Read Online The Chosen Dead (Jenny Cooper 5) by M. R. Hall - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M. R. Hall
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problem. Perfect day for it.’
She gestured him to a chair and poured drinks, feeling suddenly and irrationally nervous.
‘What kind of planes do you fly?’ Ross asked.
‘Props. Light aircraft.’
‘His company has a contract to fly jockeys between race courses,’ Jenny said.
‘Kind of an upmarket chauffeur,’ Michael added apologetically.
‘Mum said you flew fighter jets,’ Ross said. ‘You must have seen a lot of action.’
‘Here and there.’ Michael glanced at Jenny and took a large mouthful of wine.
‘You would have been in Afghanistan?’
‘Yes. I was,’ Michael answered quietly.
Jenny shot Michael an apologetic glance, regretting having raised the subject.
‘What about Iraq?’
Michael nodded.
Jenny tried to change the subject. ‘Ross is studying economics—’
His usual sensitivity blunted by the wine, Ross failed to take the hint. ‘That must have been intense.’
Michael said, ‘That’s one word for it.’ He stared into his glass, then stood up from the table and glanced at Jenny. ‘Won’t be a moment.’ He went inside, closing the outside door that led to the kitchen behind him.
Too late, Ross realized his clumsiness. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about it. You didn’t tell me.’
‘I should have done. I’m sorry. He’ll be fine.’
‘Bad experiences?’
‘A few.’ She touched his hand. ‘We’ll talk about something else, shall we?’
‘He could have just told me he didn’t want to talk about it.’
‘It’s all fine. No big deal.’
She smiled, hoping to smooth things over, but like his father, Ross was quick to suffer wounded pride when he’d been made to feel foolish. He reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.
Following the bumpy start, conversation between the three of them failed to find a natural flow. During dinner, Jenny found herself having to make all the running. Michael was quiet, nervous that he was being presented for Ross’s approval. Ross made gallant efforts at small talk, but the more he groped for subjects on neutral ground, the more artificial the atmosphere between the three of them became. Jenny was relieved when it was time to clear the plates and retreat briefly to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Michael came in behind her with the dirty glasses and set them down on the counter. Sensing her tension, he placed a hand tentatively on her shoulder, half expecting her to slap it away. ‘Sorry I’ve not been better company tonight. Tired, I guess.’
‘Can’t you just have a few drinks and relax?’
‘I’ve tried—’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing, it’s just . . .’
She waited.
‘I feel like I’m on show.’
‘He’s not judging you, Michael,’ Jenny whispered. ‘This was meant to be fun.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got another early flight tomorrow. I don’t think I should stay tonight.’
‘Why not? Ross doesn’t mind. He knows we’re together.’
‘We’ve only just met.’
‘So?’
Michael was saved from explaining himself by the telephone ringing in the sitting room. Jenny glanced at the clock above the old cast-iron range – it was nearly 10.30.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ Michael said.
‘I’m not sure I want to.’
Ross burst through the back door from the garden. ‘It might be Sally.’ He ran through to pick it up. ‘Hello? . . . Oh, hi, Dad.’
Jenny grasped Michael’s hand. ‘Please stay. He’ll be fine. I’ve missed you.’
Yielding, he kissed her lightly on the lips, and in their brief moment of connection the awkwardness between them dissolved. His hands held her waist; she felt their warmth through the fabric of her shirt and longed to feel them on her skin.
‘If you’re sure it’s all right.’
‘I told you it is.’ She held his gaze.
He reached for her hand and delicately stroked her palm with his fingertips in a promise of what was to come.
Ross came to the door. His expression was serious. ‘Mum—?’
Jenny kept hold of
She gestured him to a chair and poured drinks, feeling suddenly and irrationally nervous.
‘What kind of planes do you fly?’ Ross asked.
‘Props. Light aircraft.’
‘His company has a contract to fly jockeys between race courses,’ Jenny said.
‘Kind of an upmarket chauffeur,’ Michael added apologetically.
‘Mum said you flew fighter jets,’ Ross said. ‘You must have seen a lot of action.’
‘Here and there.’ Michael glanced at Jenny and took a large mouthful of wine.
‘You would have been in Afghanistan?’
‘Yes. I was,’ Michael answered quietly.
Jenny shot Michael an apologetic glance, regretting having raised the subject.
‘What about Iraq?’
Michael nodded.
Jenny tried to change the subject. ‘Ross is studying economics—’
His usual sensitivity blunted by the wine, Ross failed to take the hint. ‘That must have been intense.’
Michael said, ‘That’s one word for it.’ He stared into his glass, then stood up from the table and glanced at Jenny. ‘Won’t be a moment.’ He went inside, closing the outside door that led to the kitchen behind him.
Too late, Ross realized his clumsiness. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about it. You didn’t tell me.’
‘I should have done. I’m sorry. He’ll be fine.’
‘Bad experiences?’
‘A few.’ She touched his hand. ‘We’ll talk about something else, shall we?’
‘He could have just told me he didn’t want to talk about it.’
‘It’s all fine. No big deal.’
She smiled, hoping to smooth things over, but like his father, Ross was quick to suffer wounded pride when he’d been made to feel foolish. He reached for the bottle and refilled his glass.
Following the bumpy start, conversation between the three of them failed to find a natural flow. During dinner, Jenny found herself having to make all the running. Michael was quiet, nervous that he was being presented for Ross’s approval. Ross made gallant efforts at small talk, but the more he groped for subjects on neutral ground, the more artificial the atmosphere between the three of them became. Jenny was relieved when it was time to clear the plates and retreat briefly to the sanctuary of the kitchen.
Michael came in behind her with the dirty glasses and set them down on the counter. Sensing her tension, he placed a hand tentatively on her shoulder, half expecting her to slap it away. ‘Sorry I’ve not been better company tonight. Tired, I guess.’
‘Can’t you just have a few drinks and relax?’
‘I’ve tried—’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Nothing, it’s just . . .’
She waited.
‘I feel like I’m on show.’
‘He’s not judging you, Michael,’ Jenny whispered. ‘This was meant to be fun.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got another early flight tomorrow. I don’t think I should stay tonight.’
‘Why not? Ross doesn’t mind. He knows we’re together.’
‘We’ve only just met.’
‘So?’
Michael was saved from explaining himself by the telephone ringing in the sitting room. Jenny glanced at the clock above the old cast-iron range – it was nearly 10.30.
‘Aren’t you going to answer it?’ Michael said.
‘I’m not sure I want to.’
Ross burst through the back door from the garden. ‘It might be Sally.’ He ran through to pick it up. ‘Hello? . . . Oh, hi, Dad.’
Jenny grasped Michael’s hand. ‘Please stay. He’ll be fine. I’ve missed you.’
Yielding, he kissed her lightly on the lips, and in their brief moment of connection the awkwardness between them dissolved. His hands held her waist; she felt their warmth through the fabric of her shirt and longed to feel them on her skin.
‘If you’re sure it’s all right.’
‘I told you it is.’ She held his gaze.
He reached for her hand and delicately stroked her palm with his fingertips in a promise of what was to come.
Ross came to the door. His expression was serious. ‘Mum—?’
Jenny kept hold of
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