Julia James - Passion & Pleasure

Nevertheless, he owed a tremendous debt of gratitude to the rebel captain. Without his intervention—and Matt had come to believe there never had been any government forces in the area—he’d never have got away.

So why was he so unwilling to talk about it? He had nothing to be ashamed of. He scowled. The truth was, he was ashamed. Ashamed of his own weakness; of his helplessness in the face of danger; of the stupidity he’d displayed in letting such a thing happen to him.

And, even though he knew it was crazy, he couldn’t confess his deepest fears to a total stranger and there was no one else. If his father had still been alive, he might have been able to talk to him, but Alistair Quinn had died while his son was in captivity. Another burden Matt had had to bear since he got back.

Discussing his imprisonment with his mother had been out of the question. Louise would have been horrified at the news that her son had suffered any kind of brutality at the hands of his captors. She hadn’t even wanted to see the scars on his back, that had had to be treated at a hospital and which some news hack had found out about and made such a big thing of. She’d been delighted to have him home. But she definitely didn’t want to be reminded of what might have gone on while he was away.

Diane had remained the only possibility, but she had quickly diverted him from any discussion of the squalid conditions he’d had to suffer. Like his mother, she didn’t want to think about the past. She wanted to talk about the future, their future. A future, Matt now acknowledged, that had never seemed more remote.

He dressed in a cotton vest and drawstring sweat pants and was drinking his first coffee of the day when Fliss knocked at the back door. He knew it was her. He could see her shadow through the windowed half-panels in the door, and, although he could have done with a little more time to regain his composure before seeing her again, he had no choice but to let her in.

She wasn’t alone. To his surprise, when he opened the door, Amy was standing at her mother’s side. They were both dressed in shorts and T-shirts, Amy’s hair, which was longer than her mother’s and straighter, caught up in a pony-tail.

‘Hi, Quinn.’

Predictably, it was Amy who spoke first and Matt saw the way Fliss winced at her daughter’s familiarity. But she had evidently decided to put what had happened the day before behind her and her tone was coolly polite as she said, ‘Amy’s got a day’s holiday today. I hoped you wouldn’t mind if she came and played in the garden while I’m working.’

‘No.’ Matt took a step back, silently inviting them inside. ‘I don’t mind at all.’ His eyes moved to the child and he managed a grin. ‘Hello again, Amy. Or are you calling yourself something else today?’

Amy giggled. ‘Well…’ she said thoughtfully, putting a finger against her lips, but her mother intervened.

‘Amy will do,’ she said firmly, stepping inside. She glanced behind her. ‘Don’t go out of the garden, will you, Amy? And if you want anything, come and knock at this door.’

‘She can come and have a drink,’ said Matt, not quite knowing why he’d made the suggestion, but clearly Fliss thought she did.

‘It’s not necessary,’ she said, her cheeks a little pink. ‘I’ll be starting work straight away—’

‘Well, as I’ve just made a pot of coffee, why don’t we all have a drink first?’ suggested Matt drily, and Amy gave him a huge smile.

‘Oh, yes, Mummy. Can we?’

She was obviously eager and Fliss, finding herself outvoted, had little choice but to give in. All the same, Matt noticed that she ignored his offer of a seat and took her coffee standing, her hip firmly wedged against the counter behind her.

And, conversely, he found himself resenting her behaviour. A few moments ago, he hadn’t wanted to open the door to her, and now he was finding her polite detachment hard to take. Dammit, he regretted what had happened just as much as she did. More, probably. And she hadn’t had to contend with erotic dreams that had tormented his sleep and left him feeling strangely off-key.

‘Grandad’s going to make a bigger place for Buttons,’ Amy offered, after Matt had handed her a glass of fizzy lemonade.

‘An enclosure,’ corrected Fliss and Amy nodded.

‘Yes. A “closure.”’ She glanced about her. ‘Do you have a straw?’

‘Amy!’

Fliss was impatient, but Matt was grateful to the child for lightening the mood. ‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling a wry face. ‘But I’ll be sure and have some for next time.’

Amy beamed. ‘Colonel Phillips used to buy straws just for me,’ she said proudly. ‘Did you know Colonel Phillips? He was very old.’

‘Amy,’ Fliss said again, but Matt was happy to continue the conversation. At least with Amy there were no undercurrents; no suspicion that Fliss had only agreed to stay to prove something to herself.

‘No, I didn’t know Colonel Phillips,’ he said, wishing Fliss would sit down so he could do the same. He could feel an ache in his lumbar region, which he guessed was the result of the fall he’d taken the day before. ‘He was gone before I bought the house.’ He paused. ‘Did he let you come here with your Mummy, too?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Amy spoke airily. ‘He used to like me to come and play games with him. Board games, I mean. Draughts and ludo, that sort of thing. Oh, and he had boxes and boxes of coins and stuff. I used to like looking at them.’

‘I bet.’ Matt’s eyes moved thoughtfully to Fliss’s solemn face and then away again. What was she thinking? he wondered. That he was using the child to find out more about her? He considered. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any coins, but I do have lots of books that need sorting out. How would you like to help me this morning? We could sort them out together.’

‘It’s a fine morning,’ said Fliss at once. ‘Amy will be happy enough in the garden. You don’t have to entertain her, Mr Quinn.’

‘I know I don’t,’ said Matt, and, seeing the little girl’s disappointed face, he couldn’t help responding to it. ‘But I mean it. Amy can help me. You saw how many boxes of books there are.’

‘I’m a good reader,’ put in Amy at once. ‘Mrs Hill says I’m the best reader in my class.’

‘Brilliant,’ said Matt, with a rueful grin at Fliss. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

Fliss allowed a sigh to escape her. ‘I—of course I don’t mind, but—’

‘That’s settled, then,’ said Matt, and, deciding there was no point in being proud, he sank gratefully into a chair at the table. ‘I’ll be glad of her help, and if she gets bored she can always go outside.’

‘I won’t get bored,’ declared Amy, but Matt could see that Fliss still had her doubts.

‘If you need help…’ she began, but he shook his head.

‘She’ll be good company,’ he assured her. If only because she would stop him from dwelling on other things. ‘We’ll be fine.’

‘Well, it’s very kind of you,’ Fliss said awkwardly, and he glimpsed a trace of empathy at last. She finished her coffee and put down her cup. ‘I’ll leave you to it, then.’ She bent and gave Amy a kiss. ‘You be good now,’ she added. ‘And don’t get in Mr Quinn’s way.’

The morning passed remarkably quickly. Matt hadn’t exaggerated when he’d said that Amy would be good company. She was. She liked to talk. She chattered on about everything, from school and her family to what she’d watched on television the night before. And he discovered she wasn’t at all inhibited about the fact that she didn’t know her father.

‘He went away before I was born,’ she said matter-of-factly, spilling books, that Matt had just sorted into categories, over his desk. ‘Where do you want me to put these?’