Читать книгу Nothing Left to Give - Caroline Anderson - Страница 6

IN FACT it was still fairly light at seven o’clock although dusk was creeping in, but the lights made the big house seem even more welcoming as Beth scrunched up the gravel drive and rang the doorbell.

She waited for a moment, then rang it again. She could hardly hear it in the distance, over the music—at least two sorts, if not three—and the screaming of a child.

She smiled. That would be the small girl, in a paddy if she was any judge. She opened the door and walked into a scene of utter pandemonium.

The little girl was lying on the floor screaming, there was steam billowing out of the kitchen, and from the depths of the steam something with a heavy bass-line throbbed and wailed at full blast. The television was blaring forth from another room, and something else filtered down from upstairs.

She closed her eyes and tried not to laugh. Poor man, no wonder he hadn’t heard the doorbell!

She went into the kitchen and found it empty except for a pan of boiling water and the music. Both needed switching off—she went for the music first. Then she found the TV in the breakfast-room next door and switched that off.

The silence was shattering. Even the little girl stopped screaming to listen to it.

She went back out into the hall, now quiet except for the music emanating from an upstairs room.

‘Hello,’ she said to the child, and she sat up and eyed Beth warily.

‘‘I?.’

‘I’m Beth.’

‘I’m Sophie.’

She sat on the floor beside the child. ‘What’s wrong, Sophie?’

‘Nothing,’ she mumbled mutinously. ‘I can’t find Daddy. I called him.’

Beth shot a glance at the kitchen. ‘I don’t suppose he could hear you. Shall we see if we can find him?’

‘Who turned that off?’ a voice yelled over the banisters, and a youth vaulted over the top rail on to the middle of the first flight and bounded down to the hall.

‘I did.’

‘Ah.’ He skidded to a halt at her feet and peered down at her. ‘Um—is Sophie all right?’

She looked up at a younger version of Gideon, thinner and still a little gangly, but filling out fast. The eyes were identical.

‘I think so—I imagine she was just trying to make herself heard,’ she said drily.

He flushed. ‘You must be the nurse.’ He held down his hand and hauled her to her feet with a grin. ‘I’m William.’

She returned the grin. ‘I’m Beth. I turned off your hot water, as well, but there wasn’t much left.’

There was a tug at her hand. ‘Find Daddy,’ Sophie demanded.

William scooped her up into his arms. ‘Daddy’s in the shower.’ He looked over Sophie to Beth. ‘He sends his apologies—he won’t be a sec. He’s had a bit of a crisis in the bathroom. You couldn’t help me get Sophie into bed so I can get the spaghetti on, could you? The sauce is made.’

‘I want ‘ghetti.’

‘You’ve had yours—go on, Tuppence, don’t be a pain.’ He kissed her and handed her over to Beth. ‘Top of the stairs, turn sharp right. You can’t miss her room—it’s got pink furry things all over the floor.’ Sophie giggled. ‘He means My Little Ponies. Want to see?’

Beth smiled at her, her heart twisting. She was such a cherub. ‘Love to. Shall we?’

She set her down and they walked together up the stairs, hand in hand, while Beth wondered what sort of a crisis Gideon could possibly have had in the bathroom. She didn’t have to wonder for long.

‘I had a bath,’ Sophie told Beth seriously as they mounted the stairs. ‘A big one.’

‘Oh,’ Beth replied just as seriously. ‘Very big?’

Sophie nodded. ‘Too big—all the water fell over the top, and all the bubbles. Daddy threw a mega.’

She caught the laugh just in time. That expression just had to be straight out of her big brother’s or sister’s mouth. Lips twitching, she turned the corner at the top of the stairs just in time to see Gideon cross the landing clad only in a towelling robe belted loosely on his hips.

‘Beth!’

She smiled uncertainly. ‘Um—Sophie was yelling for you. William asked me to put her to bed…’

‘That boy—OK, Tuppence, come on, let’s tuck you up —’

She hid her hands firmly behind her back.

‘Beth do it.’

‘No, Daddy do it—‘

‘No.’ The chin stuck out, the cherub lips pursed in a determined little pout.

‘Really, I don’t mind ——’

‘Sophie ——’

‘Please, Daddy, please?’

They stood looking down at the little minx, and Beth had a sudden pang in the region of her heart that just wouldn’t be denied. ‘I would like to—may I? I could read her a story while you get changed.’

He glanced down, as if he had suddenly realised he was hardly dressed for the occasion, and a slow, rueful smile crawled across his face.

‘Be my guest,’ he said gruffly, and turned away from her. ‘Ten minutes, Sophie, all right?’

