Emma (8 page)

‘I’ll teach you,’ he said, sending me a smile that set my heart on a dizzy spin. ‘Trust me, Emma. I promise you it’s going to be fun.’

I glanced out of the window. It was an overcast day, much cooler than it had been for a while. I was glad I’d asked Mrs Henty for the costume. It wouldn’t have been warm enough for a summer dress.

For some time the roads were almost deserted except for the occasional farm cart, a delivery van or one of the buses that ran between the various small towns and villages. The fields on either side were low-lying, the earth often black fen soil, rich and fertile. It was only when we turned off the country roads and headed towards Cambridge that we started to meet more cars and lorries.

‘We’ll soon be there.’ Paul smiled at me. ‘It’s a surprise, Emma. I didn’t think you would really want to go to a concert. We can find something better to do than that, can’t we?’

He was turning off the main road as he spoke, though we were still some distance from the town itself, in a quiet road with several rather nice-looking houses in large gardens. Paul manoeuvred the car into a gateway flanked by red brick pillars and drove down a long, tree-lined drive.

‘Are we going to your house?’

‘Yes. We can listen to as much music as you like there. My parents have a large collection of classical, opera and dance records. We’ll put the gramophone on. You can tell your father you’ve been listening to Mozart and Bach. You won’t have to tell any lies.’

My heart started to beat very fast. I’d thought we would go to the concert before having tea with his parents. Now it seemed we would be with them all afternoon.

I looked out of the window. We passed a tennis court and what looked as if it might once have been a stable block, though it was not tumbling into disrepair. Beyond the stables I could see the roof of what seemed to be an extremely large building. As the car swept round the corner of the stable block I saw wide lawns, a grey stone terrace with roses growing over the low walls – and the house itself.

‘Oh, Paul!’ I gasped. ‘It’s huge.’

‘Not really, there are much larger houses than this, believe me. Don’t be overly impressed. We only use one wing. The rest of the place is falling down. One of these days we shall have to pull the whole thing down in the interests of safety.’

I was shocked. I had never seen a house like it, except in magazines or books. It appeared to be built in three sections, with a central block and two wings, and I thought it must be very old. I hadn’t expected anything this grand, though as I got out of the car I could see what Paul meant. Parts of the roof had gaping holes and the walls looked as if they might be crumbling away in one wing. Even so, with all the land around it, it must be a valuable property.

‘Your family must be wealthy, Paul!’

My stomach was tying itself in knots. What was I doing here? This was going to be worse than I’d imagined.

‘If only,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘We were rich at the beginning of the last century but the money was frittered away by Grandfather Greenslade. These days we live on the bank and past glory. Things are what you might call tight where money is concerned.’

Paul might not consider his family wealthy, but I knew instinctively that what he thought of as being ‘tight’ would probably seem like riches to my family.

I ought not to have come here – this wasn’t my world. I felt so nervous that I wanted to run away. My feet seemed glued to the ground and I hung back as Paul took my arm.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘You shouldn’t have brought me here, Paul. Your parents won’t like me. I’m not the sort of girl they expect you to bring home. I can’t meet them. I’m sorry. I just can’t.’

He frowned. ‘Silly Emma. You won’t have to meet them; they’re not here. They went away for the weekend. We shall have the house all to ourselves.’

‘Really?’ My relief was so overwhelming that I laughed. ‘Oh, Paul! You might have told me sooner. I’ve been so nervous all the way here.’

‘I wouldn’t put you through that ordeal yet,’ Paul said, giving me a brief kiss on the lips. ‘When we’re married we’ll just turn up and give them the news.’

‘When we’re …’ I was so bemused by what he’d just said that I made no further resistance as he led me towards some French windows, unlocked them and drew me inside to a small parlour. He gazed down into my face for a moment, then took me into his arms, kissing me so thoroughly that I was trembling when he let me go.

‘Poor darling,’ he said, running the tip of one finger down my cheek. ‘You were scared to death, weren’t you? I’d better give you a drop of brandy. You look pale.’

He left me standing as he went over to a rather grand looking eight-legged sideboard, where there was a silver tray with glasses and decanters.

