Chapter Seventeen

Like I said. There should be a different system. There should be some kind of universal arrangement that leaves no room for misunderstanding. It could involve hand signals, perhaps. Or small, discreet stickers placed on the lapel, color-​coded for different messages:

AVAILABLE/NOT AVAILABLE RELATIONSHIP ON/RELATIONSHIP OFF

SEX IMMINENT/SEX CANCELED/SEX MERELY POSTPONED.

How else are you supposed to know whats going on? How?

By the next morning Ive thought long and hard and have got nowhere. Either: a) Nathaniel was offended by my references to sex and isnt interested anymore. Or b) hes fine, its all still on, he was just being a man and not saying much, and I should stop obsessing.

Or somewhere in between. Or some other option I havent even considered. Or... Actually, I think that might cover it. But still. Im totally confused just thinking about it.

I stumble downstairs in my robe at around nine, to find Eddie and Trish in the hall, dressed up very smartly. Eddie is in a blue blazer with shiny gold buttons, and Trish is in a white slub silk suit, with the biggest corsage of fake red roses Ive ever seen. She also seems to be having the teeniest problem doing up the buttons of her jacket. At last she edges the last one into its buttonhole and stands back to look at herself in the mirror, panting slightly.

Now she looks as though she cant move her arms.

What do you think? she says to Eddie.

Yes, very nice, he says, frowning at a copy of Road Map ofBritain 1994 . Is it the A347? Or the A367?

Um... I think it looks nice with the jacket unbuttoned, I venture. More... relaxed.

Trish looks as though she suspects me of deliberately sabotaging her appearance.

Yes, she says at last. Maybe youre right. She makes to undo her buttonsbut shes so trussed up, she cant get her hands near enough. And now Eddies wandered off into the study.

Shall I...I offer.

Yes. Her neck flames red. If you would be so kind.

I move forward and undo the buttons as gently as I can, which is not very, given how stiff the fabric is. When Ive finished she takes a step backward and regards herself again,

looking slightly dissatisfied, plucking at her silky shirt thing. Tell me Samantha, she says casually. If you saw me now for the first time...

what word would you use to describe me? Oh, bloody hell. Im sure this wasnt in my job description. I rack my brains hastily for

the most flattering word I can come up with.

Um... um... elegant, I say at last, nodding as though to add conviction to what Im saying. Id say you were elegant.

Elegant? Something tells me I got it wrong.

I mean, thin! I amend, in sudden realization.

How could I have overlooked thin?

Thin. She looks at herself a few moments, turning from side to side. Thin.

She doesnt sound entirely happy. Whats wrong with being thin and elegant, for Gods sake?

Not that shes either, lets be honest.

What about... She shakes back her hair, deliberately avoiding my eye. What about... young?

For a moment Im too flummoxed to answer. Young? Young compared to what? Er... absolutely, I say at last. That... goes without saying. Please dont say, How old do you think I How old would you say I am, Samantha?

Shes moving her head from side to side, flicking dust off her jacket, as though shes not really interested in the answer. But I know her ears are ready and waiting, like two giant microphones ready to pick up the slightest sound.

My face is prickling. What am I going to say? Ill say... thirty-​five. No. Dont be ridiculous. She cant be that self-​deluded. Forty? No. I cant say forty. Its too near the truth.

Are you about... thirty-​seven? I hazard at last. Trish turns roundand from her smug

expression of pleasure I reckon I hit the note of flattery about right.

Im actually... thirty-​nine! she says, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks.

No! I exclaim, trying not to look at her crows-​feet. Thats... amazing!

She is such a liar. She was forty-​six last February. And if she doesnt want people to know, she shouldnt leave her passport out on her dressing table.

Now! she says, clearly cheered up. Well be out all day at my sisters party. Nathaniel will be coming over to work in the garden, but I expect you know that

Nathaniel? I feel an electric jolt. Hes coming here?

