When Felix had arrived back from his visit to Wynsdown, late that Sunday evening, Daphne had already gone to bed and he found the flat in darkness. He switched on the hall light and went through to the living room where he poured himself a stiff whisky and dropped into an armchair. One way and another it had been a long weekend. He and his mother had spent several hours discussing the possibilities, and he’d been over to see Richard Deelish at Newland Farm. He, like John Shepherd, was still interested in buying his farm outright, but he, too, expressed doubts about when he might be able to raise the money. Money everywhere was tight, and though he’d have the farm to put up as collateral for a mortgage, he was hesitating. If he did nothing, he would still have a farm to work and a living to make. If he bought the farm and it failed, he would lose everything.
Felix could understand his indecision. He was filled with all manner of doubts himself. The main thoughts that exercised his mind were the ideas Marjorie had floated with regard to the manor house itself. Although she had not said in so many words, Felix knew that she was hoping that he would not only accept her gift of the house, but also that he and Daphne would leave London and come and live there permanently. He was glad that Daphne was asleep when he crept into bed beside her, he didn’t want to broach the subject until he had allowed it to simmer in his own mind. Lying beside her, he was aware of the warmth of her body, but as he pulled the covers over them, she muttered in her sleep and turned away. Better that way, he thought, than questions.
Felix need not have worried. Daphne seemed entirely uninterested in how he’d spent his time in Wynsdown that weekend. She asked no questions, and for this he was grateful. After much consideration, he had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t keep the estate going without living there himself. Either he sold the whole estate, manor house, farms and land, or he had to move in to the manor and take up the reins himself as his father had done; and for this he would have to resign his commission and leave the RAF. It was a big step. Staying in the air force would provide him with a regular salary, but not enough to fund the improvements necessary on the estate.
He didn’t think Daphne would be very keen on the idea of moving to Somerset, but even so, he wasn’t quite prepared for her reaction when he finally broached the idea.
‘You want to what?’ she cried. She stared at him as if he were crazy. ‘You have to be joking! I’m not going to bury myself in the country. I’m a Londoner, not a country bumpkin.’
‘Not everyone who lives outside London is a bumpkin,’ Felix pointed out, in an effort to lighten the mood.
‘Everyone I’ve met down there is,’ snapped Daphne. ‘What on earth would I do all day? Make jam? Keep hens?’
‘You could do either,’ said Felix mildly.
‘For Christ’s sake, Felix...’
‘Please don’t use that language, Daphne, it doesn’t become you.’
‘I’ll use what language I like,’ shouted Daphne, her anger rising and the East End returning to her voice. ‘You can’t tell me ’ow to speak. An’ I’ll tell you this, Wing Commander Felix Bloody Bellinger, I ain’t gonna live in Somerset, neither.’
‘Where are you going to live, then?’ asked Felix.
Daphne stared at him, brought up short. ‘Well, here, of course.’
‘Afraid not,’ Felix said. ‘I’m giving notice and we’ll have to move out by the first of Jan.’
‘An’ you didn’t think to discuss this with me first?’
‘I’m discussing it with you now.’ He saw how angry she was and said, ‘I’m sorry, Daphne, I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have told you what I had in mind, but I didn’t want to worry you before I’d thought it through.’
‘Worry me? You didn’t want to worry me, so you’ve made this decision, what affects me as much as you... without even consulting me?’
‘Circumstances have made the decision for me,’ Felix said. ‘I’m truly sorry. I realise now that I should have spoken to you first—’
‘Yeah, you bloody well should,’ retorted Daphne. ‘You’ve decided we’re moving and that’s it, is it? No talking it through?’
Felix looked at her in dismay. He realised now that he was in the wrong. He’d been so concerned how the big decision would affect him and the estate, he hadn’t given much consideration to what Daphne might think. She was his wife and he’d simply assumed that she’d be happy enough to move with him wherever he had to go. It’s what wives did. But Daphne was having none of it.
‘It’s ridiculous, Felix,’ she went on. ‘We can’t just up sticks and move to Somerset. Even if we really wanted to, and I don’t, we’d have to have somewhere in London as well.’
‘Daphne, dearest,’ he reached out and took her hand, ‘you really haven’t been listening to what I’ve been telling you this past month. We can’t afford to live in London while we have a house in Wynsdown. The manor is going to belong to me. There’ll be no rent to pay. I shall manage Home Farm, make it pay, and we shall be able to live within our means in a beautiful part of the country.’
