Foreign Affairs (65 page)

A happy bunch of children greeted their parents at noon. Rachel was exhausted but very satisfied by her first day as a teacher. Most of her class would look forward to coming to school the next
day. She had already promised them a game of musical numbers, since the musical alphabet had been such a success. They were all dying to hear another story from the huge book of Bible stories she
had. Rachel was looking forward to it herself. The day had flown. She’d surmounted all its challenges. There’d been a good sense of cohesion in the class and already little bondings
were taking place as her pupils began to make new friends. She would keep a sharp look-out for her shy children. Rachel was determined that her pupils would remember their schooldays as a happy
positive time. Light years away from her own. She collected her coat from the staff room and had a chat with the other teachers, who were friendly and encouraging. She felt very pleased with
herself as she cycled along the dual carriageway. It was a great boost to her confidence.

Her father was sitting at the kitchen table reading his paper. There was no sign of any lunch preparations. In future, Rachel decided, she was going to eat in Bray and just have a light tea when
she got home. She wasn’t going to be a slave for her father. He was only five minutes from work. He didn’t have to face a long cycle after school. William’s curiosity got the
better of him. ‘How did it go?’ he asked. Rachel was on such a high, she bubbled enthusiastically about her new pupils and the games of I Spy and musical alphabet. William eyed her
coldly.

‘No wonder children are going into second-level education unable to read or write. This new-fangled method of teaching is totally unsuitable. Children need discipline and order. Running
around classrooms playing musical chairs is arrant nonsense.’

Rachel was furious. How typical of him to disparage her work. He couldn’t let her have her little moment of triumph. Not even once. How she loathed him. Vicious anger surged through her.
He wasn’t going to get away with ruining her first day at work. She glared at her father. ‘Let me tell you one thing. My pupils are not going to be cowed by the bullying you call
discipline. When I started school I felt sick every morning. I wet the bed. Well I can tell you, not one of those children is going to come into my class in the morning feeling as I felt. I can
guarantee that. Today was fun for them, and they learned something. Those children aren’t afraid of me the way the poor unfortunates in your class are afraid of you. I’ll be a hell of a
better teacher than you ever were.’

‘How dare you talk to me like that!’ William said with icy fury. ‘You think you’re an expert after one day’s teaching. I’ve been teaching for more than forty
years. I know what I’m talking about.’

Rachel took a deep breath. She felt sick, her father’s domineering ways still intimidated her but she had to make her stand. She’d worked damn hard during her training. He
couldn’t take that away from her.

‘No,’ she said. ‘You don’t. You’re a dinosaur. Your teaching methods are crude and out of date. You should have retired at sixty instead of clinging on to your
little bit of power. You’re pathetic—’

Her father, his eyes two slits of fury, raised his hand and gave her a swift hard slap across the face. Rachel paled in shock.

‘Enough,’ William raged. ‘You have respect when you speak to me, my lady. Or you can get out of this house. Now get out of my sight.’

Rachel walked slowly upstairs. She was shocked. But in a strange way she felt triumphant. William was normally very restrained and reserved, even in his anger. He had hit her and that proved
that she’d really provoked him. Her hurtful words had hit home. She was glad. The day would come when she would leave his house. But she would make the decision, not William. She would leave
home when it suited her. She wasn’t going to waste good money paying rent. Not when she had a car to save for first, and then a mortgage. She would live frugally. She would save hard. And
then she would go and never come back.

William would be retiring in another few years. The time would come when he would need her. Age was no respecter of people whether they be headmasters in village schools or not. But she would
not be there when he needed her. And he would only have himself to blame.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Heathrow Airport was jam-packed. Huge snake-like queues formed at check-in desks. Paula’s heart sank. She left Jennifer to stand guard over their trolleys, filled to the
brim with luggage, and sprinted along the concourse to the nearest monitor. Head thrown back, she searched for their flight number and check-in desk. All she could see were flights delayed or, even
worse . . . cancelled. ‘Oh God, come on, now, don’t let me down. Please let our departure be on time,’ she muttered as she anxiously scanned the board. She recognized the flight
number and gave a great sigh of relief. It was on time. She noted the number of the check-in desk. Now that they were on the last lap home, Paula couldn’t wait to get there.

