Love And Devotion Part 42

He sighed and his eyes met hers with a sad candour. 'Either way, it's obvious to me we're not going anywhere, are we? What was I? A shoulder to cry on?'

All she could do was repeat how sorry she was.

Chapter Sixty.

While Eileen was in the shower, Bob got the fire going and made a start on cooking breakfast: Toby looked on expectantly. There was nothing like the smell of bacon on a crisp, bright morning to make a man feel glad to be alive. And Bob did feel glad to be alive. His plan had worked and already he was feeling a lightness of spirit he could never have hoped for. When he'd been planning to spring his surprise on Eileen, he'd been scared that she would turn him down, that she would think he was still suffering from the madness that had consumed him these long, terrifying months. If she'd refused to go along with him, he didn't know what he would have done. But the risk had paid off and yesterday afternoon, after giving Eileen no more than an hour to pack a bag, he had driven them, plus Toby, to the marina and introduced her to their home for the next week. 'You're sure you want to do this?' he'd asked her. 'It could turn out to be a disaster.'

She'd kissed his cheek and said, 'We won't know until we've tried it, will we?'

The man from whom Bob had hired the narrowboat had instructed them on how it worked and explained how to operate a lock, and they were soon unpacked and off. They didn't have much daylight time left and before long they were mooring up for the night. It didn't matter that they'd only travelled a couple of miles north of Kings Melford; just to be away from the claustrophobic atmosphere of Maple Drive was enough to make Bob feel free. There were no other boats moored around them and it felt as if they had the entire ca.n.a.l to themselves. Eileen had heated up a steak pie he'd bought from Edna Gannet, along with some peas and carrots, and they'd had tinned peaches and cream for pudding. Accompanied by a bottle of wine, it had tasted like the best meal he'd had in ages. Things had then taken an amusing turn when they'd made a pot of coffee and were opening a box of chocolates he'd also bought from Edna. When he'd got the lid off the box, they'd found that the chocolates had turned a mottled white colour. 'That woman is priceless,' Eileen had laughed. 'We should keep them to see what excuse she comes up with to avoid giving us our money back. She'll probably eat one just to prove there's nothing wrong with them.'

They'd sat with their cups of coffee in the soft light cast from the lamps, listening to the sounds of the night - water gently lapping, an owl hooting, the wind gently rustling the nearby undergrowth. They'd talked too, as they did all the time now.

He still felt he didn't deserve Eileen's forgiveness and occasionally he doubted that he could ever make amends. She kept rea.s.suring him that he had to stop thinking this way. 'What we should do is pretend we've just met for the first time,' she'd said in bed last night. 'That we know nothing about each other and have to learn to get to know one another.'

'That would make us pretty fast and loose seeing as we're already in bed together,' he'd said with a smile.

She'd smiled shyly back at him and said, 'Maybe that's how I want to feel.'

He was still thinking about her remark and his response to it when Eileen appeared in the saloon. "Mm ... that smells wonderful,' she said. 'Anything I can do?'

'Yes, you can sit down and pour yourself some coffee. The cafetiere's on the table. How was the shower? Hot enough?'

'Plenty hot enough. I tried not to use too much water. I hate the thought of running out.'

'Don't worry, we'll top it up later today if need be. Toby, don't be a pest! Get out of my way or you'll end up with an egg on your head.'

Eileen watched her husband spooning hot oil over the eggs in the frying pan. The transformation was incredible. Bob was looking and sounding just like the man he used to be. If one night away from home could bring about such a miracle, maybe they should consider spending the rest of their lives on board this boat and just float away. It was a joy to see him so happy, something she never thought she'd see again. He'd been so tender with her in bed last night. Coc.o.o.ned in the compact little sleeping area at the front of the boat, she had lain awake long after he'd fallen asleep, listening to his breathing, just loving the thought of being so close to him again. Even the dull ache in her back and the heavy tiredness she felt this morning couldn't take away her happiness.

When they had tidied breakfast away, Bob got the boat ready to move on: they were doubling back on themselves today and heading south. Eileen's job - the only job he would allow her to do - was to catch and coil the ropes neatly after he had untied and thrown them to her, leaving the one at the front of the boat till last so that he could get back on board before the boat slipped away from the bank.

She felt a twinge of sadness at leaving their tranquil overnight spot as Bob opened up the engine and they pushed through the water, disturbing the gla.s.sy surface and the peace and quiet. Although the sun was out and there was little wind, they were both dressed for near-arctic conditions, with numerous layers beneath their fleeces, windproofs over the top, and thermal-lined hats and gloves. They stood side by side, Bob's arm resting on the tiller as he steered their course, his expression one of contented purposefulness. Down in the galley, Toby lay curled up in front of the fire. He might be warmer, thought Eileen, but she knew where she'd rather be. She had no idea how far she and Bob would travel in the week ahead, but she didn't care so long as they were together and as happy as this.

Harriet wasn't a gambler by nature, and she'd spent all of the last week agonising over the risk Miles had urged her to take.

After he had recovered his composure and they were both dressed, he'd sat with her at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, and as was so typical of him, had given her the opportunity not just to apologise but to talk about Will.

