CHAPTER THREE
Gradually winter gave way to the insistence of spring and days at Driftwood Acres became more hectic. More horses grazed the paddocks and almost daily there were more inquiries. Jellie was in her element, finding her feet and beginning to love the regular interactions with her young pupils. The renewed contact with horses had wrought wonders. Close affinity with these noble beasts tapped once again into her unspoken, animal self. That wilder, more elemental Nigella was given freedom to be. The vital, primary essence that was her flew, liberated to express itself in their company, a release she couldn’t find with humans.
By word of mouth aspiring young riders kept turning up for lessons. The children, mostly girls, but she had two older boys, brought Jellie out of herself like no others. She had a natural flare for getting across to these youngsters the best way of obtaining their mount’s co-operation. She possessed skills which she loved to impart and found the whole process rewarding and fulfilling. She was not satisfied with teaching them just to sit and look right; she wanted her young charges to develop a respect for their horse. In addition, she held the well-being of rider and horse as paramount and to this end coached the juniors in horse-leading and general self-discipline around animals. Being aware of their body language ensured a safer environment for all involved and actually enhanced the joy of riding. The more advanced pupils co-operated in teaching their mount to pass through openings, as in different sized gateways. She introduced them to riding in pairs.
It became necessary to purchase ponies for the stables, for the tots who didn’t yet know if they wanted to ride. Jellie was keen to tailor lessons to the client’s ability and confidence level. This meant the kids were always comfortable with her and as a consequence, they gave her their love and the time they spent in the practice ring was special. Even the cry-babies she won over. Mal enjoyed watching her with the little ones, she was such a natural.
By now they both had their own mount, for old time’s sake re-named Burrow and Talbot. Burrow was a thoroughbred mare, six years’ old, chocolate brown with a full-length, white blaze and all four fetlocks pure white. She was a real beauty with the softest, most velvety of muzzles. Talbot was a thoroughbred/quarter horse cross gelding, seven years’ old. His coat was a golden tan with black mane and tail, standing at fifteen hands. As they built up their stock however, a point was made of riding all the animals, important as it was, to have a working knowledge of the school horses.
Jellie had been studying during the winter months to obtain her instructor’s accreditation with horseridingcoach.com, but still she had weekly lessons. She was committed to improving her riding skills and had taken a keen interest in dressage. This was a long-term goal; a skill she hoped she and Burrow would develop between them over time. For now she was working on her prelim. level and loving it.
Mal was content to be supportive and not interested in more than that. In her role as general manager she was responsible for the overall operation of the business and for ensuring a high standard of safety at all times. This was not however, to detract from the client experience at Driftwood Acres, which they wanted to be filled with fun and satisfaction. Both had come to realise with the growing success of the school, they would need to invest in a covered arena. They already had a seven metre, round yard for warming up and cooling down, plus ground work. The undercover should be some sort of open, sand area where they could not only conduct classes but, when the time came, mount gymkhanas. Even, they dreamed of holding horsemanship clinics and conceivably presenting dressage displays. An anticipated bonus would be the extension of their instruction season, possibly increased by up to four weeks.
Mal had talked at the hospital to her co-workers and had been referred to Birmingham Steel Fabricators as the best people for her needs. This had proved an excellent lead. The firm had great depth of experience in all types of structural engineering and erection. She wanted a wide span, if feasible 60m x 20m, enough that one day they could incorporate spectator seating. It was important that the roof over the arena be absolutely secure and safe. Jellie was apprehensive. The idea of such a structure not collapsing was too hard to get her head around.
In addition, Mal felt the time had come to hire some riding school assistants, locals who probably had day jobs that did not involve horses. She proposed advertising for people who would like to turn their hobby or passion for horses into some form of paid employment. She believed dedicated horse people like these would be exactly right for what they were trying to achieve at Driftwood. At first Jellie had been unsure, but with this new-found assertiveness, she was coming to understand the extent of her capabilities and therefore the need to be released in some part, from the routine work. The advertisement would be in Saturday’s Gazette and she might get her first taste of interviewing as soon as tomorrow. More apprehension! They could start the assessment by taking the prospective employee on a tour of the facilities. That completed then they could begin the formal questioning.
Saturday the phone ran hot and that afternoon saw them interviewing two aspiring riding instructors with three more lined up for Sunday. They had Delinda Knobel and EJ Ramsay arrive at the same time. Delinda was the same age as Jellie and had been riding since she was five. By thirteen years of age she had begun competing in hacking and Three-Day Eventing, so although still young, she was old in experience. Jellie warmed to her, but Mal was concerned with the lack of exposure to actual instruction. As to that, Delinda was currently working toward her certificate with Horse Safety UK. For now, Mal considered her an excellent candidate for assistant stable manager, with positive prospects to move up to riding instructor once she had her certification.
