Charity (70 page)

His nose was flat, as if it had been squashed on to his face by a sledgehammer and his nasal tones showed that he had difficulty breathing; hair cut to a mere brown fuzz and black stubble on his heavy jowls.

‘Lovely day,’ Toby said brightly as he went up the bare wooden stairs with Albert close behind him. He hated himself for trying to ingratiate himself with these brothers, he could tell they regarded him as an upper-class twit, however often he reminded them that he’d been born in Greenwich.

A snort was the only reply. They had reached the second floor, where the brothers camped out.

It was a mere open space, heavy rough wood beams slanting up from the centre to support the roof. Opposite the door was an open hatch with a huge rusting chain dangling in front of it from a pulley. A couple of mattresses lay behind one set of beams. Army blankets and a few grubby pillows gave the impression that the brothers slept here. On the far side some tea chests stacked on their sides held a couple of cracked mugs, a few beer bottles and what seemed to be car spares.

Jim was sitting on an upturned wooden box, wearing a grubby vest and jeans. Although he was neither as huge as Albert nor quite so ugly, there was something more chilling about him.

His eyes were like those of dead fish on a fishmonger’s slab, staring and blank, and he had the thinnest lips Toby had ever seen. Muscles stood out like ropes in his neck and arms and the belly hidden beneath that vest was iron hard. Alf’s skin was mottled red from the, sun; Jim’s was a deep, dark brown and shiny as if rubbed with oil.

Toby had once met Jim in a club when he was wearing a dicky bow and dark suit, but even discovering the man had some social graces, that his voice was well modulated and even pleasant, didn’t quite wipe out the suspicion that he was an exceptionally dangerous animal.

‘I expected you sooner,’ Jim said, fixing Toby with those strange fish eyes. ‘Did you miss the boat?’

‘No, I was right on schedule.’ Toby sat down on the empty box Jim waved his hand towards. ‘But it’s a long drive, so I stayed overnight on the way up.’

Another disturbing thing about Jim was the way he mimicked the accent of the person he was speaking to. With his brother it was pure cockney, but he could lapse into Scouse, Birmingham or even Toby’s Sandhurst at will.

‘Any trouble at the customs?’

Toby shook his head, holding out the brown paper package.

‘They searched my bag and car, but not me.’ Toby always had the desire to lie to this man. Claim he’d head-butted someone and run for it, or slipped the package into someone else’s bag – anything to make himself look braver, or smarter. But he curbed it; perhaps Jim might just have a spy on the route. ‘Plain sailing, really.’

Jim took the three packages out of the paper bag and rested them on his knee for a moment, looking at them reflectively. It was hard to read his emotions. Toby couldn’t tell if it was the pleasure of knowing how much money this little lot would fetch, or regret that Toby hadn’t bought more.

He took a Swiss Army knife from his pocket, pulled out the smallest blade and poked it through the plastic. Toby’s guts churned. They always did at this moment, though why he didn’t understand. He watched as Jim licked one finger, dipped it in the bag, then lifted it to his lips.

But this time Jim’s expression changed. He frowned, licked his lips and his eyes shot up to glare at Toby.

‘It’s fuckin’ talcum powder!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ Toby jumped up instinctively as Jim prodded the other two bags in quick succession, tasting a sample from each.

‘Don’t you call me fuckin’ ridiculous!’ Jim said, pushing the bags to the floor.

‘I didn’t mean
you
were,’ Toby said hastily. He moved over to the bags spilling out on to the floor and tried them himself. ‘Shit! They are, too. They’ve bloody seen us off!’

For a moment there was total silence. Toby saw Alf move in closer, but he was thinking only of Hans back in Hamburg who’d strapped the packets to his chest in the bathroom beyond his office, just as he’d done each time before.

‘Not “they”.’ Jim stood up, blocking out the light from the open hatch, his eyes suddenly alive, burning with dark anger. ‘You!’

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘Toby phoned this morning,’ Charity suddenly blurted out as Rob poured her a second glass of wine.

They were sitting in the tiny walled garden at the back of a restaurant in Hampstead village. They had ordered their lunch and Charity was determined to steer their conversation away from her problems, but she had to tell Rob this latest development.

