The Mill House (12 page)

After saying goodbye, she went to round up the boys, took them for the promised treat, then returned to start preparing the Sunday roast, which they generally ate around six in the evening. And by the time Josh and Shannon came home the chicken was liberally seasoned, stuffed and roasting, the vegetables were prepared and she was enjoying a lavishly perfumed soak in the bath.

As she heard the front door bang closed behind them she began rehearsing her words of apology, even though she wasn't at all sure Josh would accept them, nor could she blame him if he didn't. But she'd try anyway, because the comment about

not needing him had been hurtful, and not what he deserved at all, particularly when it could hardly be further from the truth.

After a while she heard his and Shannon's voices next door in Dan's room, though she couldn't make out what they were saying, except Josh was clearly making them laugh. Then she heard him come into their bedroom and start getting changed. Presumably Dan had told him where she was, but he didn't venture into the bathroom, nor did he call out to let her know he was back.

Submerging herself in the bubbles, she considered what it might be like to drown. She held her breath and listened to the muted thud of her heart. Long, other-worldly moments ticked by until she came up again, and took in air. She lay quietly. No sounds from the bedroom now. He must have gone downstairs.

Resting her head back on the towelling pillow behind her she let several more minutes pass, and was just thinking about getting out to dry herself when to her surprise the door opened and he came in.

The instant she saw him she felt her heart melting, for he'd mixed them both a drink and had brought them up here where they could be alone for a while.

'I'm sorry,' he said, coming to sit on the edge of the bath.

'Me too,' she responded, taking the glass. 'It was my fault.'

'No. I shouldn't have gone off like that.'

As their eyes met she reached for his hand.

'Dan seems OK,' he said, gazing down at their entwined fingers and the bubbles dripping onto his jeans.

'I think he's fine now.'

'What about school tomorrow?'

'The doctor thinks he should go.'

'Are you OK with that?'

'I think so. Are you?'

He nodded.

They both sipped their drinks, and continued to entwine their fingers.

'I've been thinking about this search for your father,' he said, after a while. 'I don't want to push you into anything ...'

'No, we agreed I should,' she interrupted. 'But only if it's what you want, not because it's what I want.'

Her eyes came up to his, and he dropped to his knees so her face was on a level with his.

'I want to,' she told him, the inner turmoil showing in her eyes, 'but what if he does turn out to be ...' She looked away, knowing she didn't have to put it into words, because he was the only person in the world she'd ever confessed her worst suspicions to, though she imagined Sylvia and Pauline had probably guessed them. She wouldn't discuss it with them though, for God knew she found it hard enough with Josh.

Taking the drink from her, he put both their glasses down and held onto her hand. 'All I want is what's best for you,' he told her softly.

Her eyes returned to his, and she lifted a hand to stroke his face.

'Want me to do your back?' he offered.

Yes, she did, but she said, i should probably get out now.'

His expression was impenetrable as he turned to reach for a towel, and held it out for her to step into.

She looked up at him hesitantly.

'You don't have anything I haven't seen before,' he reminded her. 'Or that I don't love.'

Feeling her heart expand, she drew herself up and stepped out into the towel.

'I'll go and check on the dinner,' he said, wrapping her up.

'Josh,' she said as he reached the door.

He turned back.

'I don't deserve you.'

His eyes held hers for a beat, then moved away. 'Dinner,' he said, and pulling open the door he left her to dry herself, and to wonder who, in their right mind, would reject a husband who loved them so much. The answer, of course, was the very same woman who simply couldn't bear to find out that the father she'd adored, and had mourned virtually every day since he'd left, was, in reality, the very worst kind of monster society could manage to produce.

Chapter Four

After six weeks of virtually non-stop rain the sun had finally re-emerged from the clouds, if not with a vengeance, then at least with enough warmth for Sylvia to open the door of her converted garage to let in some air while she worked the clay. Since she was in a mews it was unlikely anyone would pass and interrupt her, but once she was ready to start throwing, she'd close the door again and lose herself in the wonderfully sensuous and intensely private world of creation.

For the moment, though, her long, slim hands were kneading a new batch of clay on the marble workbench, taking out the air, and separating it into individual balls ready to throw, while she listened to a CD of Mirella Freni singing Tosca and enjoyed the feel of a fresh breeze on her skin. Under her bib-apron she wore only a thin white T-shirt and a pair of tracksuit bottoms, while her hair was clipped randomly on the top of her head.

These past few weeks had been an interesting time, she was reflecting as she worked, perhaps

more for how often she'd seen Josh, than for anything else. For a while though, after their meeting at the hotel in Chelsea, she'd started to wonder if he would contact her again, because more than a week had gone by with no word, and during that time she'd learned, through Julia, that they'd become close again. Whether that meant physically, Sylvia had no way of knowing, since Julia hadn't said, however she doubted it. In the end Josh had called, and the fact that he was coming here, or asking her to meet him in other places, on a fairly regular basis now, was evidence enough that things hadn't improved at home.

Starting to wrap the clay balls in plastic, Sylvia found herself wondering what he might have told Julia about his overnight stay in Amsterdam a couple of weeks ago, or the two days he'd spent in Paris just after. Actually, she could easily guess, for he had clients and co-agents in both cities, so it wasn't rare for him to visit either place. They had been wonderful trips, full of fun and endless sex, when she'd put on the underwear he'd bought her, and had felt so unbelievably aroused by the sensation of wearing hold-up stockings with no panties, and a totally transparent negligee that only just covered her bottom, that even now she could feel the shudders of lust inside her to think of the effect it had had on them both.