‘We don’t have to go. If the manor’s yours, you can sell it, we’d have money then, wouldn’t we? You could stay in the air force, and we can stay living up here.’
‘Darling, I can’t sell it, certainly not while my mother’s still alive. It’s been in my family for more than a century and I want it to be there for my children... our children. Think about it, darling, it’ll be a great place to bring up a family.’
‘A family? Who said anything about a family?’ demanded Daphne, snatching her hand away. ‘I ain’t gonna go, Felix, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘I’m resigning my commission,’ Felix ignored her interruption, ‘and moving to Wynsdown in time to spend Christmas with my mother. It’ll be her first Christmas without Dad, and I don’t want her spending it on her own.’
‘It’ll be our first Christmas together an’ all,’ Daphne said. ‘Thought about that, ’ad you? Thought about me an’ my Christmas?’
‘We’d all spend Christmas together,’ Felix cried in frustration. ‘I want us to make it special for her.’
‘Well, you can make it special by yourself,’ retorted Daphne. ‘I ain’t coming.’
‘That’s up to you,’ Felix said with a patience he didn’t feel. ‘We have this flat until the new year, and after that we have to be out of it.’
Daphne’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve given notice already, ain’t you?’
‘No, I haven’t, but I shall in the next few days. A month’s notice is all he needs.’
‘I’m your wife,’ Daphne almost snarled at him. ‘You have to provide for me.’
‘I know,’ replied Felix, ‘and I’m doing so. I’m providing you with a home and the means to run it. If you choose to live somewhere else, well, that’s up to you. I’ll continue to give you your allowance...’
‘Ten pounds a month?’ she scoffed. ‘What good’s that?’
‘It’s a lot more than many young wives get to spend on themselves,’ answered Felix. He sighed and stretched his hand to her again. ‘Come on, Daph, don’t be like this. We can’t afford to live here. My job is to make the estate in Wynsdown pay; your place is with me. We love each other, don’t we? You’re my wife, we should be a team; we should be together, to support each other if there are problems.’ His shoulders slumped. ‘Don’t look at me like that, darling. It’s not my fault that things are in such a mess, but I do have to try and put them right.’ He thought about the dressmaker’s bill that had arrived in the post the previous day, but he didn’t mention that; it was not the time to remind her about the economies they were supposed to be making, and would continue to make, wherever they lived.
‘Mother is moving into Eden Lodge as soon as the plumbing’s sorted and the decorators have finished,’ he went on. ‘Then the manor will be ours. You’ll be the squire’s wife, lady of the manor. I’d have thought you’d like that.’
At one time the idea would, indeed, have thrilled Daphne, but that was before she had visited the manor and been disappointed. It had not been at all as she’d imagined, no grand entrance hall and high-ceilinged rooms; no servants to wait on her, just a couple of women from the village to do the housework and cook. Still, she thought reluctantly, it did have a certain cachet to it.
Was it that which finally persuaded Daphne to agree to move with him? Felix wasn’t sure, but if it was, he hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.
Once the decision was made, Felix expected Daphne to let her parents know that they were moving to the country. Daphne, however, had other ideas. If they moved away, her parents wouldn’t know where they had gone. Had she ever told them the name of the village where Felix came from? She racked her brains. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think so. If they simply disappeared, she could stop paying what she called the blackmail money. Mum had threatened to tell Felix everything if she stopped paying, to go and see him at the Air Ministry, but now he wasn’t going to be at the Air Ministry any more. Daphne, however, had reckoned without Felix.
‘Have you told your parents we’re moving?’ he asked one evening over supper.
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Daphne airily, ‘they’re fine about it.’ And Felix knew at once that she was lying. He’d never understood her reluctance to reintroduce him to her parents – after all, it wasn’t as if he didn’t know her family background – and he felt it was important that she wasn’t entirely cut off from them.
‘Shall we go over there, to see them? Say goodbye before we go?’ he suggested.
‘No need,’ Daphne replied. ‘I been to see them, told them where we’ll be. I’m meeting up with Joan tomorrow,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Thought we’d have a girls’ day together before I move too far away.’
‘Good idea,’ Felix answered absently, while in his mind he was planning his own tomorrow.
There had been many changes taking place at the Air Ministry, and when Felix had been to see his commanding officer to discuss resigning his commission, there seemed to be little problem.
