Thicker Than Water (13 page)

Having made her financial contribution, Jill’s duties in the hotel were not onerous. She wasn’t trained in the day-to-day running of the hotel, though occasionally she helped out on reception, took bookings, or made out the bills.

The lack of occupation did not bother her in the least. Having had money all her life, she’d never held down a regular job, and during her previous marriages had amused herself by helping out friends from time to time, fund-raising for their favourite charities, sitting in art galleries to keep a discreet watch on visitors, even doing a stint in an antiques shop. For the rest, she had shopped, met friends for coffee or lunch, gone to theatre matinées, and generally enjoyed herself.

Moving from London had necessarily curtailed her activities, but she’d set about building up a circle of friends, for the most part women like herself, some married, some divorced, who were more than happy to include her in their lunches and bridge afternoons, and who were quite different from the friends she’d inherited from Douglas.

Sandbourne was an attractive little town, catering for a fairly select type of visitor. There were good dress shops, smart restaurants, a three-screen cinema and even a small repertory theatre – enough distractions, in fact, to keep Jill happily occupied during winter months.

Now that it was summer, she was more than content to spend her time lying in the sun with a good book, and in her afternoon wanderings had come upon a secluded little beach, hemmed in by cliffs and accessible only by a tortuous path, that no one else seemed to know about and where, taking advantage of its privacy, she swam and sunbathed naked. Her body had taken on a golden, all-over tan, unsullied by strap marks, that Douglas, though slightly scandalized by its method of achievement, appreciated to the full.

On the Wednesday afternoon of that week, her beach bag slung over her shoulder, Jill set off along the cliffs, glorying in the depth of blue in the sea below her, the wheeling gulls, the breeze that ruffled her hair. Life, she thought, was good.

Her little beach lay waiting for her, its sand glinting almost white in the sunshine. She threaded her way down the cliff path, slipping and sliding a little on the loose stones, and, on reaching the bottom, stepped out of her sandals and made her way to her favourite place beside an outcrop of rock.

Having spread her towel, she slipped off her clothes and ran straight into the sea. The first shock of its coldness took her breath away, but her body soon acclimatized and she waded out until the water was deep enough for her to swim. For twenty minutes or so she lay on her back, splashing lazily, eyes shut against the glare of the sun, enjoying the slap of the water on her nakedness. Then she swam back into the shallows and, dripping water, returned to her belongings and lay down on the towel, allowing the heat of the sun to dry her.

She must have fallen into a light doze, because she was suddenly aware of something coming between her and the sun, and in the same moment a voice above her said, ‘Mrs Irving, I presume?’

She sat up with a gasp, pulling her towel round her and knowing, even before she looked up, who her unwelcome visitor was.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded furiously. ‘How dare you creep up on me like that? What are you, some kind of voyeur?’

‘As far as I’m aware, this is a public beach,’ Gary Payne replied calmly. ‘The fact that you choose to take your clothes off doesn’t automatically confer right of ownership.’

He looked, she saw with sinking heart, as though he intended to stay; he was wearing swimming trunks and an open shirt revealing a pale, hairless chest, and a towel hung over his arm.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘you have a good body. No need to be ashamed of it.’

Deciding to ignore that, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. ‘I thought you’d gone home.’ As soon as she said it, she realized it was a mistake, and one he immediately seized on.

‘Ah, so you missed me. How gratifying. Sadly, though, the likes of me can’t afford your prices every day of the week.’

Jill struggled to hang on to what dignity remained to her. ‘Since I was here first, I’d be grateful if you’d go and find somewhere else to swim.’

‘But, like you, I prefer to be away from the madding crowd.’

She was in a dilemma, and he knew it. She couldn’t move without revealing her nakedness, and she had no convenient swimsuit to slip on. Her beach bag held only her discarded underwear and a cotton dress – hardly suitable for sunbathing. If she wanted to avoid him – and she did – it seemed she must be the one to leave, which, she thought irritably, would involve dressing under the tent of the towel, like a twelve-year-old on a school outing.

