something he needed, like water, like breath. When she took a step back at last, he couldnât think what to say. He was profoundly grateful for the thigh-length jacket that hid his erection. Was she aware of that? He was blushing again. What would happen now? He wasnât used to such intensity of feeling and therefore said nothing. Neither did she. They began to walk in the direction of Fairford Hall, not speaking. What am I going to do if there are people around when we get there? he thought. I want to kiss her again.
No one was in the entrance hall when they reached the house.
âLydia?â he said, not knowing how to ask, suddenly awkward.
She reached up to gather him into her arms. She pulled him down to her, her hands on his neck, in his hair. He could feel how much she wanted the kiss. If she hadnât done that, hadnât reached out to him, would he have stepped back? No, no way, but things wouldnât have turned out the way they did, perhaps. Iâll never know, he thought, as he stared out at the road unrolling in front of the car and tried to ignore what Maureen was saying.
She obviously couldnât leave the subject of Lydia alone. Sheâd chattered on till his teeth hurt. âWhatever dâyou think was the matter with her? Menopause, I shouldnât wonder. Sheâs quite nice, isnât she? I wish I had the dressing of her, though. Somehow unfinished.And like Zannah, a little too thin. But very pretty, really. And I like her husband. And Adrian likes them.â
Sometimes he wondered why heâd married her, but now, back home, looking around the morning room, he recognized that her love of order matched his. Her gift for household management, her capacity for seeking out the very best, exactly the right thing for whatever they needed in the house or garden was something he admired and appreciated. And sheâd been a knockout when he first met her. Naturally blonde in those days, and with breasts that she managed to display to their fullest advantage while at the same time being dressed as soberly and neatly as befitted a hospital receptionist, sheâd made no secret of her attraction to him and he ⦠well, as someone once said: she threw herself at him and he didnât exactly step out of the way. Sheâd made him feel drunk with lust. He hadnât even minded Adrian then. At the time, he was a toddler whose father had walked out. Gray was moved by the plight of the gallant single mother, struggling alone to keep up standards and get her life together, and her pretty son. He thought of himself as their rescuer and it felt good.
Maureen had been so lovely as a young woman. And she flirted with him in a way he liked. You had to hand it to her. As soon as she saw he was keen, sheâd started inviting him round to her house. Adrian was only a little kid then, and Maureen made much of how good he was and how much he needed a father. They used to go to the cinema and snog their way through the films. No question of going back to her place, and his room in the hospital wasnât much better.
âItâs not exactly home from home,â Maureen used to say.
He didnât mind. Theyâd start taking their clothes off as soon as the door closed and he couldnât have cared less where they were. Maureen was so enthusiastic, such fun, so full of laughter and so uninhibited that hewanted to make love to her all the time. Heâd slept with a few women before he met Maureen, but no one who enjoyed it so much, and responded so quickly.
âOh,â sheâd say, and her eyes would roll back in her head, âoh my God, I canât get enough of you, my darling. I wish I could gobble you all up!â
Afterwards, her talk often turned to her little boy. She started to drop hints about how ghastly it was living where, she did. And she began to paint pictures of what life could be like if they moved in together.
Heâd soon fallen
No one was in the entrance hall when they reached the house.
âLydia?â he said, not knowing how to ask, suddenly awkward.
She reached up to gather him into her arms. She pulled him down to her, her hands on his neck, in his hair. He could feel how much she wanted the kiss. If she hadnât done that, hadnât reached out to him, would he have stepped back? No, no way, but things wouldnât have turned out the way they did, perhaps. Iâll never know, he thought, as he stared out at the road unrolling in front of the car and tried to ignore what Maureen was saying.
She obviously couldnât leave the subject of Lydia alone. Sheâd chattered on till his teeth hurt. âWhatever dâyou think was the matter with her? Menopause, I shouldnât wonder. Sheâs quite nice, isnât she? I wish I had the dressing of her, though. Somehow unfinished.And like Zannah, a little too thin. But very pretty, really. And I like her husband. And Adrian likes them.â
Sometimes he wondered why heâd married her, but now, back home, looking around the morning room, he recognized that her love of order matched his. Her gift for household management, her capacity for seeking out the very best, exactly the right thing for whatever they needed in the house or garden was something he admired and appreciated. And sheâd been a knockout when he first met her. Naturally blonde in those days, and with breasts that she managed to display to their fullest advantage while at the same time being dressed as soberly and neatly as befitted a hospital receptionist, sheâd made no secret of her attraction to him and he ⦠well, as someone once said: she threw herself at him and he didnât exactly step out of the way. Sheâd made him feel drunk with lust. He hadnât even minded Adrian then. At the time, he was a toddler whose father had walked out. Gray was moved by the plight of the gallant single mother, struggling alone to keep up standards and get her life together, and her pretty son. He thought of himself as their rescuer and it felt good.
Maureen had been so lovely as a young woman. And she flirted with him in a way he liked. You had to hand it to her. As soon as she saw he was keen, sheâd started inviting him round to her house. Adrian was only a little kid then, and Maureen made much of how good he was and how much he needed a father. They used to go to the cinema and snog their way through the films. No question of going back to her place, and his room in the hospital wasnât much better.
âItâs not exactly home from home,â Maureen used to say.
He didnât mind. Theyâd start taking their clothes off as soon as the door closed and he couldnât have cared less where they were. Maureen was so enthusiastic, such fun, so full of laughter and so uninhibited that hewanted to make love to her all the time. Heâd slept with a few women before he met Maureen, but no one who enjoyed it so much, and responded so quickly.
âOh,â sheâd say, and her eyes would roll back in her head, âoh my God, I canât get enough of you, my darling. I wish I could gobble you all up!â
Afterwards, her talk often turned to her little boy. She started to drop hints about how ghastly it was living where, she did. And she began to paint pictures of what life could be like if they moved in together.
Heâd soon fallen
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