HONOR bit into a big, crisp red apple, grateful for the techniques of modern cool storage which allowed her to enjoy such a fresh, sweetly ripe taste when all around her were trees laden with tiny, bitterly sour green fruit.
She sighed with content as she munched, lying back in the cropped grass under the shifting shade of the shelter-belt trees. The tall, leafy species, planted to protect the fruit-bearing trees and kiwi-fruit vines from the wind, provided the perfect, peaceful resting spot. She closed her eyes, savouring the sounds of the country. Even the distant buzz of a tractor seemed strangely in tune with the environment.
Her peace was short-lived.
‘What are you doing down here? Are you hiding?’
The girl must have radar. Honor opened her eyes reluctantly. Sara stood over her, panting, her round face pink and glossy from the exertion of running, her pale hair escaping from the rudimentary ponytail straggling crookedly from the side of her head. She wore grass-stained jeans, a shrill T-shirt and an expression of smug satisfaction. She couldn’t have looked more scruffy if she had tried...and Honor guessed that she must have tried very hard, for the previous afternoon Tania had produced an unexpected gift for her ‘favourite only niece’—a clutch of dainty dresses that she thought Sara might like to wear around the house.
‘I’m having my lunch. What are you doing—come for a sly smoke?’ She had had four days to get over the shock of being painted a scarlet woman, time enough to find a surprisingly natural ease in the girl’s company.
Sara giggled. She flopped down beside Honor. ‘Dad’s looking for you.’
‘Is he?’ Honor took another bite of her apple, endeavouring to appear hugely unmoved by the declaration when her pulse was leaping madly. Damn it, you would think by now that her body would have calmed down!
‘Is that who you’re hiding from? Dad? Why, what’s he done?’
‘I’m not hiding—’
‘Then why aren’t you having lunch up at the house with us? Granny said we can have it by the pool today. Did you know I won the school junior swimming championship? I bet I could beat you in a race.’
‘I think you might have mentioned it a few times,’ said Honor drily. If Sara wasn’t asking frank and embarrassing questions she was force-feeding Honor unsolicited confidences. In a dramatic contrast to the sickly shock with which she had greeted Honor’s arrival, she had now decided that her dad’s new best friend must be her best friend.
And she was helpful, so helpful that Honor couldn’t turn around in the upstairs drawing-room in which her computer had been set up as promised without being offered a cup of tea or coffee or finding her pencil newly sharpened or her copy removed from her printer and neatly trimmed of its perforated edges.
Not wanting to hurt any fragile adolescent feelings, Honor had made sure she always had some little job ready to be tackled, but she soon discovered that Sara’s spirit was irrepressible. She wasn’t crushed by being ignored or snapped at, or even at being told to shut up and go away. Like her father, the girl had an independent self-confidence that was almost impossible to shake. She believed in her ability to do anything she set her mind to. When she failed she only became more determined to succeed next time. It was exhausting to watch her.
‘So, if you’re not hiding from dad it must be Aunt Tania!’
That was too close to the mark. ‘I told you, I’m not hiding, I’m having a picnic.’
‘You don’t have to worry, she’s gone to some Growers’ Association lunch,’ said Sara helpfully. ‘She was mad because Dad was supposed to be her escort but he said he didn’t have time to take her. Is that apple all you’re having? You’re not trying to diet, are you? You shouldn’t take any notice of what Aunt Tania says. Did you know she sometimes takes diet pills to keep thin? That’s pretty obsessive, don’t you think? They can be addictive, you know—’
‘Like cigarettes, you mean?’ Honor interrupted hastily. Whatever her own opinion of Tania, it was wrong to encourage Sara’s disrespect towards her aunt. She was guiltily aware that by listening to the chatter in order to find out more about Adam’s life she had provided tacit approval of Sara’s eager indiscretions. Unfortunately on the one subject that Honor was most curious, and most reluctant to enquire about—Sara’s mother—the girl had been utterly discreet.
Sara grinned, revealing teeth that were well-shaped but ever so slightly misaligned. She had refused to have braces—partly, Honor was sure, because Tania was so insistent on the importance of having perfect teeth.