He called this morning. The sweet peas need... stringing or looping or something? She gets out a lip pencil and begins outlining her already lined lips.

Right. I didnt realize. Im trying to stay collected, but tentacles of excitement are creeping through me. So... hes working on a Sunday?

Oh, he often does. Hes very dedicated. She stands back to look at her reflection, then starts shading in her lips with yet more lipstick. I heard he took you to his little pub?

His little pub. She is so patronizing.

Er... yes. He did.

I was so glad about that, really. She takes out a mascara wand. We nearly had to look for another gardener, can you imagine. Although of course it was a great shame for him. After all his plans.

I must have missed a beat or three. Whats she talking about?

What was a shame? I say.

Nathaniel. His nursery. Plant thing. She frowns at her reflection. Organic something or other. He showed us the business proposition. In fact, we even considered backing him. We are very supportive employers, Samantha. She fixes me with a blue gaze as though daring me to disagree.

Of course!

All set? Eddie comes out of the study wearing a Panama hat. Its going to be bloody sweltering, you know.

Eddie, dont start, snaps Trish, shoving her mascara wand back in the tube. We are

going to this party and thats final. Have you got the present?

And what happened? I ask, trying to haul the conversation back on track. With Nathaniels plans?

Trish makes a small, regretful moue at herself in the mirror. Well, his father passed away very suddenly, and there was all that dreadful business with the pubs. And he changed his mind. Never bought the land. She gives herself another dissatisfied look. Should I wear my pink suit?

No , Eddie and I say in unison. I glance at Eddies exasperated face and stifle a laugh.

You look lovely, Mrs. Geiger, I say. Really.

Somehow, between us, Eddie and I manage to chivvy her away from the mirror, out the front door, and across the gravel to Eddies Porsche. Eddies right, its going to be a boiling day. The sky is already a translucent blue, the sun a dazzling ball.

What time will you be back? I ask as they get in.

Not until late this evening, says Trish. Eddie, wheres the present ? Ah, Nathaniel, here you are.

I look over the top of the car. There he is, coming down the drive, in jeans and an old gray T-​shirt, his rucksack over his shoulder. And here I am, in my dressing gown with my hair all over the place.

And still not sure how things have been left between us. Although certain bits of my body are already responding to the sight of him. They dont seem to be in any confusion at all.

Hi, I say as he gets near.

Hi. Nathaniels eyes crinkle in a friendly way, but he doesnt make any attempt to kiss me or even smile. Instead, he just comes to a halt. Theres something about his intent, purposeful gaze that makes me feel a bit wobbly around the legs.

So. I wrench my eyes away. Youre... working hard today.

I could do with some help, he says casually. If youre at a loose end. Mum told me you werent cooking today.

I feel a huge leap of delight, which I attempt to hide with a cough. Right. I shrug slightly, almost frowning. Well... maybe.

Great. He nods to the Geigers and saunters off toward the garden.

Trish has been watching this exchange in increasing dissatisfaction.

Youre not very affectionate with each other, are you? she says. You know, in my experience

Leave them alone, for Gods sake! retorts Eddie, starting the engine. Lets get this bloody thing over with.

Eddie Geiger! Trish shrills. This is my sisters party youre talking about! Do you realize

Eddie revs the engine, drowning out her voice, and with a spattering of gravel the Porsche disappears out of the drive, leaving me alone in the silent, baking sunshine.

Right.

So... its just Nathaniel and me. Alone together. Until eight oclock this evening. Thats the basic scenario.

A pulse is starting to thud somewhere deep inside me. Like a conductor setting the beat, like an introduction.

Deliberately nonchalant, I turn on the gravel and start to make my way back toward the house. As I pass a flower bed I even pause and study a random plant for a moment, holding the green leaves between my fingers.

I guess I could wander down and offer a helping hand. It would be polite.

I force myself not to rush. I take a shower and get dressed and have breakfast, consisting of half a cup of tea and an apple. Then I go upstairs and put on a little makeup.

