“That one, I think.”
The first present was sensual black lace underwear. “Thanks,” she said with a mischievous grin. She needed something to replace the silk negligee, which was now quite badly torn.
He handed her the second present, a slim case. Annabelle was almost afraid to open it; she knew it was jewelry of some kind.
A gold necklace chain sat on the case’s black velvet. The pendant was an ultramodern-styled platinum triangle, with a diamond on each point. The sight of it stopped her breath. It must have cost a fortune, and he’d spent it on her.
“Oh God, Jeff, it’s beautiful.”
“Stand up,” he said. “Let me put it on.”
He undressed her carefully, and fastened the necklace round her neck.
Standing there naked, the cool metal resting on the skin between her breasts, placed there by her lover, was an incredibly erotic sensation.
“Perfect,” Jeff announced.
Annabelle’s eyes were fluttering half closed. She smiled warmly at him and took his hand, licking the tip of his thumb. “I’m going to give you a thank-you for my present. A very special thank you.” She tilted her head right back, and slowly tipped her champagne saucer up until the liquid splashed over the front of her neck. It began to foam as it cascaded down her chest and across her breasts. “But first, I want one more present from you.”
35. THE LAST FAREWELL BARBEQUE
MRS. MAYBERRY HAD MADE THE BURGERS, using her own special recipe involving lots of fresh herbs and Aberdeen Angus beef. Jeff had them piled up on a big plate next to the six-burner gas-fired barbeque. He shouted out to the youngsters on the lawn who were finishing off the rounders match, asking them what sauces they wanted. Mrs. Mayberry had provided him with a selection of those as well—chili, honey and lemon, hot barbeque, and something she called sticky smoke. Jeff used his oversize tongs to dip the burgers into the deep bowls of sauce before dropping them on the grid above the glowing lava rocks. While he was dealing with the first batch, the Europol team called in their preferences. Smoke spat and sizzled upward from the meat.
The pork ribs came next, picked out of the sweet and sour marinade. Then it was the sausages, whole ribbons of them. By the time it was all cooking away he hoped the Environment Agency mobile pollution monitor van wasn’t cruising the village for clean air violations. He was having to stand well back as the acrid scents mixed into a single plume and started to make his eyes water.
“Another beer, uh, Jeff?” Colin asked. He was peering in the big fridge just inside the pool building’s door.
“Sounds good, thanks.” He took the can from the smiling youngster. “What’s the score?”
“Ah, we’re winning easy. Boys, eighteen. Girls, five, so far, and they’ve only got two bats left.”
Jeff had taken his turn batting earlier. It was decided he could get on with the cooking when it was the boys’ turn to field; one less on the team would even the odds, so the girls claimed.
Lorraine took a mighty swipe at the ball that Tim threw, and knocked it down to the far end of the garden. Philip watched it soar over his head in amazement, and belatedly gave chase. All the girls were running fast between the posts, shouting encouragement to one another. The boys directed a barrage of abuse at the hapless Philip.
“Go, you moron!” Colin yelled.
“We’ll still walk it,” Jeff said. He twisted the plastic tab on the top of his can, and gulped down an icy mouthful. It had been a great afternoon. None of the youngsters had minded him joining in when they were splashing around in the pool. That invitation was extended to the croquet game and then the rounders. Jeff hadn’t played croquet for twenty years. It was fun remembering all the dirty tricks. Anybody who believed that croquet was a civilized sport had clearly never played before. It was fun playing rounders, too. And sinking highballs of Pimms. Everyone was in their swimsuits. Having the girls bounding past, bodies barely contained in the thin fabric of their swimsuits and bikinis, was a blissful addition to the afternoon’s delight.
It just needed Annabelle to make it perfect. More than anything, he wanted here there, sharing in the exuberance of this lazy sunny afternoon. The youngsters were more her friends than his, after all. But this was Tim’s party, a farewell for all his friends. Jeff had actually seen the boy smiling as he lined up to pitch the ball, finally shaking off the terrible moods that had dominated his days since the summer ball. Balancing the happiness of three people was a profoundly difficult act. Jeff kept wondering how long it could be before he and Annabelle could actually tell Tim about them.
Quite a while, if I know Tim.
Boys won the rounders, eighteen to eight. A raggedy chorus of Queen’s “We Are the Champions” filled the garden.
“Two minutes,” Jeff called.
The youngsters went to find sweatshirts and cardigans now that the sun was sinking lower, then grabbed themselves plates and lined up by the barbeque. Jeff was kept busy dishing the meat out. There were so many burgers on the grill, he’d completely forgotten which ones had which sauce on them.
Jeff overhead one remark Martin made to Tim as the boys sat down together. “Anyone who has a whole fridge just for beer is okay by me.” Which made him smile. The manor had been built with exactly this kind of afternoon in mind; a big lawn and a swimming pool were essentials for Jeff. Although his parents had been comfortably-off professionals, they’d lived in a town house with a very small garden. He’d been envious of all his childhood friends out in the villages with their wide, open lawns to run around on.
Not that he’d ever expected to benefit from the manor; it had always been for Tim. Now though, twenty years late, he could enjoy it for himself, too, along with all the other things he’d never found time for before. The new car was a good example.
“Is there anything left you’d like to do, Jeff?” Simon asked. “I mean, this time around? Something you missed out on before?”
The talk had been about coming holidays and their futures after that, what they most wanted to achieve or see.
Jeff shoveled the last couple of burgers onto his plate, and went over to sit beside Tim. “Actually, there is one thing I’ve really wanted to do ever since I was six years old.”
All the youngsters fell silent, watching him closely.
He shrugged at them. “Sorry, it’s not particularly important, just something I fancy.”
“What?” Tim asked curiously.
“I’ve always wanted to go into space. Not those little semiballistic lobs they sell in America and the Caribbean. I want to see the Earth from orbit. Just look down and watch the whole planet roll past underneath me.”
There were a lot of sighs from around the patio. Several of the youngsters nodded sympathetic agreement.
“Comes from an astronaut fixation when I was a kid. That and the fact I grew up in the era of the Apollo program. I mean, I really did expect to be taking holidays on the moon by the year 2000. All the Sunday newspaper magazines around back in the early seventies were full of articles about how easy spaceflight would become right after the pioneering part was complete.”
“Were they really saying that?” Vanessa asked. She was sitting on the other side of Tim, peering around him to look at Jeff. It wasn’t the first time she and Tim had wound up next to each other that afternoon.
“Oh yes. All of us in those times had a lot of big expectations about how the world was going to turn out. You know, offhand I can’t think of one prediction that ever came true—apart from the datasphere sliding the whole videophone idea in at us from the side.”
“You can still make it into orbit, though,” Philip said. “Sir Mitch is going to be offering rides next year.”
“The Mojave team will beat him,” Simon said. “They’ve got access to Boeing’s scramjet technology. That’ll