‘Actually I was nearly sick,’ she confessed. ‘I only did it to get sent home.’
So Adam was right. Honor tried to sound nonchalant. ‘Oh? Why was that?’
For a moment she thought Sara was going to spill it out, then the girl shrugged sheepishly and picked at the grass around her feet.
‘You should have a talk to your father; he’s been worried about it,’ Honor urged gently. ‘Or your grandmother, if it’s something to do with—er—’
‘Sex? Nah, nothing like that,’ Sara responded with a frankness that put Honor’s waffling to shame. ‘If it was that I could come to you, couldn’t I?’ she added slyly. ‘Aunt Tania said that you’re the expert on sex around here.’
The shady spot suddenly seemed stiflingly hot. ‘You shouldn’t eavesdrop on people, Sara,’ said Honor in her best quelling voice.
‘It’s the only way to find the good stuff out when you’re a kid,’ said Sara, unquelled. ‘Besides, I wasn’t eavesdropping that time. Aunt Tania just said it kind of under her breath...only she was breathing pretty hard and it came out quite loud. Granny heard too.’
‘And what did Granny say?’ Honor couldn’t help asking.
‘She didn’t say anything.’ Sara frowned. ‘Granny doesn’t say much when Aunt Tania’s around. She’s afraid of getting things wrong in front of her. She forgets things sometimes, too...but just little things, not the important stuff. She likes being busy. She always used to cook when Dad and I came to visit, when Uncle Zach was alive, because Aunt Tania doesn’t like messing around in the kitchen. Granny’s been sick but she just had a cough and a bad cold. I don’t think she has that disease that they put you in a home for—the A one...’
‘Alzheimer’s?’
‘Yeah. Aunt Tania’s got a book on it. Stories about people forgetting what day it is and who their family is and where they live. Granny’s not like that. She still plays bowls and everything.’
‘No, she’s not like that,’ said Honor firmly, wondering whether anxiety over her grandmother was the source of Sara’s fears and annoyed with Tania for exposing her to that fear, however inadvertently. ‘She’s a warm, whimsical, spontaneous person,’ she emphasised. All the things that Tania wasn’t! ‘I’ve had lots of chats with her and never noticed anything wrong. In fact she’s always seemed as sharp as a tack under that fluffy smile...’ Except for their first encounter, perhaps, but those initial, almost pathetically eager misconceptions had been set in concrete by the Bedroom Incident and Adam’s subsequent irritating behaviour. But Honor didn’t want to dwell on that...
‘She only seems vague around your aunt, maybe because they don’t get on and your granny doesn’t like to get involved in arguments—’
‘You mean because Aunt Tania bullies her?’ said Sara bluntly.
Was Tania’s behaviour that calculated? Honor hoped not.
‘A lot of people like to think they know what’s best for everyone else,’ she said diplomatically. ‘Especially with other people who are not as assertive as themselves. But they’re not necessarily right just because they express themselves more forcefully. You couldn’t get two people with a more different outlook on life than your aunt and your granny; that’s probably why they have difficulty communicating. And then, too, maybe your aunt is afraid for your granny as she gets older—maybe she doesn’t want to feel responsible if something happens while she’s out.’
‘She’s always out...except when Dad’s around,’ Sara pointed out gruffly.
‘If you’re really concerned about it, why don’t you mention it to your father...?’ Honor said hopefully.
‘Oh, I already have, ages ago,’ said Sara, shooting that grand theory down in flames. ‘After Uncle Zach died. Dad said never, no way is he ever putting Granny in a home. And Aunt Tania doesn’t have to worry about being responsible because Granny’s coming to live with us...when Dad decides where we’re going to live, that is, because we might be staying here...’
‘Would you like that?’ Honor asked, her heart misgiving at the thought of Adam living permanently near by. She’d be forever in dread of running into him, having to smile and pretend polite disinterest in his affairs...
Sara shrugged and smiled very cryptically for a girl who probably didn’t know what the word meant. ‘Maybe. It depends on how things work out...’
Honor opened her mouth to ask what things, but Sara beat her to it.
‘Are you sure you won’t come back to the house for lunch? After Aunt Tania left, Granny made a pizza and scones and apple muffins...’