‘Responsibilities elsewhere,’ agreed Group Captain Hague when Felix explained about his father’s death and the problems he’d left behind. ‘Duty calls. Wish you luck, Bellinger. We shall miss you, but you’re right to go.’
They’re actually quite pleased to get rid of me, Felix thought when the deed was done and he walked back into civilian life.
It meant he was free in the daytime for the week before they moved, and while Daphne was out with Joan, Felix caught the bus and headed for Hackney. He found Norman Higgins’s garage with little trouble. It looked pretty run-down, a yard with ramshackle buildings and the carcases of two long-dead cars rusting in a corner. His father-in-law had his head under the bonnet of an elderly-looking vehicle, unaware that anyone had come into the yard.
Felix coughed, and Norman Higgins emerged from the bonnet to see a tall, good-looking young man standing just inside the gate.
‘Help you?’ he asked, wiping his oily hands on an equally oily rag.
Felix stepped forward, and despite Norman’s begrimed hands, offered his own. ‘Mr Higgins?’ he said. ‘I’m Felix Bellinger.’
Norman stared at him for a moment and then a look of recognition crossed his face. He gave his hand another surreptitious wipe on his overall and then took Felix’s extended one. ‘You’re our Daph’s bloke.’
Felix smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I thought it was time we met properly.’
For a moment Norman was at a loss, then he said, ‘Well, yes, good. We better go up to the house and see Ethel.’
He led the way out of the yard and up the alley that Felix remembered from the night he’d brought Daphne home.
‘Ethel,’ Norman called as they reached the door. ‘Come and see. Look who’s ’ere! It’s Daph’s husband.’
Ethel met them at the door, staring for a moment at the man who was with Norman, before standing aside to let them into the house.
‘How do you do, Mrs Higgins?’
Felix held out his hand and Ethel touched it briefly, murmuring, ‘Fine, I’m sure.’
‘Well, aren’t you going to offer the man a cup of tea?’ said Norman. ‘Sit down, Wing Commander, do.’ He pulled out a chair from under the kitchen table.
‘We should go into the front room, Norman,’ hissed his wife.
‘Not at all, Mrs Higgins,’ Felix said quickly, ‘but I’d love a cup of tea if you’ve got the kettle on.’
‘Always got the kettle on, haven’t you, Eth?’ said Norman, taking a seat across the table. He turned back to Felix. ‘Daphne not with you today, then? That’s a pity. We miss ’er, you know.’
‘I’m afraid she’s out somewhere with a friend. I didn’t tell her I was coming to see you. Came on the spur of the moment, or I’m sure she’d have come too.’
Ethel brought cups and saucers to the table and then made the tea. She had said little, leaving Norman to struggle with the conversation. She was wondering why Felix had suddenly turned up on their doorstep. Why had he come without Daphne? Had he found out about Janet? And if so, what was he going to do about her?
She poured the tea and handed Felix his cup. There was an awkward silence and then she decided to take the bull by the horns and find out why he’d come.
‘It’s nice to meet you properly, Wing Commander,’ she began.
‘Please, do call me Felix,’ Felix said. ‘Wing Commander doesn’t apply any more, anyway. I’ve left the air force now.’
‘Left the air force?’ echoed Ethel.
‘Why’s that, then?’ asked Norman.
Felix had been right. Clearly Daphne hadn’t spoken to them about the move, or if she had, she hadn’t told them the whole story.
‘I’m afraid my father died a few weeks ago,’ he explained. ‘He had property in Somerset which has come to me, now. We’ve decided to move down there, so that I can take it over properly.’
‘So you’re moving out of London, then?’ Ethel knew at once that Daphne hadn’t been going to tell her.
‘Yes, we move just before Christmas. I’m anxious my mother shouldn’t spend her first Christmas without my father, on her own.’ Even as he said the words he realised how they must sound. They were moving to be near his mother, when they never saw or seemed to bother about Daphne’s family, and colour flooded his cheeks.
‘You’re a good son to your mother,’ Norman said without a hint of irony. ‘That’s as it should be.’
‘So, where is it you’re going?’ asked Ethel.
‘Wynsdown,’ replied Felix. ‘It’s a village on the Mendip Hills... in Somerset,’ he added as it was clear from the Higginses’ blank looks that they had no idea where the Mendips were. ‘I’ll write down the address before I go, so that if ever you need us, you’ll know where we are.’