She was dying to see Helen and her family. But most of all she wanted to get home to see Nick. Would all that time away have made any difference to his feelings towards her? When he saw her,
would he finally realize that she was a woman now? Not just the teenager from next door who had cleaned his house for a bit of pocket money. Well more than pocket money, she chided herself. Nick
had been extremely generous.

Jennifer was amazed at her excitement about going home. But Jennifer didn’t realize why Paula was so looking forward to it. The longing to see Nick was almost physical. She longed to have
those incredibly blue eyes smile into hers. Longed to feel his mouth against her cheek and his arms around her in the hug he would surely give her when he welcomed her home. It would be so nice to
savour the clean manly essence of him. And to hear his voice with that gorgeous soft sexy western accent . . . oh bliss, oh joy. Listening to Nick Russell speaking was a turn-on in itself. Although
she had kissed quite a few men, and would no doubt kiss a few more, no kiss in her entire life would ever be as cherished as the kiss Nick had given her on the cheek that day he had said goodbye to
her and wished her well on her last trip abroad. It had been months and months ago, but it was as though it had been yesterday. She had played it out in her head over and over again, all the time
she was away.

Paula smiled happily as she made her way back to a patiently waiting Jennifer. If all went as planned she would have far more than kisses and daydreams. Nick Russell was going to fall head over
heels in love with her if she had anything to do with it. And by God she was going to make sure of it. Once she had kissed him properly she’d blow his mind, she just knew it. And then
she’d take him on that trip of ultimate pleasure and there would be no going back. Nick would be hers and she would be his and she would make him so happy and satisfied he would never
ever
want to look at another woman.

Juan Carlos had taught her much and for that she was very grateful. Her inexperience would not be a problem for her and Nick. She knew how to please a man and thanks to Juan Carlos, who had been
an experienced lover, she knew how to please herself.

Jennifer couldn’t understand why Paula wasn’t devastated about leaving her Spanish Romeo. Paula had met him soon after they first arrived in Majorca. He owned an estate agent’s
firm and he was very much the suave sophisticated man-about-town. He was drop-dead gorgeous-looking, with dark intense eyes and jet black hair. They clicked immediately and he had wooed her
determinedly. When Paula had come back for a second tour of duty on the island, Juan Carlos was ecstatic. Then they became lovers. Paula had decided to sleep with him to see if it would make any
difference to her feelings for Nick. In case it was just some silly teenage crush she had on him. It hadn’t made the slightest difference. Nick was still the man for her. Nevertheless, Paula
enjoyed her affair with Juan Carlos. He was so crazy about her, he’d even flown out to the Canaries twice during the six weeks she and Jennifer were working there.

Juan Carlos proposed marriage more times than Paula’d had hot dinners, she remembered fondly. She’d miss him, of course. He’d been great fun and they’d had many happy
times. But she didn’t ache for Juan, or crave being near him, or want to send him wild with passion and desire the way she did with Nick. As the time got nearer to their return to Ireland,
whenever Juan Carlos made love to her, she’d closed her eyes and pretended it was Nick. Once, as she reached orgasm, she had actually breathed Nick’s name. Fortunately her lover had
been making so much noise himself he hadn’t heard.

No, she would feel no enormous sadness at leaving Juan Carlos. She would miss him, but she wasn’t the least bit heartbroken. Actually, she was relieved to have ended the affair. Juan
Carlos had become very demanding, sulking, because she wouldn’t accept his proposal. But he had never been part of her long-term plans. Only one man mattered to her. Nick was at home. Nick
would be hers. It was meant to be. She just knew it.

‘Where do we go?’ Jennifer interrupted her reverie.

‘That one over there. Come on, let’s get going.’ Paula grabbed her trolley and strode towards their queue. ‘Can I have the window seat?’ she asked over her
shoulder.

‘Sure,’ Jennifer agreed.