‘Here you are,’ he said, handing me a large glass which contained a tiny measure of brandy. ‘Drink this – and then take your coat off. I’ll put some music on and then see what I can find for us to eat. Mother’s cook prepared a few bits and pieces before she went off for the weekend; there’s bound to be something decent in the larder. She knew I might pop home and tends to spoil me.’

I sipped the drink experimentally. It was very strong and made me gasp, but it gave me a nice warm feeling when I swallowed it.

‘That’s right.’ Paul nodded approvingly. ‘Sip it slowly. I haven’t given you enough to make you drunk, but it will settle your nerves. It’s medicinal, darling.’

I set the glass down on a little round table. It was highly polished and had a reddish-brown colour, rather like the magnificent sideboard. I thought it might be mahogany and antique. All the furniture looked as if it could be very old. It was elegant but too formal for my own tastes. I wondered how people sat comfortably in the hard, button-backed chairs. The only thing that looked comfortable was a sofa with high sides that seemed to be tied at each end with a tasselled rope.

Having taken off my jacket, I picked up my drink and went to sit on the settee. The cushions were soft so I slipped off my shoes, curling my legs up beside me on the seat and sipping more of the brandy. Paul had been right. It was relaxing me. I felt much better now. I closed my eyes, listening to the music. It had a soft, dreamy quality.

‘You’re not falling asleep, I hope?’

I opened my eyes as Paul came back into the room. He was carrying a wooden tray, which he set down on a side table in an alcove next to the fireplace.

‘Mrs Moxon has come up trumps,’ he said. ‘She has made us some delicious canapes and I’ve opened a bottle of wine. I thought you might prefer medium to dry. It’s chilling in the ice bucket … but we’ve plenty of time, haven’t we?’

‘Oh yes,’ I responded eagerly. ‘Hours yet.’

‘And you do think this was a good idea of mine – better than some boring old concert?’

‘Much better.’

I turned to him as he came to sit beside me on the settee. I could smell the woody scent that always clung about him. It was intoxicating. I felt a little odd, as if I were floating on air. Perhaps it was the brandy, but I’d only had a few sips. No, it was just the way Paul was looking at me. It made me feel funny inside.

I loved him so! No one had ever looked at me in that way before. His expression was so intent, so compelling!

‘You are lovely. Do you know that, Emma?’

I shook my head. ‘I’m not pretty.’

‘No – you’re beautiful.’

He leaned towards me, his mouth touching mine gently at first, then in a more demanding way that made me feel strange.

‘Do you know what you mean to me, Emma? Do you know how I’ve longed to be alone with you like this? To hold you in my arms and make love to you …’

‘Paul, I love you.’

‘My sweet girl.’

He reached for me. I went into his arms willingly. It was all happening just as it had in my dreams. I surrendered my lips to his kisses. He had never kissed me quite this way before, his tongue probing inside my mouth, teasing and provoking sensations that set my senses spinning. It was wonderful. I was melting inside, head spinning.

Paul was easing me back on the settee, his mouth working against my throat as he whispered things … exciting, frightening, wonderful things that made me tremble. Now he was lying on top of me. I was thrilled and yet nervous. What was going to happen? His hand was caressing my breasts over the top of my silk blouse. His touch made me tingle all over. I was breathless. My stomach spiralled with a strange new sensation that made me gasp. Paul was sliding his hand up my leg … right to the top of my inner thigh.

I made a little murmur of protest. This shouldn’t be happening. It was wrong. I ought to stop him.

‘Paul … we mustn’t.’

He was gazing down at me, eyes mesmerising me, sapping my will. There was such an odd look on his face; his mouth was soft and loose. I knew he wanted to make love to me. This was real, this was passion. Not something out of a book. It was happening now – to me.

‘Trust me, darling,’ he whispered huskily. ‘I’ll look after you. We’re going to be married. There’s nothing to be frightened of – unless you don’t love me?’

‘You know I love you, Paul.’

‘Then just relax, darling. Trust me. It’s all going to be wonderful for us.’

He was kissing me again, tongue flicking inside my mouth. I was melting, losing the will to resist. How could this be wrong when it felt so lovely? His hand stroked the inside of my thigh, gently, so that I felt my whole self responding to this wonderful new sensation. I moaned, my back arching towards him instinctively. His fingers slipped inside my French knickers, seeking out the sensitive essence of my womanhood. I jerked with pleasure as he touched me
there
, stroking gently yet insistently with the tip of his finger.