Ive dressed low-​key. A T-​shirt, a cotton skirt, and flip-​flops. As I look in the mirror I feel almost shivery with anticipation. But other than that my mind is weirdly blank. I seem to have lost all my thought processes.

After the cool house, the garden feels scorching, the air still and almost shimmery. I keep to the shade, heading down the side path, not knowing where hes working, where Im heading. And then I see him, in the midst of a row of lavender and lilac-​colored flowers, knotting a length of twine.

Hi, I say.

Hi. He looks up and wipes his brow. Im half-​expecting him to drop what hes doing, come forward, and kiss me. But he doesnt. He just carries on knotting, then cuts the

twine off with a knife.

I came to help, I say after a pause. What are we doing?

Tying up the sweet peas. He gestures at the plants, which are growing up what look like cane wigwams. They need support, otherwise they just flop. He throws me a ball of twine. Have a go. Just tie them gently.

Hes not joking. I really am helping with the gardening. Cautiously I unwind a length of twine and follow what hes doing, cutting with a pair of secateurs he passes to me. The soft leaves and petals tickle me as I work and fill the air with an amazing sweet scent.

Nathaniel comes over to take a look. You could tie a little tighter. His hand brushes briefly against mine as he turns away. Lets see you do the next one.

My hand tingles at his touch. Did he mean to do that? Uncertain, I tie up the next plant, knotting tighter than before.

Yeah, thats good. Suddenly Nathaniels voice is behind me and I feel his fingers on the back of my neck, tracing around my earlobe. You need to do the whole row.

He definitely meant to do that. No question. I turn round, wanting to reciprocate, but hes already on the other side of the row, intent on a sweet pea plant, as though nothing happened.

He has a game plan, I suddenly realize.

Now I really am turned on.

The pulse is growing stronger inside me as I move from plant to plant. Theres silence except for the rustling of leaves and faint snap of twine as I cut. Three more plants and Im at the end of the row.

Done, I say without turning round.

Great, lets see. He comes over to inspect my knotted twine. I can feel his other hand edging up my thigh, pushing up my skirt. I cant move. Im transfixed. Then suddenly he breaks away, businesslike again, picking up a pair of trugs.

What I cant even frame a sentence properly.

He kisses me briefly, hard on the mouth. Lets move on. Raspberries need picking.

The raspberry cages are further down the garden, like rooms of green netting, with dry, earthy floors and rows of plants. As we enter theres no sound except that of buzzing insects and the flapping of a trapped sparrow, which Nathaniel shoos away through the

netting.

We work the first row wordlessly, picking the fruit off the plants. By the end of the row my mouth is tangy with the taste of them, my hands are scratched and aching from the constant plucking, and Im sweating all over. The heat seems more intense in this raspberry cage than anywhere else in the garden.

We meet at the end of the row. Sweat is pouring down our faces.

Hot work, he says. He puts his basket down and strips off his T-​shirt.

Yes. Theres a still beat between us. Then, almost defiantly, I do the same. Im standing there in my bra, inches from him, my skin pale and milky next to his.

Have we done enough? I gesture at the basket, but Nathaniel doesnt even glance down.

Not yet.

His expression makes me damp and prickly behind my knees. I meet his eyes and its like were playing truth or dare.

I couldnt reach those ones. I point at a high cluster of fruit just out of reach.

Ill help. He leans over me, skin against skin, and I feel his mouth on my earlobe as he picks the fruit. My entire body responds. I cant bear this; I need it to stop. And I need it not to stop.

But it goes on. We move up and down the rows like two performers in a courtly dance. Outwardly concentrating on our moves yet aware only of each other. At the end of every row, he brushes some part of me with his mouth or fingers. One time he feeds me raspberries and I graze his fingers with my teeth. I want to get at him, I want my hands all over him, but every time he turns away before anything can progress.