Ethel thanked him with a satisfied smile. She remembered that Daphne had mentioned a village in Somerset, but hadn’t been able to remember its name. Now she knew where to find her if the money she was sending for Janet should ever dry up.
As Felix was about to leave, Janet came running up the alley, home from school for her dinner.
She stopped short in the doorway when she saw Felix standing in the kitchen.
‘Hallo,’ she said in surprise. ‘Who’re you?’
‘Janet, this is Felix, Daphne’s husband,’ said Norman. ‘Say how d’you do.’ He turned to Felix. ‘This is our Daph’s sister, Janet.’
Felix tried to mask his surprise and said, ‘Hallo, Janet. How nice to meet you.’
‘How d’you do, Felix,’ Janet said, adding hesitantly, ‘Can I call you Felix?’
‘Of course you can,’ Felix replied with a smile, ‘you’re my sister-in-law!’
Janet’s face broke in a grin. ‘Am I?’ she cried. ‘Your sister-in-law!’
‘You certainly are,’ Felix assured her. ‘And I’m your brother-in-law. Tell you something else, too, you look very like your sister.’
‘Do I?’ Janet was surprised. ‘But she’s so pretty!’
‘So are you,’ smiled Felix. ‘Isn’t she?’ He looked across at her parents for corroboration.
Norman nodded. ‘Just like Daph used to look at your age, Janet.’
When Felix had taken his leave, the three Higginses sat down to their midday meal.
‘I like him,’ Janet enthused as she tucked into the fish pie in front of her. ‘Isn’t Daphne lucky to have married him!’
‘Too good for her by far,’ murmured Ethel, which drew a disapproving look from Norman.
‘I hope we see him again soon, Mum,’ Janet said.
‘I don’t expect we will,’ replied her mother. ‘They’re moving to Somerset.’
‘Oh! That’s not fair!’
‘Never mind, duck,’ said Norman. ‘Who knows, you might be able to go and see them down there, one day.’
‘Really!’ Janet’s eyes sparkled at the thought.
‘Maybe,’ said Ethel with a quelling look at her husband. ‘Now, get on and eat your dinner, or you’ll be late back to school.’
When she had the kitchen to herself again, Ethel took out the scrap of paper on which Felix had written the Wynsdown address... and telephone number. She gave a secretive smile as she looked at it.
The Manor House, Wynsdown, Somerset... and even a phone number.
‘Got you, my girl,’ she said to the empty kitchen, and taking from the cupboard the old cash box where she kept all the family papers, she put the address inside, relocking it for safety.
When Felix got back to the flat, Daphne was already home.
‘Hallo!’ he said in surprise. ‘I thought you were out for the day with Joan.’
‘Decided to make it just for lunch,’ was all Daphne said flatly and Felix realised that for some reason the day had not been a success, but he knew better than to ask what had happened. As if to change the subject, Daphne asked, ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘Me?’ he replied casually, fearing her reaction to his visit to her family, but knowing he wasn’t going to hide it. ‘I went to see your family.’
‘You what?’ Daphne’s voice was icy.
‘Went to see your family.’
‘Felix!’ Daphne almost shrieked. ‘How dare you go behind my back!’
Apparently unperturbed by this outburst, Felix went on. ‘And I met your sister, Janet.’
‘You saw Janet?’
‘Yes, she came home for lunch. What a lovely girl she is.’
Daphne seemed suddenly deflated. ‘Oh, Felix, why did you have to go?’
‘Because I knew you hadn’t told them we were moving... and they have a right to know, Daph, they really do.’ He smiled placatingly. ‘It’s all right. I didn’t let on that I didn’t know you had a sister. She looks very like you, you know. She’ll be a beauty one day, too.’
Ignoring his rather heavy-handed compliment, Daphne groaned, ‘Why do you have to interfere with my family?’
‘Because, as we’re married, my darling, so now they’re my family, too.’
Clearly Daphne was angry that he’d been to see her family, and she hardly spoke to him for the rest of the day, but he was relieved that she said no more about it.
Daphne, in turn, was relieved that he thought Janet was her sister. At least Mum hadn’t spilled the beans.
But she wouldn’t, Daphne thought bleakly, or she’d have no hold over me.
Still, she was angry with Felix for going; now she’d still have to pay up. So, it was going to cost him money, and serve him right!
Felix had been thinking of ways they could cut down their expenditure and as one of his economies, he sold his open-topped car and bought a small Standard.
