The Mill House (13 page)

His jaw tightened as he looked away.

'Sorry, I guess we're not supposed to mention them.'

His eyes came back to her. 'She's having lunch with Hamish Kincaid today,' he said. 'He wants to discuss his book before he hands it over.'

Her head tilted to one side as she said, 'That's nice.' Then after a beat, 'Tell me, how would you feel if she had an affair?'

He seemed surprised by the question, then sounded almost angry as he said, 'Considering the circumstances, I'd say murderous.'

Her eyebrows went up. So they weren't sleeping together again, but then, his presence here had already told her that. 'More or less how she feels,' she commented.

He said nothing.

After a while she said, 'Are you sure you didn't come here for sex?'

'It wasn't my intention,' he answered, the words ringing in a hollow of truth.

'I only ask, because I'm rather in the mood myself.'

It was a second or two before he moved, though they both knew he wasn't going to resist. Then

walking round behind her, he took off his jacket, pulled up a stool and sat down.

'Mm, that feels good,' she murmured, as he reached under the bib of her apron, and lifted the front of her T-shirt. Since she never wore a bra, there was no barrier to his hands, and as his fingers closed around her nipples she rested her head back on his shoulder to bask in the sensation of what he was doing.

For a long time they sat like that, with the wheel spinning, the clay moving through her hands and his mouth on her neck as he toyed with her breasts and pressed his erection against her. Then he was lowering a hand over her belly, pushing it inside the waistband of her tracksuit and on down to discover that she was still baby-smooth below.

'Mm,' he murmured as his fingers slid into her, and as she turned her mouth to his he pushed his tongue deep inside.

'I think we need to go upstairs,' she said hoarsely, and leaving the wheel to spin to a stop she rose to her feet and let him remove her trousers before turning to lead the way.

Julia's lunch meeting with Hamish Kincaid turned out to be even briefer and more difficult than she'd expected, though happily, not even his rudely expressed doubts about her editorial skills, nor his insufferable criticism of her own book had managed to dent her confidence today - nor alter her admiration for his talent, come to that. On the contrary, she'd read enough of his past work to know that his would be a lasting literary legacy, so in spite of his loathsome character she couldn't

help but feel pleased to be overseeing his next wayward masterpiece.

'The typescript will be hand-delivered on Friday, by my wife,' he'd informed her, his suspicious little eyes boring into hers, 'it'll be up to you to get it copied.'

Knowing his publisher would take care of that, Julia had merely smiled and assured him she was looking forward to receiving it, while flatly refusing to be intimidated by his manner, which she knew very well was his objective, for it was meant to make her reticent about giving notes. He'd find out soon enough how thorough she was, and unafraid to criticise, so no point going for a confrontation now, particularly when she hadn't read a single word - nor had he deigned to acquaint her with the subject matter, other than to hint that it would most likely be beyond her meagre intellectual capacity.

If he really believed that, the lunch would never have happened, she was thinking to herself as she drove back through Kensington, heading for home. She'd already tried calling Josh to let him know how the meeting had gone, but had been directed through to his voicemail, which probably meant he was in the middle of an important lunch of his own. She'd try again later, maybe after she'd spoken to Katya, Kincaid's publisher, who she knew would have a good chuckle with her over Kincaid's intractable dourness and outrageous insults.

As she pulled up at traffic lights she quickly checked the texts that had come in while she was driving, finding one from Shannon, and two from

Dan. It seemed neither of them would be home for dinner tonight, which meant she could make something special for Josh in the hope it might go some way towards helping them forget the horrible row they'd had the night he got back from Frankfurt. She might even, considering how buoyant she was feeling right now, manage to work herself up to ending the evening the way he'd appreciate most.

She grimaced at that. Making such a decision from the distance of several hours was extremely easy, so in an attempt to convince herself she really meant it, she made a sudden right turn at Kensington Church Street, and headed for her favourite lingerie shop. After that she'd drive over to the Portobello market to pick up all the special foods Josh liked - and already her insides were starting to knot, for she knew he'd understand the signals, and she could hardly bear to think of how awful it would be if she ended up pushing him away again.

Determined to ignore her misgivings, she searched for a meter close to the shop, and managed to shoot into a space directly opposite, much to the annoyance of a white-van man who gave her the finger as she ran across the street.

Plaisirs de Soie was an extremely expensive and discreet boutique that she and Josh had often visited together, for unlike most men he didn't have a problem helping his wife select her underwear, in fact he occasionally came alone to select it himself. The owner and her staff seemed to enjoy his lack of inhibition, and were often quite flirtatious with him, though they must have wondered

where he'd been these past months. The thought made her hesitate before going inside, because maybe he had been in, and let them think he was shopping for her when it was actually for a mistress. Thrown by the suspicion, she wondered if she should just choose something from the locked drawer at home - except backing off now was cowardly, so steeling herself she pushed down the handle and walked brazenly in.

Hearing the bell the owner looked up, and seeing one of her more valued customers she welcomed Julia warmly, offering her coffee or wine, which Julia politely declined, before taking herself off to browse. To her relief the woman had not mentioned seeing Josh recently, had merely asked how he was, so Julia was able to relax as she made her choice, keeping his preferences in mind.

When it was time to pay the owner smiled benignly as she wrapped the transparent white negligee in tissue which she tied with a bow, then did the same with the hold-up stockings. 'I think your husband will like this very much,' she murmured, as she walked Julia to the door her assistant was holding open.

