could not resist another look round the kitchen section with its split-level cooking units, and double stainless steel sinks and custom-made Oregon pine fitments. There was a gleaming copper extractor hod above electric hobs built-in to the plastic work counter, and the floor was laid with mosaic-patterned vinyl the colour of cornflowers. At present the kitchen was open to the main living area, but could be shut away, she saw, by sliding glass screens.
Disinclined to read - although there were several hundreds of books on shelf units along the cedar-panelled walls of the living area, Jenny watched some television on the built-in set, keeping the volume low in case it disturbed Polly. Later, she made herself a pot of tea, and sat looking out over the garden at the sun sinking down in a rose-flecked mackerel sky.
Slowly it grew dusk. The light went on in her grandfather’s study. An owl swooped out of the lime trees.
Jenny went to peep at Polly. When she came back she did not switch on the lights, but curled up on the couch again until it was almost dark.
Suddenly the room was aglow with light from the lamp on the coffee table. Sitting up with a start, she realized that she had been asleep. Then she saw Simon standing in the shadows by the two shallow stairs that led into the hall.
‘Oh ... what time is it?’
‘Nearly midnight. What are you doing here?’
Blinking, stiff from the awkward position she had been lying in, Jenny gave him a rather muddled account of what had happened.
‘I see.’ He switched on some more lights and came forward to the table, where he took a cigarette from a silver box.
As he straightened to light it, she saw that he looked tired and rather drawn. And suddenly she knew that what she felt for him was no transient physical attraction, no giddy infatuation. She was deeply and irrevocably in love with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I’ll see you home,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you up so late.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let me get you something to eat. It’s a long drive back from London. Or did you stop for a meal on the way?’
‘I had something before I left town.’
‘That was hours ago. I’ll make some coffee and toast,’ she said firmly, picking up her tea tray and carrying it back to the kitchen. ‘Where does Mrs. Rose keep the bread?’
Simon followed her and pulled open a deep ventilated drawer lined with laminated plastic. Then he leaned against one of the units, watching her slice the loaf and load the electric toaster, his eyes narrowed and intent.
Conscious of dishevelled hair and sleep-flushed cheeks, Jenny said, ‘Is my nose shining like a beacon? I must have been asleep since about ten.’
‘You were dreaming. When I switched on the lamp, your lips were moving,’ he said.
‘Was I? I don’t remember.’
I only know that I woke up and saw you, and knew I loved you, she thought. And she was afraid to look at him for fear it might show in her eyes.
Simon ate and drank in silence, and Jenny cradled her cup between her palms and felt another, deeper warmth spreading inside her, making her feel more wholly alive than she had ever felt before. She was not in the least tired now. There was a delightful intimacy about being up so late with him, sharing a simple supper. Probably they were the only two people awake in the whole village, and she would have been happy to stay there till dawn.
But after he had drunk a second cup of coffee, Simon said, ‘It’s high time you were in bed. The dishes can wait until the morning.’
There was a waxing moon in the sky, and they had no need of a torch to see their way round to the Rectory. But Simon slid his hand under her arm, as they walked along the road and up the drive.
She wondered what he would say if she suggested that it was much too lovely a night to be wasted in sleep, and she felt like going for a walk. A spasm of laughter shook her.
He must have felt it, and thought she was cold, for he quickened his
Disinclined to read - although there were several hundreds of books on shelf units along the cedar-panelled walls of the living area, Jenny watched some television on the built-in set, keeping the volume low in case it disturbed Polly. Later, she made herself a pot of tea, and sat looking out over the garden at the sun sinking down in a rose-flecked mackerel sky.
Slowly it grew dusk. The light went on in her grandfather’s study. An owl swooped out of the lime trees.
Jenny went to peep at Polly. When she came back she did not switch on the lights, but curled up on the couch again until it was almost dark.
Suddenly the room was aglow with light from the lamp on the coffee table. Sitting up with a start, she realized that she had been asleep. Then she saw Simon standing in the shadows by the two shallow stairs that led into the hall.
‘Oh ... what time is it?’
‘Nearly midnight. What are you doing here?’
Blinking, stiff from the awkward position she had been lying in, Jenny gave him a rather muddled account of what had happened.
‘I see.’ He switched on some more lights and came forward to the table, where he took a cigarette from a silver box.
As he straightened to light it, she saw that he looked tired and rather drawn. And suddenly she knew that what she felt for him was no transient physical attraction, no giddy infatuation. She was deeply and irrevocably in love with him.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I’ll see you home,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you up so late.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Let me get you something to eat. It’s a long drive back from London. Or did you stop for a meal on the way?’
‘I had something before I left town.’
‘That was hours ago. I’ll make some coffee and toast,’ she said firmly, picking up her tea tray and carrying it back to the kitchen. ‘Where does Mrs. Rose keep the bread?’
Simon followed her and pulled open a deep ventilated drawer lined with laminated plastic. Then he leaned against one of the units, watching her slice the loaf and load the electric toaster, his eyes narrowed and intent.
Conscious of dishevelled hair and sleep-flushed cheeks, Jenny said, ‘Is my nose shining like a beacon? I must have been asleep since about ten.’
‘You were dreaming. When I switched on the lamp, your lips were moving,’ he said.
‘Was I? I don’t remember.’
I only know that I woke up and saw you, and knew I loved you, she thought. And she was afraid to look at him for fear it might show in her eyes.
Simon ate and drank in silence, and Jenny cradled her cup between her palms and felt another, deeper warmth spreading inside her, making her feel more wholly alive than she had ever felt before. She was not in the least tired now. There was a delightful intimacy about being up so late with him, sharing a simple supper. Probably they were the only two people awake in the whole village, and she would have been happy to stay there till dawn.
But after he had drunk a second cup of coffee, Simon said, ‘It’s high time you were in bed. The dishes can wait until the morning.’
There was a waxing moon in the sky, and they had no need of a torch to see their way round to the Rectory. But Simon slid his hand under her arm, as they walked along the road and up the drive.
She wondered what he would say if she suggested that it was much too lovely a night to be wasted in sleep, and she felt like going for a walk. A spasm of laughter shook her.
He must have felt it, and thought she was cold, for he quickened his
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