Life Class (50 page)

‘Oh, I think everything will be all right. Mel’s fine. She’s going to college to retake her A-levels in the autumn. And my sister’s a survivor. She … they all seem to be moving towards a new understanding. In fact it was Fran’s birthday on Tuesday. The big Four-O. But she
didn’t
wake up with wiry, grey hairs growing out of her chin, she told me.’ Dory smiled at her sister’s ability to laugh at herself. ‘In a way, I think everything that’s happened has been good for her. It’s made her take stock. She’s thinking about retaking her art degree. It’s an idea you can take some credit for. Without your teaching over this last year, she would never have contemplated such a step.’

It was bizarre. As they had for the last few weeks, they were treating one another like mere acquaintances, when in reality they’d engaged in the most intimate exchange possible between two people.

‘I’m pleased,’ he said, continuing to regard her with that same thoughtful scrutiny.

‘Look, I didn’t come back for a
special
pencil,’ Dory admitted with a rueful shake of the head. ‘Nor to talk about my family, or even Michael.’ She drew in a breath. ‘I came back to … I hadn’t said …’ Her voice suddenly let her down, emerging as a croak. ‘Goodbye. But …’ She cleared her throat and continued more briskly. ‘We’re all going for lunch. Do you fancy it?’

‘Lunch?’ He spoke as if the concept was unfamiliar to him.

‘Yes. The Old Sheep Shearer. It would be good if …’ Dory hesitated, feeling as awkward and gauche as a teenager. Something was happening to his face. His head had tilted. His expression had warmed and softened. A smile seemed to hover on his lips. Her brain suddenly crashed. Was that where Fran said they were going? ‘In fact, that’s not what I came back to ask you,’ she continued, convinced he would write her off as a complete idiot. ‘Though of course you’re welcome.
More
than welcome.’

‘Dory? Before you say anything more, may I?’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘I don’t know how to wrap this up prettily, so I’ll just say it. It’s been on my mind. And I realise now that it’s one of those things that needs to be said whether or not the other … whether or not you …’ He shook his head slightly. ‘I
have
to say it. I love you, Isadora Seymour.’

Had she heard what she thought she’d heard? She must have been looking blank, because he went on, ‘Are you surprised? Surely you guessed? After we went to bed?’

Still almost convinced that what she’d heard was a wish fulfilment daydream, momentarily overlaying a far more prosaic reality, she said, ‘Wasn’t that just sex? The heat of the moment?

‘Was that all it was for you?’ His voice had flattened.

‘No! That’s what I assumed
you
felt … it’s different for women, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t give me that men from Mars, women from Venus crap! I’m talking about you and me. I don’t do
just sex
, Dory!’

This scenario was so different from the one she’d envisaged, she was struggling to find the words.

‘I love you,’ he repeated. ‘But for you …’ He gave a humourless chuckle. ‘It’s always been about the house, hasn’t it?’

‘You’re wrong! That’s what I
really
came back here to tell you. I woke up to what you were thinking.’ Time enough to explain Dom’s part in it. ‘I’m sorry that you’re selling Kitesnest. You know I love it, but not more than I …’ She considered her words, desperate to get everything straight between them. ‘
Of course
I was looking at the art centre project as a business opportunity, but it’ll never make a fortune. Making a living is all it needs to do. Most of all, I felt that at last I’d discovered something I really wanted to do, with someone
I
really wanted to be with. But you’d made it clear that you weren’t interested in a relationship. I thought there was no hope of that.’ Her hands were suddenly trembling in his.

‘That was nineteen years ago. I’m allowed to change my mind, aren’t I? I mean it, Dory. I’ve fallen in love with you. I want you to be part of my life. I want to be a part of yours.’

Everything was all right. Somehow, despite her juvenile, stumbling incoherence, she’d emerged into the light. It was unbelievable. Her throat clogged with emotion.

‘And I love you, Stefan, but I was scared that telling you might drive you away.’

He sighed. Minutes passed before anything more coherent was said. At length, he held her at arms’ length and studied her.

‘The sale has fallen through,’ he said. ‘The offer was withdrawn. Apparently the company puts in speculative offers and plans for many possible sites across the south. Kitesnest was just a blob on a map. But when they looked into it more carefully, they changed their minds.’

‘I knew it was a mad idea.’

‘Even with planning permission, the cost-benefit analysis for removing so many trees didn’t pan out. They cut their losses. It was relief in a way, a weight off my shoulders.’

‘So, what are you planning to do now?’

‘If nothing else, I thought I could consider your suggestion of running classes and workshops. And investigate the sculpture park idea. I’ve been looking into taking out a second mortgage. But with you on board?’

Dory let out a breath. ‘No need for a second mortgage, I have money. I want to invest it
in you.
We can’t fail! I’ll do up the cottage and in the future, if things go well … it’ll be there for Dom to move into when he needs his independence.’

‘Things
will
go well. And maybe, Dom moving out will free up his present room for …’

‘For what?’

‘We’ve both lost out in the past. Maybe we’re not too old.’

His smiling face blurred. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ she asked shakily. Their arms tightened around one another.

‘Just another idea to add into the mix. What do you think?’

‘I believe in you,’ she said shakily. ‘I believe in us. Anything’s possible.’

‘What’ve you been doing all this time?’ Her sister’s voice intruded. ‘You
are
coming to lunch? Oh!’ A caricature of shock and surprise, Fran stood at the door, her face flushed, eyes wide. Dory and Stefan pulled apart.

‘Sorry, Fran.’ Dory wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. There’d be nothing left of the lipstick she’d reapplied. She looked up at Stefan, whose arms were still closely wrapped around her. He was smiling.

‘I already asked you about lunch but you didn’t give me an answer.’

Stefan’s smile broadened to a grin. ‘Lunch sounds good.’

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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2015

ISBN 9781783752539

Copyright ©
Gilli Allan
2015

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Gilli Allan
to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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