Follow a Star (22 page)

He was watching so eagerly that May didn’t like to disappoint him. Having dithered about staring at it for a little while, she finally took action. It felt good, she had to admit, to hold an instrument again, and it was a well-made guitar: mahogany with a rosewood fingerboard and a spruce top wood which had mellowed with age, turning its colour from the yellow of clotted cream to a glowing amber. She strummed it experimentally then tweaked the machine heads until it was tuned and felt it come to life with a rewarding sweetness of tone as she played it in.

‘Blimey,’ said Bill, jolting her out of her reverie. ‘You’re good at that. Maybe you’ve got a new career ahead of you!’

‘Ooh, I don’t think so,’ she said, carefully laying the guitar down.

‘No, really,’ Bill said reaching out to place his hand on her shoulder. ‘Start believing in yourself. Don’t let that lousy ex of yours keep you in a box. You’re a lovely person, May. You’re talented, you’re kind – you’ve got so much to offer.’

May shook her head, helplessly. Bill was being kind too. It was very sweet of him to want to bolster her confidence. He probably wouldn’t be half so sympathetic if he knew she’d got herself in a mess of her own making.

‘Don’t let one man destroy your self-esteem,’ he was saying. ‘May?’ He shook her shoulder gently.

She looked up and met his reassuring smile.

‘It’s going to be all right.’

May studied his face and hoped he was right. But then she had a feeling Bill could make a lot of things better. There was a long pause as they stared into each other’s eyes and then she felt herself moving towards him, just as he leaned forwards to pull her into his arms. Melting in to his kiss reminded her of everything she’d missed about him. That mouth of his was already doing her a power of good, she registered vaguely as the urgent drumbeat of her heart sent let’s-get-ready-to-rumble hormones racing round her body. She moaned as his lips broke away from hers, exhaling raggedly as they moved slowly and thoroughly down her throat. Arching towards him, she shuddered as his fingers slowly unbuttoned her blouse, pushed back her flimsy lace bra and exposed her erect nipples.

She had just enough presence of mind left to tug at the buttons of his shirt, shoving it aside, desperate to feel strong muscles and warm skin against hers. Bill groaned and mumbled something as she reached for the belt of his jeans. May kissed him hungrily whilst they began to tear urgently at each other’s clothes, then groaned when Bill bent his head to take a breast in his mouth. Oh, lordy, at this rate she was going to come before they’d even finished undressing. Bill was amazing! He could even talk with his mouth full! Eh? Bill froze and at the same time she realised a voice was speaking on his answerphone.

‘Bill?’ Cecil was saying plaintively. ‘Are you there? Sorry to be a nuisance, dear boy, but I’ve got myself a bit worked up about tomorrow and wondered if we could chat for a little while.’

After an anxious wait the next morning, the consultant popped into the relatives’ room to report back to Bill and May about the operation and to tell them that Cecil was well enough for visitors. May went with Bill to the High Dependency Unit but stayed only long enough for Cecil to register that she was there and to say hello, then she squeezed Bill’s hand and told him she would wait outside. Even though they’d both protested and urged her to stay, she felt they ought to have some private time together. Cecil looked tired after his ordeal, but the early indicators were that the procedure to repair his damaged aorta had gone very well.

Mindful that the outcome was not so rosy for other patients in the ward, May stifled her smile until she was outside where she was strongly tempted to skip down the corridor. Cecil’s phone call, just when she and Bill had been getting on so beautifully the previous evening, might have dampened down the flames of desire that moment, but it hadn’t extinguished them. Every time Bill looked at her, her stomach turned over and her knees felt weak. In a way it was exciting, having to wait because Cecil would be convalescing at Bill’s house for the next week. It wasn’t a question of whether they would make love, but when. In the meantime, May thought, feeling lovely and warm inside, there was a lot to be said for rediscovering the joys of a steamy petting session – and having fun for the first time in far too long.

