noncommittally—as if this were the first time he had ever met her.
Marian was sitting at her desk looking a little flustered. 'Here are the keys,' she said. 'The owners are away.'
Her heart sinking slightly, Lisi took them. She had hoped that one of the divorcing couple would be in. At least the
presence of a third party might have defused the atmosphere. She could not think of a more unpalatable situation than being alone in that big, beautiful house with Philip.
Unpalatable? she asked herself. Or simply dangerous?
'We can walk there,' she told him outside. 'It's just up the lane.'
'Sure.'
But once away from Marian's view, she no longer had to play the professional. 'So you're going through with your threat to buy a house in the village,' she said, in a low, furious voice.
'I think it makes sense, under the circumstances,' he said evenly. 'Don't you?'
Nothing seemed to make sense any more—not least the fact that even in the midst of her anger towards him—her body was crying out for more of his touch.
Was that conditioning? Nature's way of ensuring stability? That a woman should find the father of her child overwhelmingly attractive? No. It couldn't be. Rachel had completely gone off Dave—she told Lisi that the thought of him touching her now made her flesh creep. But then Dave had run off with one of Rachel's other supposed 'friends'. - Lisi reminded herself that Philip was not whiter-than-white, either. He had been the one who had been attached— more than attached. He had actually been married, and yet his anger all seemed to be directed at her. His poor wife! It was, Lisi decided, time to start giving as good as she got.
Her rage was almost palpable, thought Philip as he looked at the stiff set of her shoulders beneath the starchy-looking suit she wore. He suspected that she had dressed in a way to make herself seem unapproachable and unattractive to him, but if that had been the case, then she had failed completely.
'This is in the same direction as your house,' he observed as she took him down the very route he had used last night.
She stopped dead in her tracks and gave him a coolly questioning stare. 'You didn't know?'
'I've only seen the details.'
'It's just down the bloody road from me!'
'Handy,' he murmured.
She didn't want him making jokey little asides. That kind of comment could lull you into false hopes. She preferred him hostile, she decided.
Her breath caught in her throat as they walked past her cottage to the end of the lane, where, beside the old grey Norman church, stood the beautiful old rectory. And her heart stood still with shock.
The place was practically falling down!
The yew hedge which her mother had always lovingly clipped had been allowed to overgrow, and the lawn was badly in need of a cut.
'Not very well presented,' Philip observed.
'They're getting divorced,' explained Lisi icily. 'I don't think that house-maintenance is uppermost in their minds at the moment.'
He turned away. People sometimes said to him that death must be easier to bear than divorce. When a couple divorced they knowingly ripped apart the whole fabric of their lives. Only anger was left, and bitterness and resentment.
'At least Carla died knowing that you loved her, and she loved you,' his mother had said to him softly after the funeral and then, like now, he had turned away, his face a mask of pain. What would his mother say if she knew how he had betrayed that love?
And the woman who had tempted him stood beside him now, mocking him and tempting him still in her prissy-looking worksuit. He would be tied to Lisi for ever, he realised—because children made a bond between two people which could never be broken.
'Philip?' Her voice had softened, but that was instinctive rather than intentional for she had seen the look of anguish which had darkened the carved beauty of his features. 'Shall we go inside, or did you want to look round the garden first?'
He shook his
Marian was sitting at her desk looking a little flustered. 'Here are the keys,' she said. 'The owners are away.'
Her heart sinking slightly, Lisi took them. She had hoped that one of the divorcing couple would be in. At least the
presence of a third party might have defused the atmosphere. She could not think of a more unpalatable situation than being alone in that big, beautiful house with Philip.
Unpalatable? she asked herself. Or simply dangerous?
'We can walk there,' she told him outside. 'It's just up the lane.'
'Sure.'
But once away from Marian's view, she no longer had to play the professional. 'So you're going through with your threat to buy a house in the village,' she said, in a low, furious voice.
'I think it makes sense, under the circumstances,' he said evenly. 'Don't you?'
Nothing seemed to make sense any more—not least the fact that even in the midst of her anger towards him—her body was crying out for more of his touch.
Was that conditioning? Nature's way of ensuring stability? That a woman should find the father of her child overwhelmingly attractive? No. It couldn't be. Rachel had completely gone off Dave—she told Lisi that the thought of him touching her now made her flesh creep. But then Dave had run off with one of Rachel's other supposed 'friends'. - Lisi reminded herself that Philip was not whiter-than-white, either. He had been the one who had been attached— more than attached. He had actually been married, and yet his anger all seemed to be directed at her. His poor wife! It was, Lisi decided, time to start giving as good as she got.
Her rage was almost palpable, thought Philip as he looked at the stiff set of her shoulders beneath the starchy-looking suit she wore. He suspected that she had dressed in a way to make herself seem unapproachable and unattractive to him, but if that had been the case, then she had failed completely.
'This is in the same direction as your house,' he observed as she took him down the very route he had used last night.
She stopped dead in her tracks and gave him a coolly questioning stare. 'You didn't know?'
'I've only seen the details.'
'It's just down the bloody road from me!'
'Handy,' he murmured.
She didn't want him making jokey little asides. That kind of comment could lull you into false hopes. She preferred him hostile, she decided.
Her breath caught in her throat as they walked past her cottage to the end of the lane, where, beside the old grey Norman church, stood the beautiful old rectory. And her heart stood still with shock.
The place was practically falling down!
The yew hedge which her mother had always lovingly clipped had been allowed to overgrow, and the lawn was badly in need of a cut.
'Not very well presented,' Philip observed.
'They're getting divorced,' explained Lisi icily. 'I don't think that house-maintenance is uppermost in their minds at the moment.'
He turned away. People sometimes said to him that death must be easier to bear than divorce. When a couple divorced they knowingly ripped apart the whole fabric of their lives. Only anger was left, and bitterness and resentment.
'At least Carla died knowing that you loved her, and she loved you,' his mother had said to him softly after the funeral and then, like now, he had turned away, his face a mask of pain. What would his mother say if she knew how he had betrayed that love?
And the woman who had tempted him stood beside him now, mocking him and tempting him still in her prissy-looking worksuit. He would be tied to Lisi for ever, he realised—because children made a bond between two people which could never be broken.
'Philip?' Her voice had softened, but that was instinctive rather than intentional for she had seen the look of anguish which had darkened the carved beauty of his features. 'Shall we go inside, or did you want to look round the garden first?'
He shook his
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