EJ was a very different proposition. His background lay with the racing industry. He was in his mid-forties and although he still loved horses, he was over the pre-dawn to midnight hours that the trade demanded of a groom. He was experienced in all aspects of the successful running of a racing stable, from hot-walker to exercise rider. His manner was slow, but he struck Mal as a reliable asset. Jellie was hesitant. She could see herself working with someone like Delinda – but EJ? There were no decisions to be made yet. They would see what tomorrow would bring.
Nessa Dorritt was a shoe-in. She had been a riding school assistant. Of a motherly disposition, she nonetheless exuded a staunch dependability in her craft. Her energy and enthusiasm gave her the skill to start off nervous beginners and advance the experienced ones. They both wanted her, but had to say they would get back.
Of the remaining two, only Starr Keoghan had any chance. She was a local like Delinda. Her day-time work was at a kindergarten, so her hours were flexible from then on. The bonus with Starr was her competence with children. Still only young herself, her rapport with the younger clients would make her a perfect assistant. Preparing the horses for lessons, grooming and tacking up, helping with feeding and mucking out, it was all good to her.
That night they sat in the office and went through the resumés with care, in the end opting for experience. EJ was to be their all-round odd-job man, Nessa of course, and Starr to come in part-time, after school and on weekends. They decided to wait on Delinda until she had gained her certificate.
They retired that night feeling well satisfied. Jellie would talk it over with Connor in the week, to set up contracts and make sure their work-place health and safety regulations were all in order. Mal was now resigned to Con’s constant presence at Driftwood. She didn’t know how it had happened, but over time, he seemed to have engineered it to make himself indispensable to the smooth running of their operation. Oh, she knew they had a lot to learn and business had steadily been picking up; there were always accounts, but he had managed to find something to do, even on weekends. Still there was no denying it, he was a great help to Jellie. She had learned lots under his tutelage and it was obvious she did enjoy his company. Many were the times she had seen them in the office, their heads together, laughing over something. She recalled an occasion when Jellie was having a wonderful ‘virtual’ experience; they were scrolling through the Prado Art Gallery in Madrid, relishing all the masterworks on view. Her eyes had been alight with wonder and her spirits high.
More and more she was feeling side-lined, but she had to get herself squared off to this new reality. She didn’t want Jellie to develop into contested terrain, fought over with undue brutality. If it should be that Con would steal her heart, then he did seem to be someone capable of looking after her – his weekends never passed him by, wasted. Still, sometimes, there was this feeling almost too good to be true. She couldn’t put her finger on it, just a vague uneasiness at the edge of her mind – was he covering something up? She was not aware of it when he was with Jellie. No, it was his interaction with her that was bothersome and unsettling, only saying what he thought she wanted to hear.
Will the real Connor please stand up!
Con’s master plan was working out very well. He knew the exact extent of Nigella’s investments and they were growing handsomely. He viewed the world as his private vending machine, one where he didn’t have to pay for the privilege of its use. His grandiose opinion of himself made him as ruthless in life as he was in business. Not a violent man, but he lacked true empathy. Con was a virtuoso at turning on the charm, but in truth, he considered people as objects; his to exploit and manipulate. He could read the signs that he was getting closer to Nigella. However, he had expected to have made more progress by now, at least on the intimacy front. There had not even been a kiss. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t spontaneously made the move herself. That was all he was waiting for. Perhaps it was time to prod things along. Still, he had Miley in the wings, she was cool, but he wanted more.
* * *
Having made their selection and thinking this was the end of the matter one more applicant appeared on the Driftwood horizon. He was younger than EJ, but still well experienced, a seasoned Eventing competitor. Show jumping was his expertise. This was the only side of their operation that was not accounted for. Jellie hadn’t thought to develop this aspect, too lacking in confidence to take on such a challenge. Tyson Speight had all the right stuff and like Nessa, was relatively new to the district. He had checked out the other schools, but they were too set in their grooves. He oozed the confidence Jellie lacked and had all the knowledge and skills required to make a go of it – with Miss Patchford’s money of course. Here was the sticking point. Con believed he was too much of a financial risk. Jellie wanted to do it. She thought Tyson was a God-send and perfect for the proposition.
Con’s patience came close to splitting then his anger finally broke through. “For pity’s sake Nigella, don’t be so bloody ridiculous! You’ve got years yet to build up the jumping side. What’s the rush?” ’Til now he had kept his explosive temper well hidden, but this provocation saw him lose control. His face became unyielding; contorted and unadorned. The polish and smoothness of urbanity were gone. He had been at the stables the day Speight came for his interview and discerned in him someone Nigella would find extremely attractive. He himself had no horsemanship. This fellow had all the skills – and the good looks. Not conventionally handsome his was a healthy, rugged, out-doors appeal and a knock-out physique to go with it. All that riding, he had thought resentfully.