Wiping her hands on her apron she went to change the CD, and eased her guilt with the reminder that she was only sleeping with Josh to stop him seeking his physical pleasures elsewhere, and with someone who might want to wreck his marriage. So this betrayal - if it had to be called

that - was actually for Julia's sake, though heaven only knew how she could deprive herself of such a lover. In Sylvia's experience few men could compare to Josh, and God knew she'd had some excellent lovers in her time. If the truth were known, she was starting to find him a little addictive. She realised that was very possibly because she sensed he was holding something of himself back - however, she never questioned him about it, nor did she consider it a problem. His conscience was his own, and as long as she got the satisfaction she craved, she saw no point in making waves. On the other hand, she'd started to feel tempted these past few days, for it had been almost two weeks since she'd last seen him - one of which she knew he'd spent at the Frankfurt book fair, but that didn't change the fact that she was becoming highly desirous of his body.

Sighing gently to herself, she reclipped her hair and was about to carry on with her work when the phone started to ring. Experiencing a beat of hope that it might be him, she reached out to unhook it from the wall and tucked it under her chin.

'Hi, it's me,' Julia said. 'Am I interrupting?'

'No, not at all,' Sylvia responded smoothly. 'How are you?'

'OK. No, that's not true. Josh and I had a terrible row the night before last, and he's still barely speaking to me.'

'What was it about?' Sylvia asked, returning to the clay.

'I did a really stupid thing,' Julia confessed. 'I invited some friends round for dinner, when I

should have known how tired he would be when he got back from Frankfurt. Anyway, we ended up saying some really dreadful things, both of us threatened to leave, I even thought he was going to hit me at one point ...'

'I don't think he'd ever do that,'Sylvia assured her.

'I know, but he got so angry ... Tell me, do you think I should have him followed?'

'What on earth for?' Sylvia asked, picking up a ball of clay and taking it to the wheel.

'To put my mind at rest about whether or not he is having an affair.'

Sylvia's eyebrows arched. 'No, I don't think you should do that,' she answered, pulling up a stool to sit down at the wheel.

Julia sighed heavily. 'You're right. He'd be furious if he found out ...'

'How are the children?' Sylvia asked, feeling it was time for a change of subject.

'Oh, they're great. Dan hasn't had any more seizures since that last one, thank God, and Shannon's getting more depressed by the day about not having a boyfriend, though she's still managing to excel at school, which is definitely a blessing. Actually, in their own ways, they're a constant source of amusement and pride to us both, and I shudder to think where we might be without them, because they're definitely holding us together right now.'

'That's sweet,' Sylvia commented lightly, and pressed her foot on the pedal to start the wheel spinning. 'And what about Hamish Kincaid's book?'

'As a matter of fact, I'm on my way to have lunch with him now,' Julia answered. 'He wants to meet me and discuss the book before he hands it over. I'm the first new editor he's had in twenty- some years, so I have to be vetted.'

'You should enjoy that,' Sylvia said, not without irony, for they were both aware of the man's dreadful reputation. He had it in him to send Julia packing in the most brutal of ways, should he decide against her.

Julia laughed. 'It'll do me good to focus on something other than Josh for a while,' she said. 'Anyway, when are you off to New York?'

'Not until the weekend,' Sylvia replied, idly wondering if Josh might like to join her for a couple of days. 'I'm seeing my editor in Manhattan on Monday, then I've a couple more meetings lined up before I fly back.'

'I wish I was coming with you,' Julia said wistfully. 'I love my family to bits, but I could really do with a break and I've always so loved New York.'

Sylvia was about to respond when a shadow crossed the doorway and fell over her. Frowning, she looked up, then realising who it was she felt a tightening of her heart as a piercing lust cut through her below.

'Are you still in touch with Barry Spencer?' Julia was saying. 'Didn't he move over there a couple of years ago? He was always so crazy about you.'

'The last I heard he was married with kids,' Sylvia responded, keeping her eyes on Josh.

Julia laughed. 'Since when did that ever stop you?' she teased.

Sylvia's gaze didn't waver. Tm sorry, I have to go now,' she said. 'Someone's just turned up.'

'OK, no problem,' Julia replied. 'I'm almost at the restaurant anyway. Talk to you later.'

After clicking off the line, Sylvia put the phone to one side and kept the wheel spinning as she looked at Josh and randomly shaped the clay. With the sunlight behind him she couldn't see his expression, but there was no doubt in her mind why he'd come.

'So how are you?' she said, finally breaking the silence.

'I'm fine,' he answered. He cleared his throat and stepped into the shadows so she was more easily able to see him. 'Actually, I've come about the vase you mentioned a while ago. The one Julia liked.'

Sylvia nodded and continued to draw the clay into a tall, cone-like shape, squashing it down, then drawing it up again.

'We had a bit of a fight the other night,' he confessed. 'I went too far, said some pretty unforgivable things .. .'

'So you want to take the vase as a peace offering?'

He continued to look at her.

Her eyes lowered to her task. 'It's extremely expensive,' she reminded him.

'I know.'

She smiled, knowing that it helped ease his conscience to pay a lot, not just for betraying Julia, but to make himself feel better about using her for sex. How strangely moral he was. 'Just as well I hung onto it,' she told him, pushing her thumbs into the clay as it rose to a peak again.

He didn't answer, so she carried on with what she was doing, wondering if he was becoming aroused by the erotic movements of her hands as they cupped the phallic shape, because she certainly was.

'So how is Julia?' she asked after a while.

'OK.' He cleared his throat again.

'I take it she doesn't know anything about our trips to Amsterdam and Paris.'