Old Desires/A Stranger's Kiss (2-in-1 edition) (16 page)

He didn’t wait for her reply.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THERE was a sickening spin of wheels on the gravel and then the sound of Joshua’s Rolls rocketing down the drive. For a moment Holly stood as motionless as the little stone statue of Aphrodite in the garden. Then she just made it to the bathroom before she was violently sick.

After a while she made herself move. She had to clear away the dinner spoiling in the oven. Nothing must remain to provoke any suspicion that she had left the house in distress because Mrs Austin would certainly report anything odd to Joshua, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

Through a film of tears, her hands shaking, she managed to scrape out the pots and put them in the dishwasher.

She worked, cleaned the surfaces, scrubbed the sink. It became the most important thing in the world and as long as she concentrated on that she didn’t have to think. When the kitchen looked as if it was an illustration from some glossy magazine she at last allowed herself to stop. She was breathing too fast, but she still hadn’t finished.

There was the dining-room to be tidied, the silver to be put away. It was all so clear in her mind what she had to do. But the crystal flutes that had held the champagne stood together on the table and almost undid her.

She reached out and picked up the rose he had brought her and touched it to her lips. She couldn’t understand why Mary had pressed the violets, how she could have borne to see them, to touch them. She didn’t need a keepsake. She would never forget Joshua, would never forget the warmth of his arms about her, his mouth on hers, it would be a torment for the rest of her life and she dropped the rose in the bin with the champagne bottle and the discarded dinner and let the lid fall back. With that, a kind of grim darkness settled on her.

Only one thing remained to do and that was to leave a note for Mrs Austin, telling her to take the food left in the freezer and the cupboards, and then all the loose ends were tidied away. A few people might raise an eyebrow at her sudden change of plans, but no one would think about it for long.

She took the few belongings she had brought with her, climbed into the sleek black Porsche and drove away into the night.

Just beyond Salisbury she stopped. She couldn’t drive any further because for some reason she couldn’t see properly. It was a while before she realised it was because she was crying. She sat in the car for a long time, too weak with exhaustion to move, to do anything. Eventually the sun rose and a refreshment stall occupying the same lay-by came to life.

She was still wearing the black chiffon dress, streaked with the evidence of her frantic cleaning. It attracted a few stares from lorry drivers stopping for bacon sandwiches and tea, but she didn’t care. She sipped a cup of scalding coffee and then got back in her car and drove home. Her real home, where she had always lived. Where she had lived with her own true mother and father who had loved her and cared for her and never done anything to hurt her. And David took one look at her and for once in his life chose discretion.

* * *

Life resumed. She couldn’t work. Every time she sat before a piece of paper the features of Joshua Kent, his face an expressionless mask, imposed themselves before her. Instead she expended a surfeit of nervous energy in an orgy of redecoration, her bedroom first, then David’s.

She organised the replacement of the guttering and other long outstanding repairs. Even put some insulation into the loft.

Marcus wrote to her. Joshua had gone away, he said, and left him to handle all the details of Highfield. The house, with the garden and studio, had sold immediately and he forwarded the contract for her signature. There was no name shown for the purchaser and, suddenly anxious, she telephoned him from the payphone in the post office.

‘Marcus, I have to trust you. But I want Highfield to be used as a proper family home.’ He reassured her. ‘I don’t have the full details of names, but I didn’t want any further delay. Joshua told me that you were going to Italy almost immediately and I wanted it all cleared up before you left.’

The land was being transferred to the Foundation and he asked her if she had time to come to a special ceremony to hand it over, but she declined. ‘I’ll be gone in a few days,’ she lied and he didn’t make any further effort to persuade her. She signed the contract and sent it back. It was the second hardest thing she had ever done in her life.

A few days later she had an invitation to the summer exhibition at her college. Her head of department had scrawled a note on the back: ‘Everyone is dying to show off their triumphs to you, so please come. Love, Harvey.’ She was welcomed enthusiastically by her former students and admired unreservedly everything they had done.

One or two of the older women remarked that she had lost some weight and asked if she was looking after herself.

Before she had to think of a suitable answer Harvey spotted her and dragged her off to his office.

‘I hoped you’d come tonight, it saves me a journey. I’ve got a job for you.’

‘I don’t think I want to come back at the moment,’ she said, suddenly panicking at the thought.

He looked at her a little oddly. ‘No, it isn’t teaching. I’d have you like a shot, you know that, but things are still pretty tight. But I’ve been asked by a friend if I know anyone who could do a caricature. A really good one. Some High Court judge is retiring and his staff want to give it to him as a present.’

‘Rather an odd present,’ she said candidly.

He seemed a little disconcerted by this remark. ‘I don’t know. More original than a clock. Naturally you immediately came to mind and I showed him some of your stuff and he asked me if I’d talk to you. Will you do it?’

It seemed very important to him, but she shook her head. ‘I can’t, Harvey. I don’t do them any more. You’ll have to find someone else.’

‘They’re a bit short of time.’

She felt as if she was being pushed into doing something she had no appetite for and resisted. ‘But I don’t know the man. You can’t do a good caricature unless you know someone.’ He leapt at this with relief. ‘No problem. I explained that, but apparently the old boy is giving a dinner party for his staff at his country home this Saturday and you could go along as a guest of one of the clerks. Stay for the weekend. What do you say?’

‘I’m sorry. ‘

‘Well, if you change your mind, let me know before the weekend.’

When she got home David was waiting for her. He had walked around her on tiptoe since her return, taking care over every word, never daring to query her sudden reappearance, but clearly he had something on his mind. First he rushed off to make her a drink, then hovered with the offer of a sandwich. ‘No thanks. Why don’t you just tell me what you want, then we can both relax.’

