The Garnett Marriage Pact Page 6

  She was halfway upstairs before she heard the noise behind her, and looking over her shoulder she saw that Stuart and James were coming behind her, carrying another case. It was a better start than she had hoped for, but she could not delude herself that there was not still an awfully long way to go.

  It struck her then that the marriage which she had entered primarily for her sister’s sake seemed to be taking on a different emphasis.

  Wryly amused by the distinctly matriarchal vein she had discovered within herself, she wondered if the crusading instinct she had developed towards the boys sprang from genuine concern for them, or from her unhappy memories of her own childhood. Time alone would tell, and after all she had plenty of that now. This marriage she had entered into was a fait accompli and her deeply ingrained sense of responsibility towards Andrea now seemed to have extended to include her new husband’s two sons.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘JESS?’

  She looked up from the patch of garden she had been weeding, brushing her hair back off her face.

  ‘Over here, Stuart.’

  It was nearly a month now since she and Lyle had married—a month during which her life had changed so much she herself found it difficult to comprehend how much at times. She often felt she was a completely different person from the Jessica who had calmly and logically sat down to find herself a husband in order to protect her elder sister, and to put her theories on marriage to the test.

  As she heard Stuart coming up behind her, she turned to smile at him, ruefully noting the dusty patches on both knees of his jeans and the fact that somehow in four short weeks he seemed to have managed to grow a good two inches. Mentally adding yet another chore to an already long list, she sat back on her heels and waited to discover what he wanted.

  ‘The decorators have arrived,’ he announced importantly. ‘They want to see you.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll come now.’

  Her first priority as far as her new home was concerned, once she had been all through it, was complete redecoration throughout. She had spent almost a week making careful sketches of all the rooms and then putting together her ideas before she communicated them to Lyle.

  He had studied her sketches in silence for several unnerving seconds and then quite unexpectedly he had asked, ‘What about my room? You haven’t included it here.’

  A deliberate omission. Jessica was acutely aware of the fact that as far as Lyle was concerned, a wife was something he most definitely did not want, at least not on a personal basis, so she strove to keep out of his way as much as possible—not difficult, given the appallingly long hours he worked; and she had also refrained from doing anything that might be construed as an attempt to intrude on his privacy.

  ‘I thought you might have your own ideas about what you wanted.’

  ‘Not really, although I could do with better cupboard space.’

  ‘I’ve got a firm coming out to measure for a new kitchen. All the bedrooms need proper wardrobes, I can get them to do a quote for your room too if you wish.’

  Apparently he had wished, and he had also approved the drawings she had eventually shown him.

  The local firm she contacted had been able to install the new fitments in the bedrooms almost immediately, although the kitchen renovations were going to take much longer. Jessica had specific ideas about what she wanted in the kitchen.

  Stuart and James had been allowed to choose their own furniture and wallpaper. Rather to her surprise, Stuart had shown a distinct artistic flair, something she was determined to encourage.

  Watching the elder of her two stepsons fall into step beside her as they made for the house, she marvelled at how well both boys had adapted to her presence. Already she could see definite signs of improvement in both of them, but more especially in James, which she suspected was only to be expected, as he was the younger of the two and had only been a baby when his parents separated.

  ‘You’ve got dirt on your face,’ Stuart informed her, squinting at her as they walked into the house. She tried to rub it off, forgetting she was still wearing her gardening gloves, and Stuart grinned. ‘You’re only making it worse, let me.’

  Obediently she bent towards him, trying not to grimace when he produced a rather grimy handkerchief and carefully wiped the mud off her cheek. Initially the more aggressive and withdrawn of the pair, she could now see that Stuart was also the more sensitive. When he smiled at her, openly and warmly as he was doing now, she could almost feel the physical jerk on her heart-strings. This feeling she had for both boys, but especially for Stuart, was something that totally astounded her. She had never experienced a maternal twinge in her life before marrying Lyle, but something in his sons reached out and touched her in a way that she found totally unexpected, and which she could only put down to the fact that because of her own childhood she found it easy to relate to and understand their miseries.

  With Lyle she found herself increasingly nervous and ill at ease, searching for polite small talk whenever they were alone together, but conversely when she was with the children she felt completely relaxed and at ease. In fact when she thought about it, she felt happier now than she had ever done before. Happy in a way she found hard to define, fulfilled almost, as though she had found a long-sought-after niche in life.

  Unhappily the response the boys gave to her did not extend to include their father, Stuart in particular being almost openly hostile to Lyle. So far Jessica had not been able to discover the reason for this, but suspected that it must have something to do with his mother’s death. She had not made any attempt to force their confidences, though, letting them talk to her in their own way making sure she was available to listen to them when they did want to talk.

  The decorators were also from a local firm, and Jessica had already discussed at length with them her ideas for the house. She wanted the walls ragrolled in softly toning pastel shades, to add light and warmth to the high-ceilinged rooms, and she had stipulated that the paint must have a washable finish, mindful of grubby fingers and determined that the house must also be a home.

  To provide continuity she had decided on a heavy-duty plain wool carpet throughout, in a mid-bluey-grey colour impervious to the odd muddy footprint.