His long legs were sheathed in tight-fitting jeans, tucked into brown riding boots. His wide shoulders were shown off to advantage in the sleeveless, fleece-lined jacket he wore unbuttoned, exposing a broad expanse of chest covered by an open-necked, plaid shirt. Bright, hazel eyes above a sharply ridged nose had looked with keen perception at the Driftwood Acres set-up. It had been obvious he had liked what he saw. Bear-headed, the biting wind had appeared not to touch him as it romped through his nut-brown hair, the reddish tints accenting his spirited energy. All in all he presented as heartily robust, capable of turning his hand to anything he might feel inclined to take on.
Mal liked Tysons’s style. With her grounding in horses in the Australian outback, she could see where he was coming from. Although she had never thought of taking on jumping, her spirits lifted at the prospect. This would be more in her line and she liked the idea of tackling something different especially now the gym was no longer an option. Once this took off, she would be sure to be one of his first novices. She had always felt comfortable in male company and was recognising that this aspect had been missing; that gruff camaraderie she had taken for granted with Gavin’s mates. They had shared experiences and jokes; it had all been good fun. She and Tyson were like-minded; spoke the same language from the ‘get go’. She couldn’t understand Con’s vehemence. She was with Jellie, this was the break they should grab. To have someone with his training and proficiency turn up on their doorstep –awesome!
Connor was forced to concede, although reluctantly. He pointed out that they had not actually seen him do any of this stuff. It was all on paper. Nonetheless, the following week Tyson joined their team. He was in construction for his day job, allowing him weekends only, but he fitted well into their schedules and related pleasantly with the other members. When he was not with Jellie or Nessa, he and Mal would get their thinking caps on, working out the details for the jumping program and its requirements. She found herself re-energised; able to let go of her concerns over Con and Jellie. The knot of plaguing torment which seemed to accompany her everywhere would temporarily untangle, allowing a welcome release. Certainly, her head appreciated the break. That green-eyed goddess, whose spirit sapping potency could leave her feeling so drained, would be held at arms’ length, even if only temporarily.
* * *
The month of May brought Mal to her twenty-sixth birthday. Jellie wanted to throw a party in her honour. Mal was all for letting it pass, but she would hear none of it. “You must make up a list and I’ll send out the invitations,” she pursued.
“Jells, people are more casual these days.”
“No. I can do up a fun one on the computer and send it as an E-mail,” she countered doggedly. “Just give me their addresses.” She would not be deterred. Mal looked sceptical. “I can do this, honestly.” Her eyes blazed with certainty as she gave an emphatic nod and Mal knew it would be in Jellie’s best interest to give in to her.
“All right love. It would be fun to have a bit of a bash and thank you, but only if the drinks are on me.”
Once her mind was turned in the direction of this event she threw herself into the swing of things, with zest. They would have it catered to be relieved of kitchen responsibilities. She contacted De-Lish Hospitality for Jellie, who derived great satisfaction from working with the chef. They spent a profitable hour going through all the interesting selections of hors d’oeuvres to circulate throughout the evening, hot and cold. She was reminded of Mama, when on the odd occasion she would burst in to find her carefully selecting the menus with Mrs. Aldred and she would be allowed to stay until they were done. She was coming to appreciate these spasmodic vignettes and cherish the experience, free now to share the memories with Mal. This made them even more special. No longer did she need to fear the past or was saddened by it.
Mal looked after the drinks as promised. She phoned Tudor Court Cellars and put in an order which was really over the top. She wanted to be sure that all preferences would be accommodated. Anything not drunk could go down to start their own cellar. While she set to with the list, Jellie amused herself on the computer pulling up every design she could access and not making a decision until she had exhausted all avenues. In the end she selected a cute and colourful depiction of a pony kicking up its hooves, mane flying tail kinked in frivolity, inviting the reader to join them at the best darned corral in town. She added a border of lucky horseshoes to finish it off.
Unfortunately, this month was the harbinger of contention between Mal and her parents. They were over the disappointment of not having their daughter with them for Christmas, but now the phone call had come to let her know that Gavin and his girlfriend had decided to make it official. He and Kryssi Blake were to be married. June and Stan were exceptionally pleased this had all come about. They thought Kryssi a lovely girl and she made Gavin very happy.
The wedding was going to be a special affair for the Mason family and the Blakes would be sparing no expense to give their daughter the send-off she deserved. It would be an August wedding in the cool of the year, so she had ample time to get herself organised.
“Mum, I don’t see how I can get away just now, were just getting things sorted. There’s no way I can take time off. Nigella needs me here.”