Im starting to shiver all over with desire. He unhooked my bra two rows ago. Ive discarded my knickers. Hes unbuckled his belt. And still, still were picking raspberries.

The baskets are full and heavy and my arms are aching, but Im barely aware of them. All Im aware of is that my whole body is throbbing, that I cant stand this for much longer. As I reach the end of the last row I put the basket down and face him, unable to hide how desperate I am.

Are we done? My breath is coming in short, hot bursts. I have to have him. He has to realize.

Weve done pretty well. His gaze drifts toward the other fruit cages. Theres still more to do...

No, I hear myself saying. No more.

I stand there in the heat and the dusty earth, panting and aching. And just as I think I might explode, he comes forward and bends his mouth down to my nipple, and I nearly swoon. And this time he doesnt move away. This time is for real. His hands are moving over my body, my skirt is falling to the ground, his jeans are sliding off. Then Im shuddering, and clutching him, and crying out. And the raspberries are forgotten, scattered on the ground, squashed, crushed beneath us.

We seem to lie still for hours afterward. I feel numb with euphoria. There are stones and dust embedded in my back and knees and hands and raspberry stains all over my skin. I dont mind. I cant even bring myself to lift a hand and remove the ant that is crawling up my stomach like a tickling dot.

My head is on Nathaniels chest, his heart beating like a deep, comforting clock. The sun is hot on my skin. I have no idea what time it is. I dont care what time it is. Ive lost all sense of minutes and hours.

At last Nathaniel shifts his head slightly. He kisses my shoulder, then smiles. You taste of raspberry.

That was I break off, almost too stupefied to frame any sensible words. You know... normally I... A huge yawn suddenly overcomes me and I clap my hand over my mouth. I want to go to sleep now, for days.

Nathaniel traces lazy circles around my back.

Six minutes isnt sex, I hear him saying as my eyes crash shut. Six minutes is a boiled egg.

By the time I wake up, the raspberry cages are in partial shade. Nathaniel has moved from underneath me, given me a pillow constructed from my crumpled, raspberry-​stained skirt, put on his jeans, and brought down some beer from the Geigers fridge. I sit up, my head still groggy, to see him leaning against a tree on the grass.

Slacker, I say. The Geigers think youre tying up sweet peas.

He turns toward me with a flicker of amusement. Sleep well?

How long was I asleep? I put my hand to my face and remove a small stone. I feel totally disoriented.

Couple of hours. You want some of this? He gestures to the bottle. Its cold.

I get to my feet, brush myself down, put on my skirt and bra as a good compromise outfit and join him. I sink back against the tree trunk, my bare feet in the cool grass.

God, I feel so... I lift a hand and let it drop down with a heavy thump.

Youre not as twitchy as you were, says Nathaniel. You used to jump a mile whenever I spoke to you.

No, I didnt!

Uh-​huh, you did. He nods. Like a rabbit.

I thought I was a badger.

Youre a rabbitbadger cross. Very rare breed. He grins at me. For a while neither of us speaks. I watch a tiny plane high above, leaving a white trail in the sky.

Mum says youve changed too. She said she reckons whoever youve run away from... whatever happened... theyre losing their grip on you.

The question is there in his voice, but I dont respond. Im thinking of Iris yesterday. Letting me take all my frustrations out on her. Its not like shes had it easy herself.

Your mums amazing, I say at last. I put the bottle down and roll onto the grass, staring up at the blue sky. I can smell the earth beneath my head and feel grass stems against my ears and hear a grasshopper chirruping nearby.

I have changed. I can feel it in myself. I feel... stiller.

Who would you be? I say, twisting a grass stem round my finger. If you could just run away. Become a different person.

Id be me, he says at last. Im happy as I am. I like living where I live. I like doing what I do.

I roll over onto my front and look up at him, squinting in the sunlight. There must be something else youd like to do. Some dream youve got.

He shakes his head, smiling. Im doing what I want to do. But what about the nursery you were going to set up? I see the surprise on his face. How did you Trish told me about it this morning. She said you had business plans and everything.