Honor’s mouth watered. She looked sadly down at her apple core. So much for will-power. ‘Well...I’ll have to have a swim afterwards.’ If it hadn’t been for the pool she would have put on kilos from the delicious meals she was eating.
‘Great, I’ll give you a race. Oh, look...I told you Dad was looking for you!’ She jumped up and bounded out to meet the four-wheeled farm-bike that roared up from the bottom of the orchard, skidding to a stop at the nearest row of apple trees.
Honor couldn’t hear what Adam said to his daughter over the roar of the motorcycle engine but she could see its effect. Sara laughed and tossed a mischievous look over her shoulder at Honor and began running back towards the house, making little darting leaps and hops over tufts of grass as she did so. She certainly had a lot of energy, thought Honor, getting up slowly, feeling hot and messy as she eyed the man who, after gunning the engine aggressively once more, leaned over and turned it off.
In the resultant silence the faint sound of the engine ticking over seemed unnaturally loud. Like a time bomb, thought Honor nervously.
‘What are you doing out here?’
He and his daughter were definitely of like mind, only the same question from Sara hadn’t made Honor bristle.
‘Taking a break,’ she said crisply. ‘That’s the whole point about working for yourself; you don’t have to kowtow to a slave-driving boss.’
‘But the newspaper must have deadlines that you have to meet,’ he said mildly, unruffled by her challenge. ‘And your clients must ask for their work to be done by a certain date.’
‘I still work to my own schedule. I haven’t had any complaints up until now.’ She gave him a fierce look.
He lifted his hands off the bike’s handlebars and spread them in a gesture of appeasement. Dressed in a faded short-sleeved shirt that hung open above his dusty denim jeans he looked the quintessential farm worker, from the scuffed boots to the battered felt hat. He looked fit, healthy and relaxed, a far cry from the raging bull she had first encountered.
‘I’m not complaining. Quite the reverse. So far you’ve been doing a fabulous job.’
She wished she knew he was referring purely to the newsletter she was still piecing together. She had the feeling that he was speaking of another agenda entirely.
‘I’d do an even better one if you’d stop interrupting me,’ she said hardly.
She found it very difficult to concentrate on her screen when at any moment she could expect to look up and find Adam there, silently observing her with that expression of amused and faintly bewildered speculation that was so unnerving.
She didn’t need to be checked up on and after their first discussion about his project he must have known it. But he still kept seeking her out with flimsy excuses, knowing what it must look like to the rest of the household, knowing how disturbing she found his persistent attention. Disturbing because she couldn’t find the strength of mind to reject it.
The trouble was that living with him, working with him, wasn’t providing the kind of cure that she had hoped. Learning about the other side of Adam, the side he had concealed in his letters, only compounded her problem. Yes, he was wretchedly stubborn and arrogant and argumentative, but he also bent like a willow for those he loved: off-beat and whimsical with his mother; a romping child with his daughter; firm and even kind, in an implacably cool sort of way, with Tania.
He was simply...Adam. And, God forbid, her beloved fantasy hero was beginning to pale in comparison to the flesh and blood reality.
‘I like to keep my finger on the pulse; that’s why I wanted you here while you worked on it,’ Adam said reasonably, interrupting her brooding thoughts. ‘It’s good to have a constant exchange of ideas going on, don’t you think? Keeps the creative juices flowing.’
His eyes half masked by the shady brim of his hat, drifted down the length of her in the loose, drop-waisted summer shift which she had fetched, along with an armload of other clothes, when Adam had driven her back to her house to fetch her computer and files and shut up the house properly. He frowned at the sight of her bare feet.
‘Where are your shoes? You shouldn’t wander around a working orchard without some foot protection. Have you a current tetanus shot?’
‘I had a booster a couple of years ago.’ Honor bent to pick up her sturdy canvas slip-ons from their hiding place in the grass, and put them on. ‘My father always worked on country papers. I spent my childhood in the country. It wasn’t so long ago that I’ve forgotten the rules. I just took them off when I sat down.’