‘You’re so wet,’ he murmured throatily against my ear. ‘You want me as much as I want you, don’t you? Say it, darling. Say it.’

‘I want you,’ I whispered. ‘I love you, Paul.’

I was being carried away on a tide of emotion, swept ever forward with the relentless surge of a passion I had not known existed.

I felt him lifting himself. What was he doing? Something hot and soft was pressing against me there, where his finger had been. Now it was nudging at me, pushing into me. It felt huge and hard as he suddenly thrust up inside me. I realized what he was doing and was frightened.

‘No, Paul … we mustn’t … not that.’

He wasn’t listening. His breath rasped against my ear as he thrust himself right into me. I gave a cry of pain, which he smothered with a kiss. He was crushing me, hurting me. I struggled, trying to push him off, trying to stop him. This was wrong! The warm feeling I’d felt earlier had vanished. I didn’t want this to happen, not like this.

He was too strong for me. I felt tears come to my eyes as I realized he wasn’t going to stop. He didn’t care that he was upsetting me. He wasn’t going to stop. He wasn’t going to stop …

All of a sudden it was over. I felt him jerk and he groaned loudly, then slumped down on me, his breathing rasping in my ear. For a few minutes he lay on top of me, then rolled away and sat up.

I was crying as I sat up. I felt ashamed and somehow used. I couldn’t look at him.

‘You should have said no earlier,’ Paul muttered, looking annoyed. ‘I thought you wanted it. You said you wanted me – what did you expect?’

‘I did – I do.’ I took the handkerchief he offered and wiped my cheeks. ‘I love you. I just didn’t want it to happen yet, not like that. It was wrong.’

‘Not for me.’ He sounded sulky. ‘You know I love you. Don’t make so much fuss, Emma. It always hurts a bit the first time. You will enjoy it more the next time we do it.’

‘Can I use the bathroom please?’

‘Yes, of course. Down the hall – the last door to your right.’

I left quickly. I was hurt and humiliated. Paul had done what he wanted without bothering how I felt. How could he love me and do that?

I found the bathroom and locked myself in. It was a huge, old-fashioned room, and in the middle of the floor was a large Victorian bath with legs.

I needed a bath; I felt dirty. Turning on the taps, I discovered the water was barely warm. The boiler must have been shut off for the weekend. Paul’s parents had expected the house to be empty, of course. There had never been any intention of introducing me.

I ran sufficient for my needs, took my clothes off and got in. It felt cold and made me shiver but I had to wash down there. I jumped out as soon as I had cleaned myself, wrapping myself in a towel to get warm again.

I saw blood on my knickers and rinsed them under the cold tap, wetting only as much as I had to and rubbing them with the towel to dry the damp patches.

It must have been at least half an hour before I felt sufficiently in control of my emotions to face Paul.

I believed our future relationship depended on what I did now. He had expected me to be more sophisticated. I
had
made a fuss but it had shocked me, the whole business. Somehow I’d always thought it would be more romantic, nicer – but perhaps Paul was right. Perhaps it got better the more you did it.

I finished dressing and used a comb from the painted wall cabinet to tidy my hair, then walked back down the hall. Approaching the room I’d left earlier, I heard voices – Paul’s and another man’s. I hesitated, feeling nervous, reluctant to go in. It was difficult enough to face Paul, let alone a stranger.

‘For goodness sake!’ Paul raised his voice irritably. ‘Couldn’t you just do as I asked, Jon? I asked you to deliver the money. I didn’t appoint you guardian of my morals.’

‘She was nervous of going through with it. She asked for my advice and I felt obliged to give it. I thought it was wrong and told her so. And besides …’

The man stopped speaking as I walked in. He stared at me, his greenish eyes opening wide in surprise. He was as tall as Paul, but thin and wiry with sandy-coloured hair and gentle, rather ordinary features. As he stared at me, a look of disgust came over his face. ‘Damn you, Paul!’ he said and took a fat envelope from his pocket, tossing it on to the settee. ‘Do your own dirty work in future. You deserve whatever is coming to you!’

He walked past me into the hall. A moment or two later I heard a door slam and then the sound of a car starting. Paul hadn’t spoken. His face was white and he looked worried.