Clutching her towel about her, she reached for the beach bag and began the awkward manoeuvre while her companion, unperturbed, removed his shirt, spread his own towel, and proceeded to lie down on it. At least he wasn’t watching her – she could be thankful for that, even if, irrationally, his lack of interest piqued her.

When she’d completed the procedure, Jill shook the sand from her towel and, without glancing in his direction, started to walk back towards the cliff, her mind seething.

‘See you around,’ he called after her.

She did not reply.

He’d spoiled it for her, she thought furiously. Even when he
did
return home, she could never sunbathe nude again, never be sure someone else might not find his way down the path. Though any normal person, coming across her like that, would surely have retreated before she noticed him, saving them both embarrassment. That Gary Payne hadn’t been in the least embarrassed did nothing for her own sang froid.

How
had he found her, anyway? It wasn’t a place you’d easily stumble across. Had he followed her? The thought raised goose bumps on her arms. How much longer, she wondered, tramping up the steep path, would she have to put up with his presence? Two weeks was the norm for a seaside holiday, but she’d no way of knowing how long he’d been around when she first saw him. Surely this week must be his last? She could only hope so.

Jill remained unsettled by the incident for the rest of the week, and every now and then her face flamed as she remembered Payne’s assessing gaze and his unnerving comment:
You have a good body; no need to be ashamed of it
.

Odious man! On all three occasions that their paths had crossed, he’d succeeded – seemingly without trying – in putting her at a disadvantage. And though she’d never have admitted it, even to herself, she knew subconsciously that part of her resentment was due to his only too obvious imperviousness to her charms. After that initial flash of interest in the post office doorway, he’d gone out of his way to demonstrate his lack of it.

She determined to put him completely out of her mind, but at the next bridge afternoon, an innocent remark of Kitty’s brought him back into focus.

‘I envy your glorious tan, Jill,’ she remarked as she dealt a hand. ‘With my red hair, I have to keep out of the sun, or I look like a lobster.’

‘Not only that,’ Priscilla added, ‘we’ve seen you in a variety of tops and dresses, but there’s never a sign of a strap mark. How do you do it?’

Jill smiled. ‘Ah, that’s my secret!’

‘Come on, now, you’re among friends!’

‘Isn’t it obvious? I don’t wear anything that would leave a mark. Anywhere.’

The three of them stared at her for a moment, the game forgotten. Then Angie said incredulously, ‘Are you telling us you sunbathe in the nuddy?’

‘Got it in one!’

‘Good God, Jill! How do you manage that?’

Jill paused, her heartbeat quickening. Should she tell them? Perhaps if she made light of it, it would defuse the impact, put it all in perspective.

‘I found a private little bay, where no one ever goes,’ she said. ‘At least, no one ever had, until last week.’

‘You mean someone
saw
you?’ Kitty’s blue eyes opened wider. ‘What happened?’

Jill moistened her lips, trying to keep her voice light. ‘I must have been dozing, because I woke up to find someone standing over me.’ No need to admit she knew him.

‘A
man
?’ Angie gasped.

‘As you say, a man.’

‘Good God, Jill, he could have raped you!’

‘I suppose he could.’ She made herself add, ‘Actually, he didn’t seem remotely interested.’

‘He saw you naked, and wasn’t interested? Was he gay?’

Jill laughed. ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’ve no way of knowing, have I?’

‘So what happened?’

‘I asked him to leave, but he said it was a public beach, spread out his towel and lay down on it. So I hastily dressed and left him to it.’

‘But Jill,’ Priscilla said worriedly, ‘that could have been really dangerous. There you were, closed off from everyone, lying naked on the beach.
Anyone
could have come down. You were damn lucky to get off so lightly. Didn’t you realize what a risk you were taking?’

‘No,’ she answered honestly, ‘I can’t say I did.’

‘Well, I hope you do now. For God’s sake, don’t do it again. Strap marks are infinitely preferable to rape, or worse.’

Jill gave a little shudder, closing her mind, as always, to thoughts of violence.

‘Oh, rest assured,’ she said. ‘From now on, I’ll be the soul of discretion.’

And, since there seemed no more to be said, they returned, a little reluctantly, to the game in hand.