‘In that outfit you look as if childhood was only yesterday,’ Adam said drily, crossing his arms on the chrome stem of the handlebars and leaning forward to give her another lazy survey. ‘I’m sure Sara’s summer school uniform is almost exactly the same.’
‘If you wanted glamour you should have gone to the Growers’ lunch with Tania,’ Honor sniped back, regretting the jealous retort when Adam grinned.
‘I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I’ve always been a sucker for girls in uniform...Mary was a St John Ambulance volunteer. Have you been pumping my darling daughter about my activities?’
‘No, I have not,’ she said hotly, flirting marginally with the truth as she pondered his rare reference to his wife. Joy had mentioned Mary only a few times, always with a reverent expression, mentioning her loveliness and what a wonderful wife and mother she had been, and how Adam had put away all the photographs of her because they made him so sad. If Mary Blake had been as good as she was beautiful, no wonder no living woman could match up to her memory! ‘I wish I could stop her telling me things.’
‘Do you?’ His scepticism was like a red rag to a bull. ‘She likes you. You have the Sara seal of approval. Which is fortunate considering you’re supposed to be madly in love with me.’
Honor drew a sharp breath before realising he was teasing. ‘And whose fault is it that she thinks that? You shouldn’t encourage her, Adam—’
‘To like you?’
He was being deliberately obtuse. ‘No, to laugh at your sister-in-law...to side with me against her. It—it isn’t fair!’
‘To whom? Tania? I doubt if she even realises it. She doesn’t see Sara as a separate person in herself, just as adjunct to me. She never took a blind bit of notice of her before. I have no intention of being conned into playing Tania’s lord and protector for the rest of my life so that she won’t have to bother about life’s tiresome practicalities, and the sooner she accepts it the better. Thankfully, I think the scales are finally falling from her eyes. Before she stormed out this morning she told me that Zach was worth fifty of me. The only pity was that marrying him had given her a selfish, overbearing, social retard for a brother-in-law!’
‘Well, she got that right!’ said Honor feelingly, shattered to have her suspicions so wretchedly confirmed. She had been the means to an end, that was all.
‘Oh, I don’t think of it as an end at all, Honor. I think of it as a new beginning,’ he said blandly, making her realise that she had spoken aloud. ‘You don’t have a hat to go with those shoes, do you? That wild mop of hair is no protection from the sun and your nose is already looking a bit pink. It’s a long walk back to the house. Hop on and I’ll give you a ride. We don’t want to be late for lunch.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll walk,’ Honor bit out huffily. Suddenly she felt in need of a good cry.
‘It’ll be quicker on the bike. There’s plenty of room.’ He eased his pelvis forward and indicated the back of the curving seat.
‘No, I—’
‘Never been on one before? The four wheels make it very safe.’
‘I’m not worried about that—’
‘I’m very safe, too.’ He tipped the brim of his hat to her in a parody of old-fashioned politeness.
‘I’m sure you are,’ Honor said tightly, her desire to cry evaporating in the heat of her rising temper. ‘But I’d prefer to walk.’
‘You’re squinting, Honor. Is that the sun or are you telling fibs?’ He laughed at her scowling expression. ‘Come on, stop being such a ninny. You know you want to. It’s hot and I’ll bet you’re dying of thirst. If you don’t want to put your arms around me, I’ll scoot back a bit and you can sit in front of me.’ He watched her actually contemplate the option before adding wickedly, ‘Between my legs. You’d feel extra safe then, Honor. You’ve been there before, remember, and emerged unscathed.’
‘That is a matter of opinion,’ Honor delighted him by muttering tartly. She reached out to touch the hot rubber of the huge, fat rear tyres. He was right, damn him, she did want to. She’d seen some of the orchard employees tearing around on the bikes and it had looked rather fun. Why should she deprive herself of an enjoyable new experience just to prove Adam wrong?
Getting on proved a little more complicated than he had implied. Honor had to hitch her skirt well up her thighs to manoeuvre into place and once she was astride the seat she kept sliding forward towards the depression created by Adam’s greater weight. Her thighs scraped against the outside seam of his denims as she positioned her feet and when it came to her hands she was in something of a dilemma.
