Thinking how self-contained they’d been, and perhaps how unfriendly their behaviour might have seemed, Jenna knew that they would have to do better when it came to Valentina’s stepchildren once they arrived.
But first they had Valentina to meet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alastair had wanted to meet Valentina in Norwich, to save her the bother of catching the train to Wroxham and Hoveton, but she had insisted there was no need for him to drive the extra distance, that she was perfectly capable of making the connection herself. ‘But I’d get to see you even sooner if I drive to Norwich,’ he’d said quite reasonably when they’d spoken on the phone last night. She’d laughed at that and told him what were a few extra minutes when they would be seeing each other night and day for the next couple of weeks?
She was right, of course, but he was impatient to see her. He wanted to hold her and know that she was real; that what they were doing was real. It was a phrase that frequently whirled around inside his head, as if baiting him to doubt the veracity of his feelings, to make him lose faith.
He knew perfectly well his friends were troubled about his plans to be with an unknown woman who had come into his life so soon after Orla. They had his best interests at heart, or so he wanted to believe, but a part of him was beginning to suspect that it was their own interests they were more concerned about. Perhaps that was truer of Simon than the others. He seemed quite unprepared to allow Alastair to be happy if it meant changing the status quo.
As a boy Simon had always been the more possessive of the three of them. It would have been understandable to assume Danny would be more insecure and possessive, given the difficult years of his young childhood, but no, it was Simon with his comfortable upbringing, decent and caring parents and his extrovert manner who, deep down, was the more insecure.
But knowing this didn’t make it any easier for Alastair to deal with Simon’s reluctance to accept the changes that lay ahead.He’ll come round, was the hope he hung on to, once they had all got to know Valentina and trusted the happiness she had brought into his life. Then they would relax and stop treating him as if he had lost his mind and needed certifying.
He checked his watch. The train was two minutes late, which was no big deal, it often was. He breathed in deeply, let out his breath and walked along the platform right to the end, Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 – the soundtrack fromBrief Encounter– suddenly playing in his head. He smiled at the cheesiness of it, but then he thought of the film’s ending when Celia Johnson and Trevor Howard accept they have no future together, and the smile was gone from his face.
He’d paced the platform a few more times before he saw the Norwich train coming into view. For a terrible moment he wondered what he’d do if Valentina wasn’t on it, if she’d had a change of heart and decided a holiday romance was exactly that and had no place in the real world. The thought of having to explain that to his friends filled him with dismay. Which shocked him. Surely his first thought should have been to think how devastated he would be to lose Valentina, not about how stupid he would look to his friends, or how relieved they might be.
He looked anxiously along the platform to the now stationary train; carriage doors were opening and people were starting to appear. Holding his breath, he waited for Valentina to materialise. He knew the importance of this moment, the test of seeing each other again. Was the magic still there? Were they as they each remembered, or had they recreated each other to fit some kind of perfect ideal while being apart?
There! There she was!
She spotted him just as he raised a hand eagerly in the air and began moving towards her.
‘Well then,’ she said, when they were standing inches apart, her luggage at her feet, ‘here we are.’
‘Here we are indeed,’ he said, his stomach tightening with anxiety. Simply but elegantly dressed in a pale blue silk blouse and white jeans, her glossy dark hair tied up loosely on her head, she looked spectacularly radiant, like an exotic bird of paradise in such ordinary surroundings. ‘Would a kiss be in order?’ he asked, glad he’d showered and changed out of the scruffy old shorts and T-shirt he’d been wearing earlier.
A slow smile appeared on her face. ‘After coming all this way I would say it was compulsory, wouldn’t you?’
‘I certainly would,’ he agreed, putting his arms around her shoulders and drawing her close. Her warm sensual lips met his, soft and parted, and the tightening in his stomach made itself felt again, but this time for a very different reason.
‘I wish we didn’t have to go home straightaway,’ he said in a low voice, his arms still around her. Behind them the train was moving on. ‘In fact I wish we could go anywhere but Linston End.’
She tilted her head back and gave him one of her ravishing smiles. ‘You would deny me the fun of meeting your friends? How selfish you are.’
‘Is it so wrong of me to want you entirely to myself?’
She tapped a finger against his chest. ‘Very wrong.’
He sighed happily. ‘God, it’s good to see you again.’ He picked up her luggage and guided her towards the car park where he’d left his Range Rover.
‘I should warn you,’ he said, when they had passed through Horning and were on the road to Linston, ‘everybody is acting very oddly; they’re all on edge at the prospect of meeting you.’
‘I would be disappointed if they weren’t on edge, it would mean they didn’t care about you.’
‘It might be they care a little too much.’
‘Friends who care too much, how terrible.’
He glanced at her, reached for her hand and squeezed it. ‘You know what I mean though, don’t you?’
‘I told you before that I knew what to expect, that your friends will want to protect you from me, that I will be viewed as the enemy. I am quite prepared for that.’
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say it will be that bad,’ he said.
‘You English lie so politely,’ she said with a laugh. ‘We both know that nothing would please them more than for me to disappear so they can keep you to themselves.’
