Catherine George - Tangled Emotions

‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, as she joined him.

‘About what, in particular?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘And?’

‘If we make an early enough start, how about making for a beach somewhere?’

‘We’re a fair distance from any beach.’

‘Not the way I drive.’

Fen laughed. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘I’m careful. You’ll be perfectly safe. A couple of hours and we could be stretched out in the sun.’

‘In that case, you’re on!’

‘If it rains we’ll think of something else,’ Joe said, taking her agreement for granted.

Fen thought about this on the drive to Farthing Street, knowing that with any other man this would be a total turn-off. But with Joe it was different. And the reassurance of his headlights in her driving mirror went a long way to restoring the sense of security she’d taken utterly for granted until recently. She’d sailed confidently through life, certain that bad things happened to other people, never to Fenella Dysart. Not that the episode with a couple of naughty kids could be counted as very desperate. But she could have done without it, just the same. In the circumstances.

When Fen arrived she waited for Joe to park his car. ‘Are you coming in?’ she asked, as he strolled towards her.

‘Only to see you through the door. As I said before, you could do with a light out here.’

‘It’s better when the streetlight’s working.’

‘Why isn’t it at the moment?’

‘No idea.’

‘Complain to the council. In the meantime do something about security lights.’

‘I only rent the place,’ she reminded him, as he followed her inside. ‘And for what I pay I doubt the landlord would cough up for such an exotic extra.’

‘Couldn’t you have found somewhere more comfortable?’ Joe frowned as he took inventory of the cheerless little kitchen. By way of fittings it boasted a couple of cupboards, a small electric cooker, a single-drainer sink, an elderly washing machine, and the brand new microwave Fen had obviously bought herself. ‘Not exactly glossy magazine material.’

She shrugged. ‘I needed somewhere in a hurry. This was available because it’s vacation time. Normally it’s a student let.’

‘Was the flatshare in a more salubrious part of town?’

‘No. In London. What time do you want to start in the morning?’

‘I’ll check the forecast and give you a ring.’

‘Fine. Like some coffee?’

‘No, thanks. Now I’ve made sure you’re safe I’ll take off and let you get those feet of yours to bed. See you tomorrow.’ Joe smiled at her, sketched a salute, then went out, leaving Fen staring, crestfallen, at the door he’d closed behind him.

One thing she had to say for Joe Tregenna: he wasn’t asking for a thing in return for his help. As any other male of her acquaintance would have done. Though she would have rather liked a goodnight kiss. She sighed. Maybe he just didn’t fancy her.

Oh, well, she thought philosophically, as she turned the key in the lock, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t stayed. He wouldn’t like the sitting room any better than the kitchen. She didn’t either.

She kept her television and video recorder upstairs on the dressing table in the bedroom. Which was marginally more comfortable than the other rooms due to curtains she’d bought ready-made, with matching covers for the bed, a couple of cushions, and the new mattress which had been vital before she could bring herself to sleep there. The bedroom now felt more like her own personal space, which the sitting room, with its hideous wallpaper and imitation leather furniture, never would.

She smiled wryly as she got ready for bed. She’d never been given to mooching in her bedroom all day as a teenager, but these days, with a whole house at her disposal, she led a typical bedsit type of existence.

The phone rang early next morning, startling Fen awake. She stretched out a hand for the cellphone kept charged by the bed, and blinked owlishly as she said a hoarse hello.

‘I woke you,’ said Joe Tregenna, amused.

‘You certainly did.’ She yawned, and turned to look at her watch. ‘You sadist! It’s only just after six.’

‘I’ll be round in half an hour. The forecast promised sunshine, so let’s make the most of it. See you.’

Fen put the phone back, shaking her head in amused disbelief. The possibility that she might have fancied a lie-in after such a hectic working week had obviously never occurred to him.

After the fastest bath of her life she pulled jeans over a scarlet bikini, added a stretchy striped T-shirt, and managed to gulp down a cup of coffee and twist her hair into a braid before Joe rapped on the kitchen door.

‘Good morning!’ He smiled, looking so fit and fresh in khakis and white sweatshirt it tired her to look at him. ‘How are you this morning?’

‘Not human yet. I’m not really an early-morning person,’ she warned. ‘I’ll probably snore in the car. Where are we going?’

‘Mystery trip. You can guess as we go along. Have you packed swimming gear?’

‘Yessir,’ she said, saluting. ‘Plus sunscreen, hat, sunglasses and cagoule.’

‘Have you no faith, woman? The sun’s shining out there!’

‘For now it is,’ Fen said darkly. ‘Hang on a minute.’ She raced upstairs to collect her cushions, and ran down to find Joe peering into the sitting room.

‘Hell, Fen, it’s worse than the kitchen,’ he said, appalled. ‘You actually spend time in here?’

‘None at all.’ She handed him the cushions and pulled on her denim jacket. ‘Let’s go.’

In the comfortable leather-scented interior of Joe’s car, Fen leaned back with a sigh and relaxed as they threaded through roadworks to make for the motorway.

‘Sorry,’ she said, yawning. ‘I won’t be much company for a while.’

‘Take a nap. Mind if I play some music?’

‘A lullaby would be good.’

While the Jaguar ate up the miles to the strains of Ravel, Fen wriggled comfortably into her nest of cushions and was fast asleep before they’d gone a couple of miles.

‘Are we there?’ she yawned later, when the car slowed down.

‘Not yet—pitstop for coffee,’ Joe informed her.

Fen sat up, pushed back a few escaping strands of hair, and smiled at him as he parked in the motorway service station. ‘As company on a day out I’m a washout so far,’ she said apologetically. ‘I swear I’ll improve as the day goes on.’

‘After double shifts at the Mitre all week no wonder you feel tired. Come on, out you get. We need coffee.’

‘Urgently, if I’m to stay awake all the way.’ She eyed him challengingly as they walked towards the restaurant. ‘Would you have been as keen on the trip if you’d known that I’m such boring company?’

Joe gave the matter due consideration. ‘On reflection I think I prefer peaceful silence to incessant chattering.’

‘You wait until the journey home,’ she said, giggling.

‘Do that again!’

‘What?’

‘The girly little laugh. But first,’ he added hastily, as she glared at him, ‘tell me what you want and I’ll fetch it for you.’

She snatched up a tray. ‘No need. I can get my own.’

There was an argument when Joe insisted on paying for her toast and coffee, but in the end Fen gave in rather than provide more entertainment for the girl at the cash register.

‘I asked you out, so I foot the bill,’ he said flatly, as they sat down by a window.

She buttered her toast, frowning at him. ‘Look, Joe, I’m perfectly able to pay my own way.’

He drank some coffee, his eyes gleaming at her through the steam. ‘OK. You can pay for lunch.’

Great. It would serve her right if he fancied a three-course meal in some expensive hotel. ‘I wasn’t being difficult,’ she said belatedly, remembering she had good cause to be grateful to him. ‘I just like to be independent.’