Hitched! (18 page)

Every mistake George had ever made was flung out. Every exam
he’d ever failed, every opportunity he’d ever squandered.

‘All the money that was spent on your education,’ Andrew
ranted. ‘Everything you ever had you owed to your family, and what did you do?
Fling it back in our faces!’

George refused to rise to the bait, but he was holding himself
under tight control, I could tell. When I put a hand on his back in wordless
support, it was rigid beneath my palm. I tried to rub it comfortingly, but it
was like trying to loosen up an iron bar.

‘You’ve always been useless,’ Andrew sneered. ‘What good have
you ever been to anybody?’

I took my hand from George’s back. I had had enough.

‘That’s rubbish,’ I said clearly. ‘George has more integrity
than anyone I know.’

‘Leave it, Frith,’ said George. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It
does
matter. Your family of all
people should know what you’re really like.’

‘We
do
know what he’s like! You
don’t know what you’re talking about,’ snarled Andrew. ‘You’re like every other
silly girl, carried away by a pretty face, and, God knows, George has played on
that over the years, haven’t you, George?

‘You want to be careful, missy,’ he said to me when George
didn’t respond. ‘You’re only the latest in a very long queue. If you think you
can trust him, think again!’

I was getting angry by then. ‘For a start, Mr Challoner, I am
not a silly girl, I’m a chartered civil engineer. I’ve worked with a lot of men
in the past few years, and there isn’t a single one of them I’d trust more than
George.’

‘Pah! What do you know? Nobody else would trust him further
than they could throw him now.’

‘Horses do.’

‘Horses?’ Andrew exploded. ‘Who cares about a bloody horse? I’m
talking about people who matter. You wouldn’t trust him if you knew what he did
to this family’s reputation in the City.’

‘I do know what he did,’ I said. ‘He did the right thing.
That’s why I trust him, why everyone trusts him. The people who matter to me,
anyway.

‘The thing is that whenever George is around, you know things
are going to be OK,’ I said, raising my voice to talk over George, who was
trying to tell me not to bother.

‘The tenants at Whellerby like him, because if they need
something done to their homes, George makes sure it gets done. He saw that Lord
Whellerby needed to expand facilities on the estate, and he got the conference
centre built. When my sister turned up out of the blue in a crisis, it was
George who knew what had to be done and how to do it.’

I drew a breath. ‘I don’t want to hear anyone ever tell me that
George is useless. He’s the most useful man I know!’

There was silence around the table, then Harry said, ‘Hear,
hear!’

‘Are you planning to disgrace the family too?’ Andrew roared,
and Charlotte flashed Harry an accusing look. ‘If you want to keep your cushy
little number, you’ll—’

‘I think that’s enough,’ Margaret Challoner broke in with a
glacial look around the table that shut even Andrew up. ‘I’ve already lost one
son from the bank, and I don’t wish to lose another. I think it’s time we drew a
line under the whole unfortunate incident.’

Unfortunate incident? I stared at her in disbelief. Her son had
been fired and ostracised from the family for standing up for what was right and
she thought it was
unfortunate
?

She wasn’t exactly a tiger fighting for her cubs, but, as
maternal went, it was probably the best Margaret could do. Anyway, it did the
trick. Andrew subsided, George made an effort to talk about interest rates with
his father, and I spent the rest of the meal encouraging Charlotte to talk about
school fees and house prices and the difficulties of finding a decent au
pair.

The only thing that made it bearable was George’s warm hand on
my thigh. He was feeling better, I guessed, especially when his fingers found
the edge of my wrap dress, and slipped beneath it to my bare skin, tracing
teasing patterns on my inner thigh until I squirmed in my chair.

I kept losing track of what Charlotte was saying. ‘That’s
terrible,’ I said when she told me about Jeremy’s scholarship, and apparently I
punctuated her distressed account of a light-fingered cleaner with
‘mmm...yes...great...wonderful...’

It was only when I realised George was shaking with suppressed
laughter that I snapped back to attention and pushed his hand hastily away. ‘I’m
so sorry, Charlotte,’ I said penitently. ‘I missed that. What were you
saying?’