‘Why’ve you got to sell the car?’ Daphne wailed when he told her what he was going to do.
‘Because it’s impractical and expensive to run,’ he replied. ‘We’re going to need a car, but we don’t need anything flash, just something to get about in. The buses from the village are few and far between.’
He brought the new car home the week before they were due to leave. Daphne stared at it in horror. ‘Felix, it’s not even new!’
‘No,’ he admitted, ‘but it’ll have to do.’ He gave her a mischievous grin. ‘I thought you, as the family mechanic, could give her the once-over. Don’t want to break down on the way, do we?’
Daphne glowered at him, but the next day she donned her old overalls, tied her hair up in its familiar turban and spent a happy hour or two under, not only the bonnet, but also the chassis. When she emerged, her hands black with oil and a smudge across her nose, Felix felt his heart do a flip. She was the Daphne he’d seen working on Spitfires at the air base, the Daphne he loved.
‘She’s actually not in bad shape,’ Daphne conceded. ‘Won’t be long before we’ll need new brake pads, but I’ve changed the plugs and given the engine a spring clean. She’ll do for a bit.’
*
Felix and Daphne moved into the manor on the Monday before Christmas. It had not been an easy decision to make and had caused a good deal of heartache and friction between them, but Felix was still sure it was the right one. They had rented the flat furnished, and there was little to pack apart from their clothes and the few small personal items they had bought together. Everything had been packed into two trunks and sent on by train, luggage in advance.
On their last Saturday night in London, Felix, with one last burst of extravagance, took Daphne out for dinner to her favourite restaurant. The Silver Swan was a small, intimate restaurant in a corner of Soho; tables tucked into booths, candlelight glinting on silver and cut glass, where they had often eaten while Felix was courting her. Indeed it had been after an evening there that Felix had proposed, and they’d begun to think of it as ‘their place’. The head waiter greeted them by name and showed them to a secluded table in an alcove. When they’d ordered their food, Felix poured the wine and, raising his glass to hers, said, ‘To us, my darling. And to our new life as the squire and his lady.’
Daphne clinked his glass. ‘I suppose this’ll be the last time we’ll ever come here,’ she sighed. ‘I wish we wasn’t going.’
Two days later, they packed their last bits and pieces into the Standard and set out for Somerset. It was chilly in the late afternoon of a dull December day when they arrived in Wynsdown, cold and tired. As they turned into the manor’s driveway, Felix pipped the horn and Marjorie emerged to greet them.
‘Welcome home,’ she said as she kissed Daphne’s cheek and then gave Felix a hug. ‘I hope you’ll be as happy here as your father and I were.’
‘I’m sure we will, Mother,’ Felix said, returning her hug.
Daphne said nothing, simply walked through into the drawing room, where a fire snapped and crackled in the hearth, offering welcome warmth after the cold of the December afternoon outside. She took off her coat and dropped it onto an armchair before turning to face her mother-in-law who had followed her in. ‘At least it’s warm in here,’ she remarked, and crossed to the fireplace to hold out her hands to the flames.
‘You must be dying for a cup of tea,’ Marjorie said. ‘The kettle’s on the boil, I’ll just go and make some.’
Felix carried the tray into the drawing room and they all sat by the fire, drinking their tea and eating slabs of cake, left by Mrs Darby.
‘A warm house and a cup of tea,’ sighed Felix. ‘Nothing better.’
‘Mrs Darby’s left you a cottage pie in the kitchen, too,’ Marjorie said. ‘All you need to do is pop it in the oven and it’ll be ready for your supper whenever you want it.’ She put down her cup and got to her feet. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, and went out into the hall. Taking her coat from the stand she shrugged it on. ‘I had your trunks put upstairs when they arrived and I’m sure you’ll want to get settled.’
‘Mother, you don’t have to go?’ protested Felix.
‘Yes, Felix, I do. I’ve got a pie for the oven too, and you and Daphne’ll want your first night here to yourselves.’
‘Well, at least let me walk you back to Eden Lodge,’ Felix said.
‘No, I’ll be fine,’ Marjorie said, but Felix insisted and together they set off down the drive.