“Mallory, you’ve been gone nearly five years. Don’t you think it’s time you thought of your family, too?” June’s voice had taken on an edge of impatience. “Anyway, who is this person that you put her before us?” she had asked caustically.
“Mum, it’s not that. I would like to be there; to be a part of it all and to see you and Dad. Of course I would.” She had been disconcerted to find herself on the defensive.
“Well, what’s stopping you?” June had asked tersely with implied criticism. Then her voice had softened, she didn’t want this to be an argumentative phone call. “The other thing to mention, while we’re talking about weddings is that Dad and I would love to hear you’ll be settling down soon.” Her warmth had returned. “Have you found any nice young man over there? If you come back, perhaps you’ll meet someone here? My, wouldn’t a double wedding be fabulous?”
Mal had no immediate come back to all this. What could she say? “Listen Mum, leave it with me and I’ll see what I can do,” had been her eventual response, still struggling with the proposals. “As to the other … no, I haven’t met anyone.” The call had concluded under distinctly conflicting circumstances. She could tell her mother was not pleased, but she hadn’t been the least prepared for such a request and as a result, had finished off unconvincingly tongue-tied.
For the next few days Mal was very much exercised by this tight corner. She knew she really should make the effort to do this, but it was true there was too much happening at Driftwood. She really couldn’t see how it was possible. In addition – she was Jellie’s official guardian and carer. Could she get someone else for her? How would she take to that?
A week later she called Australia and her mum answered. This time the call went even worse. Her mother just could not see.
“You never spoke about this person before and now she seems to be absorbing your life.” Her voice had risen in that way Mal knew would lead to appeals to her better nature; meant to tug at her heart-strings and make her yield.
“Nigella’s my responsibility Mum. I’m her guardian. It’s all legal,” she had retorted, with sudden fierceness.
This set June back. “Are you telling me there’s no-one else can do this job but you?” she had asked scathingly. It was a cutting way to put it, but the words were out already.
“No Mum, I’m sure there are other people out there capable enough. It’s just not as simple as you want to make out,” she had tried to explain, shielding the truth even to herself. She had not wanted to go into detail, but had felt she was losing ground.
A snap of temper erupted. “I’m not trying to ‘make anything out’, as you say. I’m just trying to grasp why you don’t want to be a part of this family. Gavin will be very upset. His own sister! We all will. It’s not like he’ll have loads of family on his side of the church.”
Again Mal had had to let it go, promising to get back as soon as. She felt quite disrupted by all this. She was supposed to be excited over the up-coming party, but here she was wishing it would all go away and on top of everything, Con had made the suggestion to take Jellie to a dinner dance in the city. A friend had invited him to a works’ function. She could see Jellie really wanted to go. She herself, was not invited and although she wanted to say ‘no’, she had to say ‘yes’. Over and above all this, her boss was adding pressure to increase her hours. So far, she had been able to stall the change, but she could see time was running out. It was obvious Nikki was under considerable constraint too, with such an inordinate increase in their caseloads.
It hit her surprisingly hard to witness Jellie’s exuberance at the prospect of this special evening: the clothes, the hair, the jewellery and for this occasion she wanted to wear her pearls. Everything had to be agonised over. She put on a compliant face, but inside was being eaten up with frustration. It felt like her head was too full of packing and soon would be ready to explode if something did not give – and soon.
“Mal, is everything all right?” She watched her face.
“Of course Possum, why do you ask?” Jellie could see the difficulty she had in forming the words.
It was the Friday evening before the ‘big’ night. At last she had everything together, including matching shoes and evening purse, both adorned with pearl droplets. Her full length dress was a gentle, silvery green, satin brocade which showed off her colouring to perfection. She had chosen a slim, low-waisted skirt as it reminded her of Mama at the last dinner. She liked to feel she was emulating as closely as possible, her mother’s style. She was sure if she could see her, she would have her approval. They were sitting together after dinner, the day’s work done and the dress carefully put away until tomorrow.
“I wish you were coming too. Is it something you would like?” She would not feel so confident amongst all those strangers without Mal, but with Con by her side she was sure she could get over it.
“Do you think I’m upset because I’m not going to the ball?” Mal tried to make a joke of it, but the expression in her eyes was obscure, with only the shadow of a smile to touch her lips.
“Are you?” The green eyes darkened in their search to find the truth in the face before her.
She raised her eyes to meet them: “Not at all. Dinner dances aren’t my style,” she responded rather curtly, dismissing the idea.
“Something is bothering you Mal. You haven’t been yourself, I can tell,” she persisted, concern shading her sympathetic features. Mal wouldn’t spoil her pleasure, but Jellie had picked up on her frame of mind. She decided to explain about her parents’ plans for the wedding. Jellie’s immediate response; she should go. She could manage on her own.