It was another beautiful day. A cloudless sky, hot sunshine and the garden of the restaurant made Charity think of the courtyards in Florence. Climbing shrubs covered the walls, a stone lion’s head in one corner dripped water into a tiny pool, and tubs of vivid petunias and geraniums stood between the four cast-iron tables.

Ten days ago Charity had been discharged from Holly Bush House and her recovery was almost complete. Two days ago the plaster had been removed from her arm and each day she could walk a little further. She still had pain in her back, but daily physiotherapy was easing it. Her facial scars were improving too; the smaller ones had almost gone. Charity was waiting now to see a plastic surgeon about the two bigger scars.

But for Charity her physical condition was unimportant. In herself she felt so well. For days now she’d woken each morning with an exhilarating lightness, the kind of feeling she could only liken to opening a window and seeing spring after a long, cold winter. Deep inside her she knew this was due to her deepening relationship with Rob.

His daily visits now weren’t psychiatrist and patient sessions, but visits from a caring friend, as he dropped in to see her on his way home from the hospital. The emphasis had changed: now Rob talked about people at the hospital, his friends and his outside interests and slowly Charity was seeing the whole man.

She knew that he played squash, and that he swam at least twice a week. He could cook, he spoke French and Italian fluently and he played the piano. Charity hoped that this lunch date would reveal still more.

He looked different today. It wasn’t just his white open-necked shirt or the fact that he’d had his hair cut. Freckles had come out on his nose, as they had that summer in Sussex, and there was a sort of shine to him, as if he was excited about something. Charity wondered if he saw this lunch as their first real date, a lead up to something more. She hoped so.

‘What did Toby have to say for himself?’ Rob resisted the desire to word the question in his professional manner.

‘He wanted to come round,’ Charity said, smiling a little uncertainly. ‘I’m improving! I said I was going out for lunch and suggested he come tomorrow. How should I play it with him now?’ she asked.

Rob smiled at her. ‘We both know you’ll forgive him, even if I was to say you shouldn’t. Just try to distance yourself, Charity, that’s all I can suggest. Make Toby see he has to earn your respect.’

Over lunch they moved on to lighter subjects. They talked about Martin and Marjorie, who had invited Charity down for a weekend at their house in Hertfordshire; about Rita’s latest boyfriend, Charity’s thoughts about going back to work, and Dorothy.

‘She’s got some new man,’ Charity giggled. ‘She’s being very cagey about him too, which is unusual for her. He must be rich of course, because she said something about a swimming pool. Why do you think she’s not telling Rita and me everything?’

‘Maybe Dorothy’s fallen in love with him,’ Rob grinned. ‘That’s when most of us clam up.’

Charity looked puzzled.

‘We get scared to say too much in case it doesn’t work out,’ Rob said. ‘All our feelings are heightened, we start to act and think irrationally, and it can be very threatening.’

‘That sounds like personal experience,’ Charity said.

His eyes met hers and the intensity of his expression startled her. ‘It is,’ he said.

There were at least ten other people in the garden eating and drinking, but all at once it was as if they were totally alone. Charity wanted to slide her hand over his, to flirt and push him a little. But suddenly she was shy and uncertain.

‘What happened to her, then?’ she asked instead, looking away at the other diners.

‘I didn’t know how she felt,’ he said, and his voice had a kind of plea in it. ‘We talked about everything else, but I sort of hedged the last fence.’

Charity looked back at him. She knew with utter certainty he was talking about them, but the right words failed her.

‘Another glass of wine?’ She picked up the bottle and poured him a glass. ‘If you haven’t got anything on this afternoon maybe we could go back to my place and sit in the sun on the balcony.’

Rob sat up on the sun lounger and looked at his watch, horrified to find it was almost five-thirty. They’d had two bottles of wine with lunch and then come back here. He’d taken his shirt off, Charity had put on a bikini, but after chatting for a short while they had both fallen asleep in the sun.

Charity was still sound asleep, lying on her stomach, her head resting on one curled-up arm, hair hiding her remaining scars.

Rob tried hard not to stare at her body, but her pert firm buttocks, tiny waist and slender legs drew his eyes. There were tiny golden hairs on her spine and just above the pants of her polka-dotted bikini she had a kind of indentation, like a dimple. Temptation proved too much: he reached out and stroked her back.

Charity woke with a start at his touch.

‘I was just making sure it wasn’t burning,’ he said guiltily. ‘We’ve been asleep for a couple of hours.’