  The kitchen and two old-fashioned bathrooms had been her main problem, but she had eventually decided on hand-made fitments for the kitchen which were to be sponged and ragged in a soft peach and cream and traditional white sanitary ware for the bathrooms, conscious of the fact that she was after all sharing the house with three males, who were not likely to be particularly impressed with pretty pastels.

  The decorators simply wanted to see her to check on the work schedule before they started, and once this had been confirmed they were soon busy carrying in ladders and paint pots.

  ‘Where’s James?’ she asked Stuart. She had promised to visit her sister, and rather to her surprise, when asked both Stuart and James had volunteered to come with her.

  ‘Upstairs getting changed.’

  ‘Umm. I’d better do that myself. And we’d better get you some new jeans, you’re shooting up like a beanstalk. I think you’re going to be even taller than your father.’

  As always when Lyle’s name was introduced into the conversation, Stuart looked sullen, but Jessica pretended not to notice, casually remarking that it was a shame that Lyle was too busy to come with them.

  ‘I’m glad he’s not coming,’ Stuart told her. He was frowning fiercely, kicking up dust from the lawn.

  ‘Don’t you like your father, Stuart?’ Jessica challenged gently, feeling that it was time for her to stop ignoring his obvious antipathy towards Lyle.

  ‘He doesn’t like us,’ Stuart responded, scowling. ‘He didn’t want us, Mum told us that.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong about that, Stuart.’ She said it gently but firmly. ‘In fact I know that your father loves you both very much, because he told me so.’

  ‘He’s never got any time for us.’

  Her
heart went out to the thin, gangly boy and she stifled the impulse to take him in her arms.

  ‘That’s because he’s so busy, Stuart. Being a doctor means that he always has to be available for sick people, you know that.’

  Stuart was still looking unreceptive, and feeling that to press the issue could possibly do more harm than good, Jessica let the subject drop. It was true that Lyle was kept extremely busy with his practice, but it was also true that in the evenings he tended to spend what spare time he had in his office rather than in the sitting-room with the rest of them, and Jessica wasn’t sure if that was because he actually had work to do or because he wanted to avoid being with her.

  Andrea was in the garden when they arrived, relaxing in a comfortable chair with her feet up. She looked much healthier, her figure plumper and her face relaxed. She greeted Jessica with a hug and an affectionate kiss, her pregnancy now showing beneath her cool smock.

  ‘William’s gone to play with some friends,’ she explained when Jessica asked after her nephew. ‘And David’s gone away on business for a few days.’

  Jessica hoped her distaste didn’t show. She was quite sure that it wasn’t only business that took David away from his wife’s side, but if Andrea was happy with the situation she was not going to risk upsetting her. Neither of them had referred to Andrea’s state of mind prior to Jessica’s marriage, but there was a marked change in Andrea’s attitude towards her, Jessica noted thankfully.

  They didn’t stay long, and it was when they were driving home that Jessica realised how much the axis of her life had changed. Andrea, who for so long had been her sole concern, now seemed less important to her than the boys.

  Both of them were suspiciously quiet on the way back, which Jessica put down to being in strange surroundings, but later on when they were all sitting down for tea, she discovered that she had been wrong.

  For once Lyle was home in time to eat with them. His presence at the table put a strain on Jessica which she was at a loss to understand. Whenever he was in the same room with her, she felt herself straining not to give him the impression that she had any personal interest in him, without being able to understand why she should feel this need.

  ‘So what have you three been doing today?’

  It was James who answered him.

  ‘This afternoon we went to see Jessica’s sister. She’s going to have a baby,’ he added thoughtfully, his eyes going from his father’s face to Jessica’s. ‘Do all married people have babies?’ he asked her curiously. Across the table Jessica’s eyes met Lyle’s, alight with an amusement that did strange things to her pulse-rate. Quelling her instinctive desire to smile back, she concentrated on James instead.

  ‘Not all of them,’ she told him truthfully.

  ‘But will you have them?’ he persisted, and catching sight of Stuart’s shuttered face, Jessica immediately understood the reason for his silence on the journey home.

  ‘No,’ she told James firmly, but it was towards Stuart that she looked, watching his tension relax slightly, and feeling her heart wrench afresh. She too knew what it was to look on in anguish while her father produced a second and apparently more dearly loved family than the one he had abandoned.

  It was after James and Stuart were in bed that she decided she ought to do some work. Often in the evenings she spent an hour or so sifting through her research and collating it ready to start writing, using the computer she had now had transferred from her flat and installed in her small study.

  She was busily engrossed in this work when she heard her bedroom door open, and thinking it must be one of the children, she got up and walked to the communicating door.

  Shock held her immobile as she saw Lyle walking towards her. He never came into her room, never sought her out at all for that matter.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed you.’

  How deep his voice was, sending tiny shivers of reaction quivering through her muscles. ‘But I thought it was time we sat down together and had a talk.’

  ‘Do you want me to come downstairs?’ How polite and stilted she sounded, she thought furiously, like a schoolgirl being hauled before a teacher for a lecture.

