her hand on the end of the quilt hoping to reach out to her in reconciliation. ‘Rachel,’ she said calmly. ‘It’s not like that at all. Just let me try to explain what’s happened.’

Rachel
lifted her head slightly and looked at her with eyes that held such hope. She could see her daughter wanted her to say it was all lies and fabrication, but she said. ‘I haven’t told you about Richard, but there again I haven’t told anyone about him – circumstances don’t allow for that. But this is not a casual fling and it’s something that I haven’t undertaken lightly.’

Realising
that she had to treat Rachel as a grown woman she told her all about Richard, his life at home and their relationship.

‘And
you love him?’ she asked timidly. ‘What’s going to happen?’

Helen
took a deep breath and looked at her tartan underwear lying on top of the pile of clothes – it gave her renewed confidence. ‘After you, Rachel, he’s the most important thing in my life. I’ve never loved any man like I do him, not even your father. And we’re still talking about things at the moment – nothing concrete has been decided. But I promise you that as soon as it is you will be the first to know…’

Rachel
stood up and looked down at her. ‘OK,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not saying I understand or agree with what you’re doing but there’s not much I can do about it.’

Helen
stood up too and wanted to hug her, but Rachel turned away from her and went into her own bedroom, closing the door behind her. Helen flung herself onto the bed and cried. She cried for hours at what she saw as the unjustness of her situation, the hurt and pain she’d caused her sister and daughter, and the longing to be with Richard, who she missed more and more every weekend.

*

Helen’s father rang next morning to invite her and Rachel for a celebratory afternoon tea for Karen. This should help the situation, Helen thought, as she drove them to Highfield Road. An awkward silence had settled between them since their argument and she didn’t want Rachel’s whole weekend at home to be marred by the atmosphere. As Helen locked the car Rachel was already running down the path and throwing her arms around her grandfather. He hugged and squeezed her tightly and they walked arm in arm into the house.

She
smiled, watching Greg and Karen kiss Rachel and squeeze her in between them on the settee – not for the first time, Helen thought that Rachel looked more like Karen’s daughter than her own. Charles was fussing over the spread he’d laid out on the small table in the corner of the lounge while Helen sat in the armchair and looked at the congratulations balloons and banners which were spread around the room.

‘Granddad,
have you made me tuna sandwiches?’ Rachel asked.

He
spun around and teased. ‘Oh, I forgot they were your favourite. I’ve done chicken today.’

She
jumped up and went to him. ‘You fibber!’ she giggled, and picked a tuna sandwich from the plate.

‘Come
on then,’ Charles said. ‘Get stuck in!’

By
the food that Charles had prepared, Helen could tell they were all their favourites, Victoria sponge cake for Greg, lemon meringue pie for Karen and chocolate cake for herself. Lively laughter and excited chatter filled the room as they ate and then Charles disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tray, five glasses and a bottle of champagne.

‘Can
I help with that bottle?’ Greg asked.

Charles
placed the tray carefully on the coffee table and Helen noticed how old and lined her father’s hands looked now. Although he was seventy, she was guilty of not noticing how age had crept up on him while she wasn’t looking. ‘Thanks, Greg, but no. I want to open this bottle myself. I want to pop the cork to celebrate the fact that my darling daughter has escaped the horrible fate that befell her mother.’

Greg,
dressed in his usual brown jacket and corduroy trousers, nodded respectfully. ‘Charles, that is perfectly understandable,’ he muttered.

Karen beamed at her father and Helen noticed how well she looked in a beige summer dress glowing with the golden tan from their week in Tenerife – her big brown eyes were shining. ‘Oh, Dad.’ She jumped up to kiss him on the cheek.

Helen
looked at her sister and felt a huge wave of relief that she’d got the all clear from the hospital and they’d caught the disease early enough. If they hadn’t and it had spread, she thought, swallowing back tears that threatened to choke her, well, the thought of living without her sister just didn’t bear thinking about.

Greg
held the glasses while Charles popped the cork to loud whoops and cheers then steadily poured the champagne. Greg handed them around and her father raised his glass, looked at the photo of their mother, and said. ‘She’s safe, Gabriella,’ he soothed. ‘Our little girl is out of danger…’

Helen
got up and stood at his side with tears sliding down her cheeks. Karen joined them and stood on the other side – he put his arms around their waists as they looked together at the image of their beautiful mother.

Just
before they were about to leave Helen was standing at the kitchen sink washing the last of the dishes with Charles when suddenly he laid the tea towel down. ‘Helen,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything today at Karen’s celebration tea but as I’ve got you to myself I wanted to talk to you about this married man…’

A
cup slipped from Helen’s hand in shock at his words – thankfully it plopped back into the soapy water rather than onto the floor. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard her father say. A ball of anger started in her stomach and crept its way up to her chest until she wanted to scream in temper. Knowing it was Karen who had told him she seethed and glared at him.

‘Now,
now,’ he hushed. ‘She didn’t want to tell me but I knew she was worried about something and I made her. I promised I wouldn’t say anything but I can’t stand by and see you waste your life.’

She
stared incredulously at him. ‘Waste my life?’ she shouted, grabbing the tea towel and drying her hands. She gripped the side of the sink taking deep breaths and fighting the urge to go back into the lounge to tear strips off her sister. She stared steadily at her father. ‘For a start, Dad, neither you nor Karen know anything about Richard and whether he is the type of man, as you say, to waste my life on. And I am absolutely sick to death of you all telling me how to live my life,’ she said resolutely. ‘Whether you’ve noticed or not, I am thirty-nine years old and more than capable of making my own decisions and choices in life.’