Lynne Pemberton - Sleeping With Ghosts

Jack’s voice rose, but she could no longer make out what he was saying. A minute later she heard footsteps in the hall followed by, ‘Mrs Peacock, get me a gin and tonic.’

Paul Rowland is getting soft in his old age, Jack was thinking as he stood in front of the large mirror in the hall. If he screwed up on this one, he would have to seriously think about getting rid of him, get in some new blood. He brushed a few imaginary specks of dust from the collar of his dress suit, adjusted his bow tie with fastidious neatness, then cracking his knuckles one by one, in a stage whisper he spoke to his reflection. ‘Not bad for an old boy of almost fifty-eight.’

He thought about Paul again. Jack hoped Paul would pull this deal off and come out smelling of roses. He liked him, and he trusted him. Paul had been with KJM for twenty-four years. He could remember him as a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, making the tea.

Mrs Peacock approached with a beaming smile, breaking his train of thought. He accepted his gin and afforded himself one last glance in the mirror before walking into the drawing room.

Kathryn was standing in front of the window at the south side of the house. From here, she had a view down the deep close-cut lawn. It was bordered by untidy flowerbeds, and ended in a high brick wall, clad with dying ivy. Jack hated gardening. Gardens are a bloody nuisance. They cost a fortune to plant and maintain, and we only get to appreciate them for a few days a year. She had heard his opinion several times. It was raining hard, small puddles were beginning to form on the uneven surface of the circular paved terrace. She watched the water bounce off the top of the white wrought-iron table they had eaten off in last week’s sunshine. It looked desolate now.

Hearing the chink of ice in Jack’s glass, she turned to greet him. ‘Hi, Jack, old Peacock let me in.’ She pulled a long face. ‘I’m convinced that old bitch hates me. I’m sure she’s in love with you, and after you and your wife split up she was convinced she’d get you.’

Jack looked genuinely surprised. ‘You’re not serious are you? Peacock in love, it’s ridiculous!’

Not wanting to discuss the widowed housekeeper any longer, Kathryn said, ‘Why not? You’re a very attractive man.’

Also eager to change the subject, he beamed, his cosmetically altered smile flashing white and even. Standing very close to her, he murmured, ‘You look beautiful, Kathryn.’

Aware of his alert, aquamarine eyes wandering admiringly over her statuesque body, warming to his admiration, she moved deliberately to expose one long leg from inside her dress. It was slit to mid-thigh.

He liked the way her dark honey hair, slicked back from her face, accentuated her strong jaw and high cheekbones. She was wearing a pair of diamond drop earrings he had bought her for her thirty-fourth birthday the previous month. Bending forward to plant a kiss, he felt her perfume fill his nostrils. It was a new fragrance, sweeter than the musk-based one she usually wore. He wasn’t sure he liked it.

‘New perfume?’

‘Mm, you like?’ She held out a bare arm.

‘Not sure yet.’ He kissed the inside of her wrist. ‘It might grow on me.’ He straightened up then looking at her closely said, ‘You’re a little pale tonight, Kathryn, are you all right?’

Unable to tell him the real reason, she used an excuse. ‘I’m fine, just working too hard I suppose.’ In fact she had spent the entire day debating with herself whether or not to tell Jack about Klaus Von Trellenberg. This evening on her way to his house she had finally decided not to. The more she talked about it, the more real it would become; far better to pretend it had never happened. No one else could connect her to Trellenberg. Yet in her own mind she could not erase the reoccurring image of her grandfather dressed in SS uniform. She wondered with dread if it would always be there.

‘You could do with a holiday,’ Jack was saying, but Kathryn was staring into space, a faraway expression on her face. ‘ Kathryn , did you hear me?’ He clicked his fingers in front of her glazed eyes.

She shook her head. ‘Sorry, Jack, did you say something?’

‘I said you need a rest, a holiday.’

‘Try telling Rod Franks that!’

Jack made no comment, and went on as if she hadn’t spoken. It was a habit she was positive he was unaware of, but that did not stop her irritation.

‘I’ve got to go to Singapore in a few weeks’ time … Why don’t I extend my stay and we’ll do a bit of island-hopping: Phuket, Ko Samui, Bali. Only yesterday I heard about a wonderful tented hotel, somewhere in Indonesia. How about it?’ Jack urged, taking a sip of gin and tonic.

‘I’m not sure if I can get the time off work. We’re just about to start a new series for Channel Four, and you know what a stickler Rod is …’

‘Tell Rod you need a break. I’ll buy you your own bloody production company if he sacks you.’

There was no doubt in Kathryn’s mind that Jack meant what he said. If she didn’t stop him, he would be buying her expensive gifts constantly. Gently she said, ‘That’s not the answer, Jack; you can’t go through life buying everything and everybody.’

‘Why not? It’s worked so far!’ He lifted his glass. His pupils were like tiny black icebergs, gleaming over the rim. He winked and grinned.

She inclined her head a little, a soft blush colouring her skin. Under the sophisticated façade Kathryn wore so easily, there was a fragile vulnerability. Jack found it highly provocative, and would have liked to make love to her there and then. His mind ran riot with erotic imaginings in which her long dress bunched up around her waist, and one full breast lay exposed – his tongue tracing the nipple, erect and puckered; her naked backside, rounded and hard, pressed against the rain-spattered window. He felt an erection stirring, and marvelled afresh at how Kathryn had managed to revitalize his flagging libido. Nothing like a surge of testosterone to make a man feel good, he thought with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

‘What are you thinking, Jack? All of a sudden you look very pleased with yourself.’

‘I was thinking how lucky I am to have a woman like you, and how easy it would be for that same woman to make an old man very happy. Two weeks in the Far East, not too much to ask is it?’

‘No, Jack, it’s not too much to ask, and it’s a lovely thought. I know I would have a wonderful time, and you would spoil me rotten, but not right now. I’ve got a lot on at the moment. Later in the year perhaps.’

Shrewdly Jack detected that her voice held no promise, yet it did not deter him from saying, ‘I could never spoil you enough, Kathryn, well certainly not sufficiently to make you rotten. The offer is open, think about it; I won’t be asking anyone else.’

‘OK, Jack, thanks.’

‘Talking about asking someone else, have you spoken to your father about this weekend?’

Reluctantly she lied. ‘Yes I have, he can’t get down to London until Saturday. He’s been working with a doctor from America who’s developed a cancer vaccine. The doctor is over here from California and my father has to entertain him.’ With pangs of regret and resentment, Kathryn thought back to all the times she had needed her father and he had been too busy working to be there for her. ‘His work is very important, all consuming you might say.’

Jack detected the bitterness in this last sentence, and felt a surge of sympathy. He had enjoyed a rare closeness with his own father, and had looked forward to a loving intimate relationship with his only daughter. It still hurt like hell to think about Laraine. Jack stared hard at Kathryn but it was his daughter’s face he saw. She was laughing, she had laughed a lot as a child and he missed that more than anything else. She had worn her hair swept back in a long ponytail from her petite pretty face. Yes, she had been pretty and he wanted to remember her like that; not the way she’d looked at the end. Had she lived she would have been two years younger than Kathryn was now. How could Richard de Moubray neglect his beautiful daughter ? Jack surmised that the man was not only a fool, but also a bloody selfish one.