“Con will help me with Driftwood. Anyway, we’ve got Nessa and EJ in every day … and Tyson on the week-ends.” Her tone was final on the matter.
Mal remained silent. She was conscious of her uncertainty. All this was true, but still – why was she not happy at this prospect? If she searched her heart, perhaps she would find that green-eyed goddess lurking there. If she left Con in charge, would she return to find the trajectory of her life completely changed, perhaps another wedding? What a hapless turn of events. She was not liking the look of herself, or her life, just now. It seemed that all vitality and any decisive spirit had been exhausted.
Jellie watched the outward signs of the inner turmoil that was turning Mal inside out. She wished she could say something to make her feel better, but she didn’t know what that might be. Instead, bestowing a look of tenderness on this unhappy woman, she got up from her seat to put her arms around her and hold her tight. Mal melted into the embrace. The warmth of this response caused Jellie to experience a powerful well-spring of emotion. It overflowed from her heart to her lips as she bent her head to kiss the hot, tear-stained cheek. “Dearest, what’s upsetting you. You know you can tell me anything.”
Mal pulled away. She didn’t like this ‘girlie’ stuff and saw it as a weakness to be subjugated – an inexcusable ‘giving in’. Nonetheless, how could she resist? Jellie’s response to her need had glowed so pure and bright it had melted the ice of her darkness until it flowed like a river of purifying spring water, washing away her pain and her doubts.
“Oh, take no notice of me Jells. I think I’ve been over-doing it at work … and then this wedding business …” She looked up at her and tried to smile. The brave face did not quite come off, but she still stayed close, unwilling to break totally free.
“You don’t have to make a decision yet, do you?” she questioned, turning her luminous eyes on Mal, their flecks of green and blue irresistibly drawing her in. “You could give it time and see what eventuates,” she suggested, hoping to temper the bleakness in that unsheltered voice.
“Right again Jells,” she conceded. “Nothing has to be decided right away. Who knows what the circumstances might be, come August?”
* * *
Jellie’s evening at the dance did not live up to expectations, but it started out well enough. Con collected her in good time. She looked stunning; a most beautiful attachment to his persona and Mal sent her off in high spirits.
“Now don’t you worry Mallory, she’s in good hands,” he assured her loftily. “I’ll take good care of this precious package,” he added as he scanned Jellie’s eyes and gave her waist a proprietary squeeze. He looked debonair in his tuxedo, a red carnation in the buttonhole to match the cummerbund. A cool dude in trendy threads, there was no mistaking that.
They arrived at the conference rooms, glitteringly arranged for an evening of celebration, slightly late. They were a handsome couple and all heads turned. More gratifying even, was the admiration he observed in Jason’s eyes when the introductions were made. Jason’s girlfriend Leah, who was a year or two older than Jellie, was petite and bubbly. She had met Jason in the local coffee shop, when their lunch breaks coincided. True, Jellie didn’t know anyone, but Jason and Leah were in high spirits too, out to have a good time; it was easy to be swept along on this exuberant tide of merrymaking.
After the dinner, she had to sit through meaningless deliberations, but she didn’t mind. She and Leah were in the same boat, every now and then exchanging conspiratorial glances and having a giggle over what they wrote off as ‘pontificating’. It seemed that annual awards were to be distributed to those considered worthy and Jason was counted among this number. They duly admired the pin on his return from the dais. Eventually, the formal proceedings came to an end and the real festivity could begin.
Further introductions ensued and as the evening worn on and dancing was in full swing, Jellie found herself with many different partners. Con was an accomplished dancer and helped her to move her body to the beat in the disco and Latin numbers. Approaching midnight the tempo slowed, became more romantic and couples seemed to pair off. By this stage everyone was well tanked and hanging loose. Jellie noticed how Jason wrapped himself around Leah as though they were one unit on the floor. Con wanted to dance like this, but to her it felt strange. She held herself stiffly, slightly pulling away.
“Come on Nigella loosen up,” the smile on his lips dying before it was real and his words, although slightly slurred, were commanding. Con was in total control of his faculties and he knew what he wanted. Jellie, so unused to such physical proximity began to panic. Con was strong. The music came to an end and before the band set up another number, she suggested they get a breath of air. Although the night was windy, French-doors opening onto the balcony had been left ajar for fresh air. They stepped outside, the only couple, to lean on the balustrade. It was a romantic, starry night, the cold air refreshing on their faces. Con took Jellie in his arms and, searching her face whispered: “You are the most irresistible woman I have ever met.” With this statement he fastened his eyes on her lips, bent his head and brought his mouth to hers. She was so taken by surprise, there was no time to pull away and she found herself on the receiving end of a most thorough exploration of her mouth. Her head pounded as her thoughts began to whirl, out of control. What could she do? Con was her friend. Was this what was to be expected? As friends, should she be enjoying this? She wasn’t! But she didn’t want to upset him. He was not meaning to do her harm – was he? At last he stopped. This was a relief. However, more upsetting than the kiss was the way he was pressing himself against her; his brawny, but supple body moving easily, as though to grind himself right through. This part she found undeniably repellent. Fortunately, a boisterous wind kept banging the doors. The loud, incessant noise served to remind him where he was. He took her hand and steered her back inside, insensitive to any previous reluctance.
