He was back downstairs almost immediately, confirming her own diagnosis of James’s problem.
‘Keep him in bed this morning. I should think he’ll be well on the way to recovery by then.’
Lyle was proved right, and after a light lunch Jessica decided to take both boys into Oxford with her while she did some shopping. After the plum tree episode she had been reluctant to leave them alone for any length of time, and although both of them pulled faces at the thought of spending a sunny afternoon in the town, by the time she had driven there they were quite cheerful again.
After she had stowed away the food she had bought in the boot of her car, Jessica decided that it might be as well to buy something to wear for Andrea’s dinner party. As a single woman she had attended a good many formal and semi-formal dinners following the publication of her books, and for these occasions she had purchased several severe and very plain dresses specifically designed to reinforce the fact that she was a psychologist first and a woman second, but for some reason as she mentally reviewed these outfits, none of them seemed suitable for Saturday evening.
Oxford had several excellent boutiques, and she found exactly what she was looking for in one of them, although at first the very striking colour combination of the silk suit, with its deep golden-yellow straight skirt, and mingled saffron, sapphire-blue and deep dark-pink toning top struck her as being a little too adventurous for her taste.
However, when she tried the outfit on, and saw how the straight skirt and nipped-in waistline of the jacket flattered her figure, she closed her mind against the unsuitability of such a very feminine outfit for a woman who had hitherto deliberately ignored any clothes that might enhance her female attributes.
Luckily the shop was able to provide a pair of high-heeled deep-saffron sandals to go with the suit, and less than half an hour after walking into it Jessica was walking out again, carrying her parcels.
‘I liked you in it,’ Stuart commented as they headed back to the car. He seemed to think for a moment and then added, ‘It made me think of a hot sunny day.’
Jessica glanced at his down-bent head, thinking again how very artistic and sensitive Lyle’s elder son was. Once she would have assumed those traits came from his mother, but now she was not so sure. Lyle had displayed a core of sensitivity she had not expected, at least where his patients were concerned.
‘Yes. It made your hair look all pretty and shiny,’ James added stoutly, not to be outdone.
When they got home Jessica hung the suit carefully in her wardrobe so that any creases could drop out.
The decorations were now almost complete. Next week the new carpets would arrive and so would the covers she had had made for the furniture and the curtains.
It was frightening how quickly she had come to think of this house as ‘home’, too quickly, perhaps…
By Saturday she was in a state of tense nervousness, glad that Lyle had been called out during the afternoon, and half hoping that the emergency would mean that they would not be able to attend Andrea’s dinner party; but she heard Lyle’s car in the drive, just as she was giving the boys their evening meal.
A babysitter hadn’t been difficult to arrange. Lyle’s receptionist had a niece at home from university for the holidays who had gladly accepted the opportunity to earn a little extra money, and her father had arranged to drop her off half an hour before they were due to leave.
Lyle came into the kitchen, pausing to ruffle both boys’ hair. Stuart grinned back at him, all his previous truculence and reserve gone. If she had achieved nothing else at least she had given him this, Jessica thought, absorbed in the very normality of the small domestic scene.
‘What time are we due at Andrea’s?’ Lyle asked her, helping himself to one of the scones she had baked for the boys.
‘Half-past eight.’
She saw him glance at his watch, her stomach cramping distressingly at the sight of his sinewy brown arm. It was ridiculous that something as mundane as seeing a man glance at his watch should affect her so tormentingly; something she herself would have openly scoffed at had someone else related it to her, and yet here she was gripped by an almost feverish need to reach out and touch him.
‘Jessica, are you all right?’
Confusion momentarily shadowed her eyes at his sharply incisive tone. ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’
If only that were true, Jessica thought, hurriedly turning her back to him and busying herself pouring the boys glasses of homemade lemonade, but she was feeling far from fine. With a small shock she realised that for the last two days she had barely eaten a thing. Her appetite seemed to have totally deserted her since that fateful stormy night when she and Lyle had made love, but the tension growing inside her since Lyle’s announcement about tonight’s dinner had destroyed what small appetite she had had.
‘You look pale.’
Jessica heard the door into the hall open and released a shaky breath only to feel increased tremors of apprehension grip her when Lyle returned only seconds later, with a glass of brandy.
‘Here, drink this,’ he instructed her. ‘You look as though you need it.’
She wanted to refuse, but he was looking at her as though he would pour the spirit down her throat by force if she refused. She had seldom seen him look so angry since that first fateful encounter. The sympathy she had seen him exhibit towards the children when they felt off-colour was plainly not going to be forthcoming in her case.
He was still frowning at her as she took the glass from him. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?’
He was looking at her watchfully, and suddenly Jessica realised what was in his mind. As she had done, he was obviously thinking that she could have conceived his child, and was just as obviously not at all pleased at the thought.
Her own eyes hardening, Jessica took the glass from him and swallowed its contents. She wasn’t a drinker and the effect of the undiluted spirit on her stomach was immediate.
‘I’m perfectly well,’ she told him curtly, turning away from him to put the glass on the table, almost hating him for letting her see how little he relished the thought that she might be carrying his child.