This made her giggle. ‘Your family can’t be that bad.’
Cocking his head onto one side, he said, ‘Perhaps we can decide that on our return. I’ll be in the sitting room having a numbing whisky. No hurry.’
He brushed past her, trailing the scents of soap and spicy aftershave in his wake. Callie unlocked her bedroom door, jiggling the key with shaking fingers. Closing the door behind her, she collapsed against it. Images of a naked Johnny in the shower, water cascading erotically down his body, crowded her brain. Running her hands over her breasts, she tried to breathe. Her nipples felt swollen and tender, as if bursting from her T-shirt. Either she was perimenopausal, turned on, or pregnant. If the latter, it was an immaculate conception. Just as well she and Johnny would be surrounded by other people and especially the sobering company of his family; she’d jump him otherwise. Having been unused for so long, the sex hormones or muscles or whatever they were, had flamed into action with alarming speed.
‘Get a grip, Calliope Thorne. He’s just a good-looking bloke and you haven’t had sex for over twenty years. And look where it got you the last time! He’s just a reasonably presentable, intelligent man who you happen to get on with. A new friend.’
The beat urgently throbbing between her legs told her she was a liar.
‘Liar, liar, pants on fire,’ she scolded. Ripping off her clothes she ran the shower as cold as she could stand.
Ten
TUESDAY EVENING 13TH AUGUST
Edward Burne-Jones 1833–1898
British star of Aesthetic Movement. Lesson notes: put sensual and sinuous style into historical context. Reaction against industrialisation?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
The house which Johnny’s family had rented was a short distance away. They walked in silence. Callie didn’t have much option. The house was further up God Almighty Hill from Sea Haven House, Johnny walked at speed, and she only had breath to concentrate on the climb.
Eventually they came to the beginning of a track, very similar to the one which led up to Sea Haven House. If she lived here permanently she’d have thighs like tree trunks Callie thought, pausing to lean against a stone pillar bearing the name Sandy Vistas and with a post box attached. Staring over to the entrance to the public gardens, now shadowing away into the dusk, she puffed out, ‘Could we just stop here for a moment? I’d like to catch my breath.’
Admiring the tub of purple nicotiana and silvery blue lavender, she snatched a quick photo on her phone. The plants’ scent misted up, mingling with Johnny’s soap and spice and slight whisky fumes. Before she could prevent it entering her mind, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him and taste the whisky on his lips.
Johnny leaned against the pillar too, alarmingly close. ‘Sorry. Did I march you up here? Bit tense. I haven’t had much to do with my family for a long time and this is the third social event in as many days with them.’ He looked at her through dark lashes, his eyes glinting dangerously in the lowering light. ‘They’ll give you the third-degree, you do know that?’
‘I’ll cope.’ Callie pointed her phone towards the gardens, needing to change the subject to one more neutral. ‘I found a really tranquil spot in the gardens today to paint.’
‘It’s where the castle is, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘They were getting it ready for the Shakespeare today. Moving scenery in.’
‘I’ve bought two tickets. You were right, it isTwelfth Night.My favourite.’
‘Mine too. It would explain the stormy coloured sheets of plywood being carried in.’
‘You’re welcome to come with me, if you like. The invite still stands. No pressure though. I can always take Jess. I’m sure she’d love a night away from the baby.’
‘Might be tricky if she’s breastfeeding.’
‘Ah. I hadn’t thought about that. There you go then. I have a spare ticket. All paid for. Best seats in the house. Or castle.’ He grinned, looking more relaxed.
‘I’d love to. As long as you don’t want to use the ticket for anyone else.’
‘Can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend time with.’
Callie felt heat rise into her neck and then into her face. Hot flush, or power surge as her friend Donna called them. Or the route march uphill at pace on a warm summer’s evening? Or was it the effect of Johnny gazing at her, sardonically, eyes gleaming silver between dark lashes. Clutching at something to say, she murmured, ‘Lullbury Bay must be a wonderful place to live in.’
‘I’m sure it is. Jess loves it here. Are you tempted?’
Callie lifted her hair off her neck, glad of the salty breeze which drifted up from the harbour. ‘To run away to sea, you mean? Who isn’t. I live in Worcester, and you can’t get much further away from the coast than that.’ She shrugged. ‘But it’s where my job is and, much as the stress of it is getting to me, it pays the mortgage. Plus Frida has her life there. I couldn’t uproot her.’
Johnny thrust his hands into his chino pockets, staring down at his suede loafers. ‘That’s your daughter?’
‘Yup. It’s where she went to school, where her friends are. It’s all she’s ever known.’