‘I know the advertising claim is that they’re rugged enough to tow a car with, but if you hang on to my jeans like that, Honor, they might peel off on a tight curve.’
Honor could feel those tight curves—they were pressed snugly against the V of her legs! She reluctantly let go of his belt loops and tentatively reached around his thick waist, closing her eyes tightly as she felt her hands tangle briefly with the flapping sides of his shirt before connecting with a hard wall of flesh. His skin was hot and slightly moist, so that her palms slid slickly across it. The thicket of hair on his chest, her touch soon discovered, narrowed to a broad streak over his taut belly, springy and vital.
He turned his head, the profile of his lips barely moving as he murmured, ‘Hold me harder, Honor, I won’t break.’
Honor took a deep breath and leaned further into the convex curve of his back, her breasts flattening against striated muscle, her fingers meshing in a little rush over his navel, catching up a few stray curls as they did so. He made a small, choking sound of mingled pain and laughter that seemed to ripple through every muscle in his body.
‘Sorry!’
‘Did you do that on purpose?’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ she denied. ‘It’s not my fault you’re hairy.’
‘I could shave if you prefer your men smooth.’
As if he cared what she preferred! Although at least he’d paid her the compliment of the plural.
‘Shave your chest?’ Her mouth suddenly curved as she imagined it. ‘Maybe you’d better not,’ she said, a bubble of laughter bursting in her throat. ‘Your hairiness might hide a multitude of sins...the way men grow beards to hide weak chins.’
‘I didn’t choose to be like this, you know; genetics decided it for me. It’s not a matter of vanity.’ Did he sound slightly piqued?
‘Your father, he was a hairy man,’ chuckled Honor, her arms contracting automatically with her mirth.
‘He was, as a matter of fact. And he still had a full head of hair the day he died!’
He really was miffed. Honor muffled her giggles in the back of his shirt.
‘If you can control yourself we’ll get started,’ he rumbled sternly, turning the ignition key jerkily and causing a misfire.
‘Yes, Rapunzel, sir,’ she said meekly.
His diaphragm tensed under her hand as he twisted far enough sideways to be able to see her laughter-contorted face and merry eyes. She tried unsuccessfully to look serious and a wry half-smile touched his mouth in response. ‘No wonder Sara thinks she’s found a kindred spirit.’ His smile deepened. ‘You’re not really in an ideal position to provoke me, lady, with your dress hiked up to your waist and your legs wrapped around mine.’
‘Are you going to start your engine, or just sit here boasting about it?’ Honor countered pertly.
‘Feeling your oats, are you, honey?’ he rasped, taking off his hat and stuffing it under his thigh. ‘That’s good, because my engine has been revving for the last five minutes.’
It was a wild ride. After the first few minutes Honor forgot her modesty and tried to climb inside him as she hung on over the bumps and hollows. He weaved along the gravel tractor paths and finally detoured through one of the kiwi-fruit blocks, Honor instinctively ducking as they zipped under the leafy, spreading vines trained along a canopy of wires strung between stout wooden posts. The vines were supported at a comfortable height for an average man to stand under without stooping so her unnecessary cringing made Adam laugh, as did her little squeal when he executed a smart one hundred and eighty-degree turn at the end of the row and started back down again. In the end Honor was laughing with him, the wind whipping her hair into a mad froth around her face, the words she tried to shout at him instantly snatched from her mouth and lost in their turbulent wake. It was a long time since Honor had experienced the intoxicating thrill of sheer physical recklessness.
Well, at least all of four days!
When Honor tried to scramble off in the paddock behind the house her legs showed an alarming tendency to fold underneath her.
‘You were showing off,’ she gasped, as Adam lifted her off in a flurry of gathered skirts and supported her elbows as she found her feet again.
He grinned. ‘Just a bit. I made sure to stay out of the blocks that are being worked but I hope we weren’t spotted by a rogue crew member. There’s a threat of dismissal out on anyone who’s caught joy-riding on the farm equipment.’
‘They can’t fire you, you’re the boss.’ Honor was still trying to cope with the effect of the exhilaration on her nerves. ‘I wonder why they call it joy-riding?’ she said shakily.
