Penny Jordan - The Inward Storm

Kevin’s other guests were the Master of the local Hunt and his wife, who were also the largest local landowners; a pleasant couple whom Kate had met on several occasions and whose company she enjoyed, and a friend of Kevin’s from York, a barrister who had been at Cambridge with him, and whom Kate had met only once previously but also liked. His wife was an interior designer and they had turned their backs on London to return to Yorkshire. Like Kate, Lisa Flemming was a keen anti-nuker, to use the American term. All of them knew that she had been married and was separated, but none of them, not even Meg, knew who her husband was. Kate had wondered if she ought to tell Kevin, but although they were good friends there was no romantic involvement between them, and the knowledge that she and Jake were man and wife was embarrassing enough without extending that embarrassment to anyone else. After all, Jake was hardly likely to bring it up; not if he was escorting Rita, who presumably believed him to be ‘free’ and ‘available’.

Because she was preparing the meal, Kate decided it would be as well to change into her evening clothes at Kevin’s. The large Victorian house had any number of spare bedrooms, and when she arrived with her case on Wednesday morning, Mrs MacDonald expressed benevolent approval. ‘You can use the room next to the doctor’s. It used to be his parents’, and it’s got its own bathroom. Makes no sense rushing back to that shop to get changed and then risking getting a chill.’

It was a particularly cold day, autumn already giving way to winter several weeks too early. Most of the trees were denuded of their leaves, but Kate had grown used to the brief Northern springs and summers, both all the more poignantly lovely because of their brevity. As she had promised, Mrs MacDonald had paid special attention to the drawing room and dining room. Kevin rarely used them except when he was entertaining, and Kate was glad she had had the foresight to suggest that he turned their radiators on at the beginning of the week. Both rooms had working fires, and both were laid ready to be lit. The flowers she had ordered from the nearby town had also arrived, russets and bronzes to tone with the gold and green of the traditional dinner service she and Mrs MacDonald had unearthed. It was lunchtime before they had finished, the polished mahogany table gleaming under its weight of silver and crystal, Kate’s floral arrangement the single note of colour on the damask cloth.

‘Looks a rare fine sight, it does,’ Mrs MacDonald approved, when she came in with a silver salver of sherry glasses. ‘He’s a lucky man, is the doctor, having you to do all this for him. There’s many as wouldn’t have bothered for all that they think themselves the bee’s knees,’ she added disparagingly, and Kate hid a small grin. She was well aware of the enmity which existed between Rita and Kevin’s cleaner. Rita was a great believer in people keeping to their place, which she invariably considered to be beneath hers, and Mrs MacDonald was not a lady who took lightly to being condescended to.

At seven o’clock Kate pulled off her apron with a tiny relieved sigh and went upstairs to luxuriate in the relaxing warmth of her bath. Kevin had just returned, later than expected, and he too was changing. Some impulse she wasn’t anxious to examine too carefully had prompted Kate into being generous with the perfume she had poured into her bath. A new one for her, ‘Opium’, which Lyla had sent her for Christmas, in a lavish coffrette which included body lotion, perfume and talc. As she stepped into the bedroom wrapped in her towelling robe her feet left damp imprints on the carpet, and as she glanced at her watch she was dismayed to see how long she had lingered in the bathroom.

‘Kate, are you decent? I can’t fix this damned bow tie,’ she heard Kevin mutter impatiently outside her door. ‘Can’t think why Rita insisted on all this formal gear …’

‘I expect she’s got a new dress she wants to show off,’ Kate told him lightly as she opened her door, her mouth creasing in a humorous smile as she surveyed Kevin’s harassed features. His mousy hair stood on end and his dinner suit, although well fitting made him look ill at ease. Kevin looked best in the ancient tweed jacket and casual trousers he wore for doing his rounds.

‘Come and stand over here under the light,’ Kate instructed him, following him as he walked towards the head of the stairs. ‘Now I can see what I’m doing.’ Because she was not particularly tall, it was still necessary for Kate to stand on tiptoe to reach upwards to fiddle with the intricate fastening of Kevin’s bow tie. She was just on the point of succeeding when they heard the doorbell.

‘Damn,’ Kevin swore, and swivelled his head automatically, undoing all Kate’s careful handiwork. ‘It’s only quarter to eight! Who the devil …’

Mrs MacDonald, who had expressed a formidable determination to stay and as she put it ‘help with the siding away’, bustled into the hall and called out to Kate, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll get it.’ She opened the door, and Kate’s heart sank as she heard Rita’s familiar shrill voice.

‘Oh no, I’m sure you’re wrong,’ she was saying. ‘I know Kate told me seven-thirty …’ She paused on the threshold, peering round with extravagant bewilderment. Damn her, Kate thought grimly. She knew Rita of old, and she had no doubts at all that her early arrival was designed to cause an upset, but she had succeeded way, way, beyond her wildest dreams, Kate acknowledged dazedly as she looked down into the hall and her eyes meshed with the icy grey ones of the man who had followed Rita inside. Had he always been so tall? Six foot two, she remembered, and the fact that she was looking down at him ought to have diminished him, but it didn’t. He hadn’t changed at all, unless it was to look harder, more determined than ever, and the cold scrutiny in his eyes relayed its own brutal message as he studied the untidy knot of hair on top of her head, down along the curves of her body disguised by the robe she was wearing … down … down until Kate felt her toes curling into the carpet beneath the protection-stripping acidity of that scrutiny.

‘Kate darling, what on earth are you doing?’ If anyone could lace arch suggestiveness with coy innocence it was Rita, Kate thought, gritting her teeth.

‘Fixing Kevin’s bow tie,’ she replied coolly, ‘but now that you’re here perhaps you would like to do it for me, while I get ready.’

‘Oh, but of course, darling,’ Rita all but purred. ‘Poor you … did something go wrong, or …’ Her glance slid sideways from Kate’s set face to Kevin’s unaware one …’or did we arrive at a bad time?’

‘You’re early,’ Kevin told her. ‘You weren’t supposed to be here until eight, and I got back late.’

‘But, darling, you’re ready,’ Rita pointed out slyly. ‘Kate’s been here all day, and she isn’t. Having problems, Kate?’

‘Not really.’ She forced herself to smile calmly. ‘Drinks are ready in the drawing room, Kevin. I shan’t be long …’ She paused by the door to her room.

‘Staying the night, are you?’ Rita enquired. ‘Oh, don’t be shy with me, darling,’ she added sweetly, ‘we’re all adults here, although I can well understand why Kevin put you in a separate room. Mrs Mac, Kevin’s cleaner, is a regular pillar of the Church,’ she explained to Jake, adding, ‘Oh, Jake, poor darling—I haven’t introduced you yet, have I? This is Kevin, your host, and …’

‘Let’s let poor Kate get dressed before anyone else arrives,’ Kevin suggested, interrupting Rita hastily. ‘Sorry about this, Harvey,’ Kate heard him apologising to Jake as she closed her bedroom door. ‘It’s all Rita’s fault, if she hadn’t insisted on this damned formal dress …’