The next time she saw Gary Payne was as she came out of a café in Sandbourne High Street. He was standing on the opposite pavement, staring across at her. She came to an abrupt halt, but her view of him was immediately obscured by a double-decker trundling down the road, and when it had passed, he’d disappeared.

With an effort, she pulled herself together. What in God’s name was the matter with her? Why was she letting this man get to her? Because of that indefinable something in his eyes that she couldn’t put a name to? That sense of something coiled inside him, waiting to spring? Yet he’d been civilized enough in their conversations – more so, in fact, than she had herself. And if – fanciful thought – he’d really been waiting to spring, she’d handed him the opportunity on a plate, and he’d not taken it. Possibly he was following some devious agenda of his own, but if so, she refused to pander to it.

She needed something to do, she thought urgently; something to take her mind off him, and glancing around, her eyes lit on the gilded window of Gina’s Hair and Beauty Salon. Perfect! She went purposefully inside and requested a body massage, facial, and cut and blow-dry; and since she was a good customer, they fitted her in without an appointment. This, she thought with satisfaction, should make her feel a great deal better.

When she emerged a couple of hours later, she was more than satisfied with the result. Her bronzed skin was glowing, her hair, in a flattering, layered style, was soft about her face, and she’d taken the opportunity of having her lashes darkened, making them appear longer and thicker. It was time and money well spent, and she looked ten years younger. But now, if she wanted any lunch, she’d better hurry back.

Lunch at the hotel took the form of a self-service buffet, and usually only about half the guests returned for it. Jill pushed her way through the swing doors, glancing to her left through the restaurant door. Douglas wasn’t at their corner table; perhaps he was waiting for her.

A man was standing at the reception desk, his back towards her, and something about his stance and the set of his shoulders struck a familiar chord. She stopped short, and was staring unbelievingly at him when he turned, meeting her gaze.

He smiled uncertainly. ‘Hello, Jill,’ he said.

Ten

‘Patrick!’ Jill said incredulously. And then, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Everything all right, darling?’ Douglas had come out of the bar behind her.

‘I – yes, I think so. It’s just . . .’

The newcomer came forward, holding out his hand, which Douglas, after a moment’s hesitation, took.

‘I take it you’re the proprietor?’ he was saying easily. ‘I’m Patrick Salter, an – old friend of your wife’s.’

‘Douglas –’ – Jill’s voice cut across his – ‘allow me to introduce my ex-husband.’

Douglas stiffened and withdrew his hand. ‘How do you do?’ he said curtly.

Patrick smiled the smile that had made Jill fall for him. ‘Look, I don’t want to be the spectre at the feast. I’m down here for a few days, but if you’d prefer me to stay elsewhere, I’d quite understand.’

‘Jill?’ Douglas demanded, his eyes still on Salter. ‘This is your call.’

She hesitated, knowing Douglas wanted her to dispatch him; but after the first shock, it was quite good to see Patrick again. Although the end of their marriage had been bitter, it was she who’d been at fault. Patrick had done no wrong, and if he wanted to offer an olive branch, she wouldn’t throw it back in his face.

‘Oh, I’m sure we can be civilized,’ she said evenly. ‘It would be too bad to deny him the best hotel in town.’

‘That’s kind of you, but are you sure it’s all right with you, Mr Irving?’

‘If my wife has no objection, you’re free to stay,’ Douglas confirmed briefly. ‘Enjoy your visit.’ He took Jill’s arm. ‘Ready for lunch, darling? I’ve been waiting for you.’ And with a nod at Salter, he led her firmly into the restaurant.

‘Husband number one or two?’ he enquired as they moved along the buffet table.

Jill glanced at him, noting his set face. It might have been wiser to send Patrick packing, but she was curious to know why he’d come. It wasn’t pure chance that he’d hit on this hotel; he’d shown no surprise at her appearance, obviously expecting her to be here.

‘Number two,’ she answered, ladling salad on to her plate.

‘Did you know he was coming?’

She turned to him quickly. ‘Douglas, of course not! We haven’t been in touch since the divorce.’

‘A bit odd, him showing up like this, don’t you think? How’d he know where to find you?’