  ‘No, here’s fine.’ He sat down on her bed, leaving Jessica to take the chair.

  ‘You seem to be getting on very well with the boys.’

  ‘They are responding to me,’ she agreed cautiously.

  ‘Far more than they’ve ever responded to me.’ He sounded grim, and for the first time she realised how painful it must be for him to see his sons turn away from him and go instead to a stranger.

  ‘They’re both wary of you,’ she told him quietly. ‘I think possibly they’re frightened to trust you, because of the divorce.’

  She saw the look in his eyes and wished she had not had to tell him that, but as she saw it it was the truth. ‘Stuart told me this afternoon that he thought you didn’t want them.’ She saw he was about to speak and went on quickly. ‘I told him that he was wrong, but it doesn’t help that you have to spend so much time on the practice.’

  ‘No, I realise that, but it wasn’t really about the boys that I wanted to talk.’

  He wasn’t looking at her now but he was frowning, and suddenly she felt desperately cold, goosebumps chilling her skin. Was he going to tell her that it wasn’t working out, that he wanted to end their marriage? The fear that raced through her at the thought was shockingly illuminating, but she refused to acknowledge the truth, telling herself that it was because of the boys that she wanted to stay.

  ‘From my point of view this arrangement is working out extremely well—better than I’d dared hope. The boys have taken to you—that much is patently obvious, but what about you, Jessica? Tonight when James mentioned the children you might have, it struck me that from your point of view this marriage is a very bad bargain. I confess that when Justine first told me what she had done I was too blazingly angry to see past my own resentment of being forced into a marriage I didn’t want, to give too much thought to your side of things. To give up the pleasure of a husband and children of her own, merely to ease the emotional trauma of a sister, is a lot to ask of any woman, but in particular one as young and attractive as you.’

  Her muscles quivered as he raised his head and looked at her. Attractive, he had called her, but not in any way that made her feel that he thought she was attractive. It had been a completely detached observation.

  ‘It also makes me wonder what has happened in your past to make you apparently content to accept a life without sex.’

  Was he probing to see if she had been genuine? Did he suspect that she might desire him? Indignation and fear filled her in equal parts. Of course she didn’t! It would be totally undignified and pointless to want a man who had already made it plain that he had no desire for her.

  ‘I don’t have anything to hide if that’s what you’re asking.’ She made her voice light and careless. ‘Sex had never been a motivating force in my life; I doubt it is in more than a handful of women’s. Most of my sex put love ahead of merely physical satisfaction.’

  ‘And you don’t believe in love?’

  ‘I don’t believe that falling in love, and the consequent surge of desire it brings, is a good basis for marriage, no. Romantic love as we know it today is after all a fairly modern invention, while marriage… We’ve been through all this before,’ she reminded him, ‘but if you’re no longer happy with our contract…’

  She felt his concentration sharpen, her stomach lurching as he swung his eyes to focus on her face.

  ‘Meaning what, exactly?’ he demanded softly.

  She had angered him, she could see it in the sudden tension hardening his bones. His expression reminded her of Stuart’s when he felt most threatened, and momentarily she wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him as she did the little boy, but she managed to push out the impulse and force herself to say calmly, ‘If you feel the marriage isn’t working, then you may want to bring it to an end.’

 
He was frowning now. ‘Meaning that that’s what you want?’

  Exasperated, Jessica shook her head. ‘No, it isn’t. Look, you were the one who wanted to talk, I assure you that I’m quite content with the status quo.’

  ‘You’re content with a marriage that’s no marriage; with a life that’s completely celibate? Why, I wonder?’

  Jessica didn’t like having her emotions analysed like this, it gave her a feeling of losing control, or somehow being in danger.

  ‘Probably because I have a very low sex drive,’ she said flippantly, ‘Some people do.’

  ‘So they do,’ he agreed softly. ‘But there could of course be another reason. Marriage is a very convenient cloak behind which to hide an affair.’

  Jessica felt herself go tense. Was he actually accusing her of having an affair? Anger speared through her. Did he honestly believe that she had lied to him? Looking at him squarely, she said, ‘But I have already told you that I am not.’

  ‘So you have.’

  Without another word he got up and walked through the door, closing it behind him.

  All desire to work had left her, inside she felt awash with conflicting emotions. Why had she been so anguished at the thought of him saying the marriage must end? Because she cared very deeply for the boys of course. It was a comforting explanation, but something still niggled at her. She couldn’t help remembering how often when she had interviewed those couples whose marriages had been arranged by caring parents, both parties had confided that although they had come to the marriage as strangers, love had grown between them.

  Was that what she was so afraid of? That she might grow to love Lyle as well as his sons? How ridiculous. Their marriage was a world away from the type of arranged marriages she had analysed.

  * * *

  TWO DAYS LATER Lyle announced that he had to go to a conference on drugs following the changes in Health Service prescriptions, and that it was likely that he would be away overnight. Any emergency patients during his absence were to be directed to the cottage hospital, and since a locum could not be spared to take his place there would be no normal surgery.