Still holding one of her elbows, Adam waltzed her around her to face him. ‘Are you going to tell me you didn’t enjoy it?’ he teased. ‘Come on, Honor, I dare you. Look me dead in the eye and tell me that.’
She felt a tick in the corner of her eye even at the prospect of answering his challenge. He laughed, taking her by the hand and tugging her towards the gate that led to the house like a small boy heading for a treat.
‘Why did you come looking for me?’ she asked, as they got close enough to see Joy laying out plates on a table in the shadow of a large blue canvas umbrella.
‘Mmm?’
‘Sara said you were looking for me.’
‘Oh, yes, to tell you that the police caught our man. I think I’ll have a swim before lunch—going to join me?’
‘No, I—what did you say?’ He had slipped it in so casually, she thought she must have been mistaken.
‘I said I think I’ll have a—’
‘No, I meant about the man. What man? You mean the blackmailer? The police have caught him?’ She stopped in her tracks, jerking him to a halt. ‘My God, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I thought I just did,’ he said impatiently.
‘I mean straight away! How could you keep it to yourself like that? When did it happen? Who was it? I mean...it’s—well, it’s terrific...’ Her enthusiasm abruptly petered out as her eyes met his and the true impact of what he was saying hit her.
He turned and continued down the path, Honor trotting numbly beside him. ‘Actually the police didn’t catch him, his wife did. She found the magazines he’d been cutting the letters out of and made him tell her what he’d done. He turned himself in. He’d applied for a job at Blake Investments two years ago but turned up roaring drunk for the interview so the paperwork was never even filed. He hasn’t been able to get work since and apparently decided on his last drunken binge that it was time the company paid for causing all his problems. He doesn’t admit he’s an alcoholic. He didn’t really have any plan beyond sending the letters to make us squirm. It was revenge he was after, not the money, so there was no need for him to take the risk of carrying out his threats. He just wanted to “make the bastards suffer”.’
He sounded bored. As if now the puzzle was solved he had lost all interest. As if he had weightier matters on his mind.
Honor swallowed. ‘What happens now?’
‘Now? The police get on with their work and we get back to business as usual.’ Was that an oblique hint that Honor also should get back to where she belonged?
‘I hope there aren’t mushrooms on that pizza, Mum,’ he said as they stopped at the table and he reached past his mother for a gently steaming slice.
Joy slapped his hand away. ‘Yours is still in the oven. That’s for Sara and Honor. It has lots of mushrooms.’
‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll go in and get it.’
‘Sara’s fetching it now.’ Joy smoothed her bright checked skirt with her hands and took a deep breath. ‘I wish you wouldn’t treat me like an invalid, Adam. It makes me feel like one. I don’t like it.’
He looked startled, then he grinned and leaned into the shade and kissed her wrinkled cheek. ‘Has Honor been giving you assertiveness lessons on the sly?’
His mother looked pleased. ‘She gave me a book. You don’t think I’m going overboard, do you? Your father hated bossy women.’
Adam laughed. ‘Don’t spoil it now.’
Honor couldn’t understand how he could be so casual when she was racked with uncertainty. ‘Adam—’
‘You may as well sit down and start, since yours is already here. I’ll just nip in to change and have a quick dip to loosen up. I’ve done a couple of hours’ hard labour helping with the summer pruning on the kiwi-fruit vines this morning and I’m beginning to feel a few muscles I didn’t know I had.’
‘Adam, I need to talk to you...’
‘Later, hmm?’ He was stripping of his shirt and Honor couldn’t help noticing the row of eight small, crescent-shaped indentations in the vicinity of his navel. Goodness, she hadn’t realised she’d dug her fingernails in that hard. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joy look at her son and rushed into speech.
‘No, now. It’s about my leaving. Now this thing’s wrapped up surely there’s no danger, no need—’
He grabbed her jaw and stopped her saying any more by the simple expedient of kissing her.
‘There’s always a need. You’re my means, remember?’ He rubbed his hard nose against hers as he lifted his mouth. ‘You have a job you haven’t finished yet; you can’t leave until that’s done. And I still haven’t got around to returning those letters of yours, have I? You certainly can’t leave until you have those in your hot little hand...’