Accidental Engagement (5 page)

‘No,’ she whispered, in answer to his question. ‘How could I be?’

With his arms around her, she felt she could never be disappointed about anything.

She felt his body stirring and she turned, her arms going instinctively round his neck, but he took hold of her hands and pulled them away. She had the impression he was deliberately damping the electricity that was in danger of creating an uncontrollable energy
between them.

‘Time to see the statue. And then we’ll have lunch before hitting the shops,’ he said.

She nodded, ready to fall in with his plans. The day was becoming more enjoyable than she had ever dared hope, and she was happy to relinquish the decision-making - at least for the next few hours.

The statue was not far from the castle, and Anna couldn’t resist popping into the Lace Centre just opposite, feeling a sense of history as she handled the beautiful lace in the quaint medieval building. And then it was off for lunch.

The meal turned out to be delicious. They ate at an out-of-the-way restaurant where Mark was obviously well known. Deep-fried mushrooms for Anna were followed by chicken in a cream and brandy sauce, whilst for Mark there was grilled whitebait
followed by medallions of pork.
T
hen both of them plumped for the profiteroles, which swam in a richly delicious chocolate sauce and positively oozed with the thickest and richest of creams.

‘I feel like I’ll never move again,’ said Anna as she finished the last mouthful and reluctantly put down her spoon.

‘That’s a pity,’ said Mark with a lift of one eyebrow. ‘Because then you’ll miss all the boutiques.’

A coffee set her firmly on her feet again, and the real fun began.
Nottingham
was a shopper’s paradise! It didn’t take her long to realise that she would never have the energy to see all that it had to offer, and so she was happy to go along with Mark’s suggestion that they concentrate on the small, exclusive shops in the pretty arcades rather than going to the two large shopping centres - the Victoria Centre and the Broad Marsh Centre - which dominated the city, top and bottom. But it was only when they were about to enter the first boutique that Anna began to feel uncomfortable with Mark’s assumption that he would be buying her a new wardrobe of clothes.

‘Do you usually do this?’ she asked him hesitantly, as they were about to go inside.

He looked at her quizzically.

‘Buy things for me, I mean.’

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he asked with an irony she didn’t understand. ‘I am your fiancé after all.’

‘But it doesn’t necessarily follow.’ She looked worried. ‘It’s just that somehow this feels all wrong, you see.’

‘It may feel wrong to you, but it doesn’t feel wrong to me. I want to see you in something chic.’

Before she could make any further protest he propelled her inside.

She hesitated for a moment by the racks of clothes and then smiled. Why not? she asked herself. Mark was her fiancé. It made sense that he would want her to wear something decent when she was with him. If his friends saw his fiancé in an old viscose skirt and baggy T shirt they wouldn’t be impressed! And whilst impressing Mark’s friends wasn’t important to her, she didn’t want to let him down.

‘Can I help you?’ asked the assistant, a sensible-looking middle-aged
woman, coming forward to welcome them.

‘Just looking at th
e moment, thanks,’ Anna replied.
A
comment that might have lowered the assistant’s hopes, had not Mark settled himself onto one of the chairs provided with the air of one who evidently expected to be there for some time.

The clothes were fashionable and stylish. Anna let go of her doubts and gave in to the joy of shopping. She took out first one dress and then another, comparing them with a range of skirts in every conceivable length, to say nothing of an array of shirts and tops.

‘I think I’ll try these,’ she said, having narrowed her choice down to a beautifully lined cream sun-dress in a heavy, soft cotton; a tailored day dress in green crêpe-de-chine; two skirts - one flared, in linen, and one straight, in a beautiful lightweight wool - and a handful of tops.

The assistant showed her into the fitting room, and she tried on the sun dress first. She couldn’t believe the difference it made to her. It brought out the creaminess of her fine complexion, and the scattered flowers gave it a light and summery feel. She was about to change into the next dress when she realised she ought to show Mark. She hesitated. For some reason it didn’t seem
second nature to show it to him,
but that was easily explained. Presumably they were not in the habit of shopping together - which, if she was often away on tour, was not surprising. She pulled back the curtain of the cubicle and stepped out onto the shop floor, but as he turned towards her she felt suddenly shy. There was such a look in his eye - admiration, mixed with an unmistakable desire - that she fel
t suddenly conscious of herself,
as though she was aware of every inch of her body, and every square inch of her skin. It was as though she was standing undressed before him - not surprisingly, as the sleeveless dress, with its cutaway bodice, revealed far more of her than her old and shabby outfit had done.

‘We’ll take it,’ he said to the shop assistant; who, on seeing the admiration in his eyes, was already looking forward to many further sales.

Anna smiled, pleased he liked the dress, and returned to the cubicle, emerging a few minutes later in the natural linen skirt with toning top. Having shown him the two skirts she asked him, ‘Which do you think I ought to get?’

‘Both.’

She laughed. ‘Mark! You’re spoiling me.’

His eyes crinkled. ‘I know,’ he said, finding her enthusiasm catching, in marked contrast to the bored attitude of spoilt women who had managed to drag him round the shops on a few - very few - previous occasions.

The sales assistant took the skirts out of her hands, complete with the tops, and took them to the desk.

With a kiss and a smile Anna thanked him, before following the assistant to the desk.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She looked at him in surprise.

‘We haven’t finished yet,’ he said.

‘But the skirts will do for the rest of my time here, and don’t forget I can
wash out the tops. And I have the sundress for when it’s hot.’