‘All right,’ she piped, and, taking Beth’s hand, she led her into her room.

It was a lovely evening. Claire, the middle child, was quiet and watchful at first, but having established Beth was not a threat she opened up and was quite charming. Will was good fun, Beth decided, despite the shatteringly loud music, and Sophie—well, she had fallen in love with Sophie sitting on the hall floor and nothing had happened to change that. Gideon was a bit of an enigma, though, quiet and watchful like Claire but without opening up.

Maybe he never did. The children didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual in his behaviour, and he was perfectly polite. It was just that he was withdrawn, almost as if he regretted issuing the invitation, and when she said she ought to be going he leapt to his feet with alacrity.

‘I’ll walk you back,’ he said firmly, and so she said goodnight to the children, thanked William for cooking the meal and allowed Gideon to hustle her out of the door.

He didn’t really, it was just that she was being oversensitive—or perhaps just picking up accurately on something he had meant to keep to himself.

They walked back to the coach house with only the sound of gravel underfoot to break the silence, glad now of the outside lights that dispelled the shadows of the trees and drove the spooks away.

‘I’m sorry about the chaos when you arrived,’ he said finally as they arrived at her door.

She shot him a wry grin. ‘I should imagine it’s like that in most families in the evening,’ she replied, unaware of the slight wistfulness in her voice.

He tipped his head, watching her thoughtfully. ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

She nearly laughed. ‘No,’ she told him instead. ‘Once was enough for my parents. I disrupted the even tenor of their peaceful academia quite sufficiently without them making a habit of it.’

‘You sound bitter.’

‘Do I? I’m sorry, I would have thought by now I’d got over that. I have, really. It’s just—well, tonight—you’re a very lucky man, Gideon. A very lucky man.’

His laugh was low and hollow. ‘It doesn’t always seem like that.’

‘When you’re mopping the bathroom floor, for instance?’

He snorted. ‘Exactly. Oh, well. Thank you for your help with Sophie, by the way. She can be a real treasure when she’s not arguing.’

‘I noticed.’

A silence fell between them, a silence heavy with awareness and tension. He reached behind her and opened the door, pushing it wide.

‘You’d better go in before you get cold,’ he muttered, his voice husky.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

‘My pleasure. Goodnight.’ He turned and walked away, his footsteps crunching. She shut the door. Had he been about to kiss her?

She wouldn’t like to bet on it either way, but she rather thought…

Nonsense. She ran up the stairs, unable to resist looking out of the window towards the house. He was standing by the door and waved before turning to go in.

Waiting for her, to see if she would look at him?

God knows, she thought. She whipped the curtains shut. Involvement with another family man was the last thing she needed right now, even if he was widowed and his tiny daughter had felt so absolutely right in her achingly empty arms…

She spent the weekend moving things up from London and writing endless letters changing her address. The flat was rented, so she gathered all her meagre belongings and took them to Suffolk, storing them easily in the huge cupboards in the coach house flat.

At six o’clock, just as she realised she was starving and was wondering what she could find to eat, she heard footsteps on the gravel and her doorbell rang.

She went down to find William there, lounging casually against the wall, a lazy grin on his face.

‘Dad says would you like to join us for supper? He’s got something he wants to ask you about. He would have come but he’s had a bit of a crisis with the Yorkshire puds and Sophie’s spilt the gravy all over the table.’

She controlled the smile, but apparently not well enough.

‘I should get that out of your system here,’ Will told her with a grin. ‘He’s like Queen Victoria at the moment—definitely not amused.’

She laughed. ‘Poor Gideon. Yes, I’d love to join you—am I OK or should I change?’

Will ran an eye over her jeans and sweatshirt, and raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll do fine. Dad’s probably changed, but then he had gravy down his front, so he didn’t have a choice.’

She ran back up for her keys, flicked off the lights and followed William back to the house. They went in through the back door this time, straight into the heart of the chaos.

It was a quieter sort of chaos this time, Beth realised, but still fairly hectic.

The vegetables were boiling over, and while William dealt with them Beth scooped Sophie off the worktop just as she tried to reach the top cupboard.

‘I want a biscuit!’ the indignant child yelled, but Beth was not impressed.

‘No. It’s supper-time, you’ll spoil your appetite. Let’s go and see if we can help Daddy.’

‘He doesn’t want to see me in there again until I’ve learned not to be a windmill,’ she told Beth dolefully.

She just managed to stop her lips from twitching. ‘Oh, dear. Never mind, you come with me and keep your hands down and you’ll be all right.’

She went out into the hall and found Claire sitting on the floor, the flex of the phone wound round her arm and hand, rolling her eyes. ‘Well, don’t do it, then! I can’t believe how you let them rule your life. Tell them no, you don’t want to practise—oh, Annie, what do you mean you can’t?’

