Sally Wentworth - Yesterday's Affair Read online

  'Why not? I thought you said you'd stopped even thinking about me ages ago.'

  'I have.' He came to a stop, his eyes angry and frustrated.

  'Well, that's OK, then. After all, if I were anyone else you wouldn't hesitate to take on such good business, would you?' She glanced at her watch and said impatiently, 'We're wasting time. I have a heavy schedule.' And she walked past him to look at the helicopter.

  It looked quite small and fragile and altogether too clumsy to fly. Olivia sighed. It was true that she didn't enjoy flying in them—not that she was afraid, they just made her feel queasy; she had been up a couple of times during other assignments, but it was far from being her favourite method of transport. But if she couldn't get close to Nick any other way, then this had to be it.

  He came up behind her. 'Where do you want to go? I'll have to get the maps from the office and work out a flight plan.'

  Olivia closed her eyes in a paean of gratitude. She had won; he was going to take her. Turning, she immediately became businesslike. Taking her map book from her bag, she opened it at a marked page and said, 'I want to fly the length and breadth of the Cotswolds so that I can take Nome aerial shots, and this afternoon I want to go to this place.' She pointed with her finger. 'Blenheim Palace, near Oxford.'

  'We can't just turn up there,' Nick objected. 'They may not allow helicopters to land.'

  'They do; I rang them and checked. It's all fixed; we're expected.'

  Nick gave her a baleful look. 'You were very sure, then, that I would do as you wanted.'

  She gave him a surprised look. 'Why shouldn't you?'

  His Lips thinned but Nick only said, 'I'll go and get the maps.'

  She nodded and looked away as he limped back to the office building. Reaction set in, and Olivia began to tremble. She would have dearly loved to sit down and close her eyes, but as there was only the ground to sit on she reached up and took off her glasses and put up a hand to her head.

  'You all right, miss?'

  Hurriedly opening her eyes, Olivia saw that the mechanic had come round from behind the chopper and was looking at her curiously. 'Oh, sure. Fine. The sun's so bright today.' She gave him a smile and put the glasses back on. 'Hi, I'm Olivia Grant.'

  'Bill Fairford.' She held out her hand to him, but he laughed and shook his head, then showed her his oil- soaked hands. Evidently he had been told to expect a nervous customer because he came to stand beside her and looked almost lovingly up at the chopper. 'No need to be afraid,' he told her. 'You'll love it when you get up there. And Mr Vaux's a real good pilot; you can have every confidence in him.'

  It occurred to Olivia that here was her source of information, but it was too soon to take advantage of it; Nick might ask Bill if she'd questioned him, so she just said, 'Oh, yes, I'm sure he is. It's just that it seems such an unnatural way to fly. And it upsets my stomach when they drop so suddenly.'

  "That's just bad flying,' Bill said earnestly. 'You won't have to worry about that with Nick. Bet you a quid you enjoy yourself.'

  'Well, I'm always willing to take a bet, but what's a quid?'

  Bill gave a guffaw of amusement. 'A quid's a pound. One of these.' He fished a coin from his pocket and showed it to her. 'I'll collect it from you when you get back later.'

  'I hope you do,' Olivia answered truthfully.

  'Hope he does what?' Nick had come up to join than.

  'Just telling the lady that she's nothing to be afraid of,' Bill explained hurriedly, but he winked at Olivia before he turned away.

  'Let's get your gear inside.' Nick picked up her bag, limped over to the chopper, opened the door and put it inside.

  She followed and handed him her jacket. Nick tossed it in then looked into her face as if he was waiting for her to say something. For a second she didn't understand, then realised that he expected her to have noticed his limp and to make some comment about it. Lifting her leg, she put a foot on the skid and reached up to pull herself into the helicopter, saying lightly as she did so, 'What have you done to your leg—pulled a muscle?'

  It gave him an out if he wanted to take advantage of it, and he had a few moments to decide as he walked round to the other side and climbed in. When he was sitting beside her she gave an enquiring glance. 'Something like that,' he said shortly.