“There you are! We thought we’d lost you.” Jason’s voice rang out as he approached them, Leah in tow. “We’re going to call it a night,” he informed Connor with a wink. To make quite sure he got the message he added: “We’re going back to my place.” Con had no such pad.
“OK guys. Enjoy your night.” Hollow words since he did a poor job of keeping the resentment out of his voice. The girls said their goodbyes then Con and Jellie wandered back to their table. A few others were there, nursing night-caps. “You want something, lovey?”
“Just a coffee if they still have some.”
His face compressed with remembered exasperation, but he made no comment and soon returned with the coffee for her and a Chivas on the rocks for himself. He talked a little with his neighbours, but when the band struck up a samba, he grabbed her hand and they were off again. She liked this better. It was more fun; less intense. Perhaps she had been over-reacting. Two of these dances then the band slowed down. This time she knew what to expect and followed his lead. She held her body with the assumption of compliance and they danced well together. Con picked up on the difference and tried for another kiss. He kept it brief, but Jellie felt trapped, sensing more to come.
“Let’s go somewhere private.” His lips pulled thinner as his eyes studied her.
“No Con, I don’t want to.” Panic was in her voice, images of Fulton House in her head. He didn’t hear it, or deliberately took no notice. This time, lost in his own lust he dragged her in the other direction, towards the corridor where he found a deserted room. Inside he immediately grabbed her and started again. Jellie was ready.
“Connor no, I don’t want this!” she cried out.
With lust and the drink combined, he was not about to stop. His heat made him stronger, but Jellie was determined to fight free and in a moment, when he stumbled, off balance in his fumbling, she helped him over with a big shove and made for the door. Going down, his head caught the side of a conference desk, it tipped over with a loud crash breaking his fall. He remained there, sprawled on the floor, but she didn’t wait to see if he got up.
Shocked and angry tears flooded Jellie’s eyes. She dashed them away, knowing what she must do. She collected her silk purse and made for the wash-room. With a shaky thumb she SMS’d Mal who immediately called her back. Not taking time to go into detail, in a voice she struggled to bring under control, she gave the address and said she would be waiting in the downstairs Ladies.
With caution, she retraced her steps to the cloak-room for her wrap. It was located at the entrance to the ballroom so there was no risk of bumping into Connor and anyway, she was not about to hang around. She didn’t want him to find her. He would have to work out for himself what had happened.
The elevator took her to the lobby. The washrooms were around the corner. Inside, she looked at her reflection, expelling a shuddering breath. Her face was ashen, her eyes almost black as she took the pearls out of her hair. She collected her brush from her purse, in readiness if anyone came in, to appear to be rearranging her coiffure. Her wait lasted almost forty-five minutes during which time her anxiety level rose by jerky degrees. She didn’t think Connor would come into a female toilet, but if he were determined to find her, that would not stop him. In the end she sat in a cubicle and sank her head to her knees, trying to steady her nerves. She relived the crumbling and humiliating encounters with him and experienced again her disbelief that he could treat her so contemptuously. She had thought there was a warm rapport between them; certainly that he respected her, but a warped and hurtful streak had been masked by a false friendship.
At last she heard her name and flung herself out, straight into Mal’s arms.
“Darling, let’s get you out of here.” She didn’t wait for explanations, heading straight for the door, leading the way to the car. The prominent tears, eyes red-rimmed, had told her enough. For a moment, before collapsing, Jellie had looked at her, her pain completely undisguised.
The car was still warm and with relief Jellie sank down into the seat, breathing great gulps of air. Gradually she felt the tension ebb and her body begin to relax. Mal didn’t seek clarification, concentrating only on getting them home. A slight drizzle had come out of the sky, but at this time of night the roads were clear and she made better time. They were at Knowle village inside thirty minutes.
Mal had been in bed when the call came through. Unable to sleep with Jellie gone, she had been watching a late movie. It was a good one: Bank Job. She had seen it before, but was happy to have it keep her company; possibly able to provide a more powerful distraction. Sometimes it did; sometimes not.