Her contented sigh was interrupted by a flickering screen above a patient’s bed clearly visible through the glass of the neighbouring ward. How anyone got any rest with a constant stream of nonsense from six different televisions it was hard to imagine. What rubbish was on now, anyway? May peered in and gulped.
Aiden!
Or rather, she thought, narrowing her eyes – Molly! Molly Gordon, celebrating her new number one single, with Aiden at her side. Big pink hair, teeny pink playsuit, lovely legs that went on forever and although May couldn’t hear what her successor was saying as she began to speak, she scoffed to herself knowing there would be no trace of the mockney accent Molly affected for her singing in contrast to her normally patrician tones. Molly’s daddy was someone influential in the Cabinet, which was nice for Aiden. A lot more useful than a roofer and an unemployed shopkeeper as potential in-laws, she guessed, feeling a little bit guilty about her mum.

And although the cameras were pointing at Molly, she was acutely aware of Aiden’s presence; the force of that mesmeric dark gaze was so direct that she couldn’t be sure she wasn’t being watched even when he was safely tucked away on a television screen.

His hair looked nice, though a bit shorter than usual, twinkly smile firmly in place. And his arm possessively clamped round Molly’s waist. So much for all those claims about Molly being nothing to him and missing her. The ‘glued at the hips body language’ clearly showed he’d got over her very quickly. And got on top of someone else, she thought, indignant as her rival turned to him and looked down on him with an adoring smile.

‘Yeah, and you’re still a short-arse!’ she couldn’t help muttering.

‘Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strange televisions?’

‘Bill! Don’t sneak up on me like that!’ she said, jumping.

Bill smiled and caught hold of her hand. ‘Fancy grabbing some lunch? We could have a picnic down by Campion’s Creek.’

‘It’s a perfect day for it, but what about Cecil?’

‘Fast asleep, but doing well. It looks as if the procedure’s been a great success, but the next few days will be crucial.’ Bill frowned and stroked her cheek. ‘May, I’ve got to look at a job later this afternoon; a chapel conversion Matthew’s got me involved with. It’ll keep me busy over the weekend too. And then with Cecil …’

‘Shush … what’s the hurry?’ May stretched up and silenced him with a kiss.

Behind him she could see Aiden staring out of the television watching her with a half-smile and felt … she tested her heart … nothing.

The sun was high in the sky, and the silence of the peaceful spot he and May had chosen for an impromptu picnic lunch at Campion’s Creek was broken only by the shrill shriek of seabirds. At least it wasn’t the shrill shriek of Harry Watling stumbling across them, Bill chuckled to himself. He raised his head with great reluctance from May’s mouth, which he’d been enjoying getting to know, and stared into her beguiling gold-brown eyes.

Sunshine warmed his aching back, easing the tension he’d been carrying worrying about Cecil, and May warmed his aching front. Contented and relaxed, he didn’t want to move and he didn’t want May to move, he simply wanted to lie there, drinking her in, counting the sprinkling of freckles that were appearing like gold dust brushed across the bridge of her nose and her pink cheeks. Except if he was staring at her, it was hard to kiss her, and she was such a sexy and responsive kisser. And also, if they were stuck like this forever, how would he ease the painful hard-on bulging in his work trousers? Flip, it was like being a teenager again, all the pent-up frustration.

‘Go!’ she smiled, pushing him away. ‘You’ve got work to do.’

‘I can think of far more exciting things to do,’ he murmured.

May wriggled and giggled beneath him. ‘Perhaps we could sneak off to
Lucille
 …’

‘I think the fear of Harry Watling knocking on the coach roof or peering down the companionway to investigate a strange outbreak of rocking on one of the boats in her care might cramp my style a bit.’

‘Ditto, the caravan.’ May sighed. ‘Harry does the rounds regularly to make sure I’m not wrecking the place.’

‘Well, it did belong to someone very special to Harry, so you’re honoured,’ Bill told her, his erection wilting at the thought of George. And however tempting the idea was to give in and satisfy the desperate urge to make love to May as soon as possible, he was reluctant to rush the moment.

‘’T ain’t right, ’t ain’t proper,’ George would have said. And he would have been right. He didn’t just want to fall into bed with May; he wanted to linger, to take his time getting to know every inch of her, from her golden-brown head to her plump little bottom, down to her cute pink toes and then do it all over again. In short, he couldn’t get enough of her.

‘And talking of people who are special,’ she said, running her fingers over his lips and making him catch his breath. ‘Is there anything I can do to help you prepare for Monday?’