If only they knew, Julia was reflecting as she returned to the car. They think we've got it so together, but how deceiving appearances can be - and how was she going to appear to him in this exquisite lingerie tonight? Exactly as he would want her to, of course, ready for his lovemaking, and willing to give him everything he most desired. In the old days, if the children weren't around, she'd have greeted him at the door

wearing the seductive outfit, then served him drinks and dinner, allowing him to touch her whenever he felt like it, until their need grew to such a pitch that they couldn't even make it to the bedroom. He'd take her right there in the kitchen, or the study, or the laundry room, in any position he pleased, and for as long as he could. If only she could work herself up to do that again, but right now the very idea was making her so tense inside that she had to put it out of her mind, or she knew she'd never stand a chance of going through with it.

Next stop was the Portobello market. As she headed over there, she was listening to the hard- rock band on his CD player, not because she liked it, but because he did, and it made her feel closer to him. If he knew what she was doing now, it would make such a difference to his day, she was thinking, as she turned into a street close to Sylvia's. Finding a parking spot, she was just toying with the idea of dropping in to entertain Sylvia with an account of the lunch with Kincaid, when her mobile started to ring. Since the call came up as a private number, she clicked on and said, 'Hello, Julia Thayne speaking.'

'Mrs Thayne. My name is Fionnula Barrington,' a pleasantly cultured voice informed her. 'I'm calling from Sissons, Greene and Bower in Bodmin. I got your number from your answering machine. I hope I'm not disturbing you?'

Julia was half out of the car, but sank back into the driver's seat as she registered the official tone of the call. 'No, not at all,' she responded. 'What can I do for you?'

'Is it convenient to talk?' Fionnula Barrington enquired. 'I have news of some importance.'

Julia frowned, and felt a stirring of unease. 'Yes, it's fine,' she said.

There was a pause before Ms Barrington continued. 'Could I ask you to confirm whether you're the daughter of Douglas Henry Cowan?'

Julia's mouth turned dry, as her heartbeat seemed to slow. 'Yes, I am,' she answered, feeling absurdly inundated by surprise contact with her father, when in fact it amounted to only two calls in the space of six weeks. However, that was a hundred per cent more than there had been over the past twenty-four years.

'Then I'm afraid I have some bad news,' Fionnula Barrington was telling her. 'I'm extremely sorry to tell you that your father passed away last night.'

Julia blinked, took a breath, then felt everything around her starting to change. It was as though it was coming in on her, slowly, threateningly, with sound distorted and time dislodged.

'His instructions were to inform you as soon as it happened,' Fionnula Barrington continued. 'There is an inheritance, which we will go over with you in due course. Meanwhile, his request was to be cremated and his ashes buried with his wife's at their local church.'

Wife? It seemed bizarrely like a foreign word, something she didn't quite understand, or maybe she didn't want to.

'We can take care of everything. He specifically states that you must not feel obliged to attend his funeral...'

'Stop! Stop!' Julia cried, collecting herself. 'I'm sorry, this has come as a bit of a shock.'

'Of course. I know you haven't been in contact for many years. Would you like me to call back after you've had some time to assimilate, and maybe spoken to your family?'

Oh Christ. 'Does my mother know?' she asked.

'We were only instructed to inform you.'

Not knowing what she thought about that, Julia said, 'I think I... What did he die of? Where was he when it happened?'

'It was a stroke that took him in the end, but he'd had cancer for a while. He was at home, here in Cornwall. It was peaceful.'

Cornwall? Home? 'He would have been sixty- eight,' Julia said almost to herself, and put a hand to her head as something inside her seemed to fracture. 'I'm sorry, I think perhaps I do need a few minutes,' she said. 'Can I call you back?'

'Of course. I'll text my details to your mobile, including my home number. Please feel free to call me any time.'

Having rung off Julia continued to sit in the car, her feet on the pavement outside, her handbag in her lap, the phone still in her hand. She was trying to work out how to move from here, how to feel about what she'd heard, but for the moment nothing seemed to be coming through. It had to be shock, deadening her mind, while all the emotional wires tried to connect with the right responses.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there with people walking by, a traffic warden hovering and builders' debris roaring down a chute across the

road. The phone bleeping brought her back to her senses. She opened the text and felt almost surprised to see Fionnula Barrington's details, for the past few minutes were starting to feel like a dream. Her father was dead. The man she'd loved with all her heart for the first sixteen years of her life, had gone. She'd never be able to speak to him now. Never be able to ask why he'd left, or if any of what she feared was true. She might never know now if she really had been the centre of his world once, as he had of hers.

Feeling herself starting to shake she quickly pressed Josh's number into the phone and waited for him to answer. To her frustration she was once again diverted to voicemail, so after leaving a message she tried Marina at the office to find out where he was, but got that answering machine too.

She clicked off the line, closed and locked the car door and started towards the market. She'd been about to shop for dinner, so that was what she would do. Life had to go on. After all, nothing had changed. The fact that her father was no longer in the world shouldn't make a difference, when she hadn't seen him for so long, so she'd put it aside for now, and deal with it later.

At the end of the street she merged into the crowd, but after a minute or two of walking she couldn't remember why she was there. She looked around and felt unnervingly detached from the noise and bustle. Then Fionnula Barrington's words started a strange echo in her head, as though forcing themselves out from the place where she was trying to hide them.

Turning away from the market, she walked

quickly to Sylvia's cobbled mews and to her relief found the workshop door open. There was no sign of Sylvia, so she walked in, past the wheel, and was about to start up the stairs when she registered the noises coming from above. Since there was no doubt about what was happening up there, she swallowed her frustration and went back outside to try Josh's number again. She was so agitated that it took her a moment to register the fact that while listening to the ringtone, she was also hearing the melody Daniel had downloaded a week ago somewhere behind her. Confused, she turned to look back into the workshop, half expecting Josh to be standing there, but that was absurd. Why would he be here? No, it must be Sylvia's phone, with the same ringtone as Josh's. Then the musical chime stopped at the same instant her call went through to messages.