Torn (7 page)

‘When a Man Loves a Woman' was the next song in the band's repertoire. It led inexorably to another bout of prolonged kissing. Hard to remember the last time she'd felt like this, knees weak, innards turned to soup, blood fizzing as if carbonated; yet even as she savoured the excitement and romance of it, there was a bit of her that knew all this was nonsense, that knew she would wake up at some point with a headache, probably feeling embarrassed. Just now she didn't care. How could she care about possible feelings of regret in the future, however soon that future might arrive?

One of the more ‘alternative' looking individuals – a young man – approached them.

‘We're going now, Planks. You coming? Or are you sorted for tonight?'

Danny looked from the speaker to Jess, with raised brows.

‘It's my lift. I'll need to go now if …?'

‘He's sorted.' Jess said, quickly. ‘If that's what you want, Danny?'

‘If? What do you think?'

The young man nodded and wandered off.

Too soon, after several encores of the more upbeat songs, the band played ‘Many Miles Travelled'.' This was their swan song and afterwards, to enthusiastic clapping and whooping, they began to pack up. The disco was immediately reinstated and the youngsters re-colonised the conservatory.

Jess looked around; none of the group she had arrived with was within sight. She'd have to try and get a taxi if her lift had gone home, grown impatient waiting for the kissing to stop. Jess took Danny's hand and led him through the other rooms, looking for Sheila. They found her in the kitchen.

‘You've surfaced, have you?' she enquired, coolly.

‘Yes, I'm sorry! I've not been very sociable, have I? We just … we were …'

‘We noticed. So, Danny, have you got transport?'

‘Danny's friends have gone. Can we squeeze him in with us do you think?'

‘It's up to Camilla. But her car is not even a proper five-seater, and there are already five of us …' The unspoken corollary being that it was an unreasonable request, the suspension wouldn't take it.

Jessica's heart sank ‘Oh! We'll just have to try for a taxi then.'

‘Don't be silly! There's still room for you.' Sheila turned to Danny. ‘Won't Emma let you stop the night? I know a lot of her friends are staying.'

‘Um, I don't really know Emma. I'm just a friend of a friend, you know? Don't worry about me, Jess. I'll hitch.'

‘No! I'm not going without you and my hitching days are over. Where's Rosemary? I'll go and ask her about taxi numbers.'

Camilla had come into the kitchen. ‘What's this about taxis? Aren't you coming with us, Jess?'

‘Complications,' Sheila interrupted, crisply. ‘Jess won't go without Danny.'

‘Well, I can quite understand,' Camilla said, looking him up and down. ‘So what's the problem? He's a big boy. Can't you sit on his lap, Jess?'

‘I think Sheila was worried about your suspension.'

‘Bugger that!' Camilla said. ‘I wouldn't want my suspension to stand in the way of young love.'

It was during the drive home that Jess began to feel queasy. Perhaps it was just car-sickness; this wasn't the way she usually travelled after all, sitting crammed up in the back, on someone's lap, eyes closed and sneaking kisses. All would be well once she was back on terra firma. At gone two in the morning it was dark and quiet in the village of Northwell when they stumbled from the car. Not only was every joint and muscle cramped, but the earth proved less firm under her feet than she'd expected. As she weaved her way up the front path she fumbled for her key; Tubs appeared from nowhere and squeezed his way between her ankles.

‘Je – ess?' Danny's voice lifted with a plaintive inflection.

The front door swung open into the living room and the cat ran in. The keys slipped from her hand and clattered onto the path.

‘Shit!' As she bent down to pick them up the world wobbled. ‘Go in,' she mumbled, but he'd stopped dead on the thresh hold.

‘What's the matter?'

Chapter Five

Perhaps he was surprised by the quantity of gaudy decorations that festooned the small room. She'd definitely gone over the top after seeing Rory's reaction to Sheila's efforts at the nursery. Jess pushed him gently from behind and followed him in. But his astonishment was nothing to do with the over-loaded tree or the multi-coloured foil garlands criss-crossing the ceiling.

‘What's happened? Looks like you've been visited by a talcum tornado!'