  He turned away to close the door and Olivia bit her lip in chagrin, but then chided herself for being silly. What other answer could she possibly have expected? After the way he'd tried to get rid of her Nick was hardly likely to just turn round and confide everything at the first opportunity. No, it was going to take a lot more time building up his trust before they would become close enough for that.

  Nick showed her how to do up her strap, gave her a head-set to put on, and showed her how to use it. 'All set?'

  Olivia nodded and, remembering she was supposed to be nervous, gripped the edges of her seat tightly.

  His face skeptical, Nick said, 'You never used to be nervous of flying.'

  'A jumbo jet is a slightly different proposition from a two-seater chopper,' Olivia retorted.

  'But you weren't afraid when I borrowed that two- neater plane to fly us to Vermon—' He broke off and turned abruptly away, but it was too late; that one word had conjured up memories that Olivia could only hope would still be as vivid for him as they were for her. And ill the least it proved that he hadn't forgotten completely.

  The knowledge that he still remembered thrilled and excited her, gave her hope, but his slip had angered Nick. 'Ready?' he demanded shortly.

  'I guess so. I just hope I don't feel air-sick.'

  Nick gave a short, mirthless laugh. 'You're about to find out.' He started the conversation-killing engine, the rotors began to turn, and within minutes the chopper lifted off the ground.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  For all his inner anger Nick flew the helicopter smoothly, without any dips or sudden sideways swoops. As the ground receded, Olivia's thoughts were mainly on her own frailty and even more on the machine's, but after the first few minutes she relaxed enough to let go of the seat and look out.

  'Which direction are you going?' she asked into the microphone in front of her mouth.

  'South.' The answer came back tinnily through the headphones. 'Do you want towns, villages, or open countryside?'

  'All three. But I have to be careful not to get our shadow in the shot.'

  He nodded, evidently having done it all before. 'There's a mount fitted to the fuselage that you can attach your camera to.' He reached his gloved hand across to point. Olivia leaned forward to see, and he immediately moved his arm so that he didn't touch her.

  Taking her camera from the bag, Olivia was glad enough to turn her back on him as she concentrated on fitting it into position.

  'We're over Chipping Campden now,' he told her.

  'Oh, what a beautiful church.' She looked down in delight at the Gothic windows and pinnacled tower. 'How old is it?'

  Nick hesitated, as if he didn't want to talk, but said reluctantly, 'It's one of the great wool churches.'

  Putting a hand up to press the headphones nearer to her ear, Olivia said, 'Did you say wood?'

  'No—wool. The area grew rich on sheep in the Middle Ages and the merchants gave money to have the churches built or enlarged.' He pointed over to some fields where the white dots of sheep stood out against the green. 'See those sheep? Their ancestors probably go back in this area as far as man's.'

  Olivia liked the idea. She smiled and got him to fly round a couple of times to get the right angle for her photographs. They flew on, and she asked Nick more questions, using him as a guide, and so breaking through his taciturnity whether he liked it or not. It felt strange and yet wholly right to be with him again, to have his shoulder and occasionally his knee brush hers, to feel that thrill of excitement invade her heart, her body. But it was important that he didn't suspect her thoughts, so Olivia kept the questions professional but used his name a lot, reminding him that she was more than just a custom
er. She treated him as an old friend, and made it plain that she expected him to treat her in the same way. At first he was guarded, withdrawn, and her determined casualness beat like light upon his persistent gloom, but after a couple of hours he was talking to her almost normally, even volunteering information.

  Being casual towards him was made easier because she spent so much time looking out for good shots—and seeing far too many of them. Olivia was enchanted by the softly rolling countryside, the sleepy, timeless villages, by all she saw. The early spring sunshine lay across the fields and turned the meandering rivers into molten silver. 'Oh, look!' she exclaimed with delight at a meadow golden with daffodils. 'How beautiful. I must get a shot of that.'

  To her amazement she heard Nick give a crack of laughter. She turned to him, eyebrows raised. 'You sound like the proverbial American tourist,' he told her.

  She laughed in return. 'Bad as that, huh?'

  His eyes settled on her face, vivacious and alight with amusement, then flicked away. His voice abrupt again, he said, 'We'll have to make for Blenheim soon, if you want to get there in time.'

  'Already? But surely we haven't covered half the Cotswolds yet?'