He grinned awkwardly, relieved that she would at least listen. ‘I’ve a favour to ask.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘there’s a surprise.’

He swallowed and pressed on. ‘I’ve met this girl.’

‘Yes?’ She guessed what was coming, but had no desire to make it easy for him.

‘I thought she might spend the weekend here.’

‘What you do in your room, David, is your own affair. You know that.’

‘I was rather hoping … first time and all that.’ She was amused to see that he could actually blush. The feeling was so unexpected that she actually smiled.

‘You think a landlady on the premises might have a somewhat inhibiting effect? Hasn’t she got a place of her own?’

‘She shares with a couple of other girls.’ He scented victory. ‘Come on, Holly, be a sport.’

She sighed. ‘When is this scene of depravity to take place?’

‘I’ve asked her over for Saturday.’

‘Then your problems are at an end. I have an invitation that, for pity’s sake, I must accept, but I think it’s time you considered finding yourself a bachelor apartment.’

* * *

She insisted on taking her own car and followed her ‘date’ down into the Surrey countryside early on Saturday afternoon. James was a pleasant young man, quite good-looking in a softer, gentler mould than Joshua. He introduced her formally to their host.

‘Sir, may I present Miss Holly Carpenter? Holly, the Hon Mr Justice Hedley.’ The judge took her hand and held it for a moment. Despite a lean and vigorous figure, his soft brown hair scarcely dusted with grey, his fingers shook slightly and she wondered if perhaps he was retiring because of bad health.

‘Miss Carpenter,’ he said at last. ‘Welcome to my home. May I call you Holly?’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Thank you. Come and have some tea and tell me about yourself.’ She had expected the drawing-room to be full of people arriving for the evening, but they were on their own.

Even her escort had disappeared.

‘I understand that you are an artist of some talent, Holly.’

She hadn’t expected him to know anything about her; in fact, she was a little surprised that he was paying her any attention at all. ‘An artist,’ she affirmed. ‘The question of talent is for others to pronounce upon. Shall I pour the tea?’

‘Yes, thank you. No sugar for me.’ She handed him a cup and poured some for herself and then sat opposite him, taking this opportunity to study the deep character lines of his face. There was a strength forged of some inner pain. A true likeness would not be a comfortable thing to live with, she decided.

‘We seem to be a little early, sir. When do the rest of your guests arrive?’

‘I’m afraid there are no other guests, my dear. You have been brought here under false pretences and I understand only after a great deal of manoeuvring by your friends.’

The cup paused halfway to her mouth and she replaced it very carefully on the saucer and set it on the table.

‘I think, sir, you had better explain.’

‘I wanted to meet you.’

‘I don’t understand. I thought I was here to draw—’

‘Yes, I know, but I’m not retiring just yet. Quite the contrary. And there is no dinner party.’ He rose swiftly. ‘If you’ve finished with your tea I’d like to show you some of my pictures.’

Puzzled, thoroughly curious and a little bit piqued, she followed him out of the room and across the hall to the library. Over the fireplace hung the portrait of a woman, fair, very English, her sweet face reflected in the flanking portraits of two sons, one of whom was the young man who had brought her to the house.

‘James is your son?’

‘Yes. I’ve been very lucky with both the boys. His brother is a doctor.’

‘I’m sorry. I understood — I was told,’ she corrected herself, ‘that he was your clerk.’

‘A slight deception on my part. I hope you’ll forgive me.’

‘Forgive you?’ Holly was suddenly, painfully angry at being deceived by people she considered to be friends and the emotion jolted through her like lightning. It was the first time she had felt anything in weeks. But she had been somehow tricked into coming to this man’s house and she wanted to know why. She turned from the portrait in front of her and said stiffly, ‘If I haven’t come here to draw a picture of you, sir, then perhaps you would be good enough to tell me exactly why I am here. ‘

He smiled then, for the first time. ‘You are so like your mother. Not just in looks, although it is just as well I was warned how alike you were or I would have completely disgraced myself when you walked through the door. But in your manner, too. Absolutely straightforward. She was like that.’

Holly’s skin prickled uneasily. ‘You knew my mother?’ she asked. And she knew it was Mary he was talking about.

‘Yes, Holly. I knew your mother.’ His expression was watchful, grave. ‘In every sense of the word.’

He took a notebook from his pocket and handed it to her. A book covered with Chinese brocade. Holly swallowed a cry.

‘Where did you get this?’ It should be at home. Back in the loft. She had braved the spiders and replaced the evidence of her birth in its hiding place. Her mouth tightened. David, still trying to flush out a story. All that nonsense about a new girlfriend. And somehow he had managed to involve Harvey. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

‘My name is Andrew Hedley. In her journal, Mary referred to me as ‘A’ in an attempt to hide my true identity. Clearly she was unsuccessful. Mr Kent had very little trouble in finding me.’

He walked across to a padded window-seat and held out a hand, inviting her to join him. She moved on stiff, unwilling legs, the reality of what he said slow to sink in.

‘I always wanted a daughter. My wife gave me a brace of sons but then there were complications and she couldn’t manage any more. She gave me all this, too. I’m afraid I had the best of the deal.’ He looked out over the extensive parkland. ‘She’s a wonderful woman and I do love her.’

‘Do you?’ Holly asked stiffly.

‘Yes, my dear. It was never a wild passion. There’s only room for one, I think, in a lifetime and Mary took up all of that. It’s quite possible, you know, to love two women.’ He paused, going away a little in his head at the contemplation of the awesome difference. She came to me as the perfect wife for a struggling barrister. Good connections, plenty of money. It was a family arrangement and I tried to be a good husband. After Mary…’ He paused as if even the words hurt, then gathered himself again. ‘After Mary sent me packing, it was easy.’