The room looked unfamiliar even to her. She clutched her head. ‘Shit, shit, shit! Oh, I'm so sorry Danny. I should have remembered! Should have warned you, but I never …' An internal voice completed the sentence.
Never thought I'd be bringing anyone home
. Though her stomach was turning over sluggishly she attempted a brightness she didn't feel. ‘Never mind. It won't take a minute to clear up.'

‘But what is it? What's all this white dust?'

‘Nothing's happened. It's just that I … I decided to treat the furniture and carpets with flea powder while …' While Rory's away, she was going to say. But did he remember she was a mother? Did she want to remind him? If the child-friendly Christmas decorations hadn't given the game away, then the Moses basket full of toys, would – had it been in its usual corner – but she'd pushed it upstairs before …

What on earth had she been thinking? There were sure to be modern preparations far less intrusive and off-putting. She'd found the flea powder in the lean-to. It had to be decades old. It might even be a banned substance these days. And yet, believing the advice on the rusted old drum that cat fleas could live in carpets and soft furnishings, she'd coated the room with the foul smelling chemical. Danny turned away and walked through to the little kitchen. He sat by the table, face dipped into his hands.

The situation was laughable, only Jess wasn't amused. She sighed, convinced she'd blown it. Pulling the throw off the sofa, she shook it violently out of the open front door. Then, still uncertain on her feet, she heaved the vacuum cleaner from its cupboard and lurched bad-temperedly around the room, cursorily running it over the carpet and soft furnishings. Pine needles rattled in the hose as they were sucked up with the powder.

‘There. All done.' She was still attempting an upbeat and cheerful tone when she entered the kitchen, as if this was a normal situation. ‘Have you put the kettle on? I need a coffee even if you don't.'

‘Jess. You've got a cat!'

‘Yes? Well, not by choice. He's old and fat and mangy, but he just, kind of, moved in. And I haven't the heart to move him out. It must seem disgusting to you, everything covered in flea powder as if the place is infested! I don't even know for sure if he's
got
fleas, though from the amount of scratching …' She shrugged. ‘It was just a precaution. Don't you like cats?'

Danny looked up, eyes serious. ‘I'm not disgusted, Jess. I like animals. I sometimes think I like them more than people. But I've a problem with cats. I've got asthma. Cats aggravate it. I try to avoid them.'

‘Oh! Asthma!' Like Rory. Only his was not exacerbated by dust mites or animal fur. ‘What do you want to do? I'll put Tubs outside.'

‘That'll help, but won't make a lot of difference.'

‘So, do you want to leave? I've had too much to drink to give you a lift to …?'

‘This side of Warford. Of course I don't want to leave, but it's not going to be very comfortable for me to stay. I haven't got an inhaler with me.'

Time to come clean then. Why worry? After all, this wasn't an encounter likely to develop into anything significant.

‘Is Ventolin any use? I've a couple of spares in the bathroom cupboard. My son, Rory, has asthma.' Jess watched his face as she casually delivered the information. She saw no flicker of concealed surprise, just a relieved smile.

‘My boss' daughter, too.'

‘There's a lot of it about. So, will you stay?'

‘If you want me to.'

‘Good!' Jess exhaled a sigh. Even if she had no faith in the staying power of this embryonic relationship, they had come this far and there was no point in not making a night of it. ‘Now I need a drink. Bugger the coffee. How about you?' But Danny declined to join her in a slug of McAllan's – the only alcohol she had in the house – he even refused a cup of coffee, and drank instead several glasses of water.

‘Where is Rory tonight?'

‘Don't worry. He isn't
here.
He won't jump on you first thing in the morning.'

‘I knew he wasn't here. I don't have you down as the kind of mother who'd leave a youngster on his own, without a baby sitter.'

‘I've to collect him tomorrow … I mean today. He's at a sleep-over.' Danny's assumption that she could not be an irresponsible mother only served to rekindle her conscience about palming Rory off onto someone he hardly knew. Still, in for a penny in for a pound. There was no point now in not taking full advantage of the situation. Her drink hardly touched the sides. Sean would have thought this casual gulping down of his favourite single malt whisky a sacrilege.

‘OK. Let me show you the bedroom.' Jess opened a door from the kitchen onto a steep staircase. It led straight up into the main bedroom.