  'Not even a quarter—you've taken too many photographs.'

  Olivia smiled. 'I could never take enough shots.' But she sat back as Nick swung the helicopter towards the east.

  She had been so busy taking photographs that she had forgotten her fear of queasiness, and now she found that, not only was she perfectly comfortable, but she was also enjoying herself as Nick climbed higher and increased the speed. I owe Bill Fairford a quid, she thought, and smiled to herself. Glancing at Nick, she caught him watching her, a frown of curiosity in his eyes. She remembered that look from when they had been together, when they had been lovers. Then he would have asked her what she was thinking about, what was so amusing; he would have wanted to share her thoughts, for her to have no secrets from him, as no part of her body was secret from him. But today he looked away, stifling his curiosity, fighting any personal remark, any contact that would bring them even fractionally closer.

  A few miles from Blenheim Nick dropped down to a small airfield to refuel. Olivia got out to stretch her legs and bought a couple of Cokes and two brown bread rolls bursting with cheese and lettuce and tomato. Walking away from the petrol haze and smell, she found a bench in the sun and sat down to wait for Nick to join her.

  He did so reluctantly, impatiently. 'We're ready to go on.'

  'Sit down, have a drink first.' She held out one of the cans. 'I'm thirsty, aren't you?'

  'We'll be late.' He stayed standing, frowning again.

  Olivia glanced at her watch and said, 'Plenty of time for a lunch-break. Here, I got you a roll. You do like cheese, don't you? I'm afraid I can't remember.'

  Slowly he sat down beside her and took the roll. 'Thanks.'

  'You seem to know a lot about the Cotswolds,' Olivia remarked. 'Have you learnt so much in eighteen months?'

  'Eighteen months?'

  'Since you started the chopper company,' she explained.

  'Oh, that.' Nick hesitated. 'No, I used to live round this area when I was a boy, and I've often been back here for holidays.'

  'It must be a wonderful place to live. Where do you live now? In Gloucester?'

  He gave her a quick look. 'What gave you that idea?'

  From finding out that was where his solicitors were based, but Nick, of course, wasn't supposed to know that. Cursing the mistake, Olivia said lightly, "That's the nearest big town in the area, isn't it? I don't see you living anywhere that doesn't have a theatre or—' she gave him a look under her eyelashes, wondering how he would take it '—a concert hall for you to fall asleep in.'

  He had been watching her closely, but the memory had thrown him off the scent as she had hoped it would. In the brief moment that he let his eyes meet hers, Olivia read in them pain and a kind of consternation. Then he turned away, but she so wanted to know, was so desperate for reassurance that she couldn't leave it alone, and said, 'Have you fallen asleep on many shoulders since I last saw you?'

  Nick took a long drink of the Coke, his throat muscles working, then he crushed the empty can in his hand and tossed it neatly into a litter-bin. 'It's not something I'm in the habit of doing,' he answered curtly. He stood up. 'I'll be at the chopper when you're ready.'

  Olivia watched him go, feeling as though he had given her a mental slap in the face. It hurt as much, the way he'd said it, as if it was a mistake he didn't care to repeat. Slow down, she told herself. You're going too fast and putting him on the defensive. How the hell do you expect him to react when you ask such a leading question?

  Unhurriedly, Olivia finished her roll and Coke and strolled over to the chopper. Nick was looking at a map and hardly glanced at her as she climbed in. As soon as she was strapped in and the headphones on he took off and didn't speak to her again until they reached Blenheim and she relayed the instructions she'd been given on where to land.� They flew over the house first, and she gasped at the size of it.

  'I've seen pictures of this place,' she said in excitement, 'but nothing could prepare you for the real thing. How many people live there?'

  'I think only the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough now—and their staff, of course.'

  'All that for two people,' Olivia said wonderingly.

  'Given by a grateful nation to the first Duke for saving us from the French,' Nick said flippantly, but there was admiration in his eyes, too.

  'And where your Winston Churchill was born.'

  'They'll show you the very bed in the very room.'

  She looked at him quickly; if they hadn't been so far apart she would almost have said that he was teasing her, but he was looking out through the side window as they came in to land and she couldn't see whether there was amusement in his eyes or sarcasm.

