An Excellent Wife (9 page)

'I wasn't shouting when she came in—I smiled, and that only seemed to make her worse!'

'I expect she was afraid you were about to sack her. You usually smile a lot when you're firing people.'

Horrified, James said, 'What on earth do you mean? Are you implying that I enjoy sacking people?'

'I know you don't. That's why you smile; it's pure nerves.' Miss Roper studied him. 'What are you nervous about now?'

James began signing the letters without answering. If there was one thing he could not stand it was women who thought they could read his mind.

When Barny came to pick him up he had the parcels with him, inside the bag the department store had given him. Miss Roper eyed the bag curiously, reading the logo on the side with obvious interest as James said goodnight, but didn't comment, perhaps because James's eyes dared her to try!

As Barny started the engine James said, 'Not home, Barny—Muswell Hill, please.'

Barny did a double-take, staring round at him. James leaned back and gazed fixedly out of the window at the city street crowded with home-going workers.

After a few seconds Barny set off without asking any questions. It was quite a long drive north, through London, to the hilly suburb. Staring out at busy, unfamiliar streets, James found his eye caught by something . in a pet shop window.

'Stop!' he urgently told Barny, who pulled over into a small car park in front of the line of shops.

James jumped out. 'I won't be long.' He dashed into the pet shop and a few moments later emerged with a Victorian-style bird cage, painted white, in which some yellow birds hopped and sang.

Barny eyed them with uncertainty. 'Taken to keeping birds, have you?'

'No, they're a present.' James climbed into the back of the car and put the cage down on the floor. 'Okay, off we go again.'

Over his shoulder Barny murmured, 'Not everyone likes birds, you know.

Messy little things in a house, chucking seed around. Noisy, too, especially first thing in the morning.'

'I can always take them back.' It had been an impulse buy; James hoped he hadn't done the wrong thing.

As they turned into the road where Patience lived James felt an odd reverberation inside his chest like the rumble of a coming earthquake. It was just as well Miss Roper wasn't there to give him one of her omniscient smiles.

'Do you want me to wait for you?' Barny asked as he pulled up outside The Cedars.

'No, I'll call a taxi. I hope you and Enid have a nice evening with your friends.' They were going to a party given by a couple they had known for years, their closest friends, who had a cafe near the British Museum now but hid once worked for a family living next door to James. Barny and Enid had often said wistfully that one day they would like to have a cafe or a boarding-house, but they had stayed on because Enid didn't like to leave James alone with strangers.

Thinking of that, James smiled, and Barny smiled back.

'I hope you have a good evening too. Give our best wishes to the young lady.'

James felt himself go red and knew Barny noticed; he could have kicked himself. Why did he keep doing that?

He got out of the car and slammed the door with his foot because his hands were full—a bag in one, the bird cage in the other. Before he walked away Barny said, 'And our love to Madam—-her birthday, isn't it?'

Stopping as if shot in his tracks, James swung back. 'How do you know that?'

Barny was unflappable as ever, meeting his eyes openly, seriously. 'Enid remembered. A great one for birthdays, Enid, never forgets anyone's.'

James smiled. 'She never forgot mine.' And his father had never remembered it. 'Goodnight, Barny.'

He could hear the noise of the party long before he reached the house, and paused on the drive to listen to the voices and laughter, the dogs barking, the sound of music. It sounded as if they were all having a marvellous time.

The trees breathed all round him, and the scent of spring was in the air from the daffodils and hyacinths he could not see; above the roof of the house the night sky flowed, deep blue, clear and cloudless.

He had to ring four times before the front door finally opened and a host of children and dogs rushed out. Emmy got to him first, flinging her arms around the nearest part of him she could reach, hugging his waist.

'I knew you'd come! I've been listening for the doorbell for ages; you're late.'

Then she looked down at the bird cage and gave a loud gasp of delight.

'Birds! They're lovely—are they for me?'

Over her head he met Patience's eyes and helplessly said, 'I saw them in a pet shop window on the way here and thought she...the children...might like them.'

Emmy took the metal loop off his fingers and put both arms around the cage to support it, peering through the bars at the birds, who flew anxiously around from perch to perch.

'It's too heavy for you; I'll carry it,' Toby said, forcefully removing the cage from her.'Give them back, they're mine!' yelled Emmy, grabbing.

Toby fended her off with his elbow. 'You might drop the cage and kill the birds; don't be stupid. What are they, James? Canaries?'

'Yes,' James said abstractedly, watching Emmy's tears well up. 'Don't cry, Emmy. There's one each for all three of you, and you can choose first.'

'Who's looking after them?' Patience demanded sternly, eying the children.