Beth walked past her into the dining-room just as Gideon walked out yelling to Claire to put the damn phone down.

They both slammed to a halt, nose to nose, and Gideon ran his fingers through well-tousled hair and shot her a fraught grin. ‘Hi, Beth. Glad you could make it—I could do with a little sanity round here.’

She smiled back. ‘Anything I can do?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s as good as it’s going to get. Let’s eat and forget it.’

Together they brought the last of the food through and Beth watched as he deftly slivered the rare beef and piled it on the plates.

He might have had the odd crisis en route, but there was nothing wrong with the end product at all—if one discounted the absence of Yorkshire puddings and the small amount of gravy that had escaped Sophie’s wind-milling arms.

They all tucked in, and after it was finished and they had cleaned up a huge chocolate gâteau from the bakery in the village, Gideon sent Beth into the drawing-room while he put Sophie to bed and William and Claire cleared up the kitchen.

A few minutes later he reappeared, two mugs of coffee in his hands, and pushed the door shut behind him with his hip.

‘Peace,’ he said with a sigh, and dumping the coffee on the table, he dropped into the other end of the settee and smiled weakly. ‘Sorry it’s always so chaotic when you come round.’

‘It must be very difficult coping,’ she told him honestly, and he laughed.

Oh, God, you aren’t joking! Actually, that’s one reason I wanted to see you. My housekeeper’s not well—she’s got angina, and she’s been getting worse gradually over the past few months. She had a TIA, a transient ischaemic attack, like a temporary stroke, over the weekend, and I think the time’s come for her to stop. And that, as you can imagine, leaves me with a problem.’

‘Gosh, yes, I can imagine it does!’

His next words caught her completely by surprise.

‘I don’t suppose you’d consider helping out? Just a couple of hours every afternoon after Sophie comes out of school until I get back? The odd bit of shopping—I can do most of it at the weekend or one evening, but I can’t expect Will or Claire to cook a meal or look after Sophie when they’ve got homework of their own to do. I’d pay you what I pay you at the surgery—we could offset the rent against it or something, and of course you’d eat with us.’

He fell silent, and she stared at her feet, unsure what to say.

‘I’m sorry,’ he mumbled into the silence. ‘Of course you don’t want to do it—I don’t know what possessed me to ask you.’

‘No—no, please—can I think about it? I mean, it wouldn’t have occurred to me to look for another job, but I was wondering what I could do to fill in the time. I hate being idle—can I let you know?’

He looked relieved, she thought, that she hadn’t given him an outright refusal. She wasn’t sure, in fact, why she hadn’t, because she was very torn. The trouble was, she realised later as she lay in bed thinking it over, she wanted to do it too badly.

Sophie had carved a little niche in her heart, and watching Will and Claire with Gideon just made her aware of how much she had missed with her own parents.

So working for him would be very bitter-sweet.

Maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea after all.

Which was ridiculous, because she had nothing better to do, and some frightful creature might end up looking after Sophie and she could become very unhappy as a result.

No, she would do it, she decided—and refuse house-room to the mocking voice that questioned her motives. Of course she wasn’t doing it to be near Gideon! After all, she was near him all day at work!

But it wasn’t quite the same, and in her heart she knew it.

Monday dawned bright and clear, one of those lovely late September days that made you wonder why you lit the fire the night before.

Beth dressed carefully in her uniform, made her bed and let herself out of the flat. A brisk two-minute walk was just what she needed to blow away the cobwebs.

A scrunch of gravel behind her made her turn her head in time to see Gideon coming down the drive towards her.

She waited for him, deciding to give him her decision straight away.

His smile was distracted.

‘Problems?’ she asked.

‘Claire—she said she wasn’t feeling very well and refused to go to school.’

Oh. Well, if it helps I’ll go over as soon as I finish and see how she is.’

He shot her a curious look. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve given my suggestion any further thought, have you?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes—I’ve decided I’ll do it, but only in return for the rent. I don’t want to be paid—not if I’m eating with you as well, and it would make sense to do that if you’re sure?’

He stopped in his tracks, turning to her, his grey-green eyes filled with relief. Oh, Beth, I don’t know how to thank you ——’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘You haven’t tasted my cooking yet!’

He chuckled. ‘It can’t be worse than Mrs Archer’s.’

‘Hmm. I should reserve judgement, if I were you.’

They walked the rest of the way mostly in silence, with Gideon putting in the odd comment about routine while Beth wondered if it was really going to be such a good idea spending any more time than was strictly necessary in the company of this very attractive man.