  There was no time to dwell on it. As soon as they'd landed a man came forward to meet her. 'Miss Grant? I've been designated to act as your guide. Welcome to Blenheim Palace.' He turned to Nick. 'Your 'copter will be quite safe here if you'd like to get yourself some refreshments in the cafe.'

  Olivia collected her gear and followed the guide, a little amused that Nick had been treated as nothing more than her chauffeur. But that was what he was, she supposed—a far cry from being the captain of a jumbo jet and responsible for four hundred passengers instead of one. It worried her, and she knew that she wouldn't rest until she'd found out why—no, until Nick told her why himself. But right now she had to put it out of her mind and concentrate on her guide and Blenheim. Which was no hardship at all; the house was so beautiful that it was impossible to think of anything else, even Nick.

  It took over three hours to go over the house and some of the gardens, and Olivia could easily have spent longer, but she had promised Nick to be back at the chopper by five so that they could get back before dark. She sincerely thanked her more than helpful guide, and ran back to where Nick waited, the setting sun reflecting off the windows, making the chopper look as if it was on fire, engulfing Nick as he leaned against it, waiting.

  She arrived breathlessly, her hair flying about her head, her hazel eyes dancing with laughter. 'I feel like Cinderella,' she gasped. 'I was afraid that any moment you might change into a pumpkin and a mouse.'

  He didn't speak, and she supposed that he'd found the remark childish and silly, but when she looked into Nick's face Olivia found his eyes fixed on her, wide and vulnerable, as if be couldn't tear himself away. She wanted to throw herself in his arms then, to tell him that she loved him, wanted him, needed him. To tell him that it didn't matter, whatever had kept him away from her, that she was here now and that everything would be all right, all right! She tried to tell him so with her eyes, opened her mouth to say it with her lips, but at that moment a cloud drifted in front of the sun, plunging them into gloom. Nick blinked and glanced up. 'We'd better get going. It's clouding over.'

  They hardly spoke on the way back. The sun disappeared
completely behind clouds and they ran into a shower of rain as they covered the last few miles. Olivia didn't mind; she felt completely safe, completely content shut away here with Nick. And she felt a great surge of optimism; just this one day had proved beyond all doubt that he was by no means immune to her, however much he tried to pretend otherwise. And she bad four whole weeks to work on him. Olivia's heart was lighter than it had been since the day he left her. She wanted to laugh and shout and sing, but instead she concentrated on taking her camera from the mount and stowing it carefully away in her bag. When they landed back at Harnbury she turned to Nick. 'Thanks a lot; it's been a very successful day. I'll go and see Jane to settle up with her.'

  'She's probably gone by now; see her next time.'

  His voice was unemotional but the very fact that he was willing to contemplate another time added to Olivia's happiness.

  'OK. See you in a couple of days.' She lifted her hand in farewell and jumped out of the chopper, but instead of making for her car ran over to the hangar, where she could see Bill Fairford sheltering from the rain. She put a coin in his hand. 'I owe you a quid,' she laughed, then sprinted through the rain to her car.

  That evening Olivia ate great food in a great atmosphere at Fatty Arbuckle's restaurant in the town, went back to the hotel intending to work, but felt so tired that she went straight to bed and slept better than she had in weeks, waking up the next morning feeling great. After breakfast she booked a ticket for that evening's performance at the theatre built on the edge of the River Avon, and then took a trip on the open-topped bus that toured the town, braving the breeze to sit on the top deck and see everything from a new angle. The bus went on to pass Anne Hathaway's cottage at Shottery and then Mary Arden's house at Wilmcote, both of them so perfectly picturesque that they looked as if they'd been specially built for a movie. In the afternoon Olivia worked, writing up her impressions and roughing out a couple of articles.

  The play that night was As You Like It, performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company in the Swan Theatre, built as a replica of the old Globe in London, the round theatre where Shakespeare himself had once acted. Olivia came away enchanted, her mind clinging to what she'd seen, never wanting to forget, her soul still in the Forest of Arden. And that night she dreamt herself back there, but it was Nick who pursued her through the trees and carried her back to a palace that strangely became the log cabin in Vermont.