‘You don’t have any idea, do you?’ he asked, sounding amused. ‘You should be demanding a different outfit for every day you’re at Little Brook -’

She frowned. ‘I don’t approve of demanding.’

He gave her a puzzled look. ‘No. I can see that. It looks like I’ll have to do it for you, then. Now, go and try on the crêpe-de-chine. You’ll need it for the evenings - or were you thinking we would stay in and play Monopoly?’ he teased.

Anna laughed. Now that he said it, she saw his point. He must have an active social life, and when they went out she would need something smart to wear. ‘Do you always spoil me like this?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he said with a wry smile, as though he was entering into some kind of game. ‘But there’s a first time for everything.’

She tried on the dress, and whilst she was in the cubicle Mark chose another armful of outfits for her to try on, including a dark red sheath dress he had seen in the window and a couple of little black dresses.

By the time Anna had modelled them all, and they had made their selection - with only a few discreet arguments about certain styles - she was exhausted.

And it was the exhaustion, she thought later, that ha
d probably triggered the memory.
A
memory of a voice.

She didn’t remember any words, just a hard and uncompromising voice, but even that slight memory was enough to make her experience a feeling of alarm verging on panic.

‘Are you all right?' Mark asked in concern, seeing that something was wrong.

‘Yes. Yes.’ The feeling was receding, to be replaced by frustration that she couldn’t
remember
anything. ‘I’m fine now.’

‘It’s probably the heat,’ said the assistant, going to fetch her a glass of water.

‘You don’t look fine,’ said Mark in concern, helping her to a seat by the till, where a fan placed on the desk created waves of cool air. ‘When we’ve finished here we’ll go back to my apartment and you can have a lie down.’

‘But your apartment’s in
London
,’ she protested in surprise.

‘One of them is. I have a few.’

A few
, she thought.
Just what sort of world am I marrying into?

‘Here you are,’ said the shop assistant as she returned with a full glass. ‘It’s not very nice, I’m afraid. The water round here doesn’t make good drinking water, but at least it should revive you.’

Anna took the glass gratefully and had a sip. ‘I see what you mean.’ She made a wry face as she tasted it. ‘But I’m grateful all the same. Thank you.’

‘I’ll just settle up,’ said Mark, ‘and then we can go.’

Feeling much recovered, Anna slipped out of the green crêpe-de-chine and into her own clothes. They looked even shabbier by contrast. Then she joined Mark, who was already waiting for her with a collection of bags. ‘I didn’t realise there would be so many,’ she said.

He smiled and took her arm. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes.’

Thanking the assistant, they went out into the arcade and then through on to the street, where Mark hailed a taxi. A quarter of an hour later Mark was opening the door to his apartment and escorting Anna inside.

‘It’s stunning,’ she said, looking round the spacious living room that gave off from the hall.

It was furnished in modern style, and was geared to masculine comfort. Black sofas contrasted with a white carpet, and large geometric pictures - originals, Anna suspected - covered the walls.

‘Why don’t you have a lie down for half an hour?’ he said, nodding towards a door at the far end of the living room. ‘The bedroom’s just through there. When you’re rested I’ll make us a drink before we head back to Little Brook.’

Anna was happy to go along with his suggestion. For someone who had been involved in a road accident a few days before she had done a lot, and a quiet half hour was just what she needed to restore her depleted energy.

She went into the bedroom, which was decorated in cool shades of white, blue and grey, and looked at the king size bed. Yes, she would feel better for a lie down, she realised. She pulled off her skirt and T shirt, hanging them over the back of a chair. She was about to remove her lacy underwear - the only decent clothing she possessed -
when she hesitated, her hand on her bra strap. To undress fully, with Mark in the next room, seemed
. . . dangerous. Engaged or not, she did not feel she really knew him, and to think of him touching her filled her
with fear as well as excitement.
T
he more so because she suspected that, if once she let him start, she would never want him to stop.

Pulling back the covers, she slipped into the bed. The sheets were cool. She closed her eyes, and as she did so she caught the faint scent of Mark on the pillow. She felt herself relax, and without being aware of it she drifted off into a light doze.

A little more than twenty minutes later, as she could tell by the bedside clock, she drifted back into wakefulness. To her surprise, she found that she was listening for something. She had the curious feeling that she had been wakened by a bell. But as the noise did not come again she decided she must have dreamt it. She stretched out her arms and then her legs, glad to find that they were much less sore than they had been the day before. Slowly she sat up. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and then stood, padding over to the en suite bathroom, where she freshened herself by splashing water over her face and throat before running herself a glass of water, leaving her skin to dry in the warm air. She turned off the tap . . . and thought she heard something. Surely those were voices coming from the living room? Unconsciously, she strained to hear. Yes. There were definitely voices. One of them was Mark’s. The other was a woman’s.

She felt a sudden cold feeling grip her insides. This was Mark’s flat. In
Nottingham
. But why did he need a flat in
Nottingham
, when he had Little Brook? Was it for . . . she couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought. Just how much did she know about Mark? she wondered. Where had she met him? How long had they known each other? When had they become engaged? All these questions she had meant to ask him, hoping the answers would jog her memory, but she had not wanted to spoil the mood. She was still unsure of him, still not knowing why he had been so abrupt the day before, and had not wanted to do anything to jeopardise the friendship that had been so evident during their day in the city.

But sooner or later she would have to know. Would want to know. And sooner or later she would have to know who the woman in the living room was, and why Mark kept his
Nottingham
flat.

She put her glass down on the night table and picked her skirt up from the chair. The voices in the next room became louder, and it was evident t
hat an argument was in progress,
an argument which she could not help but overhear.