the settee.
The smell of whisky clung to his skin and his breath.
‘At least he’s not a violent drunk,’ the taxi driver comforted her when she went out to pay him. ‘Real gentlemanly he was until he passed out.’
Slowly Sophy went back inside. Jon never drank more than the odd glass of spirits or wine; she had never ever seen him like this, nor thought that she would. Had he done this to himself because he wanted her? She ached to tell him the truth...that she wanted him too, and wished more than ever that she had not rushed off in that silly fashion at lunchtime, but she had been shocked and, yes, angry too that he could be so blind about her. It was insulting that he should believe that she could not see beyond his public façade to what lay behind but until very recently she could not, she reminded herself...until she had married him, until David had made that innocent remark about Louise—in fact, she had never considered him as a sexual human being at all...so perhaps it was no wonder he had spoken the way he had.
He moaned and she went across to the sofa, reflecting grimly that in the morning he would have an outsize hangover and a stiff neck if she left him where he was...but how could she move him? She tried and found it impossible and instead made him as comfortable as she could, relief invading her now that he was actually back.
* * *
‘W HY IS U NCLE J ON sleeping in the sitting room?’ Alex asked the question innocently at breakfast time.
It was David who replied, eyeing his sister faintly scornfully, as he said. ‘It’s because he’s been drinking. He smells just like Daddy did when he and Mummy had been to a party.’
‘Yes, but why does that make him sleep downstairs?’ Alex persisted, breaking off as the subject of her question came into the kitchen. The blue eyes looked slightly bloodshot, the brown skin faintly sallow.
‘Coffee?’ Sophy asked quietly.
Jon nodded and then closed his eyes, moaning faintly as he did so. ‘What happened?’ he demanded wryly, sitting down beside Alex and taking the coffee Sophy poured for him.
‘I don’t really know. A taxi driver brought you back.’
‘Oh, God, yes...I bumped into some friends I was at Cambridge with. Which reminds me...I think I accepted an invitation to a party for both of us tonight.’ He fished in his pocket and produced a scrap of paper with an address scribbled down on it. ‘Yes, there it is...’
‘You haven’t had enough partying?’ Sophy asked him drily, taking the paper and smoothing it out.
‘Mmm...but we ought to go. It’s someone who’s just setting up on his own and he needs my help. If you don’t fancy it, I could always go alone.’
Instantly Sophy recognised that she did not want that at all. She wanted to be with him...accepted by his friends as his wife.
‘No...no. It will be a pleasant change.’ She would have to arrange a babysitter, but that should not be too difficult. Helen Saunders at the Post Office had a teenage daughter who was trying to save up to buy her first car. Susan was a pleasant, responsible girl, who Sophy knew she could trust with the children.
‘Why don’t you go upstairs and go back to sleep?’ she suggested to Jon, noting his bleary eyes and haggard appearance.
‘Mmm...sounds like a good idea.’
She watched him go, conscious of an urge to rush after him and go with him to fuss over him as though he were genuinely her husband.
‘Poor Uncle Jon, he looks really poorly,’ Alex commented sympathetically, finishing her breakfast.
* * *
S USAN S AUNDERS proved willing to babysit, and having arranged to pick her up at eight Sophy went upstairs to study the contents of her wardrobe. She had attended several business cocktail parties with Jon before and knew what to expect. As his secretary she had always worn something businesslike and formal but now she was his wife. In the end she selected a simple cream silk shift-style dress, which had been an impulse buy in London
The smell of whisky clung to his skin and his breath.
‘At least he’s not a violent drunk,’ the taxi driver comforted her when she went out to pay him. ‘Real gentlemanly he was until he passed out.’
Slowly Sophy went back inside. Jon never drank more than the odd glass of spirits or wine; she had never ever seen him like this, nor thought that she would. Had he done this to himself because he wanted her? She ached to tell him the truth...that she wanted him too, and wished more than ever that she had not rushed off in that silly fashion at lunchtime, but she had been shocked and, yes, angry too that he could be so blind about her. It was insulting that he should believe that she could not see beyond his public façade to what lay behind but until very recently she could not, she reminded herself...until she had married him, until David had made that innocent remark about Louise—in fact, she had never considered him as a sexual human being at all...so perhaps it was no wonder he had spoken the way he had.
He moaned and she went across to the sofa, reflecting grimly that in the morning he would have an outsize hangover and a stiff neck if she left him where he was...but how could she move him? She tried and found it impossible and instead made him as comfortable as she could, relief invading her now that he was actually back.
* * *
‘W HY IS U NCLE J ON sleeping in the sitting room?’ Alex asked the question innocently at breakfast time.
It was David who replied, eyeing his sister faintly scornfully, as he said. ‘It’s because he’s been drinking. He smells just like Daddy did when he and Mummy had been to a party.’
‘Yes, but why does that make him sleep downstairs?’ Alex persisted, breaking off as the subject of her question came into the kitchen. The blue eyes looked slightly bloodshot, the brown skin faintly sallow.
‘Coffee?’ Sophy asked quietly.
Jon nodded and then closed his eyes, moaning faintly as he did so. ‘What happened?’ he demanded wryly, sitting down beside Alex and taking the coffee Sophy poured for him.
‘I don’t really know. A taxi driver brought you back.’
‘Oh, God, yes...I bumped into some friends I was at Cambridge with. Which reminds me...I think I accepted an invitation to a party for both of us tonight.’ He fished in his pocket and produced a scrap of paper with an address scribbled down on it. ‘Yes, there it is...’
‘You haven’t had enough partying?’ Sophy asked him drily, taking the paper and smoothing it out.
‘Mmm...but we ought to go. It’s someone who’s just setting up on his own and he needs my help. If you don’t fancy it, I could always go alone.’
Instantly Sophy recognised that she did not want that at all. She wanted to be with him...accepted by his friends as his wife.
‘No...no. It will be a pleasant change.’ She would have to arrange a babysitter, but that should not be too difficult. Helen Saunders at the Post Office had a teenage daughter who was trying to save up to buy her first car. Susan was a pleasant, responsible girl, who Sophy knew she could trust with the children.
‘Why don’t you go upstairs and go back to sleep?’ she suggested to Jon, noting his bleary eyes and haggard appearance.
‘Mmm...sounds like a good idea.’
She watched him go, conscious of an urge to rush after him and go with him to fuss over him as though he were genuinely her husband.
‘Poor Uncle Jon, he looks really poorly,’ Alex commented sympathetically, finishing her breakfast.
* * *
S USAN S AUNDERS proved willing to babysit, and having arranged to pick her up at eight Sophy went upstairs to study the contents of her wardrobe. She had attended several business cocktail parties with Jon before and knew what to expect. As his secretary she had always worn something businesslike and formal but now she was his wife. In the end she selected a simple cream silk shift-style dress, which had been an impulse buy in London
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