A Vengeful Reunion. CATHERINE GEORGE
least I can take these off!’
Later, huddled under a quilt on the inflated mattress set up beside Fenny’s double bed, Leonie knew that even if the house were perfectly quiet she would still be awake. Seeing Jonah again, and, worse still, discovering that the old, familiar chemistry was as strong as ever, was no recipe for sleep. Seven long years, she thought bitterly, yet the pain still cut like a knife. When she’d posted Jonah’s ring to him and fled back to Italy that fateful spring her astounded parents had taken a lot of convincing before accepting her repeated explanation about changing her mind. They had taken to Jonah from the first. And very obviously still looked on him as the injured party. She gritted her teeth in frustration. Now he was in the neighbourhood, it was an impossible situation. And because everyone knew the school was closed she could hardly hurt her parents by running back to Florence again to keep out of the way. Nor would she. Jonah couldn’t be allowed the satisfaction of spoiling her unexpected holiday.
‘Are you awake?’ whispered Jess, closing the door quietly.
‘You have to be joking!’ Leonie switched on a lamp and sat up, eyeing the tray Jess put down beside her. ‘Do I smell hot chocolate?’
‘You certainly do. I’m a star,’ said Jess, handing her a steaming mug. ‘I take it I share with Kate? Good thing she’s so small.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed with a yawn, then sipped with relish. ‘I hope this sits well with champagne.’
‘So do I. If you get up in the night don’t wake me!’
‘Do you boss Roberto round like that?’
Leonie smiled demurely. ‘No. He’s the masterful type.’
Jess stared. ‘Really? Does that turn you on?’
‘A bit, I suppose.’
‘Personally,’ said Jess, grinning, ‘I think this Roberto of yours must be really something if he outdoes Jonah in the turning-on department.’
‘That was a long time ago,’ said Leonie dismissively.
‘Who are you trying to kid?’ Jess’s dark eyes mocked beneath the ash-blonde hair. ‘I saw you earlier on tonight.’
Leonie felt heat rush to her face. ‘You could see?’
‘Only because I was just behind you. No one else noticed, Leo. But from where I was standing—shuffling about, really; the boy couldn’t dance—it was pretty steamy.’
Leonie groaned and laid her head down on her knees. ‘Jonah was making an experiment to prove something to me. And it worked, damn him.’
‘Chemistry lesson?’
‘Exactly.’
Jess sighed. ‘No wonder you looked a bit hacked off when he asked me to dance.’ She grinned. ‘Not that I was flattered. I just happened to be nearest. He never said a solitary word except to thank me politely afterwards and take off as soon as he could.’
Leonie raised her head again, her eyes heavy. ‘It was so mortifying, Jess. The hormones still responded to Jonah no matter how hard the brain tried to put on the brakes.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that it matters. I’m unlikely to see him again.’
Jess frowned. ‘But if you still feel like that after all these years, Leo, couldn’t you bring yourself to forgive Jonah’s one indiscretion and get together again? I assume it was just the one?’ she added.
‘As far as I know. But don’t be fooled by what happened tonight, there’s absolutely no chance of my getting back with Jonah. Ever.’
‘Pity.’ Jess sighed, then stood up to wriggle out of her dress. ‘Though that’s tempting fate a bit, Leo. Never say never.’
CHAPTER THREE
NEXT morning, after what felt like only a few minutes’ sleep, Leonie got up early to help her mother provide breakfast for any of the guests who could face it. She slid out of bed as quietly as she could to let Jess and Kate sleep on, washed and dressed in Fenny’s little bathroom and went downstairs in the pale light of a cool spring morning.
Glad to find the kitchen empty, and her parents and Fenny still presumably sleeping, Leonie laid the big table, set out an array of cups and beakers on the central island, then filled kettles and got out coffee, sliced bread. Afterwards she made herself a pot of tea and some toast, surprised to find she was hungry. When her mother arrived a little later she smiled in surprise.
‘You’re early, darling, I hoped you’d sleep in for a bit.’
‘I opted for the inflatable mattress,’ said Leonie, grinning. ‘It was no hardship to desert it for the lures of breakfast.’ She poured tea for her mother, and offered to make toast.
‘Thank you, I think I will. Frankly I could have stayed in bed a lot longer this morning, but I had visions of pallid, hungover young things needing coffee and no one here to provide it.’
‘They could have gone over to the Stables and made Adam feed them.’
‘Always supposing they could wake him.’ Frances laughed. ‘I wonder how everyone slept? I imagine there was quite a fight for beds.’
‘Students are used to sleeping on floors,’ Leonie assured her. ‘I did it often enough in my youth.’
‘Darling, you talk as though you were Methuselah!’
‘I’m staring thirty in the face, Mother,’ Leonie reminded her.
‘You don’t look it this morning in those jeans. And last night you positively dazzled in that amazing dress. Nor was I the only one to think so.’ Frances buttered her toast and bit into it appreciatively. ‘I needed this. I didn’t eat much last night. And you abandoned your supper the moment Jonah arrived.’
Leonie eyed her mother in amusement. ‘Nothing gets by you, does it?’
The interlude of peace was short. In twos and threes the yawning party goers came down to join them. When Tom Dysart arrived with Fenny and Kate he gave a wry look into the room full of chattering females, and accepted with alacrity when offered a tray in his study.
Leonie took it in to him with the Sunday papers, stayed to chat for a while, then volunteered to fetch Marzi from the farm while Fenny and Kate had breakfast with the other girls. She collected a jacket from a peg in the scullery and went out alone into the crisp, bright morning, her lips twitching at the sight of drawn curtains and total absence of life in the Stables.
Leonie walked briskly down the drive and out on to the main road, passing only the occasional churchgoing car in the quiet of early Sunday. After a mile or so she turned down the lane which led to Springfield Farm, smiling at the sounds of yapping and barking in the distance as pungent, familiar smells came up to greet her. When she reached the farmhouse a young giant in stockinged feet opened the door in answer to her knock, Chris Morgan’s yawn changing to a grin at the sight of his visitor.
‘Well, well, Leo Dysart, home from foreign parts! Come in, come in.’
‘Hi, Chris, nice to see you again.’
Leonie kicked off her muddy boots in the back entry and followed Chris into the welcoming warmth of a kitchen where tempting smells of fried bacon hung in the air. Chris gestured towards the table and pushed the teapot towards her.
‘Sit down, help yourself. My father’s taken your dog out with ours. They’ll be back in a minute. My mother’s away, visiting my sister and new sprog.’
Leonie exclaimed in surprise. She’d attended primary school with both Chris and his sister Jenny. It came as a shock to hear that the new ‘sprog’ was Jenny’s third son.
Chris was all for providing Leonie with a vast fry-up, like the one he was devouring himself, but she shook her head, laughing.
‘I’ve had breakfast. And if I ate one like that every morning I’d need a new wardrobe.’