The moment everyone pushed back their chairs, I leapt to my
feet, hastily pulling my skirt back into place around my knees and avoiding
George’s eyes. We practically ran up the stairs together, and started to laugh
as we fell through the door.

‘That was one of the worst evenings of my life,’ I said as I
leant back against the door, already weak-kneed with anticipation. I might not
be able to give George the family he needed, but that night I was there for
him.

‘I’m sorry. I won’t ever put you through that again, I
promise.’

George lifted his hand to stroke the hair back from my face.
His warm fingers lingered against my skin, drifting tantalisingly down my
throat, to the deep V of my dress.

‘I’ve been thinking about doing this all evening,’ he said.

My smile evaporated as his hands smoothed possessively over my
breasts. ‘I wouldn’t have got through it without you,’ said George, not quite
evenly. ‘Or without this dress. Whenever Andrew started, I thought about how I
was going to unfasten it,’ he said, his hands finding the tie.

Very slowly, he unknotted it with deft fingers and pulled the
dress open. ‘I thought about how good it was going to feel when I could do
this,’ he said, pushing the soft material from my shoulders, and my breath grew
choppy at the look in his eyes.

‘Anything to help,’ I managed and he smiled.

‘Well, now you come to mention it, there
is
one more thing you could do to help me relax,’ he said, securing
my waist with hard hands and pulling me towards him.

I went unresisting, boneless with desire. ‘What’s that?’ I
whispered.

‘I’ll show you,’ he said, and did.

* * *

The answer phone was blinking when we got back to the
cottage the next day. I pressed the play button as George dumped the bags and
opened the fridge in search of a beer, and the message echoed into the
kitchen.

‘Frith? Hugh here.’ Even through the static, Hugh sounded
stronger than I’d heard him in a long time. ‘Just to say that the doctors are
telling me I can go back to work in a month. I know you’re keen to get out to
Shofrar, so I think I can persuade them that I’ll be fine after three weeks. Are
you OK to stay until then? Isn’t that about when your sister’s wedding is,
anyway? Give me a ring when you get this and we’ll coordinate dates.’

George had stilled with his head bent towards the fridge, and I
was still standing by the phone when the message ended with a beep, and the
recorded voice started up.
To hear this message again,
press one. To save the message, press—

I clicked the machine off.

The fridge hummed into the silent kitchen. George pulled out a
beer and straightened as he closed the door.

‘Good news,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘About Hugh being better.’

‘Oh, yes...yes, it is. It’s great,’ I said, but I was thinking:
A month
.
I’m going to have
to say goodbye to George in a month.
Panic fluttered in my
stomach.

‘You’d better get back to those people about the Shofrar job,’
said George, levering the top off the bottle, and the sound of the air whooshing
out seemed to fill the kitchen.

I swallowed, but it didn’t get rid of the tightness in my
throat. ‘I’ll email them later.’

Another agonising pause, then George put down the beer and came
over to pull me against him. ‘Hey, don’t look like that,’ he said. ‘We knew this
wasn’t going to last for ever, didn’t we?’

I nodded dumbly against his chest.

‘You said that in the car.’

More dumb nodding. I had said that. I had meant it too.
Intellectually, I had always understood that being with George was only ever
going to be a temporary thing. I’d
told
myself that.
It was part of the deal I’d made with myself. I just hadn’t understood how it
would
feel.

I put my arms around his waist and held onto him while I
breathed in the clean, male, familiar smell that was just George and drew on his
strength.

‘It’s much better to say goodbye when things are going well,’ I
tried. My face was pressed into his throat and my voice came out muffled.

‘Exactly,’ said George.

‘I mean, you’d just get bored with me if I hung around too
long.’

‘Bound to,’ he agreed.

I pulled away slightly to look up into his face. ‘Do...do you
think you could put up with me for another month?’

George pretended to consider. ‘I could probably manage that,’
he said.

‘So, you’ll still come to Saffron’s wedding?’

‘Of course I will!’ he said, giving me an exasperated little
shake. ‘Nothing’s going to change. We’re going to make the most of the last
month, we’re going to have a good time, we’re going to the wedding together, and
then you’re going to get yourself a great job in Shofrar, just like you
planned.’

