Past Loving. PENNY JORDAN
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door.
Holly and John were warmly welcomed by their local MP and her husband. She was on the charity committee and Holly knew her quite well—a woman closer to her mother’s age than her own, who was very well thought of locally and who worked hard for the community.
‘Holly, I love your dress!’ she exclaimed admiringly, adding, ‘I’d like to have a word with you later, if I may. We’re hoping to organise a Christmas fair to raise some more money, and we shall be looking to local businesses for whatever help they can give.’
Smilingly Holly assured her that they would be pleased to help before walking through into the anteroom to leave her cloak.
The recital was to last two hours with a short break halfway through. Holly and John’s seats were close to the front.As they were being directed towards them, a familiar male figure standing talking with another group caught her eye.
She froze immediately, causing John to bump into her and to reach instinctively for her arm as he did so.
Inside Holly could feel herself beginning to tremble. She felt sick and angry at the same time, idiotically close to tears of anger and resentment as she focused on the tall dinner-suit-clad figure of Robert.
He was standing with his back to her, a small dark-haired woman in an expensive designer dress clinging to his side. Holly recognised her immediately as the widow of a local entrepreneur. Although she was in her early forties, she was still a very sensually attractive woman. Too much so, Holly had heard. Apparently she wasn’t very well liked by her own sex.
‘It’s that “helpless little me” act of hers that gets me,’ one of Holly’s friends had admitted through gritted teeth at a party where Angela Standard had appropriated her husband. ‘Especially when I know she’s about as helpless as a praying mantis. Everyone knows that she only married Harry Standard for his money. I mean he was close to fifty when they married and she was barely twenty-five…’
Then Holly had taken her friend’s comments with a pinch of salt, but now she was suddenly so searingly and shockingly jealous that she could easily have crossed the room and torn that pale, clinging hand from Robert’s dark-suited arm.
The intensity of her own emotions made her shake inside with sick awareness of how inappropriate and dangerous her feelings were.
She turned away blindly, cannoning straight into John.
‘Hey…are you OK?’
There was concern and warmth in his voice as he held her. Her eyes blurred with anguished tears, her throat filling with them so that she couldn’t speak, shaking her head as she tried to insist that there was nothing wrong. Blindly she pulled away from him, ignoring the curious and speculative look the girl showing them to their seats was giving her.
She felt hot and cold at the same time, sick with an anger that was directed against herself for her idiotic response to the sight of Robert with someone else.
As she sat down in her seat, she tried to tell herself that it was the unexpected shock of seeing him that was responsible for what she was feeling; that if she had anticipated that he might be here and prepared herself for it accordingly she would never have reacted in the way she had; but the arguments failed to convince her, and throughout the first half of the recital she was barely aware of the glorious sounds filling the room, so deeply engrossed was she in her own painful thoughts.
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