'I don't seem to be able to get him out of my mind,' she confessed.

'What do you think the attraction is?' Miles had asked.

'I don't know.' But she did. It was everything. The shape of his eyes, the way they crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way he wore his hair - just a bit too long - the way he tried not to wear his gla.s.ses in front of her because he was vain and thought they aged him. And then there was the way he held her, the way his hands could skilfully undress her - 'Did I mention that these hands are licensed to undress?' he'd once joked. The way he kissed her, the way he could make her weak with longing, and the way he could make her climax for ever and for ever.

'Do you want to get back together with him?' Miles had asked.

'I don't think it's possible,' she'd said. 'Or even a good idea.' She was thinking of Howard's advice to leave well alone, that Will was damaged goods and too vulnerable to get involved in a relationship.

'You can tell me to mind my own business,' Miles had said, 'but if I were you, I'd talk to him. Tell him how you feel. If he agrees with you that it's not a good idea, and there's every chance he might, then so be it.'

'But what if - ?'

'There are always going to be what-ifs, Harriet,' he interrupted. 'But for once in your life, stop a.n.a.lysing the situation and just go for it. If it all comes to nothing, so what? What will you have lost? And on that final piece of advice, I'm going home.'

She hugged him at the door. 'You're such a good friend, Miles. I'm sorry it worked out this way.'

'So am I. But perhaps we were only ever destined to be friends. Give me a ring next week to let me know how things have panned out.'

It was only now, a week on, that she had convinced herself to do as Miles had suggested. She would go and see Will and tell him how she felt about him. He might well throw her words back in her face, but at least she would have tried. She would call him later and see if he wanted to meet her for a drink.

Meanwhile, she had promised the children a walk.

They'd just stepped onto the towpath when Joel said, 'Look, there's a boat coming.' Sure enough, coming from the Kings Melford direction was a traditional narrowboat, its green, red and black paintwork cheerfully bright in the morning sunlight.

'They've got a dog on board,' Carrie said. 'He looks just like Toby.'

'It's Grandma and Granddad!' squealed Joel. 'Look, it is them! They're waving at us.'

Within minutes, her father was steering the boat in alongside them, and after Eileen had thrown Harriet a rope and they had the boat securely fastened, the children were helped on board. 'We can't stop for long,' Bob said. 'We're off who knows where.'

'Can we come?' asked Joel, down on the floor cuddling Toby.

'Another time, perhaps. Come and see the rest of the boat. We've even got a fire in the saloon.'

'Is it a real fire?' asked Carrie.

Leaving her father to show off the boat to the children, Harriet held her mother back and said, 'What's going on, Mum? Dad looks and sounds like a different man.'

'Not different. How he used to be.'

'Where's the boat come from? Have you hired it for the day?'

'We've got it for a week. Your father planned it as a surprise. It's so we can get away from everything and spend some time alone. We've only travelled a couple of miles from home, but in so many other ways we've covered more ground than you could ever imagine.' She gave Harriet a hug. 'Come on, let's go down and join the others in the warm.'

It was six o'clock when Will let himself in that evening. It had been a busy afternoon in the shop. Which was a good thing, he had decided. Having too much free time on his hands was to be avoided. Now that he could face people, including regular customers with their sympathy, the shop seemed a better option than being at home on his own. It was progress, he acknowledged, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up. He checked to see if there were any messages on his answering machine. There was only one, from Jarvis, saying he wouldn't be in until after lunch the next day - 'Just in case you were thinking of having a lie in, Laddie.' Will felt like ringing Jarvis back and telling him to stop worrying; he could be trusted to make it in to work these days. Even so, he was touched that the old man was still looking out for him, quietly working in the background to make sure his protege was functioning as he should be.

He went upstairs for a shower and after he'd changed into some clean jeans and a shirt, he went back downstairs to throw some supper together. He'd just opened the fridge to consider his options when the doorbell rang.

His first thought when he opened the door and saw Harriet was that he was glad he'd cleaned himself up. His second thought was to tell himself not to be so stupid and vain. She wasn't interested in him. Trouble was, just one look at her and he knew he'd never lost his desire for her.

Harriet's first thought when she saw Will was to forget the carefully prepared speech she'd practised in the car. Her decision to phone him and invite him out for a drink had also gone by the wayside, because she'd decided to let fate intervene. If he'd been out when she called in, she'd have taken it as a sign to leave well alone.

'h.e.l.lo Will,' she said. 'Is it a bad time to drop by?'

He stepped back to let her in. 'It's perfect timing. You can help me choose what to cook for supper. Better still, how about I open a bottle of wine and defer such a difficult decision?'

'That would be nice. But make mine a small gla.s.s - I'm driving.'

'Whatever you say. Here, let me take your coat.'

Their hands brushed as he took it from her and she knew she hadn't imagined what she still felt for Will.

'Where are the children, by the way?' he asked. 'You've not left them on the doorstep with a bottle of pop and a bag of crisps, have you?'

'No, they're with some neighbours.'

'Nice neighbours?'