The wait seemed interminable before their luggage was finally disposed of and they had their boarding cards and were heading to the departure lounge and duty-free. Although she had a bottle of
Chanel No. 5 in her luggage, Paula decided that she might as well treat herself to another one and on impulse she put another bottle of Hennessy brandy into the basket. That was for Nick. She had
already bought him a bottle in one of the duty-free shops on the island, but what the hell, she’d buy him the moon if she could. She’d just flutter her eyelashes and pretend innocence
if she was stopped at customs.

They were still queuing to pay for their last-minute goodies when they heard their final boarding call and had to stand, steaming with impatience, as the person in front fumbled with dollars and
Deutschmarks, confusing a thoroughly irritated cashier. Then they had to run, panting, with their clanking bottles and hand luggage, the length of the departure lounge to their boarding gate and,
eventually when they boarded and were settled into their seats, had to endure another thirty-minute wait on the tarmac.

‘If we get home it will be a blooming miracle,’ Paula fretted. Jennifer wiped perspiration off her forehead and gave a mighty yawn.

‘I’m knackered, I don’t want anything to drink when they come around. If we ever get into the air and they deign to come around at all. Wake me up when we get to Dublin.’
With that Jennifer gave another huge yawn, tucked her head down on her shoulder and within seconds was asleep. Paula grinned. Jennifer had absolutely no staying power. Even though they had partied
until dawn that morning, she felt full of beans and wide awake. But then she had a reason. A reason for happy anticipation. Today, hopefully, she would see Nick.

Paula settled back to while away the flight with her favourite fantasy. The fantasy in which Nick, eyes hot with passion and desire, mouth hungry and sensual, hands seeking and caressing,
moulded her eager body to his. She would caress and fondle and stroke and kiss him, taking him to the edge, bringing him back, sending him wild with desire until he came inside her, shuddering with
a powerful uncontrollable need that only she could satisfy. As the jet thundered along the runway and lifted itself into the air, Paula leaned back in her seat and gave a voluptuous stretch as
delicious tingles of desire rippled through her. If she felt like this now, heaven only knew what she’d feel when she saw Nick for the first time in so long. She’d probably have an
orgasm on the spot, she thought in amusement.

Never in her life had she felt such lust for a man. It frightened her a little. It meant she wasn’t in control. But that was the attraction Nick held for her. Not being in control in a
relationship with a man was unique for Paula. She wanted much more than lust from a relationship with Nick. Everything about him fascinated and attracted her. His manliness, his kindness, his sense
of humour, all drew her to him. He had the most beautiful manners too. Paula smiled, remembering how once when she had been about to lug the hoover down the stairs, he had taken it from her and
walked downstairs ahead of her.

‘A gentleman always walks down the stairs in front of a lady in case she slips, so he will be there to catch her.’ Paula could remember the cultured voice of Sister Catherine
teaching them etiquette. She’d thought it sounded so gallant. When Nick had gone out of his way to carry the hoover downstairs
and
walked in front of her, she had felt a warm glow
inside. Sometimes when he’d been on his way to work and she’d been on her way to college, he’d given her a lift to the bus stop. He always opened the car door for her. Good
manners were such an attractive trait in a man, she mused, glancing out the window and seeing cotton wool clouds beneath them. She had no time for feminists who scorned a man for giving a woman his
seat in a crowded bus or train, and scorned the woman for taking it. Men were men, women were women and
vive la différence,
Paula maintained. Being equal did not mean being any less
feminine. She was
anyone
’s equal and better than a lot. Some men, of course, overdid it. Juan Carlos would have prostrated himself at her feet and let her walk all over him, he was
so smitten by her. It had been very irritating at times. If they had a row, he was the first to apologize. He was very appeasing. If she said black was white, he’d agree with her. Barry had
been a bit like that too. She’d always got her own way with Barry. She’d always been in control. He’d been a bit of a doormat really, Paula reflected. There was no way she’d
get her own way with Nick. Nick Russell was no doormat. Nick was the type of man who would never in a million years be impressed by one of her famous pouts or sulks. She could never see herself
behaving with him the way she behaved with Juan Carlos or Barry or Conor. Badly!