in high glee telling everyone what had happened. That evening Marcus had his worst asthma attack ever.
As Helen soothed him to sleep in the early hours of the morning, she found under his pillow one of the little dogs with a ruff from the circus Jake had given him.
“Want to see Dake again,” murmured Marcus slowly. “Like Dake very much.”
“Oh so do I, darling,” sighed Helen.
* * *
A week later Janey gave birth to a beautiful, dark-haired boy who weighed seven pounds and happily looked exactly like Billy. They called him Christopher William, soon abbreviated to Christy, and both parents absolutely doted on him.
Watching Billy in his newfound role as an adoring father, Helen brooded all the more on Rupert’s lack of interest in Marcus.
On the other hand, she had reason to be grateful to little Christy. As a devoted godmother, she was provided with the perfect alibi. Afternoon or evening, she merely had to tell Charlene she was popping along to see Janey and the new baby. Then, having dumped a bunch of flowers and a glossy magazine and cooed for two minutes, she could rush off to see Jake.
During the Royal show, she and Jake were able to snatch an afternoon together. Leaving Rupert safely competing in a couple of classes, Jake left Birmingham and drove the eighty odd miles over to Penscombe. Charlene had taken the children to a birthday party, so they had the house to themselves.
Jake was very jumpy. He hated making love to Helen on Rupert’s territory. He thought of the Mill House with its damp, peeling paint, torn wallpaper, and messy, homely rooms which had suffered eight years of wear and tear from children and animals. Then he looked at this ravishing house, and the green valley, and the tennis court, and the swimming pool, and the garden in its rose-scented midsummer glory. The blatant perfection of the whole thing depressed him. And yet, overwhelming all this was his desperate need to see Helen again, and again, though he hated to admit, the buzz of actually making love to her in Rupert’s huge four-poster. He was amazed how passionate and totally uninhibited she’d become.
“I never thought I’d like it that way,” she said. “The only problem with
“Let’s do it straight next time, so you can,” said Jake.
“Bighead,” said Helen, rolling onto her front.
Lying on top of her, Jake slowly returned to earth, kissing her freckled shoulders, gently nibbling the lobes of her ears.
Helen, who’d buried her face in the pillow, said in a muffled voice, “Jake — I love you.”
There was a long pause, a horse whinnied from the valley, a dog barked in the distance. Then Jake said, “I love you, too.”
Lying beside her, smoking a cigarette, not worrying about the smell of tobacco because Rupert wasn’t due back until the following day, he said, “I’ve never said that to anyone in my life before.”
“Not even to Tory?”
He shook his head.
“Why did you marry her, then?”
“Because she was rich and she bought me my first horse.”
“Didn’t you love her at all?”
“Not in the way I love you. As I said, she’s been a very good wife, but we’re all inclined to take her for granted. Dino brought her out. He really bothered with her, and she adored him.”
“Dino was also very fond of me,” said Helen, her face suddenly sulky. Jake sat up and looked down at her, grinning.
“I do believe you’re jealous of Tory.”
Then, seeing the pain and misery in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms. Clinging to him fiercely like a child begging for a bedtime story to ward off the terrors of darkness, she said, “Tell me about the gypsies.”
He settled her into the crook of his arm.
“Well, if a woman’s unfaithful to her lover he cuts off her ear or her nose, or scars her cheeks, so you’d better be careful. If your wife’s unfaithful you tie her to a cartwheel and thrash her, or shave her head.”
“Golly,” said Helen nervously, “how primitive.”
“Then if you want to marry a girl you send her a spotted handkerchief. If she’s wearing it next time you meet her, you know she’s willing to marry you.”
Helen was amazed how much it hurt her to ask, “Did you give one to Tory?”
“Yes. It was very cheap, red cotton. All I could afford at the time. She still keeps it in her jewel case, but it’s terribly faded.”
He looked at his watch. “Christ, I must go.”
“Oh, please not.”
“I’ve got a class at seven. I’ve got to walk the course and it’ll take me an hour to get back in the rush-hour traffic. I’ll have to drive like hell as it is.”
“Am I jeopardizing your career?”
“Yes,” he said, kissing her.
Next minute the doorbell pealed and the dogs went into a frenzy of barking.
“Christ, who’s that?”
Helen snuggled up to him. “Lie still. It might go away.”
The doorbell rang again, the barking increased.
Naked, Helen crept down the passage and, hidden by the clematis which swarmed over the spare room window, peered out. A minute later she was back in her bedroom, giggling. Jake was already getting dressed.
“All I can see is a straw hat.”
“Well, you’d better go and redirect it,” said Jake.
Wrapping herself in a big rust-colored towel, Helen went downstairs.
In the doorway she found two elderly women fanning themselves. One was carrying a camera.
“We thought for an awful moment you were out,” said the first, who was wearing the straw hat.
“I was in the bath,” said Helen. “Can I help you?”
“We’ve come to interview you for
“Oh, my goodness.” Helen froze with horror. She remembered they’d rung and made an appointment weeks ago, and Jake must have rung straightaway afterwards and she’d forgotten to put it in the diary. Suddenly she could feel Jake’s sperm trickling down her legs and backed away hastily, ramming her legs together, hoping they couldn’t smell all the sex and excitement.
“You’d better come in,” she said weakly. “You must forgive me. I had a panic getting Rupert off to a show this morning,” she lied. “Usually, I’m so punctilious about these things.”
Miss Crabtree gave a jolly laugh. “Oh, the needs of the great man must take preference.” She stepped into the hall. “What a lovely home.”
Helen’s mind was racing. How the hell was she going to smuggle Jake out? Then she had a brainwave. “Come onto the terrace; the view’s so lovely. Would you like a drink?”
Miss Crabtree consulted her watch. “Well, it’s only half-past four. We’d love a cup of tea.”
“Of course. A cup of tea.” Helen fled into the kitchen, put the kettle on, and rushed up the backstairs, half- hysterical with laughter and terror. She found Jake dressed and trying to make his cigarette butt disappear down the loo.
“Have you got rid of them?”
“No; they’ve come to interview me about being a devoted wife and mother.”
Jake grinned. “They’d better come and interview me.”
“Shut up. I’ve got them safely on the terrace. You steal out by the back door.”
Tugging on a dress and a pair of pants, she flung her arms around his neck. “Ring me this evening.”
Tearing downstairs, she rang Charlene. She could hear tumultuous party noises in the background.