'And that means feeding them regularly, cleaning out their cage, checking on their claws and beaks and feathers once a week—it doesn't just mean playing with them.'

'Me!' Emmy said.

The boys laughed. 'In a pig's eye! I'll do it, and she can help me,' Toby said, carrying the cage indoors with the others following. The dogs rushed after them, barking excitedly at the birds, who hopped and twittered in agitation.

'Shh...shh...bad dogs,' Emmy scolded them as the little party disappeared.

'Are you coming in or not?' Patience asked him, her face glimmering softly in the faint light.

He just stared down at her without answering. Silence enveloped them, but not an uncomfortable silence; he did not feel the need to speak, nor, apparently, did she. It seemed a lifetime since he last saw her; it also seemed like the mere blink of an eye.

His chest contracted; he could hardly breathe. Is this falling in love? he thought. Is this how it feels? This dizziness, this intense concentration on one other human being—is this love? His eyes absorbed the tendrils of bright hair on her forehead, the wide eyes shining like a cat's in the dark, the slightly parted lips, as if she might smile at any minute.

It would be so easy to love her. Panic shot through him like fire through a house; he felt himself burning up, lost for ever.

He couldn't let it happen. He was too old for her. They came from such different places, worlds that never met. He moved in a world of ruthless drive, cold calculation, where the bottom line was always money and nothing mattered but success. Her world was based on family and warmth, love and duty; for her what mattered was always going to be people. If those two worlds collided it could only lead to pain, even destruction, for one or other of them, if not both.

It would be madness even to contemplate it—and he had always prided himself on being very sane.

What was he doing here? He shouldn't have come. Angry with himself more than with her, he burst out, 'I hope you're satisfied now. I came—but only because you used emotional blackmail. Well, it won't work twice. I am not seeing my mother again after this. I'll make her a decent allowance so that she can live comfortably, but there is no place for her in my life, is that understood?'

'YOU'VE got a horrible temper,' Patience said. 'No need to shout at me. I'm not your conscience.'

'No, you're damned well not! So stop trying to make me feel guilty.'

She gave James one of those maddening stares, half smiling that little Mona Lisa smile of hers, her eyes bright with mockery, or amusement.

'I'm not trying to make you feel anything. Whatever you feel is entirely down to you.' She turned to go back inside and he caught her wrist to stop her, swinging her round.

Off balance, she collided with him and his whole body tensed with reaction.

For a second he really believed she was going to fall over; instinctively he put his other arm round her waist to support her, and the warmth of her flesh came through the thin, gauzy blue and green dress she was wearing, making a strange shiver run through him. He stared down at the scooped neckline which almost showed the rise of her small breasts, the tight sashed waist, the full, spreading skirt. The way the soft material clung to her made his mouth go dry.

This close he was breathing the scented air around her, the faint, delicate perfume in her fiery red hair, all over her slight body. He bent his head, as if stooping to smell a flower, and felt the warmth of her cheek against his.

His splayed fingers slowly moved down from her waist, with James only half aware of what he was doing, stroking and caressing the small buttocks, pushing her towards him while his lips slid sideways, hunting for her mouth.

He had to kiss her. Had to.

She didn't fight him, yielded wordlessly, her body bending under his fingers as if she were plastic, her lips softly parting as he kissed her. James shut his eyes and let himself fall into the warm, breathing darkness of the night, his mind as closed as his eyes, everything alive in him concentrated on the sensation of touching her, holding her, kissing her.

It was only at that instant that he admitted how much he had been wanting to do this ever since he set eyes on her, but before he could face his own emotions the intense pleasure of that moment was shattered abruptly when someone exploded out of the house and leapt on him, pulling him away from Patience. A fist crashed into his face. James was still dazed from that kiss.

He went over backwards, fell out into the drive in a dramatic sprawl, not even sure what had happened to him, only knowing that his cheekbone was throbbing, the back of his head was hurting and somewhere Patience was yelling.

'What did you do that for, you idiot?'

'Why did you let him kiss you?'

'Oh, don't be such a prat, Col!'

'I knew he was after you the minute I saw him.'

A brief pause, then Patience said, 'What do you mean? Why did you think he...?'

'Fancied you? Of course he does—it was obvious. I saw the way he looked at you.'

The boy sounded explosive but Patience was calm, almost reflective, as if thinking over what he was saying. 'How did he look at me?'

'You know what I mean! He never takes his eyes off you; don't tell me you hadn't noticed—you're not blind. But he's so old! My God, Patience, he could be your father!"

'Don't be ridiculous; he's only about ten years older than me.'

'Much more than that—fifteen, I'd say!' The boy's voice broke, as if he was about to cry. 'Oh, Patience, how could you let him kiss you like that?'

