Read Online That'll Be the Day (2007) by Freda Lightfoot - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Freda Lightfoot
Tags: Saga
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her today because he was happily engaged telling some amusing yarn to the most attractive woman in the place. Whenever she saw him talking to another woman Helen felt a sharp stab of jealousy, as she did now. It was really too bad of him. Why couldn’t he behave? She hadn’t the first idea who this woman was but she certainly intended to find out.
‘Darling!’ Marching right over, Helen lifted up her face to be kissed, firmly elbowing the woman out of orbit as she slipped between them and pressed herself possessively against her husband’s chest.
Dutifully Leo kissed her on both cheeks, accompanying the gesture with a friendly slap on the back and a vigorous hug. Helen had taught him to kiss her in this polite way quite early on in their marriage, otherwise he was constantly ruining her lipstick. Besides, it was so continental and much more upper class. Unfortunately she never had cured him of this annoying habit of hugging her at the same time. So common! She pulled away from him, making a great show of straightening her hat to make the point.
‘Darling, let me introduce you to Lynda Hemley. She works on the flower stall where I bought this delightful bouquet for Mother.’
Helen glanced briefly at the lavish bouquet lying on the bar counter and felt a further nudge of jealousy before sketching a smile which barely parted her lips. ‘I’m afraid all you stallholders look alike to me. I find it far too confusing to try to remember everyone’s name.’ Then deliberately turning her back on the young woman without allowing her the opportunity to respond, blithely continued, ‘Are we really staying here, darling, or should we move on to somewhere else?’
A flash of irritation, quickly stifled, flickered across Leo’s face. ‘I’ve ordered cottage pie for us both.’
‘Oh dear! Soup or a sandwich would have been quite sufficient. Still, never mind. What more can one expect from a humble hostelry of this sort?’ Helen straightened his tie which seemed to have worked itself loose. ‘Shall we sit in the window corner then you can tell me what is so urgent that prevents us from escaping this dreadful place and slipping away early to the country?’ As if she didn’t know.
No doubt he’d eat the cottage pie at record speed before expecting her to rush off with him to Lytham St Anne’s to see his parents. It utterly defeated her why he should always choose Saturday afternoon for this dratted duty visit when they could be at Ashton, their pretty country retreat in the Ribble Valley. He could just as easily take a day off during the week. Wasn’t he the boss, for goodness sake, free to choose his own hours?
Helen considered that, as his wife, she had first call upon his time and deeply resented anything or anyone that deprived her of his company. Weekends were precious, and weren’t married people meant to spend every moment they could together? A philosophy which Leo obstinately and frequently failed to understand.
She certainly intended to make her displeasure felt on this occasion. Having ruined her weekend completely she would do her utmost to ruin his.
Leo did not notice the malice in his wife’s eye as he was still simmering over her condescending remarks to Lynda, damping down his ill humour with exemplary patience, a skill he had perfected over the years. But his response was brusque.
‘You choose where you wish to sit. I’ll join you in a moment.’
Much to her chagrin Helen was forced to seek out a table by herself while Leo lingered on for a few more quiet words with his very attractive friend. She felt mortified, the burn of jealousy inside her almost unbearable.
How she loathed to see that famous charm in action, to watch him flirt so outrageously with any woman who chanced to cross his path. She simply wouldn’t tolerate it.
Helen despised the way Leo dismissed her concerns over his rapacious behaviour with other women, this claim of his that there was nothing more to it than
‘Darling!’ Marching right over, Helen lifted up her face to be kissed, firmly elbowing the woman out of orbit as she slipped between them and pressed herself possessively against her husband’s chest.
Dutifully Leo kissed her on both cheeks, accompanying the gesture with a friendly slap on the back and a vigorous hug. Helen had taught him to kiss her in this polite way quite early on in their marriage, otherwise he was constantly ruining her lipstick. Besides, it was so continental and much more upper class. Unfortunately she never had cured him of this annoying habit of hugging her at the same time. So common! She pulled away from him, making a great show of straightening her hat to make the point.
‘Darling, let me introduce you to Lynda Hemley. She works on the flower stall where I bought this delightful bouquet for Mother.’
Helen glanced briefly at the lavish bouquet lying on the bar counter and felt a further nudge of jealousy before sketching a smile which barely parted her lips. ‘I’m afraid all you stallholders look alike to me. I find it far too confusing to try to remember everyone’s name.’ Then deliberately turning her back on the young woman without allowing her the opportunity to respond, blithely continued, ‘Are we really staying here, darling, or should we move on to somewhere else?’
A flash of irritation, quickly stifled, flickered across Leo’s face. ‘I’ve ordered cottage pie for us both.’
‘Oh dear! Soup or a sandwich would have been quite sufficient. Still, never mind. What more can one expect from a humble hostelry of this sort?’ Helen straightened his tie which seemed to have worked itself loose. ‘Shall we sit in the window corner then you can tell me what is so urgent that prevents us from escaping this dreadful place and slipping away early to the country?’ As if she didn’t know.
No doubt he’d eat the cottage pie at record speed before expecting her to rush off with him to Lytham St Anne’s to see his parents. It utterly defeated her why he should always choose Saturday afternoon for this dratted duty visit when they could be at Ashton, their pretty country retreat in the Ribble Valley. He could just as easily take a day off during the week. Wasn’t he the boss, for goodness sake, free to choose his own hours?
Helen considered that, as his wife, she had first call upon his time and deeply resented anything or anyone that deprived her of his company. Weekends were precious, and weren’t married people meant to spend every moment they could together? A philosophy which Leo obstinately and frequently failed to understand.
She certainly intended to make her displeasure felt on this occasion. Having ruined her weekend completely she would do her utmost to ruin his.
Leo did not notice the malice in his wife’s eye as he was still simmering over her condescending remarks to Lynda, damping down his ill humour with exemplary patience, a skill he had perfected over the years. But his response was brusque.
‘You choose where you wish to sit. I’ll join you in a moment.’
Much to her chagrin Helen was forced to seek out a table by herself while Leo lingered on for a few more quiet words with his very attractive friend. She felt mortified, the burn of jealousy inside her almost unbearable.
How she loathed to see that famous charm in action, to watch him flirt so outrageously with any woman who chanced to cross his path. She simply wouldn’t tolerate it.
Helen despised the way Leo dismissed her concerns over his rapacious behaviour with other women, this claim of his that there was nothing more to it than
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