When the mobile had lit up she knew instantly who it was. Immediately alert, she had read the message: Please get me Best Western Hotel. Wasting no time she had shrugged into track pants and wind breaker over the PJs. The whole way on the drive her head had wrestled with what could have gone wrong. At least she knew Jellie was not broken and bleeding, like she had agonised last time. Nonetheless, something was seriously amiss for an urgent summons at two o’clock in the morning. With the dismay of shock still inside her, she had speculated about Connor, but this had only served to lead her around in fruitless circles. Now she knew one thing for sure, she would get Connor Mitchell’s name taken off the Patchford portfolio. Armstrong and Walsh may still remain Jellie’s solicitors, but she would deal only with a senior partner – certainly not a junior one.
* * *
Saturday, May 20th. all was ready for a deadly party. Mal and Jellie had thought of everything and now were waiting for the crowd, taking it easy in front of a low fire, just a token really, although the night temperature could still drop. Rented chairs and occasional tables were outside under a marquee, in case of rain, allowing for a breath of air and providing a smoking zone. Dressed casually, with comfortable shoes, they were prepared to spend the night on the run.
Jellie was treating herself to a glass of sparkling wine to help steady her nerves. Mal reckoned her medication was down to such a low dose, a small indulgence once in a while wouldn’t hurt. She was sticking to beer for the night.
“Mal, before everyone gets here … this is for you.” She held out a prettily wrapped package with a card. Mal looked across in surprise as she ripped the envelope. The picture on the front was of a Pre-Raphaelite maiden. Her long hair dangled almost to the water as she gazed into a dark pool, set in a woodland glade. The colours were startling and vivid, typical of the nineteenth century movement. Inside there was no verse, only Jellie’s simple words of birthday greeting.
“Oh lovely!” so typical of Jellie she thought, to choose something like this. She moved onto the gift remarking: “You shouldn’t have Jells. This party is more than enough.”
“But I wanted to give you something personal.” Her eyes glittered with a lustrous spark. She could hardly wait for Mal to see. “Go ahead,” she urged. Taking her time, Mal undid the silver bow, but then tore the paper to expose a velvet box, the kind you get from the Jewellers’. It snapped open to lay bare seven chunky, highly polished, gold rings laced on a solid gold braid. They looked heavy and expensive. Mal was speechless. Never had she owned anything so stunning; so valuable.
“Let me put it on for you. I’ve always thought a beautiful neck like yours deserves some special attention,” she observed, laughing happily as she moved in behind her. She closed the parrot clip then came to the front to judge the effect. “As I thought, it looks made for you. Look in the mirror. See what you think.”
Mal got up and did as she was told. She had to agree, it was just right. Not fussy, and being a short chain, the rings were revealed in the ‘V’ of the open-necked shirt. She stood for a moment to regain control of her emotions. With a deep breath she returned to Jellie and from behind, clasped her shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Jellie turned up an eager face, but Mal was moving back to the seat saying: “Thank you so much Jells. I love it. I’ll never take it off.”
Jellie was pleased, having received the reaction she wanted. So many times she had watched the controlled movements of this woman’s throat and knew her neck deserved to be shown off by glittering gold.
“These are the seven rings of luck. Do you want to know what they represent?”
“Of course.”
“Well, the first is for long life; the second good friends. The third ring is for good health and the fourth is love.” At this Jellie felt her cheeks fill with a ruby blush, but she carried on bravely. Number five is wealth, the next peace and the last ring is for happiness.” She took a sip from her glass and gazed adoringly over its rim.
Still overcome Mal could only shake her head, then: “You’re so thoughtful Jells. You couldn’t have given me a nicer present.” This time Mal moved forward to the edge of her chair and clasped Jellie’s hands, so filled with ardour her face glowed, but she kissed her on the cheek. Her lips were hot; Jellie felt the burn. There was a sharp knock at the door although it stood open. Hurriedly Mal turned away, clumsily regaining control.
“Come! Come in. Hi guys,” she cried out, breathlessly.
Typical of guests, those who had the greatest distance to travel were the first to arrive. Mal had kept in touch with the workmates still at the QEH and of course Monica was invited. Their partners and/or spouses were welcome to join in the celebrations and Monica’s husband had come too. They were soon followed by her new co-workers at the Selly Oak. They had vowed they would not miss this event for the world.
Jellie’s staff from the riding school all came and brought along their partners. Not too many of them since only Nessa was married and Tyson had just recently started dating. It was great to see some parents with their kids too, but they didn’t stay long.
Driftwood Acres had entered into an arrangement with Doyle’s for all their stock feed and saddlery needs and by now they knew the staff very well. Since the business was just starting up, the company had generously agreed to provide them with a free delivery service. In recognition of their goodwill, they too, had been invited. Of course, the neighbours on both sides turned up which was good, since Mal had the music playing none-stop and cranked up at full blast.