'Col, can't you get it into your head? I'm not your property; I don't have to ask your permission before I let someone kiss me.'

'You're my girl; you know you are! You never go out with anyone else.'

'I never have time to meet anyone else, do I? I'm too busy. I haven't had a chance to look around, experiment.'

'Was that what you were doing just now? Experimenting? You can't have liked it; you can't have done!'

The breathless, shaking young voice was only too familiar—Colin something or other, the boy he had seen briefly last time he was here. She had said the boy was aggressive; she hadn't exaggerated. The fist which had collided with his face had had more power behind it than James would have expected from that skinny boy's body. Humiliating to be knocked down by a teenager half his age. Thank God there had been no other witnesses! Bad enough that Patience had seen it.

Having got his breath back, and able to think clearly again, James began to get back on his feet just as Patience rushed out to help him.

'Are you okay?'

'It took you a long time to wonder about that, didn't it?' he snarled, brushing gravel off his previously immaculate trousers. 'I could have been dead for all the interest you took. The only thing you wanted to do was quarrel with your boyfriend.'

'Don't shout at me! It wasn't me who hit you!' she said, not denying that Colin was her boyfriend. But then she couldn't, could she? Not with that boy listening.

His jaws tight, James muttered, 'I know who it was!' and turned furious eyes on the boy. 'And he isn't getting away with it. He hit me before I had a chance to know what was coming; he won't be so lucky next time.'

'We'll see about that!' Colin yelled.

She got between them. No doubt she was worried about what he might do to the boy, and she had every right to be worried, even if the boy had knocked him down a moment ago. He had caught James off balance and now James wanted to do something violent; he was seeing everything through a red haze of rage.

'Oh, don't you be stupid too!' she said with a heavy sigh, as if they were both children and she was the only adult in sight. 'I didn't expect that from you.

You're old enough to know better.'

Did she have to keep emphasising his age?

'I'm not drawing my old-age pension yet!' he snapped, but she was looking at the boy, not him, and wasn't interested in anything he had to say—which made James even angrier.

'Colin, tell Mr Ormond you're sorry,' she ordered, and the boy's jaw dropped.

James heard him gasp with affront.

'No, I won't! I'm not sorry I hit him. The only thing I'm sorry about is that I didn't hit him harder.'

'Try it again and you will be sorry!' James threatened, knowing he was being as big a fool as this boy, yet unable to stop himself.

' The boy put up his fists like a boxer and danced about, ready for a fight.

'Come on, then—I'm not scared of you.'

Patience smacked his hands down. 'Go home, Colin!'

He looked as if he might burst into tears any minute, staring at her as if he didn't believe his ears. 'But your party! Are you saying I can't come to your birthday party?'

'Not if you can't behave yourself like a grown-up. I won't have you fighting Mr Ormond; it would ruin my birthday.'

'Then send him away, not me! Who wants him here, anyway?'

'His mother does—it's her birthday, too, remember!' Her tone softened and she smiled at Colin. 'You like Mrs Ormond, don't you? You don't want to upset her on her birthday.'

James watched the two of them, his teeth grating. Why did she waste her warm, gentle smile on that gangling boy who was far too young to appreciate it?

At that moment Emmy came running back, blithely oblivious of any atmosphere between the adults. 'Aren't you coming in, James? Come on, we're all waiting for you. You didn't notice my new dress. Isn't it pretty?'

He bent to kiss her cheek. 'Very pretty. It suits you.' He meant it, too. Just the sight of her made his heart lift. Her dress was bright pink taffeta and should have clashed horribly with her red hair, but somehow it didn't; she looked adorable, with her wide sash which floated down the back in two streamers over her full skirts.

Obviously he had said the right thing because she beamed, her whole face lighting up. 'It's new. I never wore it before. Listen...' She did a little dance and her skirts flew around her, rustling noisily at every move. 'Isn't that great?'

'Great. I love it, and I love the way you've done your hair.' It had been tied into two curly bunches with matching pink ribbons and her cheeks were pink, too, with excitement.

'Your mother made the dress for her; it was very kind of her to take so much trouble,' Patience said.

'Ruth told me I could have any colour I liked. Patience took me to the shop and I picked pink. I love pink.'

'Huh! You look like a pink blancmange, all fat and wobbly,' Tom insulted, arriving.

Emmy whirled round to rush at Tom and hit out at him with both of her dimpled, screwed up fists. Tom shoved her away effortlessly and she tumbled back into James, who picked her up, frowning sternly at Tom, shaking his head.

'You shouldn't hit girls.' He caught a look of sarcasm in Patience's eyes and flushed slightly, remembering the first time they'd met, when he'd ordered his security men to carry her out of the building. He knew that that was what she was thinking about; her hazel eyes were eloquent.