Daphne closed the front door behind them and stood for a moment in the silence of the hall and as she did so, the house seemed to sigh and settle round her. A sudden vision of her childhood home assailed her, rough, cramped and ugly. How squalid it seemed; life lived in the kitchen, no hot water, outdoor privy in the small backyard. She shook her head to dispel the thought and looked round the hallway of her new home; doors opening to dining room, study, drawing room. She had a drawing room! The thought made her laugh out loud. No real servants as she’d first imagined, she knew that now, but she assumed that Mrs Darby and Mrs Gurney would still be employed as they had been before. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad living here, after all.
There were rooms she hadn’t seen on her previous visits and now it all belonged to her, she wanted to take possession of it, explore it, discover it on her own. She decided to make a tour of the rest of the house before Felix got back. She was already familiar with the downstairs rooms so, deciding to start upstairs, she climbed the carved oak staircase to the first floor. The door to the bedroom she and Felix had occupied before stood open, and going into the room she found it warm and welcoming, ready for occupation. A fire smouldered in the hearth, the green velvet curtains were drawn and a bedside lamp shed warm, yellow light onto the bed, ready made up, where the clothes had been turned invitingly back.
The two trunks they’d sent down ahead of them were standing in a corner, but Daphne wasn’t interested in them or their contents; plenty of time to unpack those. All the time in the world.
Further along the landing she came to Marjorie’s bedroom, a room she’d never entered before. Now she flung open its door, and switching on the lights, stepped inside. She found herself in a large, almost empty room. The curtains at the bay window stood open to the darkening sky and the dank winter garden spread out below. It was cold. There was a fireplace, but no fire, laid or lit. A heavy mahogany wardrobe stood against one wall, and standing in the middle of the room was a large wooden bedstead, a pile of blankets, neatly folded, on the bare mattress; apart from a large Turkey rug providing an island of softness in an otherwise austere room, there was no furniture at all.
Daphne stared round angrily. This is the main bedroom, she thought. This should be our bedroom. Where’s all the furniture? There must have been more than this! His wretched mother’s taken it with her! So what are we supposed to use?
She marched across to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. Apart from a few wooden coat-hangers that rattled together as they were disturbed, it contained nothing.
She went out onto the landing again, going from room to room. There were four more bedrooms, one of which had been Felix’s as a child, another the blue guest room where James and Freda had slept when they came for the funeral, and two others, furnished but clearly disused. At the far end of the passage were narrow back stairs leading down to the kitchen and a door, behind which Daphne discovered a further flight of steep wooden stairs, leading to three tiny bedrooms in the roof: the servants’ rooms, unused for years, dusty and festooned with cobwebs.
By the time Felix got home again, she had been into every room in the house including the kitchen, the scullery and the huge walk-in pantry. There she had found the pie Marjorie had mentioned, and some cabbage, chopped and ready to cook. She left them where they were.
Finished with her exploration Daphne was sitting by the drawing-room fire with her feet up when Felix came in.
‘She’s taken the furniture from the bedroom,’ she said as soon as he came in through the door.
‘What?’ Felix looked confused.
‘Your mother! She’s taken the bedroom furniture!’
‘Well, it’s hers,’ said Felix mildly.
‘So what do we use, then?’ demanded Daphne. She had been thinking about the almost empty bedroom for the past half-hour and was spoiling for a fight.
‘There’s plenty more furniture in the house,’ Felix said as he dropped into the armchair on the opposite side of the hearth. ‘We’ll just move it around a bit.’ He looked across at her angry face and hoping to change the subject asked, ‘Did you put the pie in the oven?’
‘No!’ snapped Daphne, who hadn’t finished fighting yet.
‘Never mind,’ Felix said easily. ‘I’ll go and put it in.’ He waved towards a small trolley standing in the corner of the room. ‘Why don’t you pour us each a drink? I think we’ve earned one.’
Later, as they lay in bed in the warm bedroom prepared for them, Felix slipped an arm round her, one hand cupping her breast, the other gently massaging her bottom.
‘No, Felix. Not now!’ Daphne pulled away from him. ‘It’s the wrong time of the month.’
Felix withdrew his hand and sighed. ‘Pity,’ he said. ‘You should always make love on the first night in a new house.’
‘It’s not exactly new to either of us, is it?’ Daphne replied.
‘No,’ Felix conceded, ‘but we’ve never made love here. I do love you, Daphne.’ He pulled her close against him, nuzzling the back of her neck. ‘Let’s just have a cuddle, then.’
Daphne sighed and relaxed against him. She could feel his erection against her back and felt guilty for her lie. ‘Only a couple of days,’ she said, ‘then I’ll be fine.’