The first session of the Stop Smoking clinic was a delight for Beth. She found that she agreed wholeheartedly with everything Gideon said, and that the videos, leaflets and advice he exposed the patients to followed almost exactly the routine she had been using.

She then talked to the patients about why they wanted to give up, and what made them smoke in the first place. They were then given a diary, and asked to set a date for giving up.

‘Don’t think of it as giving up—that implies self-sacrifice,’ Gideon told them. Think of it instead as taking control of your life again, instead of allowing tobacco to rule your actions. Note down in the diary when you smoke, and why. There will be some cigarettes that are harder to give up than others. Note which ones you think they will be.’

When the patients left, she could see some of them already looked discouraged.

They always want a miracle,’ Gideon said on the way home. They seem to think we’re going to wave a wand and it will all come right. Zap! No more cravings, no more addiction, just “I’m a non-smoker”. What they don’t realise is that they will always be smokers now, they just won’t be doing it.’

‘Unless they fail,’ Beth said drily.

Oh, yes—and lots of them will. I think we’ll lose at least one by next week.’

‘Not David Hendry, though.’

‘No—no, not Hendry. He’s determined. He’s already cut down from sixty to thirty. I don’t know when he finds the time!’

Beth laughed. ‘He needs an occupation that uses his hands—he wouldn’t be able to then.’

‘Huh! They just stick one in their mouths and breathe round it! It really is the biggest curse of our society, I think—worse than Hep B or HIV or alcohol, even. The trouble is it’s acceptable.’

‘Is it?’ Beth asked. ‘Not to me it isn’t. I resent having to breathe other people’s stale smoke.’

Gideon gave a grunt of agreement. The trouble is, once started it’s so hard to stop. I feel sorry for them.’

‘Did you notice how many of them have started smoking just by chance?’ she said.

‘Yes—and that’s why I’m making damn sure that my kids know how dangerous and anti-social it is, because it only takes one cigarette and a lifetime’s habit can be started.’ He turned his head towards her. ‘You did well.’ She returned the compliment, ignoring the kick of her heart against her ribs. ‘So did you.’

They shared a smile, and Beth felt herself falling further into what could only be a disastrous attraction. Damn, why did she have to find him so attractive? And it wasn’t just a physical thing, that was what was so dangerous. Sex appeal she could put in its proper place, but this was so much more complex, so much more insidious.

She suddenly began to wonder if sitting down at the table every evening with him and his children would actually be less harmful than starving!

Claire was on the hall floor when they went in, tangled in the phone flex as usual, lying on her back with her legs up the wall and giggling.

She looked the picture of health and fitness, and Gideon told her to get off the phone and take her feet off the wallpaper.

Beth followed him through to the kitchen, noting his scowl. ‘Um—I did a casserole—the children have all had theirs.’

He looked blankly at her, then sighed. ‘Sorry, I was miles away. That girl ——’

‘—is just like any other teenager. She’s fine.’

‘That,’ he growled, ‘is precisely my point. There’s nothing at all wrong with the little skiver. I’m starving.’

Beth stifled a grin. ‘Where do you want to eat?’

‘In here,’ he told her, and opening a cupboard, he retrieved a couple of wine glases. ‘Join me?’

Oh—thanks, yes, I will.’

While she took the casserole out of the oven and dished up, he opened a bottle and poured the wine, then handed her a glass. He raised his to her.

‘Here’s celebrating my cleverness for finding such a treasure.’

She flushed and laughed uncomfortably. ‘You haven’t tried the food yet.’

‘It smells wonderful.’ His eyes were still locked with hers, and her breath lodged in her throat. She looked quickly away.

‘Um—let’s eat.’

‘Good idea,’ he said easily, and she found he was holding the chair for her in a display of old-fashioned good manners she had forgotten existed.

As he moved away his hand brushed her shoulder, and fire shot down her arm and across her back, leaving a tingling in its wake.

This was going to be next to impossible.

Beth dropped with a sigh on to the sofa in her flat, eased off her shoes and tucked her feet under her bottom. Her first full, proper week both at the surgery and as Gideon’s housekeeper was over.

And she found, to her surprise, that far from being a trial it had been a pleasure. Everyone at the surgery, from Andrew Jones and Judith Wight, Gideon’s partners, Julie Rudd the other nurse, Molly the receptionist and Jean Rivers the practice manager, to Mrs Horrell, the cleaner, had all been universally welcoming and friendly, and as for her other job—well!

Sophie was an angel—mostly—and Claire and Will were helpful to a point. She found the intimacy of caring for Gideon’s house and family strange at first, but she soon got into the swing of it.