Yes, of course, she meant Cecil. He rolled off and helped May to sit up beside him. ‘Obviously he’ll be in the High Dependency Unit for the rest of the day and maybe tomorrow, so they can monitor him for any signs of infection. The plan is to take him back to the ward for Sunday. Then he’ll be X-rayed to ensure the stent’s in place with a view to discharging him after the weekend. I’ve made up the single bed in my study and the district nurses will call in to take over the care of his dressings. By the end of the week he should be fit to go back home.’

‘Don’t rush him,’ May said, holding his hand.

‘I don’t want to rush you, either,’ he said, brushing a strand of windswept hair out of her eyes.

‘You’re not,’ she told him firmly. ‘But I am going to rush you back to work before you start losing clients.’

‘Yeah? Well you won’t write a hit single sitting around on your backside all day either,’ he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. ‘Get on with it, so I can boast that you got to number one in the charts with a little help from my dad’s old guitar!’ He glanced down and thought he’d caught a frown crossing her face, but it was quickly replaced by a smile. And why not? Wouldn’t it be great for May, who at times seemed to have so little self-confidence, if she could write the kind of catchy hit song no one could stop singing?

Now, perhaps, after another day of Paul following Thunder around like a star-struck puppy, Fiona finally had her husband to herself. Even so, she lingered in the bathroom, painstakingly wiping off her make-up, brushing her hair and rehearsing her lines. By the time she got into bed Paul was fast asleep, which she took as a sign that her news could wait for another day. In any case, saying the words out loud would only make them true and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for the truth yet.

As soon as her head touched the pillow she was wide awake wondering how she could have been so negligent about her own health. So much for her assumption that a couple of pills missed here and there or taken at the wrong time didn’t matter. Two positive pregnancy tests proved how wrong she could be. What a mess!

She glared at her husband’s sleeping form. It was all right for Paul, business as usual for him. He’d be up and about before dawn, giving the best of himself to strangers, treating the most obnoxious guests as if they were his best friends. Meanwhile she’d be the one looking forward to stretch marks, varicose veins, coping unaided and years of clearing up after yet another person.

This was all Paul’s fault, she decided, conveniently forgetting that they’d bought Walton House together and with high expectations of their new life by the sea. If she hadn’t been so starry-eyed about him, she would have foreseen she was signing up for a life of drudgery. And if she wasn’t so flipping tired all the time, she would have been a bit more diligent about taking her pill. Silent tears of self-pity streamed down her face.

Was this a sign of her hormones creating havoc? For crying out loud, this was one of the reasons she’d dreaded ever having a baby, wasn’t it? Because she’d lose an emotional layer of skin, that she would weep at the news and move fearfully through a world where bombs killed innocent children, paedophiles lurked like crocodiles in the sludgy waters of the internet and young women were shot in the head for trying to get an education? What would she be like by the time she finally had the baby? A complete basket case!

‘Paul,’ she whispered, unable to bear it any longer. He rolled over and pulled her closer, hugging her into his chest. She lay there, listening to the soft thudding of his heart and ran her hand over his ribs. Not an ounce of spare flesh on him, she thought enviously. Whatever Paul ate, he still had a distance runner’s build, but then if anyone cared to count the number of miles they covered in the average week at Walton House, it probably added up to several marathons. She, however, was about to turn into a whale pup.

‘Fee?’ he asked sleepily before she could say anything.

‘Hmm?’

‘Do you love me?’

‘Hey, of course I do,’ she smiled, knowing it was true.

‘No matter what?’

She slipped her hand inside the band of his shorts and moved down to cup his sleepy willy.

‘I might get the hump if you’re about to tell me you’ve been shagging one of the guests and you’re running off together.’

‘No,’ he said, sounding sad. ‘Nothing like that.’

‘Then what?’ She wobbled his willy, which ignored her.

‘Nothing,’ he said, yawning. ‘Nothing at all. So long as you love me and the two of us are together that’s all that matters.’

Rolling her away from him and on to her side, he spooned against her, holding her tightly. Very soon his breathing told her he was sound asleep. Better by light, Fiona told herself. Why tell him something that would mean neither of them would get any rest afterwards. It could wait. Everything would seem better in the morning.