‘What time is it?’ Charity yawned, but made no attempt to get up. The last thing she remembered was Rob telling her a story about one of the junior doctors being caught making love to a nurse in a disused ward at Colney Hatch. Obviously the food, wine and sun had zonked them both out.

‘Half-past five.’ Rob slid his hands over her shoulderblades, making her tingle.

‘That’s nice,’ she said sleepily. ‘More!’

Rob moved then to sit up, his legs between the two sun loungers, and used both hands to massage her.

‘Does it help the pain?’ he asked after a few seconds.

‘Um,’ she muttered. She wasn’t in any pain, but she was enjoying the sensation of being stroked.

With her head resting on her hands she found herself looking at Rob’s stomach. It was flat and taut, lightly tanned with just a hint of golden hair around his navel. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch it.

‘Kiss me,’ she said softly, closing her eyes.

Although he bent closer, his lips didn’t find hers as she expected. Instead he kissed her right down her spine, his tongue darting out with light yet sensual butterfly touches.

‘That’s wonderful,’ Charity murmured, feeling a quivering starting inside her. She wanted to turn and touch him, but the sensation was too good to interrupt.

She slid out one arm, reaching for the part of him which was nearest, and ran her fingers down over his thigh. He was wearing light cotton trousers but she could feel muscles and heat through the thin fabric.

Rob’s lips moved back up to her shoulders, hands parting her hair to kiss her neck, and she had to turn and pull him to her.

The shuddering started inside her the moment their lips met, growing stronger as his tongue flickered against hers. Her body was arching up towards him, fingers stroking his neck; suddenly vague wanting became fierce desire.

‘Oh Charity,’ Rob gasped, moving back a little, still kneeling beside her, his hands cupping her face. ‘I’ve wanted to do that for so long.’

Of all the men she’d ever kissed, she had never felt such erotic sensitivity before, or encountered such a deep need in anyone. All at once she realised this had been pent up inside him for weeks and the knowledge that he’d managed to suppress it was humbling.

As he kissed her again and again, Charity felt her own need matching his, passion flaring up, demanding more.

‘Let’s go inside,’ she whispered. ‘You can’t kneel on that stone any longer.’

Rob didn’t move instantly as she expected, but held her tightly, his face burrowing into her neck.

‘I’ve got to go back to the hospital,’ he murmured.

‘On a Sunday?’ She moved her face and lifted his up to check if he was joking.

But Rob’s eyes were sorrowful.

‘Patients don’t have weekends off.’ He sighed deeply, stroking her face tenderly. ‘I never thought I’d be tempted to call in sick, but I am now.’

He didn’t look like a doctor now. His bare chest, his fair tousled hair and the sleepy look in his speckly eyes were boyishly endearing. Lips swollen with kissing, the freckles on his nose and the smell of sunbaked smooth skin were unbearably erotic. Charity wanted him. To hold that lean slender body against hers, to reach behind all those masks he put on and find the entire Robert Cuthbertson.

‘Come back later,’ she urged.

‘No, not tonight.’ He pressed his forehead against hers, kissing her nose. ‘It’ll be very late and that’s no way to start a romance.’

‘A romance?’ she whispered. ‘Is that what it’s going to be?’

He disentangled himself from her arms and stood up, reaching for his shirt.

‘The biggest,’ he said, looking down at her with an expression so naked she felt goosebumps come up all over her. ‘But I want everything to be right. We’ve taken so long to get to this point, a little longer won’t hurt.’

Charity knew exactly what he meant. He wanted wine, soft music and an unhurried night to remember, not racing back here to find her half asleep. But although she agreed in principle, the wonderful feeling fizzing inside her was tempting her to insist.

Rob saw the desire in her eyes and he could feel himself weakening.

‘Look, Toby’s coming tomorrow,’ he said, pulling her to her feet and hugging her tightly. ‘You need a good night’s sleep before seeing him, and I won’t give you one,’ he said, nuzzling her neck. ‘I’ll pop in on my way back from the hospital. I’d like to meet him at last, then we can make some plans. Maybe I can go sick on Tuesday!’

‘I won’t be that rough on you,’ she said, raising her eyebrows in mock horror. ‘What’s more I’ll give my little brother his marching orders long before he sees the feast I’m going to prepare for you.’