Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series. PENNY JORDAN
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Ruth watched him. She did so hope that he was wrong and that his suspicions were ill-founded.
She had planned to visit Ben tomorrow. Saul and his mother were leaving in the morning and she knew that Ben, despite his claims to the contrary, would miss their company. She dared not think, however, how he would react to the possibility of a relationship, an affair, between Jon and Tiggy. Jon must know himself how fiercely and furiously Ben would oppose any attempt on his part to replace David in Tiggy’s life, and the mere fact that he could, if indeed he actually was even considering doing so, betrayed how very deeply involved Jon was.
Tiggy’s feelings did not worry her nearly so much. Tiggy she likened to a pretty clinging plant that needed constant support, any support, and that would just as happily attach itself and cling to one plant as another, her emotions like roots, safely shallow and easily transferred.
But Jon … Jon was a different matter entirely and that he who had always put David’s needs first should even begin to consider taking his wife from him seemed grossly out of character.
Always supposing, of course, that Joss had not completely misread the situation. He was, after all, only a boy still. He could be wrong. She hoped he was wrong. Ruth admitted her brother could be a very determined man. She hadn’t forgotten the pressure he had put on her when … But that was all in the past now and in the end he and her father had probably been right. She could never have lived with herself, knowing that she was responsible for the break-up of someone else’s marriage no matter how much she had loved the man concerned, and then there was the fact that he had lied to her, deceived her, letting her believe that he was free to love her when all the time he had a wife and child back home in America.
She bit her lip. Why on earth was she thinking about all that now? It was over fifty years ago.
Olivia heard the phone ringing as she was stripping off the clothes she had worn for work. Somehow they felt tainted by what she had discovered, the cloth soiled and grimy, although she suspected in reality it was merely the dust from the office she could feel.
When her mother called up that the phone was for her, her heart started to thud heavily. Caspar. It had to be! As she raced downstairs in her underwear, she was already repeating what she was going to say to him. Only it wasn’t Caspar; it was Saul.
‘Saul,’ she repeated mechanically, her voice dry and empty of enthusiasm.
‘You sound down,’ Saul sympathised. ‘Bad day at the office?’ he teased. ‘Fancy telling me all about it over dinner?’
‘Oh, Saul … it’s very kind of you, but I don’t think …’
‘Look, if what happened the other night is putting you off, don’t let it,’ he told her softly. ‘I meant what I said. I won’t …’
What he had said the other night? What was he talking about? Olivia wondered in confusion.
‘You needn’t worry that I’m going to come on to you, pressure you,’ Saul went on, ‘and besides, I’ve already fixed up a babysitter. Louise has offered to sit with the kids and Mum’s still here, as well.’
Saul thought her hesitation was because she was afraid he might try to flirt with her. Olivia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She couldn’t hurt his feelings by telling him that she had all but forgotten that small brief incident by the river and she certainly could not tell him why.
‘Please …’
Olivia wavered. What was the point in staying at home in case Caspar rang? What was she going to do if he did? What was she going to say? Nothing could alter what she had seen.
‘I … yes … all right,’ she agreed.
‘You might at least try to sound more enthusiastic,’ Saul chided with a mock-aggrieved laugh, adding, ‘I’ll try to be round to pick you up in half an hour.’
‘Mum, where’s Dad?’
‘He’s had to go out,’ Jenny told Louise without turning to look at her. The kitchen smelt of baking, betraying, no doubt, that the mix she had just slid into the oven was Jon’s favourite upside-down apple cake. How silly of her to have made it. The girls wouldn’t eat it—Louise had loftily announced only the previous month that they were far too old now for the childish treat of scraping out the mixing bowl and neither of them had ever been great cake eaters anyway. Perhaps she could give some of it to Ben. Baking soothed her. She could well remember how busily she had baked in those months when her mother was dying and again when … She winced as she accidently burned her wrist on the hot door of the Aga.
‘I don’t suppose you could give me a lift round to Grandad, could you?’ Louise was wheedling. ‘Only I promised Saul I’d babysit and—’
‘You suppose quite rightly,’ Jenny retorted. ‘What’s wrong with using your bike?’ Tiredly she turned to her daughter, her eyes widening as she saw what Louise was wearing.
Surprisingly the Armani trouser suit was only just a little too large for her. She was already taller than Jenny anyway. Even more disconcerting, it looked good on her, which was more than could be said for the make-up she was wearing.
‘You aren’t planning to babysit wearing my suit, are you, Louise?’ Jenny asked with what she felt herself was commendable calm. But then, what was the potential loss of a designer trouser suit when you were faced with the more drastic loss of a husband?
Louise looked at her, opened her mouth to argue, then changed her mind. ‘I was just trying it on, seeing how it would look. After all, it’s wasted hanging there in your wardrobe, and you’ll never wear it, we both know that,’ she finished disparagingly.
‘Louise …’ Jenny began warningly.
‘Oh, all right, then,’ she conceded, sulking. ‘I’ll go and take it off.’
‘I think that would be a very good idea,’ Jenny agreed firmly. ‘Jeans and a T-shirt would be a much more sensible alternative.’
What on earth had motivated Louise to try to get away with going out wearing her trouser suit and not just any trouser suit, but the Armani, which Guy had told her—after she bought it—made her look incredibly sexy. That was nothing to the way it had looked on her daughter, who Jenny was nearly sure had been wearing the jacket with absolutely nothing underneath; there had certainly been more than just a suggestion of provocative thrust of taut, uplifted teenage nipple showing through the supple fabric.
For whose benefit? Surely not Saul’s. He was easily twice her age, and besides, improbable though the idea of Louise falling for Saul was, Jenny decided it would do no harm to discuss her suspicions with Jon—just as a precaution. Then chillingly she remembered that there would be no more long, cosy chats with her husband as she snuggled up in bed beside him and they talked over the joint and separate events of their day. That there would be no more anything with Jon.
Hastily she wiped her eyes. The last thing she wanted was for Louise to come back in the kitchen and find her crying.
‘Young Saul took Olivia out to dinner last night,’ Ben announced abruptly.
Ruth looked at her brother. Only Ben could refer to Saul as ‘young’ as though he were no more than a teenager and Olivia much the same.
Ann had already informed Ruth about the break-up of Saul’s marriage, and Ruth, guessing what was going through her brother’s mind, felt bound to point out to him, ‘Olivia considers herself fully committed to Caspar, Ben.’
‘Pooh, she’ll soon come to her senses. Americans, none of them can be trusted. You know that….’
Ruth could feel herself tensing. No matter how often she promised herself that this time she wouldn’t end up quarrelling with him, Ben almost always managed to provoke her into forgetting her vow and this occasion was no exception.
‘You really are the most ridiculously biased man,’ she told him forthrightly. ‘People