Читать книгу For The Love Of Sara - Christopher Lee - Страница 6

CHAPTER 1

A thin chink of sunlight broke through the heavy drape curtain making a triangle of light on the nude on the wall. It was only a print, but a limited edition print. Grant had often wondered who she was. It’s how he imagined Helen of Troy might have looked. But why were all Greek goddesses portrayed as tall and willowy with long golden tresses when all the Greek women he had met were small, dark and invariably had a moustache? He smiled and thought about getting up.

It was 5.36 according to the radio alarm perched on a shelf under the picture. The plane was not due to take off until ten and all the packing had been done. Jill had seen to that. In her own inimitable way everything had been packed the night before, only the toilet bags to be included. Toilet bags, what an unfortunate term, sanitary bags? No, that was even worse.

He wondered if any of the children were up. The youngest two had still been awake when he and Jill had eventually gone to bed. They were so excited. It was to be their first time on a plane. Emma and Tim, the elder two, were old hands at flying.

“Don’t worry, Ben,” Tim had chided his younger brother. “If we do crash, you probably won’t feel a thing.”

There was no sound from the bedroom next door, so he guessed the children must still be asleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down in to the face of his wife. She was beginning to show her age, but was still an attractive woman. The four children had taken their toll on her 41 year-old body. Her breasts were now spread to either side of her chest. Her nipples were flat, like huge pimpled saucers. There were crow’s feet around the corner of her eyes, those oh so blue, blue eyes. The skin, once rosy pink was now tightly drawn over her high cheekbones and had a slightly yellow hue.

Their lovemaking the night before had not been earth shattering. Sex had become more of a routine for her, but remained a hungry need for Grant. Even when they had married twenty years ago it was never that good. He had never found the right button to turn her on. It didn’t seem to bother her, but it bothered Grant. Maybe if she had made love to someone else? But she never had. They met as teenagers and married four years later, their virginity a wedding gift to each other.

Maybe she should have had someone else. Maybe she will meet someone on this holiday – drink too much sangria and cop off with a couple of waiters. His hand wandered to his groin. Thinking of her with other men had always given him an erection. He was just about to take one of her exposed nipples in his mouth when he heard the bedroom door open. He pulled the duvet over her just as Ben poked his head around the door.

“Is it time to get up yet?” he asked.

Jill opened her eyes.

“What time is it?” She yawned and stretched leaving the duvet in danger of falling. She snuggled it close.

“Is anyone else up?”

“No only me,” said Ben. “Here mum, I had a dream last night and in it the plane did crash and it did hurt, not like Tim said.”

“And where did they bury the survivors?” Grant joked.

“Don’t be silly dad, they don’t bury survivors. I’m getting up,” and with that he disappeared round the door.

“That’s funny,” said Grant, putting his hand under the duvet, around his wife’s waist. I was about to do the same thing just before he came in.” Jill removed his hand, not amused. “I think you need a shower,” she said clutching the duvet tightly, “preferably a cold one.”