A New Dream - Maggie Ford (interesting novels to read TXT) 📗

His home was beautiful. It had the touch of a woman’s hand on it. Whoever she was her photo was everywhere. There was one beside a great vase of roses on the grand piano in the huge lounge, another on the sideboard, one on the mantelpiece and another on a small desk in the corner. There was even a small one on a coffee table. Suddenly Julia felt deep sympathy for him. He must have loved her, maybe still did.

She touched one of the photos. ‘Is this your wife?’

He nodded, then said, ‘So, what’ll it be, cocktail, brandy and soda? I have some wine or would you prefer a long drink? Or there’s coffee or tea if you prefer.’

He was questioning her far too rapidly. ‘What’s her name?’ she asked. ‘You have never mentioned her by name.’

‘It doesn’t matter. It’s all over anyway. Now what do you fancy?’ Julia gave up. ‘I’d like a long drink, port and lemonade if you have it.’

They sat side by side on the sofa, she with her tall glass, he sipping a whisky. He had turned on the radio. It was playing soft music. Julia listened without speaking for he was gazing ahead as if she were not there.

After a while she said, ‘It a nice wireless,’ more for something to say, to break the silence, than for any other reason.

‘It’s a radiogram,’ he replied.

They fell quiet again. Then he seemed to pull himself together. ‘Look, I’m not much company. I’ve turned into a miserable sod. Perhaps I should take you home.’

On impulse Julia took his hand. ‘You’re not a miserable sod, Chester. You must feel really down, you and your wife breaking up. You’ve never really told me about it. I don’t know whose fault it was…’

‘No one’s fault, just didn’t work out, that’s all.’

She wanted to say that if that was the case, things might right themselves, but she merely continued to sit there silently, his hand in hers. Or now it seemed her hand was in his.

‘You’re such a good person,’ he was saying in a low voice. ‘I should have held on to you. I did love you, you know, very much. I was such a fool.’

She realized that his free hand was covering hers and out of nowhere came that warm excitement, overwhelming this time. As she whispered his name he leaned towards her until his lips touched hers. In an instinctive move her arm went about his neck, holding the kiss as together they sank down on the sofa. She heard his voice in her ear but didn’t know what he said. She felt him undo her clothing but made no move to stop him. Something in her wanted this. It wasn’t love, it was a need. His hands were caressing her breasts, moving over her body to wring a responsive sigh of pleasure from her. But as the touch became more eager, she tensed. This wasn’t love, only a sensation of love, and it was wrong. ‘Chester… no!’

He stopped. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘We mustn’t. We really mustn’t.’

‘I have protection,’ he whispered. ‘No need to worry.’

Maybe not, but suddenly Julia had thought of Stephanie, of how free she had been with a man, or maybe more than one, and she felt ashamed. She had wanted to hang on to that delicious sensation, abandon herself to this need she’d felt but all she said was, ‘I’m sorry, Chester. I can’t.’

She had her eyes tightly shut as he lifted himself off her. She heard him go from the lounge and only then did she open her eyes, sit up and slowly adjust her clothing.

He had come back into the room to sit on the edge of an armchair, his hands linked together between his knees, his gaze on her. ‘I am still in love with you, you know,’ he whispered.

She didn’t reply but sat, awkward and embarrassed, and then, feeling she had to take charge of the painful situation, said, ‘I must go home.’

She saw him nod but he said nothing and she took a deep breath to compose her jangled nerves.

‘I didn’t finish my drink,’ she said.

‘No, you didn’t.’

The heat of excitement had melted away and now she felt completely drained. Yet she knew she wanted to see him again, to feel his hands on her body again and maybe next time… No, she wouldn’t think of next time.

He must have read her mind. ‘Will I see you again?’ he asked quietly.

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked slowly.

‘Yes,’ she said again. There was nothing more to say, but both were aware that next time would see the fulfilment of what today had been left uncompleted.

Twenty-Six

It was July. She’d been seeing Chester on and off since March. She was sure she had set Simon wondering sometimes. Her cheeks would grow hot when he regarded her with that enquiring look he’d begun to adopt. He would frown but never once asked questions, which was all the more worrying.

If he’d thought her off colour surely he’d have asked if she was all right. He never did, and that made her certain he suspected something. She hated deceiving him. She still loved him. Yet it was Chester who fulfilled her needs.

The excuse of meeting buyers or clients had been used too often to sound convincing any longer, though of course she did visit shops, checking who stocked her labels, but her work was falling by the wayside – another thing to make Simon frown, make him suspect that something was very wrong.

‘I don’t know what I’d to do if Simon found out,’ she said to Chester.

From the start she’d allowed him to make love to her only infrequently and then not fully, afraid that one day they might become carried away and forget to take precautions. She was sure he would have the sense to be careful. He didn’t want an accident any more than she did, her primary concern always of Simon finding out.