His eyes hardened, and she recognised that she had made a mistake. ‘I bought the house complete with furniture from the previous occupant. He’d lived here all his life, and for the last part of it, completely alone. You can do what you want as regards decorating and refurnishing—but I’ll pay the bills.’
Thus effectively stopping her doing anything more than the basic necessities, Jessica thought angrily. Since she left university she had been financially independent, and it galled her that he should dare to patronise her in such a way. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, and then realised that she herself had possibly been equally patronising; her comment perhaps even a little high-handed, and undoubtedly offensive to such a male creature, and so she tempered what she had been about to say by suggesting calmly, ‘Why don’t we go halves? That way I won’t feel guilty if I’m a little extravagant here and there.’
To her relief he nodded, and walked past her to push open another door.
‘This is the boxroom I told you about. It has this connecting door with your room and another to the landing. It’s only small, but…’
‘But large enough for my needs,’ Jessica confirmed, going to look into the room. Because he was leaning in the doorway she had to stand close to him, looking over the arm he had propped against the door frame into the room beyond, as she mentally sized it up for her desk and computer equipment.
On the drive home he had discarded his jacket and immediately she was conscious of the movement of his muscles beneath his white shirt. Her body stiffened slightly as she again became aware of the masculine scent of his skin, and automatically she took a step back. He looked at her and frowned, opening his mouth to say something, and then closing it again as he looked over her shoulder and into her bedroom.
Instinctively Jessica looked too, smothering her surprise when she saw Stuart and James standing in the open doorway.
‘Are you going to live here now?’
The question was Stuart’s, his tone belligerent, but Jessica didn’t let it put her off. Children who had been through the traumas they had endured were bound to be suspicious about any further changes in their lives; they would want to know and had a right to know how permanent, or otherwise, her presence was likely to be.
‘Yes, I am,’ she told them quietly.
‘Does that mean that we won’t have to stay with Peter any more?’
Now it was James’s turn to question her, and she allowed herself to relax enough to smile.
‘That’s right. Your father thought it would be better if you could stay here in your own home, but since he has to go out to work, he married me so that I could stay here and look after you.’
She had given the problem of the two boys a great deal of thought since agreeing to marry Lyle, and she had promised herself that where possible she would be as honest with them as she could be, so that there could be no misunderstandings. Children as suspicious and hurt as these two were needed the reassurance of being told the truth.
‘Will you go out to work?’
James again, his tone slightly more relaxed.
‘I do work,’ she told him, ‘but I shall be working here in this room.’ She gestured to the small box-room.
‘So does that mean you’ll always be here?’
Again that suspicion and doubt in Stuart’s voice.
‘Most of the time,’ she told him. ‘Sometimes I might have to go away on business, but not a lot, and I shan’t be doing any work until after the school holidays.’ She regarded them quietly and then took a deep breath; they were old enough to be curious about adult relationships and she wanted them to know right from the start that she was here on their side, as someone who cared and not a gaoler.
‘The four of us are a family now,’ she told them, ‘but it’s going to be very strange for all of us at first, because we’re all going to have to get to know one another and to find out if we can like each other, and that takes time.’
‘Does that mean you’re going to be our mother?’ James asked.
Immediately Stuart’s face closed up, his eyes bitter and mutinous. ‘We don’t want another mother,’ he told Jessica brutally, adding under his breath, ‘mothers go away.’
Inwardly she wept for him, but she knew instinctively that now was not the time to give in to emotion.
‘No, I’m not going to be your mother, James,’ she replied answering his question and ignoring Stuart’s comment, and then deliberately glancing at her watch she asked calmly, ‘Did Mrs Hedges give you any tea? It’s almost six o’clock now, so if she didn’t, I think it’s time we had some.’
It turned out that the receptionist had not made them a meal so Jessica went back downstairs letting Lyle guide her into the kitchen where she struggled hard to conceal her appalled distaste at its shabbiness.
This place wasn’t a home, she thought, staring round at the shiny painted walls, dingy with dirt in places, noting the hideous ‘fifties’ cupboard which leaned drunkenly against one wall. She turned accusingly to Lyle, disturbed that he had not made more of an attempt to provide his sons with a more comfortable background—on his own admission he could afford it—but she managed to check back the words. There was no point in quarrelling with him at this stage. He had given her carte blanche with the place, and that would have to be enough.
Both the cupboards and the refrigerator were ill-stocked. Sensing her feelings, Lyle said off-handedly, ‘Justine normally brings me some groceries when she brings the boys back on Fridays. Mrs Falmer who comes in once a week to clean takes care of the rest.’
Making a mental note to go shopping first thing in the morning Jessica decided that all she could give them to eat tonight was an omelet
te.