‘I really have no idea. Why don’t you ask him?’

‘There’s no need to take that tone, Jill,’ Douglas snapped.

‘Well, I object to being interrogated. I’ve not seen Patrick for three years, and I resent your insinuating I somehow inveigled him down here.’

‘I insinuated nothing of the sort.’

Jill snatched up a roll and butter, added it to her plate, and carried it quickly to their table, her heart beating uncomfortably fast. The restaurant was less than half full, and no one had been near enough to overhear the exchange. She just hoped their body language hadn’t given rise to comment.

Douglas, following her, set his plate on the table with a noticeable thump and sat down. He was flushed, and a nerve jumped at the corner of his eye. She felt suddenly sorry for him.

‘We’re not quarrelling, are we?’ she asked.

He looked up, meeting her smiling gaze. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Patrick is history, Douglas. Don’t they say third time lucky?’

She had managed to coax a smile out of him. ‘Seriously, honey, I’m quite sure he hasn’t any designs on me.’

Douglas shrugged, picking up his knife and fork. ‘I still think it’s odd, him arriving midweek, out of the blue. He’s damn lucky we had that cancellation.’ He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. ‘Has he married again?’

‘I’ve no way of knowing, have I?’ Jill answered patiently. ‘Quite probably, I should think. He’s a nice man; as I told you, I was the guilty party.’

‘Why were you?’

Jill lifted her shoulders. ‘As I also told you, I’m easily bored.’

‘Are you bored of me?’

She looked up quickly, meeting his eyes and the sudden uncertainty in them.

‘No, of course not.’

‘I appreciate you’ve a lot of spare time on your hands. If you’d like more involvement in the running of the hotel, you only have to say.’

She shook her head. ‘I was speaking of emotional boredom. I love my life here. As you know, I’m bone idle and enjoy being a lady of leisure.’ She smiled. ‘And if you’re thinking the devil finds work for idle hands to do, don’t worry: he won’t pull one over on me!’

He gave a brief laugh, and some of the tension left his shoulders. ‘As long as I don’t have to chase Salter off the premises with a shotgun,’ he said.

Jill didn’t see Patrick during the afternoon, and although she noticed him across the room at dinner, they didn’t exchange any further words.

It was the next morning, as she walked into town to change her library book, that he fell into step beside her.

‘I hope you’re not averse to a bit of company,’ he said.

‘Why are you here, Patrick?’

‘I felt in need of some sea air.’

‘You knew I was here, didn’t you? How did you find me?’

‘Don’t worry, I didn’t set a private detective on you. I bumped into Claire Denver at a drinks party, and she mentioned receiving a Christmas card. Said you seemed to have gone into the hotel business.’

Douglas’s card, sent to business colleagues and regular guests, had boasted a photograph of the hotel, and, having run out of her own, Jill had used half a dozen of them herself. Obviously one had gone to Claire and Martin.

‘There’s no need to ask how you are,’ Patrick continued. ‘You look absolutely stunning.’

‘How about you? Have you married again?’

He shook his head. ‘I have a partner, as they say nowadays, but we haven’t tied the knot. Come to that, I seem to remember you swearing when we parted that you’d never do it again.’

‘I didn’t intend to,’ Jill admitted, ‘but Douglas’s position requires unimpeachable morals.’

Patrick was a good companion, she thought, pleasant and easy to talk to; he was also attracting interested glances from the women they passed, which she found gratifying.

‘Are you still living in the house?’ she asked him.

‘No, I didn’t fancy it, after you’d gone. Too many memories.’

She said quietly, ‘I treated you badly, didn’t I?’

‘Appallingly.’ His smile took the sting out of the word. ‘However, I’ve got over it, and Lucy and I are happy together.’

‘I’m glad.’

She stopped as they reached the entrance to the library, preparatory to their parting, but he nodded her ahead of him and followed her in, contentedly moving along the shelves and lifting out the occasional book as she made her own choice; and when they emerged into the sunshine, said casually,

‘Fancy a coffee?’