There was no cleaning to do, as such, because Mrs Horrell who did the surgery also did the house, and so all that Beth had to manage was the laundry, the cooking and Sophie after school.

Gideon wouldn’t let her clear up after the meal, so she made sure as much as possible was loaded into the dishwasher or dealt with before he got home.

That, of course, was when her problems really started, she thought now, snuggling deeper into the sofa.

Gideon.

Tall, strong, shouldering all his responsibilities without a murmur, so grateful for her help.

She wondered how grateful he would be if he could see into her mind as she ironed his shirts and folded his underwear.

It was just playing house, helping to pass the time, she told herself, but it was more insidious than that.

She was playing his wife, and she knew it. Every time she took Sophie in her arms for a hug, or hung a shirt up in the wardrobe in his bedroom, she allowed herself to imagine that any minute he would come home and sweep her into his arms and kiss her.

That was where the danger lay. Not in anything Gideon himself had done, but in what she had allowed herself to dream.

That evening he had finished surgery earlier than usual, and Beth was in his bedroom hanging shirts in the wardrobe when he arrived.

Well, she wasn’t really hanging shirts up, rather standing with them in her arms, gazing at the huge mahogany four-poster that dominated his bedroom and trying to imagine how it would feel to lie there in his arms.

When he walked in, her eyes turned to him and she froze. He had already wrenched off his tie and undone the buttons on his shirt, and she stood transfixed, mesmerised by the broad expanse of hair-strewn chest exposed to her startled gaze.

‘Sorry—I was putting away your washing,’ she said weakly, and then lifted her eyes to his.

Something deep and dark shifted in them, and then he reached out his hand. ‘Is that a clean shirt?’

Wordlessly she gave it to him and he laid it on the bed, stripping off the one he was wearing and tossing it at the laundry basket. He reached for his zip and she swallowed.

‘Give me five minutes in the shower, could you, and I’ll be down for supper.’

She mumbled something incoherent and left, picking up his shirt as she went.

Mistake. It was still warm from his body, the subtle scent of his skin lingering on the fine cotton, and she buried her nose in it and breathed deeply.

Desire, hot and sharp, darted through her leaving her weak and trembling.

Angry with herself for such foolishness, she ran downstairs, threw the shirt into the washing machine ready for the next load and got the plates out, banging them on the table.

Idiot. What did she think she was doing? He was oblivious to her—quite oblivious. She meant nothing to him except in her capacity as nurse and housekeeper.

Supper was the usual chaotic event, and Beth’s quietness went unremarked. In fact had she been able to get a word in edgeways it would have been more remarkable.

As she watched Gideon in action with his children, the ache round her heart intensified. If only, she thought, but she had given up hoping long ago. Happiness would never come her way. She had always been on the outside looking in, from her childhood onwards. She had never belonged, never been wanted for herself.

Once she had thought she was truly loved, but it had been a foolish dream, and she should know better now than to indulge those dreams.

Dreams, after all, like hope, were easily shattered.

She washed up her cup and made her way to bed, snuggling under the quilt and blocking out all thoughts of Gideon. She thought instead of her job, of the people she had met and the lovely town which had made her so welcome.

Gradually she relaxed into sleep, but the dreams came then, dreams of her and Gideon and a huge old bed, of murmured sighs and soft caresses, of lightning heat and tender cries of love…

Gideon lay staring at the ceiling. Nothing he did would banish her. Even his shirt when he had taken it from her earlier held the lingering trace of her scent where she had held it against those small, soft breasts.

His body tautened, desire stabbing him, and he rolled on to his front, burying his face in a pillow.

Damn her. No, damn himself. She had done nothing. She was sweet and innocent, her face transparent.

The hunger he had seen on it was echoed now in his body, stalking his loins, making him ache for the release only Beth could give him.

Except she couldn’t, because he wouldn’t let her. He couldn’t. Damn it, she was nearer to Will’s age than his. What would she want with him?

And besides, the whole idea was fruitless. Beth was a forever person, a happy-ever-after and roses-round-the-door sort of girl. There was neither time nor emotion left in his life for the sort of loving she deserved.

Try telling his body that.

With a ragged groan he thumped the pillow and turned on to his side and made an effort to relax.

Slowly sleep came, but with it dreams—dreams of Beth, her slender limbs entwined around him, her mouth soft and warm against his skin, her eyes luminous with love.

He woke abruptly, his heart pounding, his body screaming for release. Unable to sleep, unable to tolerate the frustration and unwilling to examine the wash of loneliness that had hit him as he realised he was alone, he threw off the bedclothes, dragged on his clothes and went down to the study.

If he was going to be awake, he might as well be doing something useful.