Freya North 3-Book Collection: Secrets, Chances, Rumours. Freya North
say.’
‘Tea, Tess?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘OK.’
‘Anything on the box, then, Joe?’
‘Ten o'clock news – shall we see what the world's up to?’
‘All right.’
‘I'll just check on Wolf again – take him out for a pee.’
‘Do you want a hand?’
‘No – we're fine.’
‘Cup of tea, Tess? A nightcap perhaps?’
‘No – I think I'd better go to bed. Look at the time!’
‘Bloody hell, you're right.’
It's bizarre. Neither of them fears rejection by the other – from the frisson that has underscored their waking hours today, they are both confident they wish for the same thing. Yet there they are, in separate beds on different floors both behind closed doors. And it's late now; really it's time for sleep never mind anything more active. But there she is, wide awake in bed and horny too. She's stuck, though, as if she's acutely aware that there's some finer point of sexual etiquette of which she's ignorant. And there he is, in his bedroom, standing by the window chiding himself for not reaching for her as she left the sitting room, even though that was over an hour ago. Her arm, her slender arm, the downy little hairs revealed only when the light catches them – her arm had practically brushed his when she left the sitting room. Why hadn't he put his hand out, pulled her onto his lap, kissed her and whispered something about coming to bed – or perhaps kissed her and found there was no need to say a thing? In fact, why the need for bed, per se – now Joe is torturing himself with images of him and Tess in naked abandon on one of his capacious sofas? It could have been so easy! But he's in his bloody bedroom, on his bloody own.
‘I've never had this problem before,’ he cusses. ‘I've rarely had to ask, even.’
I'll go to her room, he thinks. I'll just bloody well go to her room and knock on the door – and then I'll go right in.
Tess is thinking much the same thing. She hasn't had the thought about the sofas. The only place she's kicking herself for not being in, is Joe's arms. She has silently opened her door. She has hovered on the landing. But the route to his room, in the thick silence of the night, seems now to be a chasm over which there is only a precarious rope bridge. And she just doesn't think she's brave enough to test how strong it is.
So she goes back to bed.
And Joe goes to bed too because he sees it's almost two in the morning and he tells himself she'll be fast asleep by now.
It's five thirty a.m. Tess's dream is interrupted by a soft knocking. It's very strange, because the entire dream, in all its banal and convoluted detail, has been leading up to this moment of the sound of knocking. She opens her eyes and waits and there's the knock again. And she turns in bed and looks at the door handle and wills it to turn. It does. For a moment, she wonders whether it is telepathic kinetic energy – and she sincerely hopes not. It isn't. The door opens and in walks Joe. He sees she is already holding the quilt open for him and he tucks down beside her, their hips already starting to move in a gentle rhythm, their hands already reaching for each other, their lips already magnetized.
He whispers in her ear. ‘If I know Emmeline, we have a whole hour before she wakes.’
It was beautiful. It was beautiful because it could be played out against a backdrop of early summer, which had arrived now for good in a burst of bluebells and the clement weather scenting the air. The crocus might now have gone and the dog violet was on its way out, but primula sprang a chorus of yellow and cream alongside the proliferation of wild bluebells and tangle of wood sorrel. It was also beautiful because it was so private. The house – their castle. No one need know they were there. It was the perfect stage-set on which they could play out the happiness they felt. And, because it was so private, and they felt so happy, so it became all encompassing. There was no need to venture further afield than the perimeter of the grounds. They allowed nothing to trivialize their time together – no unnecessary excursions from the house, nothing as base as thoughts of work or worries about money. No unwelcome visitors encroached on the space they constructed. Well, one did but Joe told the bloke that no, Tess wasn't in and yes, he'd pass on that Seb had called by, though he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. The phone went unanswered. Well, Joe let Nathalie ramble on his Blackberry voicemail but he didn't return the call.
He likened the building of their relationship to the construction of the Brooklyn Bridge. The East River was too far to cross in a single span in 1883 so the towers were to be built in the river itself. To reach the bedrock through 24 metres of silt and sludge, a caisson was built – a watertight box on the river bed in which the miners could work safely. The caisson itself would go on to form the foundation for the massive tower to grow above. That was how it felt to Joe – he was willingly inhabiting a hermetically sealed space in which home life with Tess, even with Emmeline and Wolf, could develop and flourish. This time together, this safe and private caisson, would become the bedrock on which their relationship could prosper.
So she made a large batch of scones. And he made porridge for everyone. They drank wine and tea and had hot chocolate at elevenses. She sewed on his loose buttons and he tinkered with her car. She gave his bathroom a spring clean and he put the border up properly, permanently, in Emmeline's room. It was as though they were playing house, as though they were practising Happy Families and the more enjoyable it was, the more viable and real it felt. With Wolf improving by the hour and Em sleeping through the night and the constant pleasure of each other's company – whether chatting in the kitchen, or sharing quiet in the sitting room, or combining their bodies in bed, or being intrinsically aware of each other while they slept – it ceased to feel like playing or acting, it all felt pretty effortless. And because reality was apparently so easy to construct, the euphoria they felt became the norm, just a regular emotion, a state they were determined to cherish and maintain.
This was not the time to say, Joe, tell me more about your mother. Nor did Joe feel it appropriate to ask Tess why she'd left London in such a hurry. She didn't dare think about the French fancy with the BlackBerry in bed and he wasn't going to waste time wondering about some bloke called Seb who knew where she lived. Instead, he said, show me how to change a nappy, then. And she said, why don't we paint your bedroom. And they sorted out the larger shed in the garden and she found out he was just as wary of spiders as she was.
They'd kiss under the humming neon strip in the kitchen, as well as in the moonlit garden and of course in the thrill of a cool, dark bedroom. And late one night Joe said, Tess! I didn't know you'd do that! when she sucked his cock and swallowed. And early one morning she said, Joe! I didn't know I could do that! when he made her come twice in quick succession.
They grinned at Em when they broke away from one embrace in the courtyard to find her chortling and clapping. And they praised Wolf when he managed to wag his bandaged stump in response to Tess and Joe larking about with a tea towel and the water spray she used when she did the ironing. And when she did the ironing, Joe came up behind her and put his hands lightly on her waist and laid kisses up her neck and breathed in the scent of baby shampoo from her hair. And when he was doing The Times crossword, she sat herself on the edge of his tub chair and slipped her arm around his shoulders, laying her head against his to help him think. It's clipper, she said – 10 Across is clipper – trim shipshape. And he said, you're not just a pretty face, you know. And then he said, you don't actually know how naturally pretty you are, do you? He said, it's one of the things I love about you – you and your appalling hoodies and crap jeans. But Tess didn't hear the jibe about her clothes; her head was filled only with the sound of Love.
A week later, however, the phone went when they were in the kitchen debating whether 7 Across could be lummox because that meant 5 Down