Everything to Gain. Barbara Taylor Bradford

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      We had turned out the lights and lay in the darkness, curled up under the quilt, wrapped in each other’s arms. I felt languorous, satiated, after our explosive sexual release, and overwhelmed by the love I felt for Andrew. He was my life, my whole existence. I was so lucky. There was no woman luckier.

      I nestled into him, listening to his even breathing, thankful that it was normal again. During our hectic lovemaking he had started to pant, then gasp, and even after he had collapsed against me, his breathing had been laboured.

      Now I said quietly, ‘Your breathing was so strange, I was worried.’

      ‘Why, darling?’

      ‘For a split second I thought you were having a heart attack.’

      He laughed. ‘Don’t be silly. I was very turned on, overexcited. I thought I was going to explode. If you want the truth, Mal, I couldn’t seem to get enough of you tonight.’

      ‘I’m glad of that,’ I murmured. ‘The feeling’s mutual.’

      ‘I’d rather gathered that.’ He kissed the top of my head. ‘Happy?’

      ‘Deliriously, ecstatically.’ I turned my face, buried it against his chest. ‘You’re the very best.’

      ‘I’d better be.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘I don’t want you looking elsewhere,’ he said in a teasing tone, laughing again.

      ‘Fat chance of that, Mr Keswick!’

      He tightened his arms around me. ‘Oh Mal, my beautiful wife, you’re such a wonder, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

      ‘You won’t have to … I’ll be with you all the days of our lives.’

      ‘Thank God for that. Listen … do you think we made a baby tonight?’

      ‘I hope so.’ I craned my neck to look up at him, but his face was obscured in the murky light. Slipping out of his arms, I pushed myself up until my head was next to his on the pillows. I bent over him, took his face between my hands and kissed him.

      When we finally drew apart, I said, with a small smile, ‘But don’t worry if we haven’t. Think of all the fun we’re going to have trying.’

Seven

      I knew immediately that my mother was going to pick a fight with me. I suppose, over the years, I have acquired a second sense about her different moods, and I recognized she was not in a very pleasant one this morning.

      Perhaps it was the set of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, the way she held herself in general, so rigidly. Her body language telegraphed that she was spoiling for a fight.

      I was determined not to react, not today, the fourth of July. I wanted this to be a happy, carefree day; after all, it was our big summer celebration. Nothing was going to spoil it.

      She was so uptight when I greeted her on the doorstep I had to steel myself as I kissed her on the cheek. She was not going to be easy to deal with; all of the signs were there.

      ‘I don’t know why you have to have your barbecue so early,’ she said in a complaining voice as she came inside the house. ‘I had to get up at the crack of dawn to make it out here.’

      ‘One o’clock is not so early, Mother,’ I said quietly, ‘and you didn’t have to arrive at this hour.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘It’s barely ten —’

      ‘I wanted to help you,’ she shot back, cutting me off. ‘Don’t I always try to help you, Mallory?’

      ‘Yes, you do,’ I answered quickly, wishing to placate her. I eyed the bag she was carrying; she had not said anything about spending the night when we had spoken on the phone yesterday, and I hoped she wasn’t planning to do so. ‘What’s in the bag?’ I asked. ‘Are you sleeping over?’

      ‘No, no, of course not!’ she exclaimed.

      She had such a peculiar look on her face, I wondered if the mere idea of this was distasteful to her. However, I did not say a word, deeming it wiser to remain silent.

      She added, ‘But thanks, anyway, for asking me. I have a dinner date tonight. In the city. So I must get back. As for the bag, I have a change of clothes in it. For the barbecue. I do get so creased driving out here.’ She glanced down at her black gabardine trousers. ‘Oh dear!’ she cried. ‘I hope this dog isn’t going to cover me with hairs.’

      Trixy, ever friendly, was jumping up against her legs. Stifling a sudden flash of annoyance with my mother, I automatically reached for the dog and picked her up in my arms.

      ‘She doesn’t moult, Mother.’ I said this as evenly as I possibly could, exercising great control over myself.

      ‘That’s good to know.’

      ‘You’ve always known it,’ I retorted, unable to keep the acerbity out of my voice.

      She ignored this. ‘Why don’t I go into the kitchen and start on the potato salad?’

      ‘Oh, but Diana’s going to make that.’

      ‘Good heavens, Mallory, what does an Englishwoman know about making an all-American potato salad for an all-American celebration like Independence Day? Independence from the British, I might add.’

      ‘You don’t have to give me a history lesson.’

      ‘I’ll make the salad,’ my mother sniffed, ‘it’s one of my specialties, in case you’ve forgotten.’

      ‘Fine,’ I answered swiftly, giving in, anxious to promote a peaceful atmosphere.

      My mother began to move in the direction of the kitchen, obviously anxious to start preparing the famous potato salad.

      I said, ‘I’ll take your bag up to the blue guest room; you can use it for the day.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she replied, walking on, not looking back.

      I stared after her slim, elegant figure, wondering how my father had resisted the temptation to strangle her, and then I hoisted the bag, and, still holding Trixy, I ran upstairs to the blue room. I came back down immediately, still carrying the puppy, but in the hall outside my little office I kissed the top of her fluffy white head and put her down.

      ‘Come on, Trixola,’ I muttered, ‘let’s go and attack her, shall we?’

      Trixy looked up at me and wagged her tail, and, as I so often am, I was quite convinced she understood exactly what I’d just said. I laughed out loud. Trixy was such a gay little animal, she always brought a smile to my face.

      As I hurried towards the kitchen, with the dog trotting behind me, I was more determined than ever not to let my mother ruin my day. I wondered if she purposely wanted to upset me, or whether she was merely in a bad mood СКАЧАТЬ