I hadn’t planned for the coldness that sat like a stone in my
belly whenever I thought about saying goodbye, but I told myself George was
right. I needed to stick to my plan. It had never let me down before, and it
wouldn’t now.

So I sent that email and fixed up a job in Shofrar to start six
weeks later. Not just a job,
exactly
the job I
wanted on the new airport. I agreed with Hugh that he would take over the week
before Saffron’s wedding. I’d already promised Saffron I would spend that time
with her, soothing her pre-wedding jitters like a good bridesmaid should. After
the wedding, I would come back with George and pack up my stuff. We’d have a
last week, and then I’d fly out to Shofrar, for step two of my plan.

Everything was working out perfectly. I should have been
ecstatic.

I did a pretty good job of pretending that I was.

* * *

‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’

I left Audrey outside the cottage and George drove me to the
station in York. I hated prolonged goodbyes, so I’d told him just to drop me
off, but he stopped me as I had my hand on the door handle.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said lightly. ‘It’s a million pound wedding.
What could possibly go wrong?’

‘I was thinking about you seeing your father again.’

‘Oh, that,’ I said, my eyes sliding from his. I was dreading
it, of course.

‘I know how it feels,’ he reminded me. ‘You know how difficult
it was for me to see my parents at Letitia’s party.’

‘And it was fine in the end, wasn’t it?’

‘Only because you were there. You’re going to be on your own,’
said George.

‘I’m used to it,’ I said, and put on a bright smile as I opened
the door. ‘See you for the rehearsal dinner, and don’t be late!’

I
was
used to dealing with things
on my own. It was easier that way, I reminded myself all the way to London, but
I couldn’t help wishing that George were with me after all as I knocked on the
door of my father’s lavish house in Knightsbridge.

There were a few paparazzi lurking outside, but they didn’t
bother to take pictures of me. I’m fairly sure they assumed that I was a
secretary or some menial employee. I’d dressed carefully down in jeans and a
white shirt and I carried my meagre wardrobe in a small overnight bag.

My heart was thundering in my throat as the butler let me into
the house.
Get it over with
, I told myself. ‘Is my
father in?’

Any normal daughter would able to go and find her father and
throw herself into his arms. I had to wait rigidly while the butler spoke to my
father’s assistant, who spoke to his PA, who came out to the hall after a few
minutes.

‘Your father will see you now.’

I wondered if he had told them to make me cool my heels for a
while, just to remind me who was in charge. It was the kind of thing he would
do.

He was standing behind his desk, reading a document, but he
looked at me over the top of half-moon glasses when I went in. I didn’t remember
him wearing glasses before. It had been six years since I stood there and asked
him to come to my graduation. He was looking older, I thought, but still stocky,
still with the same bullish expression and powerful presence that I had admired
and resented at the same time for so long.

Dad put down the paper and came round the desk with a certain
wariness.

‘Frith,’ he acknowledged me, his expression unreadable.

He made no move to kiss me, and I had a sudden, bitter memory
of being a little girl, hopping with excitement when I heard him coming through
the door. He used to crouch down and smile.

‘Where’s my girl?’ he’d ask, and I would rush into his arms,
squealing, ‘I’m here, I’m here!’ Then he would laugh and lift me up, and I’d
wind my skinny arms round his neck and press my cheek to his rough one. To me he
was the strongest and most handsome man in the world, and when he kept hold of
me to kiss my mother, I felt utterly safe.

‘Hello, Dad.’ There was a constriction in my throat, and my
voice sounded thin and squeezed.

‘How have you been?’

‘Fine. Good. I’ve just got a new job, in fact.’

I waited for him to congratulate me, or at least ask me what I
was going to be doing, but before he could speak Saffron burst into the room the
way I had been unable to do.

‘Frith! You’re here!’ she said extravagantly. ‘I’ve been
waiting for you for
ever
! Where’s George? Oh, I
can’t wait to show you your dress!’ Without waiting for a reply, she enveloped
me in a hug. ‘We’re going to have such fun!’