It was odd, he was beginning to be able to read her mind, but then her small face was so expressive that every thought she had showed in her luminous eyes and the fleeting movements of her full mouth.

'She hit me first,' protested Tom indignantly.

'You were rude about her—what do you expect?' James avoided meeting Patience's gaze, wishing she would stop looking as if everything he said amused her.

'I don't look like a blancmange, do I?' Emmy asked him, and James shook his head.

'Of course not, you look beautiful.' Over her curly head he met Patience's eyes with a cold, forbidding stare. Let her laugh at that! But she didn't; she smiled at him and his chest constricted as if in pain or pleasure so extreme that it made his heart hurt. That wonderful warm smile had been all for him that time, and it was like being handed a rainbow.

He couldn't remember anyone in his life who had had a smile like that. When Fiona smiled it was just a movement of her elegant mouth; it held no real warmth- courtesy sometimes, sensuality at times, yes, mockery quite often, but not warmth. He was only just beginning to realise how little warmth there had ever been in his life and how much he had always needed some without being aware of it.

'It's getting cold out here. Come on, the party food is already laid out; supper is ready,' Patience said to James.

The children ran ahead. Colin sullenly said to Patience, 'What about me?

Can I come or not?'

'First* apologise to Mr Ormond for hitting him.'

Colin growled, 'Oh, forget it! I don't want to come, anyway, if he's going to be here.'

He rushed away down the drive and Patience gave a little sigh. 'Oh, dear.

Now he'll sulk for days.' Looking at James, she asked him, 'Did Colin hurt you much?'

He felt his cheekbone. 'It's just a bruise.'

'I'll put something on it in a minute,' she promised.

Picking up his two packages, James followed her into the house, watching the grace with which she moved in the vivid green and blue muslin dress which fell to mid- calf, fluttering around her slender legs. She looked like spring, with her sunny hair.

'Your dress is very pretty, too,' he told her huskily, and she looked back over her shoulder, smiling.

At that odd angle her face came very close to beauty, the delicate geometry of cheek and eye and temple revealed and then gone again as she turned away once more.

'Your mother again,' she said. 'I usually wear jeans, as you've probably noticed; they're cheaper and more hard-wearing than anything else. I have to be practical—I have so much to do. When your mother found out that I didn't have anything new to wear for the party she insisted on making this for me; it's my birthday present from her.'

'I had no idea she was good at sewing.' But then, what
did
he know about her? Her life was a blank to him; they were strangers. How could she expect him to treat her as anything else after all these years?

'She uses our old sewing machine; it was amazing that she could get it to work at all, it had been up in the attic for ages, but Joe is a whizz with machinery of any kind. He oiled it and mended it, and she has been busy with it ever since, making things for everyone. She seems to be enjoying doing the work, too.

'She can't stand up for long, or move about easily. And she has such bad arthritis she has to work slowly and carefully, because her hands are often very swollen, • but I think the exercise is good for her knuckles—they get worse if she doesn't use her hands at all, and it makes her feel better to be doing something instead of just sitting about in a chair reading or listening to music or watching TV.

'I encourage them all to have a hobby: painting or growing house plants or making homemade wine. It's good for them to do their own thing and be independent. It's nice to have company, to have other people around, but sometimes everyone needs to be alone.'

'What about you? How much time alone do you get?'

She grimaced, laughing. 'Not a lot!'

They arrived in the crowded dining room and everyone at the table looked up and smiled, greeting him. He smiled back and said, 'Hallo, how are you all?' feeling very self-conscious after the way he had -left this house last time he was here. He knew by now how much they all talked and gossiped; they all knew about him and his mother. They probably all knew he had slammed out of this house last time he came.

But their faces gave nothing away; they looked very friendly as they all chorused, 'Hallo!'

The children were not sitting at the table; they had placed the bird cage on the old oak sideboard behind them, beside a huge bowl of fresh fruit and a pile of plates. The canaries were singing away cheerfully and, he noted ruefully, chucking bird seed about.

'I hope those birds aren't going to be too much of a nuisance for you,' he said uneasily to Patience.

'They're marvellous—aren't they, gang?' She smiled at everyone around the table, who all nodded.

'Very pretty,' said one old lady. 'And I like to hear them twittering like that; it makes the room feel cheerful.'

'I've got a couple of budgies up in my room,' said Lavinia, 'You should hear them! Talk a blue streak, they do, and not all of it fit for polite company, because my husband taught them to speak and he was inclined to swear if he lost his temper. What amazes me is that he's been dead two years but those birds still remember what they learnt from him.'