somehow, in a way it never had been. Making her breasts feel fuller, rounder.
‘That would be lovely!’ she said brightly. ‘Whereabouts do you want to go?’
‘Heading south sounds good,’ said Anatole.
And so it proved. Once across the girdle of the M25, the North Downs behind them, the Weald stretched before them. With Georgy safely secured in his car seat, Lyn was seated in the passenger seat next to Anatole. She could feel her eyes drawn to the way his strong hands were shaping the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. She wanted to gaze at him, drink him in.
Instead, she made herself tell him what she knew about this part of the country.
‘It’s called the Weald—from the Saxon word for forest— like the German Wald ,’ she said. ‘It’s completely rural now, but it was actually the industrial heartland of England for centuries.’
‘How so?’ Anatole asked, glancing at her. He wanted to go on looking, because in profile she was well worth looking at, but he had to keep his eyes on the road—which he was finding a nuisance.
‘The wood was used for charcoal, and that was used for iron smelting,’ she explained. ‘And many of the trees were cut down for shipbuilding as well.’
She went on to talk about some of the more notable events in English history that had taken place in this part of the country.
‘Including the Battle of Hastings?’ Anatole said knowledgeably.
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘The end of Anglo-Saxon England. The Norman Yoke was harsh to begin with, imposed on a conquered people.’
‘Ah...’ said Anatole, commiserating. ‘Well, we Greeks know about being conquered. We spent nearly four hundred years being ruled by the Ottoman Empire.’
The conversation moved to the subject of Greece’s history as the powerful car ate up the miles. From the back seat Georgy gazed contentedly out of the car window, but when they pulled over at a pleasant-looking pub for lunch he was ready to get out. The weather had warmed significantly, and they decided to risk eating in the garden—helped in their decision by the presence of a children’s play area complete with sandpit.
‘Don’t let him eat the sand!’ Lyn warned as Anatole lowered him onto its fine, dry golden surface.
‘Georgy, a sensible boy never eats sand!’ Anatole admonished him, as the baby rashly prepared to break this wise edict.
Memory stabbed at Lyn. In her head she heard Anatole similarly admonishing Georgy not to eat his watch, that first time he’d been with him.
How totally and irrevocably her life had changed since then!
I had no idea then that I would do what I have—that I would be here, now, like this, with him!
How far she had come since those first excruciatingly painful and awkward days as her life changed beyond recognition. Her eyes rested on Anatole now, hunkered down by the sandpit, engaging with his infant second cousin. Emotion went through her—and not just because of the sight of him and Georgy playing so happily, so naturally together. So much at ease.
She was at ease with him too now. Finding his company not fraught or awkward. Well, not in the same way, at any rate, she amended. Having her makeover had set off that intense awkwardness again, but she was getting used to her new look now. Finding it easier to cope with.
Enjoying it...
Because it was good to know she looked good! The novelty of it had lost its terror for her, leaving only pleasure. She’d caught sight of herself in the mirror in the ladies’ here and a little ripple of pleasure had quivered through her. The designer jeans hugged her hips and thighs, the ankle boots, soft and comfortable, lengthened her legs, and the caramel lambswool jumper warmed and flattered her.
One of the young male servers came out and took their drinks order. His eyes, as he smiled down at Lyn, told her that she looked good to him too. That little ripple of pleasure came again.
From where he sat, Anatole watched Lyn interacting with the
‘That would be lovely!’ she said brightly. ‘Whereabouts do you want to go?’
‘Heading south sounds good,’ said Anatole.
And so it proved. Once across the girdle of the M25, the North Downs behind them, the Weald stretched before them. With Georgy safely secured in his car seat, Lyn was seated in the passenger seat next to Anatole. She could feel her eyes drawn to the way his strong hands were shaping the wheel, his eyes focused on the road ahead. She wanted to gaze at him, drink him in.
Instead, she made herself tell him what she knew about this part of the country.
‘It’s called the Weald—from the Saxon word for forest— like the German Wald ,’ she said. ‘It’s completely rural now, but it was actually the industrial heartland of England for centuries.’
‘How so?’ Anatole asked, glancing at her. He wanted to go on looking, because in profile she was well worth looking at, but he had to keep his eyes on the road—which he was finding a nuisance.
‘The wood was used for charcoal, and that was used for iron smelting,’ she explained. ‘And many of the trees were cut down for shipbuilding as well.’
She went on to talk about some of the more notable events in English history that had taken place in this part of the country.
‘Including the Battle of Hastings?’ Anatole said knowledgeably.
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘The end of Anglo-Saxon England. The Norman Yoke was harsh to begin with, imposed on a conquered people.’
‘Ah...’ said Anatole, commiserating. ‘Well, we Greeks know about being conquered. We spent nearly four hundred years being ruled by the Ottoman Empire.’
The conversation moved to the subject of Greece’s history as the powerful car ate up the miles. From the back seat Georgy gazed contentedly out of the car window, but when they pulled over at a pleasant-looking pub for lunch he was ready to get out. The weather had warmed significantly, and they decided to risk eating in the garden—helped in their decision by the presence of a children’s play area complete with sandpit.
‘Don’t let him eat the sand!’ Lyn warned as Anatole lowered him onto its fine, dry golden surface.
‘Georgy, a sensible boy never eats sand!’ Anatole admonished him, as the baby rashly prepared to break this wise edict.
Memory stabbed at Lyn. In her head she heard Anatole similarly admonishing Georgy not to eat his watch, that first time he’d been with him.
How totally and irrevocably her life had changed since then!
I had no idea then that I would do what I have—that I would be here, now, like this, with him!
How far she had come since those first excruciatingly painful and awkward days as her life changed beyond recognition. Her eyes rested on Anatole now, hunkered down by the sandpit, engaging with his infant second cousin. Emotion went through her—and not just because of the sight of him and Georgy playing so happily, so naturally together. So much at ease.
She was at ease with him too now. Finding his company not fraught or awkward. Well, not in the same way, at any rate, she amended. Having her makeover had set off that intense awkwardness again, but she was getting used to her new look now. Finding it easier to cope with.
Enjoying it...
Because it was good to know she looked good! The novelty of it had lost its terror for her, leaving only pleasure. She’d caught sight of herself in the mirror in the ladies’ here and a little ripple of pleasure had quivered through her. The designer jeans hugged her hips and thighs, the ankle boots, soft and comfortable, lengthened her legs, and the caramel lambswool jumper warmed and flattered her.
One of the young male servers came out and took their drinks order. His eyes, as he smiled down at Lyn, told her that she looked good to him too. That little ripple of pleasure came again.
From where he sat, Anatole watched Lyn interacting with the
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