What happened?

For a moment hes silent, his eyes averted from mine. I cant tell whats going on inside.

It was just an idea, he says finally.

You gave it up for your mum. To run the pubs.

Maybe. He reaches for a low-​growing branch and starts stripping it of leaves. Everything changed.

But do you really want to run the pubs? I edge forward on the grass, trying to intercept his gaze. You said it yourself, youre not a landlord. Youre a gardener.

Its not a question of want ! Nathaniels voice has a sudden edge of frustration. Its a family business. Someone has to run it.

Why you? I persist. Why not your brother?

Hes... different. He does his own thing.

You could do your own thing!

I have responsibilities. His frown grows heavier. My mum

Shed want you to do whatever you want to do, I insist. I know she would. Shed want you to be happy in your life, not give it up for her.

I am happy. Its ridiculous to say

But couldnt you be happier ?

Theres silence in the garden. Nathaniels shoulders are bent round as if he wants to shut out what Im saying.

Dont you ever want to ditch your responsibilities? I throw my arms out wide in sudden abandon. Just... walk out into the world and see what happens?

Is that what you did? he demands, wheeling round.

IWere not talking about me. Were talking about you.

Samantha___ He rubs his cheek. I know you dont want to talk about the past. But I want you to tell me one thing. And be truthful.

I feel a deep tremor of alarm. Whats he going to ask me?

Ill... try. What is it?

Nathaniel looks me directly in the eye and takes a deep breath.

Do you have kids?

Im so dumbfounded, I cant speak for a moment. He thinks I have kids ? A gurgle of relieved laughter rises through me before I can stop it.

No, I dont have kids! What, you think Ive left five starving little mouths behind?

I dont know. He frowns, looking sheepish but defensive. Why not?

Because... I mean... do I look like Ive had five kids? I cant help a note of indignation, and he starts to laugh too.

Maybe not five ... Whats that supposed to mean? Im about to hit him with his shirt when a voice pierces

the air.

Samantha?

Its Trish. Coming from the house. Theyre home ?

Samantha? her voice trills again. Are you outside?

Oh, fuck. Im naked except for a skirt and a bra, and covered in dust and raspberry stains. Nathaniel is much the same, except in jeans.

Quick! My clothes! I hiss, scrabbling to my feet. Where are they? says Nathaniel, looking around. I dont know ! Im trying to control my laughter. Were going to get the sack. Samantha? I can hear the clunk of the conservatory doors being opened. Shit! I squeak. Shes coming!

Its fine, says Nathaniel, retrieving his T-​shirt from the raspberry cage. He pops it over his head and at once looks pretty together. Ill create a diversion. You sneak up the side, behind the shrubs, go in the kitchen door, run upstairs, and get changed. OK?

OK, I say breathlessly. And whats our story?

Our story is... He pauses as though thinking. We didnt shag in the garden or help ourselves to beers from the fridge.

Right. I cant help giggling. Good plan.

Go swiftly, Brown Rabbit. He kisses me, and I dart across the lawn to the cover of a huge rhododendron bush.

I sneak up the side of the garden, keeping behind the shrubs, trying not to give myself away. My bare feet are cool on the damp, shaded earth; I step on a sharp pebble and wince in total silence. I feel about ten years old, playing hide-​and-​seek, the same mixture of terror and delight pounding in my heart.

When Im only ten yards from the house I crouch behind a shrub and wait. After a minute or two I see Nathaniel firmly leading the Geigers down the lawn toward the lily pond.

I think we could have a case of powdery mildew, hes saying. I thought you should see it for yourselves.

I wait until theyre well past, then sprint to the conservatory, in through the house, and up the stairs. When Im in my room and the door is safely closed, I collapse on the bed, wanting to laugh at my own relief, at the hilarity, at the silliness of it all. Then I get up and look out the window. I can just see them all down by the pond. Nathaniel is pointing at something with a stick.

