Marriage On The Agenda. Lee Wilkinson

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СКАЧАТЬ to get her into bed. Certain she loved him, and happy in the knowledge that they were going to be married, she had given in.

      Loris had found their lovemaking disappointing, getting little or nothing from it. She had consoled herself with the thought that it was bound to get better when they were used to each other.

      It hadn’t.

      Blaming herself, her inexperience, she had said nothing, merely kept on trying to please him.

      They had been sleeping together for almost three months when, turning up unexpectedly at his flat one evening, intending to surprise him, she had found him with another woman.

      Though hurt and bewildered, she had been ready to forgive him, until the girl in his bed had taunted her with the fact that this was no one-off, but was, and had been for some time, a regular arrangement for the nights Loris wasn’t there.

      ‘He needs a woman who’s got some life in her, who knows how to please a man. Not some frigid statue who just lies there and—’

      ‘That’s enough!’ Nigel had silenced her at that point.

      But it had been too late. As far as Loris was concerned, the damage had been done. Nigel had told this brazen slut of a girl intimate details about something she had considered essentially private and sacrosanct.

      Badly humiliated, and furious at the way he had treated her, she had thrown his ring at him and walked out.

      When her father and mother had learnt of the broken engagement, deploring the fact that she was ‘losing her chance to marry well’, they had tried to get her to change her mind. But, while refusing to tell them the reason for the break-up, she had made it clear that it was final.

      Judy, her friend and room-mate at college, was the only one in whom she had confided her hurt, but down-to-earth as usual, Judy had pulled no punches. ‘Think about it. Would you really want to marry a two-timing rat like that?’

      ‘No, I suppose not.’

      ‘Then forget him. He’s not worth a second thought.’

      ‘I just wish I hadn’t been such a fool.’

      ‘Well, we all make mistakes. It isn’t the end of the world.’

      It had only felt like it.

      ‘I thought he loved me,’ Loris had said sadly. ‘But he was only using me.’

      ‘Surely you got something out of it?’

      Loris had shaken her head wordlessly.

      Judy had said a rude word. ‘Still, it’ll be different next time, you’ll see.’

      But, feeling degraded by the experience, Loris had vowed there would be no next time. Even so, it had taken her a long while to regain her self-respect…

      Flashing lights suddenly reflected in a myriad raindrops, and the urgent sound of a siren bearing down on them brought Loris back to the present with a start.

      The road they were on was narrow, and there was on-coming traffic. Pulling half-onto the wet, deserted pavement, Jonathan made room, and a second later the ambulance went racing past on its errand of mercy.

      Impressed by his presence of mind, she glanced at him. His face was calm, unperturbed.

      Intercepting her glance, he gave her a sidelong smile that quickened her pulse-rate and made her feel suddenly breathless.

      A moment later they had regained the road and were continuing their journey. By now they were on the outskirts of town, and the downpour was continuing unabated. Rain beat against the windscreen and even at their fastest speed the wipers had a job to keep it clear.

      As they reached a crossroads and turned right it occurred to Loris, belatedly, that she had given him no directions and he had asked for none.

      Wondering how, being from the States, he knew the way, she queried, ‘Are you familiar with this part of the world?’

      ‘I was born and brought up quite near Paddleham.’

      ‘Really? Then your parents were English?’

      ‘My father, a hard-working GP, was English while my mother, who was an airline stewardess until she married, came from Albany.’

      ‘The capital of New York State?’

      ‘That’s right. Her parents owned a small business there.’

      To Loris, the details of his modest background seemed at odds with his cultured voice.

      ‘Have you lived in the US long?’ she asked, wanting to know more about him.

      ‘For several years now.’

      She thought he was going to leave it at that, when he added, ‘After my father died my mother got homesick for her birthplace and went back to Albany.’

      ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

      ‘One sister. When she left university she married the son of a local landowner. But there was nothing to keep me here, so I spent some time travelling, trying my hand at various jobs, before I made up my mind to settle in the States.’

      His answers had been easy enough, but when he volunteered no further information, afraid of sounding nosy, she relapsed into silence.

      Once the suburbs had been left behind them, from being unpleasant, the journey became positively hazardous. The country roads were dark and muddy, littered with snapped-off branches and storm debris.

      In the bright tunnel made by their headlights Loris could see that a lot of the verges were partially flooded, and though Jonathan drove with care their nearside wheels almost constantly threw up a wave of water.

      Just before they reached their destination a swollen stream that had overflowed its banks, and covered the low-lying road to what he estimated was an unnavigable depth, made a detour necessary. Feeling guilty at having dragged him so far on such a terrible night, Loris was seriously wishing she had plumped for a hotel.

      ‘I’m sorry about all this,’ she apologised.

      Sounding quite unconcerned, he said, ‘You mean the conditions? Don’t worry—I’ve driven in a great deal worse.’

      A few more minutes and they were passing through the dark and sleeping village of Paddleham. An occasional streetlamp lit up the driving rain, and strung high across the roadway a saturated banner announcing a St Valentine’s dance at the village hall flapped dementedly in the wind.

      The Yew Tree came into sight, its inn sign swinging on the supporting chains. ‘We’re almost there,’ Loris said, making no attempt to hide her relief. ‘Just past the church there’s a turning off to the left, then about half a mile down the lane, also on the left, you’ll see the entrance to Monkswood. The gates should be open.’

      The black and gold wrought-iron gates were open wide, and the Tarmacked drive was well-lit. Several sleek cars were parked on the paved apron in front of the house.

      Jonathan СКАЧАТЬ