A short lull in the proceedings gave her a chance to check her phone: one missed call. Kylie was running late, but for sure she’d be there. This was terrific. She had very much wanted to use the party to catch up with her old friend. Not everyone would stay the course, coming and going as they pleased. They just hoped people would mingle and feel free to make new friends. With such an eclectic mix, there would surely be someone to hook up with.
The evening moved on with no lack of positive animation and both Mal and Jellie were kept busy circulating the nibbles, chatting and keeping glasses filled. Jellie settled down and realised, to her surprise, she was really enjoying playing hostess.
“I reckon it’s time you put that tray down and had a dance.” Kylie stood in front of Mal blocking her path, a big smile lighting her face.
“You’re right Ky, I love anything Ministry of Sound puts out.”
Kylie had a new girlfriend, Emma Gordyn. They had been together three weeks. Mal thought there was a distinct possibility that given enough time they could become an item. After the second dance they took time out and moved to the garden. Kylie flopped herself into a chair while Mal got them each a beer. On her return she pulled out the other chair, prepared to take a break. The guests had found the bar and ice and were successfully helping themselves.
“So … I see you and Nigella have a good set-up here. You’re a lucky bugger. She’s the most gorgeous of creatures and obviously adores you. How did an ugly nut-bag like you get to land it so jammy?” She laughed and took a big swig from the bottle.
“What do you mean Ky? Jells isn’t a sister.”
“Come off it Mal. Maybe she wasn’t when you first met, but she sure as hell is now. She and Emma had good chats earlier and she was putting out all the right vibes. She lights up like a candle when she’s talking about you. Don’t tell me you haven’t … you know …”
“Absolutely not Ky,” Mal responded indignantly, eyebrows shooting up. “I have always respected her,” but as the words left her mouth she felt herself redden under Kylie’s scrutiny.
“That’s as maybe MM. It’s just something you’re not seeing but … I bet the thought has crossed your mind. Don’t be trying to pull it over on me. I haven’t had a brain freeze, even if this is my umpteenth drink but … who’s counting?” Her eyes bore into her friend. She couldn’t believe Mal had not made a move.
Mal looked frankly at Kylie. “I can’t deny that I love her.” She fingered the friendship rings. “You’re right, she’s the most wonderful girl, but truly, I would never take advantage of her youthful innocence.”
“Mal, you speak of her as though she’s a child. She’s a young woman and the way she looks at you – with all a woman’s natural needs. You can see it in her eyes and Emma heard it in her voice.”
Mal continued to stare fixedly at Kylie eyebrows knitted in thought, but inside she had retreated to her own world. Had she been missing something, too intent on doing the right thing? What about Connor – until he blew it?
“I must get back.” Abruptly she veiled her gaze and got to her feet. With her rise, Emma appeared behind her shoulder. She heard the last words.
“Then I’ll take the seat.” She was drinking a Skyblue and set her bottle down on the table. Emma was a perfect stand-in for the ‘girl next door’, but early on the boys had found out it would be pointless to try their luck with her. She was fresh-faced with short, straight, light brown hair, in a permanent state of disarray, but with the current fashion, she fitted right in. Slightly plump, appearing younger than her years, she tended to favour loose clothing, but her size added to her cheerful amiability. Her mouth, gently curved, expressed humour and sensitivity; she got on well with everyone.
“Hang loose Mal. Join us Em.” Kylie pulled up another chair. She was trying to get Mal to chill out. She had detected a weariness in her usually animated eyes and the creases, from nose to mouth appeared deeper. She had been bemused by the changes, but now she believed she knew the reason.
“Thanks Ky, but I’d best keep an eye on things. Here you go Em.” Now two chairs invited her, but she took the one next to Kylie. “I’ll see you guys later.” They watched Mal’s retreating back.
“What was all that about?”
“I’m not sure….”
Mal found Jellie in the kitchen. “How’s it going?” By now it was well past midnight and those who remained were interested in tea or coffee, for the road.
“Great, but I’m beginning to feel a bit weary. Now I know why Mama used to look strained after one of her weekend dinner parties. I love having everybody here, but I’m not used to operating so intensely for so long.”
“It’s thinning out now you’ll have a chance to slow down. Here let me take those.” She collected the tray which carried the beverages: “For inside, or out?”
“Oh, just the group by the door.”
She smiled into Mal’s eyes, but that one did not smile back. Instead, she took time to look properly and allowed the image to register in her consciousness. Indeed, this person was no longer that girl she had first encountered. She had seen the changes that had taken place in her physique, but apart from that, had missed her developing maturity. Nigella had lived through many experiences and life had taught her many lessons. She moved away, deep in contemplation.