'Horrible neighbours. They worship the devil and carry out satanic rites on the under-tens.'

He smiled. 'Sorry, that was a silly question. Come on through to the kitchen. You've settled in okay, then?'

'Yes, it feels like we've always been there. You must come and see us. Carrie and Joel would love to see you again.'

'I'd like that. Chardonnay okay for you?'

'Thank you.' While she watched him take out the cork and pour the wine, she wondered if she could go through with what she'd come to say. The fear of being rejected, of being rebuffed, was making her nervous. And she'd never been nervous in Will's company before.

'There you go,' he said. 'Cheers. Good to see you.'

They clinked gla.s.ses and she took an enormous swig of Dutch courage.

'How are your parents?' he said, leaning back against the worktop and crossing his legs at the ankles. 'Your father in particular.'

'They're well.' She told him about them going off in the boat Dad had hired and how much good it was doing them already.

'That's fantastic. I almost wish I could do the same.'

'Yes, it certainly has its appeal,' she said absently. She chewed on her lip. As happy as she was for her parents, their unexpected holiday was the last thing she'd come here to talk about. She fiddled with the metal links of her watch strap. What if Will wasn't strong enough yet to consider his own happiness? What if, just like her after Felicity had died, he thought it indecently inappropriate? She knew all too well that grief could behave like a demanding and possessive lover. From nowhere it could jealously strike you down with a guilt-laden blow, reminding you that you didn't deserve to be happy or move on.

'You okay?' he asked. 'You look on edge. Something bothering you?'

Tell him.Go on, just say the words. 'Oh, you know me, always something on my mind. What was it you said once? That I vibrated at the speed of light?'

He smiled. 'Let's go and sit down and see if that will have the required calming effect. I'm afraid I haven't lit a fire yet. It's all ready to go, though; I just need to throw a match at it.'

In the sitting room, she watched him light the fire and after he'd put the box of matches on the mantelpiece, the phone rang.

Will made his excuses and disappeared out to the kitchen to answer the telephone. Within seconds he had returned the receiver - it was one of those wretched overseas cold calls - and was wondering what to do about Harriet. It was obvious that she'd come here to tell him something, but at the rate she was going, she'd still be here at midnight trying to get the words out. He decided to give her a helping hand. If he'd got it wrong, then so be it.

Back in the sitting room, he said, 'Sorry about that. It was one of those polite but annoyingly persistent women from a call centre somewhere along the banks of the Ganges.' He sat on the sofa next to Harriet, just inches from her, but kept his gaze on the fire straight in front of them. 'I told her to call later when I'd finished entertaining an ex girlfriend of mine. She was most intrigued and asked why you were an ex. I said it was complicated. She asked if there was any way of starting afresh and I said I didn't know, that I'd have to look into it. She suggested I get right back in here and ask you straight out if there was any chance of us getting it together again. I told her, "Hey, this is no pushover currently sitting on my sofa. She's one sa.s.sy girl who isn't going to be rushed into anything."' He tutted and shook his head. 'I don't know, these call centres, they have some nerve, don't they? Poking and prying into other people's lives. Where will it all end, I wonder?'

There was a slight pause before Harriet said, 'Did the woman offer any other words of advice?'

Picking up his gla.s.s of wine from the coffee table and turning to face her, he said, 'Well, she did finish off by saying that she thought you sounded like you were too good for me.'

'I'm sure she didn't and if she did, she was wrong. It's the other way round if you ask me. Did she say anything about you being particularly vulnerable at the moment and maybe a relationship would be unwise?'

'Actually, she said it would be the best possible answer. That having someone special in my life would stop me from feeling sorry for myself.'

'She sounds like she knows what she's talking about.'

'Yeah, I thought so too.'

'So what do you think we should do?'

'I think that rather depends on you, doesn't it?'

Harriet took his gla.s.s from him and put it back on the table. She then touched his face with her fingers, tracing the outline of his jaw. He briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, she kissed him softly on the mouth. 'The thing is, Will, I can't stop thinking about you. I tried to, but you wouldn't go away.'

'Are you saying I'm like a bad smell?'

She smiled. 'No. You're the kindest, funniest - '

He put a finger to her lips. 'I told you before; I'd make do with being the s.e.xiest.'

'Care to prove it?'

'I'm nothing but a s.e.x toy to you, aren't I?' he said later, in bed.

'You mean far more to me than that, Will.'

Hearing how serious she sounded, he said, 'I was joking.'

'For once I'd like you not to.'

He leaned over, suddenly needing to hear the words. 'Tell me what I mean to you, then.'

She swallowed. 'You mean more to me than anyone has before.'

'Does that scare you?'

'Yes.'

'Imagine how I feel. Definitely the wrong side of forty and totally blown away by you.'

'It's not the age thing that bothers me.'

'What, then?'

'It's ... it's the logistics of being together. I can only be here now because my neighbours have helped me out.' She looked at her watch. 'And I really ought to get going soon. I mustn't take advantage of Stewart and Diana.'

He shushed her with a kiss. 'Stop worrying. We'll sort it. There's always a way to do these things.'