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The longer their kiss continued, the weaker was Juliet’s desire to flee.
I can’t drive away in any case, she told herself. Not with his Lexus in the way. I could just leg it, but I can’t abandon Dave’s Mini. It must be worth at least 20 grand. Besides, I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t know how to get back into town. That’s the trouble with satnavs – trusting them to look after you diminishes your own navigation skills. I’ll never get a signal on my mobile out here, so I can’t depend on that for directions. Anyway, running would be pointless. With those long legs, he’d catch up with me in no time. He’s obviously in good shape. Besides, gravel is hell to run on, as unstable beneath your feet as a stony beach. Better to cooperate than fall flat on my face.
Only when she was short of breath did she pull back from Tom’s embrace and hold him at arms’ length. When he fixed his big brown eyes on hers, his smile sent a thrill right through her, just as it had all those years ago at the school disco. At the start of her favourite romantic song of the moment, they’d moved towards each other like magnets, wrapping their arms around each other for a slow dance that was over far too quickly and ended with a kiss.
Kissing him now felt like a homecoming, but the whole encounter seemed bizarre. Maybe she’d received an accidental overdose of anaesthetic and was lying unconscious in the dentist’s chair. If so, she couldn’t be held accountable for her actions, nor feel guilty about kissing him back. Was it even possible to get an overdose of dental anaesthetic?
Before she could gather her thoughts, Tom took Juliet firmly by the hand and led her to the front door. He slid his key into the lock and ushered her across the threshold before closing the door behind them.
Inside the entrance hall, Juliet hesitated. She could only guess the layout of the house, a one-off design, standing in its own grounds. On the estate where she and Rob lived, every house had been built to the same plan. Once you’d been in one, you knew your way round every home in the street.
To buy time, she stooped to pick up the newspaper from the doormat.
“Let’s have a coffee on the terrace before anything else,” Tom was saying. “I’m parched. That drop of rain has perked everything up except me.”
Coffee on the terrace: she could say yes to that with a clear conscience, even if it did seem a waste of dreamtime that might be spent more pleasurably. If she wasn’t dreaming, it was a safe and blameless way to spend time with her old flame. Perhaps a spot of caffeine might help her get a grip on herself.
“That would be lovely.”
As she followed Tom down the long hall to the kitchen, she hoped he’d make the coffee, because she had no idea how to work the fancy chrome-plated machine on the vast acreage of black marble worktop. While pretending to read the newspaper headlines, she watched him fill the water tank and drop in a foil pod for each cup. He fetched a carton of milk from a big red American-style fridge and steamed a jug full to add to their coffee. Then, dependent as a puppy, she trotted after him through the dining room, its walls lined with huge studio portraits of a boy and a girl at various stages of their childhood through to their early teens. They continued through a huge palm-filled conservatory, where Tom opened French doors on to a broad flag-stoned terrace. Around the edge, silvery sage and acid-bright basil spilled out of Etruscan stone pots.
Tom set the hand-thrown pottery mugs of coffee on a low table between two sturdy teak steamer chairs. Juliet wondered whether he ever went on cruises for his holidays. She’d always fancied a cruise.
“So, we have a couple of hours to kill before my parents arrive.”
“Your parents?”
Juliet brightened. She hadn’t allowed herself to think Tom might really be a crazed killer bent on abducting her, but she was glad to consider that a crazed killer would be unlikely to invite his parents over to watch him attack her.
“At least this week you don’t have to worry about cooking for them. They’ll be touched to know Eleanor made that casserole for them when she was home from school last weekend, and Edward the sorbet and shortbread.” Tom paused to sip his coffee, emitting a satisfied sigh at first taste. “I think the new weekly boarding arrangement is really suiting the kids. It’s the best of both worlds: plenty of opportunities to learn new practical skills alongside their academic studies and sports, while we get weekday evenings to ourselves, followed by quality family time at weekends.”
Juliet stared into her coffee. So Tom’s children were still at school? With his long training as a dentist, he must have come to parenthood later than she had. He probably married much later, too. A wave of nostalgia for her younger dependent children washed over her, and the days when they still believed she was perfect and all-knowing and weren’t shy of expressing their love for her. Did Tom appreciate how lucky he was? If so, why on earth was he farming his kids out to strangers five days a week? Even if Juliet had been rich, she’d never have sent her kids away from home for such a large part of their childhood. It passed far too quickly.
But if the fancy studio portraits in the dining room were anything to go by, the children seemed happy enough. Beautiful, too, with gleaming dark curls, Tom’s conker-coloured eyes and, of course, perfectly spaced white teeth.
“Yes, best of both worlds.” Tom set down his mug. “So, what say you we take advantage of one of those benefits right now?” He sprang up from his armchair, all energy where moments ago had been only languor. “Come on, Gems.”
Gently, he prised her mug from her and set it down on the table, before taking both her hands to haul her out of her seat. Juliet offered no resistance, thinking he’d probably not take no for an answer. A moment later, he was leading her back through the dining room, into the hall and towards the stairs.