‘The bathroom's in there,' Jess pointed. Then she indicated the second flight of stairs. ‘And that's Rory's room, up there under the eaves. If he had a full-sized bed I could offer you that to crash on, but … And mine isn't the most comfortable in the world. As you can see it's virtually antique. As for the cat, well he's not allowed up here so it shouldn't be too bad, although he does sometimes circum … circ … uh, get past me.' Aware she'd gone into motor-mouth mode, Jess couldn't stop herself. Danny took her hands and drew her towards him, effectively stemming the tide.

At some point during the kiss they arrived on the bed. Thinking back later, she couldn't quite work out how it happened – whether he'd pulled her down, or whether she'd overbalanced, tipping them both over. Some kind of mini, alcohol-induced blackout she supposed. Whatever the reason, it was this plunge, from the vertical to the horizontal, which was the catalyst. She'd lost control; her body and brain in the sudden grip of a disabling vertigo. Other, even more unwelcome, forces had been instigated, robbing her of coherent speech, draining her limbs of power, scrambling her brain. An ice-cold chill goose-pimpled her flesh, intense nausea rebounded with immediate and turbulent urgency.

‘I feel sick,' she managed to utter, as she half rolled off the bed, and staggered on wobbling legs for the bathroom.

Jess opened her eyes. It was pitch black outside the window; inside, the bedroom was divided vertically and horizontally by dark slabs of shadow. Only a pinpoint of amber light, flickering now and again, beamed from her laptop. Though her brain was clear, her head was banging and her mouth felt furry and tasted sour.

Drunk's dawn, she thought. Brilliant. At first she thought she was alone, then she heard his breathing, with its characteristic asthmatic wheeze, and the dip of the mattress as he stirred. She was repelled by the thought of their bodies touching, and if he was rousing she didn't want him to realise she was awake. He turned over then turned back again. The wheeze had developed into a definite whistle. Jess sensed he'd woken and was probably lying there wondering what to do. If she was any kind of decent human being, she would tell him she was awake and go and fetch one of Rory's inhalers for him. But she stayed rigidly still and tried to control her breathing.

She could come up with all sorts of rationalisations for her ungenerous behaviour. She was naked and didn't know if her dressing gown was close at hand. He'd be embarrassed if he thought he'd woken her. He might even be ashamed of his frailty, not that admitting he was asthmatic had seemed to bother him earlier, but still, he might not want to make a big deal of it in the early hours of the morning. More importantly,
she
was embarrassed. It was a long time since she'd done anything so reckless and had lost some of the bravado necessary to face the stranger in the morning. She couldn't even remember if they'd had sex, let alone if he'd used a condom.

The head of the bed was positioned under the flight of stairs that led up to the attic room. As Danny got up he cracked his head on the slanting ceiling. He swore quietly then padded across the room, managing to stumble over something – probably the toy basket – on the way to the bathroom. As he pulled the door closed behind him and she heard the light click on, she let out her breath. Good. She couldn't remember much about Danny, but at least he must have a modicum of sense. Even if he were still half asleep, the spare inhalers would be easy to spot in the cabinet. As she had the thought, she heard the clatter as something fell into the hand-basin below the wall-mounted cupboard.

So, he must be thoroughly awake by now. Perhaps he would use the inhaler then decide to get dressed and let himself out of the house. She need never confront him face to face again. Though she could recall thinking he was good looking, that was last night, and under the influence of alcohol; should they meet again, at some future time, would they even recognise each other? But Danny padded back to bed and slid carefully in under the duvet, evidently making an effort not to disturb her. What a cow I am, Jess thought.

When she opened her eyes again it was bright day. If wearing nothing else, she still had on a watch; it was nearly ten. It would be tempting to close her eyes again and lose herself in sleep, but she knew it would resolve nothing. If the man in her bed had any sense of shame, he would have removed himself before now. But he was still there; even if not touching she could feel the radiant heat of another body. Nothing for it then. She would have to face him – and the situation – now or later. Better get it over with. Slowly and cautiously Jess began to turn. She didn't want to disturb him before she'd had a good look. Cautiously she pushed herself up on her elbow.