Assuming he’d then tell her the reason for his coming, she agreed, leading him not to her favourite café, where her friends would be gathering, but to one farther along the street. And sitting opposite him at the small table, she had her first really good look at him.

There were perhaps a few more lines round his eyes, but his chin was as firm and his eyes as blue as she remembered, and the lock of hair still fell over his forehead as it had always done. It surprised and slightly disconcerted her that she was still strongly attracted to him.

‘Latte?’ he queried, and she nodded with a smile.

‘So why isn’t “Lucy” with you?’ she asked, as the waitress moved away.

‘Ah.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘I told her I was coming away on business.’

‘She doesn’t know you’re seeing me.’ It wasn’t a question, though he answered it.

‘Obviously not.’

‘Why
are
you seeing me, Patrick?’

He began toying with the cutlery on the table, no longer meeting her eyes. ‘I feel pretty rotten about this, Jill. In fact, I wish to hell I hadn’t had to come. It’s – by way of being a last resort.’

‘Thanks very much.’

‘Seriously. I really hate doing this. If there’d been any other way . . .’

She leaned back in her chair, puzzled by his embarrassment. Beads of sweat had sprung up on his hairline. Whatever he was about to say, there was no doubt that it wasn’t easy for him.

Their coffee arrived, but neither of them made any move to drink it.

‘The fact is,’ he blurted out, ‘I’m in a pretty parlous state. Financially speaking.’

‘I see.’ So that was it. She was more disappointed than she’d any right to be.

He looked up, pleading in his eyes. ‘You remember at the time you left that we were starting to expand the business?’

Patrick and his partner owned a small publishing house, printing limited runs of high quality coffee-table books.

She nodded, drawing the glass of latte towards her and stirring it with the long spoon.

‘Well, we’ve had to tighten our belts considerably of late, and the plain truth is that we’ve run into debt. Bad debt. The stuff we produce is for a limited market, and people aren’t spending as much on luxury goods. Added to which, the bank’s foreclosing on our loan, and quite frankly we don’t know where to turn.’

‘So you thought of the rich bitch,’ she said baldly. ‘Wasn’t that what you called me?’

‘Oh, Jill, please don’t. We both said some unforgivable things at the end. Look, if you were prepared even to consider it, I must stress it would be on a sound commercial basis, with the going rate of interest, and so on. We should be able to pay back the full amount within two to three years, all being well.’

‘And what would that full amount be?’

He took a deep breath. ‘About twenty thousand?’

‘You don’t do things by half, do you?’

‘I know it’s the hell of a nerve even asking you, but I really am desperate and I know you enjoy speculating. You always have.’

‘And exactly why should I even
consider
lending you a brass farthing?’

He smiled ruefully, and something inside her gave a little tug, making her catch her breath.

‘Because it would give you a hold over me?’ he suggested.

She drank some latte, aware of his tension. ‘I take it you’re not expecting an immediate answer?’

‘At least it’s not an outright no!’

‘Not an outright one, though frankly I can’t see what’s in it for me. I haven’t set myself up as a charity.’

He winced. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘Is it?’ She stared thoughtfully down into her glass. ‘Does your girlfriend know of your money problems?’

‘That things are a bit tight, that’s all.’

‘Can’t she help?’

He shook his head. ‘She doesn’t have that kind of money.’

‘But, as the ad says, you know a girl who has.’

He didn’t reply.

‘How long are you down for?’

‘Till Friday. Just today and tomorrow, really.’

‘Well, I’ll think about it, and give you an answer before you leave.’

‘Thank you,’ he said humbly.

They parted outside the café. ‘I suppose you’ll want to discuss this with your husband,’ Patrick said.

Jill looked surprised. ‘Why should you suppose that? As you know, it’s my money – family money, that’s accumulated through what you call my speculation – and I spend it as I choose.’

‘Of course,’ he said quietly, ‘Silly of me. Jill, I really am terribly sorry to have sprung this on you. I know I’ve no earthly right to appeal to you, but, well . . .’

‘You didn’t know where to turn,’ she finished for him, and he smiled.

‘Exactly. Now I’ll leave you to do whatever you have to do, and take a look round this town of yours. It seems a charming little place.’