I hurry into the bathroom, turn on the shower full blast, and stand under it for thirty seconds. I pull on clean underwear, a pair of fresh jeans, and a demure long-​sleeved top. I even add fresh lipstick. Then, slipping on a pair of espadrilles, I head downstairs and out into the garden.

Nathaniel and the Geigers are by now making their way back up to the house. Trishs heels are sinking into the lawn and both she and Eddie look hot and irritated.

Hi, I say casually as they approach.

There you are, says Nathaniel. I havent seen you all afternoon.

I was studying recipes, I say innocently, and turn to Trish with a polite smile. Did you enjoy the party, Mrs. Geiger?

Too late I see Nathaniel making deathlike, finger-​across-​the-​throat gestures behind their backs.

Thank you for asking, Samantha. Trish snaps her purse shut and dabs her nose with a

tissue. Id rather not talk about the party, thank you.

Eddie makes an incensed spluttering sound. You wont bloody give up, will you? All I said was

It was the way you said it! shrieks Trish. Sometimes I think your sole purpose in life is to embarrass me!

Eddie stalks off toward the house, his Panama hat lopsided on his head.

Uh-​oh. I raise my eyebrows at Nathaniel, who grins back over Trishs head.

Would you like a nice cup of tea, Mrs. Geiger? I say soothingly. Or... a Bloody Mary?

Thank you, Samantha, she replies, lifting her chin in a dignified manner. A Bloody Mary would be very nice.

As we walk up to the conservatory, Trish seems to calm down a little. She even mixes her own Bloody Mary instead of bossing me around as I do it, and makes one each for me and Nathaniel too.

Now , she says, after weve each taken a sip and sat down among the frondy plants. There was something I needed to tell you, Samantha. Were having a visitor.

Oh, right, I say, trying not to smile. Nathaniel is sitting next to me and is edging off my espadrille with his foot under the coffee table.

My niece is coming to stay tomorrow for a few weeks. Shes coming to get some peace and quiet in the country. She has some work to do, and its very important she isnt disturbed, so Mr. Geiger and I offered her a place here. Id like you to get the spare room ready for her.

Very good. I nod dutifully.

Shell need a bed made up and a deskI believe shes bringing a laptop computer with her.

Yes, Mrs. Geiger. Shes a very bright girl, Melissa. Trish lights up a cigarette with a Tiffany lighter.

Extremely high-​powered. One of these City girls.

Oh, right, I say, trying to stay composed as Nathaniel finally manages to push my espadrille off. What does she do?

Shes a lawyer, says Trishand I look up, speechless. A lawyer?

A lawyer is coming to stay in this house?

Nathaniel is tickling the sole of my foot, but I can only respond with a weak smile. This could be bad.

What if I know this lawyer?

As Trish mixes herself another Bloody Mary, Im racking my brains frantically. Melissa . It could be Melissa Davis from Freshwater. It could be Melissa Christie from Clark Forrester. It could be Melissa Taylor who worked on the DeltaCo merger. We spent hours in the same room together. Shed recognize me straightaway.

So... is she a niece on your side, Mrs. Geiger? I ask casually as Trish sits down. Is she called Geiger too?

No, shes calledHurst .

Melissa Hurst. Doesnt ring any bells.

And where does she work? Please let it be abroad ...

Oh, shes at some high-​powered place inLondon . Trish gestures vaguely with her glass.

OK, so I dont know her. But if shes at any of the big law firms shes bound to have heard about me. Shes bound to know about the Carter Spink lawyer who lost fifty million and ran away. Shell know every humiliating detail of my disgrace.

Im feeling cold all over at the thought of it. All it takes is for her to recognize my name, to put two and two together... and the whole story will come out. Ill be as humiliated here as I was inLondon . Everyone will know what happened at Carter Spink. Everyone will know my lies. I glance at Nathaniel and feel a spike of dread.

I cant let things be spoiled.Not now.