Love in the Valley

So she had been correct in thinking he was teaching her a lesson. ‘You … you …’ How could she blurt out that to her it was no joke, that the lesson was more painful than he could possibly have conceived. For the first time in her life she had to control her instinct to tell the truth, holding back the words until she was almost bursting with the frustration of it.

‘Now, Julia, don’t lose your splendid sense of humour. You want me to be less solemn don’t you? And still you’re not happy.’

‘What happened to your much-vaunted subtlety?’ she cried weakly, backed into a corner by his inescapable logic. If she felt he had done it to gain her approval her spirits might have lifted, but that hadn’t been his aim.

‘You’re not a subtle woman,’ he pointed out gently. ‘Perhaps you might now feel more sympathetic towards those who are less extrovert than yourself.’

Julia suddenly caught sight of his typewriter sitting, now innocent of stain, on an extremely tidy desk. She grabbed the chance of a diversion. ‘I meant to tell you about the typewriter, I really did. But I didn’t do anything, Hugh, I was just trying to—’

‘Please, spare me. Charley filled me in on your mechanical problems. Next time it happens, let me deal with it.’

‘Yes, Hugh,’ she said humbly. At least there was going to be a next time, by the sound of it, he wasn’t going to cast her aside immediately. The reprieve made her bolder. ‘He wants to be a mechanic, did he tell you?’

A wary expression cooled Hugh’s eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘What are you going to do about it?’

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you.’ This was a Hugh she was very familiar with. ‘You’re his big brother. You’re a lawyer, you could present a good case to Michael and Connie, prepare the way so to speak. You told me yourself he’d done an excellent job on my car.’ He had made it seem like another of his whispered sweet nothings at the dinner table.

‘I’ll see.’ Hugh moved away from her but Julia followed.

‘What will you see?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ His tone brooked no argument and Julia, still unsatisfied, pursued another line.

‘While you’re about it, there’s Olivia.’

Hugh lifted his head wearily. ‘What a receptive bosom you have, Julia.’

His sarcasm hurt. ‘There’s no need to sneer, just because you don’t use my bosom to cry on.’

‘If I use your breasts at all, Julia, it won’t be for crying on,’ he said softly, in wry self-derision, his eyes flickering down.

The blood drummed in Julia’s head as she stared at him, her mouth slightly open. She felt instantly hot, her breathing all out of control. Did he know what that sort of comment did to her? Of course he did, he must. She stirred uneasily under his veiled gaze. What was he thinking? And was it as erotic as what she had in mind? No, he was just trying to distract her train of thought … as she had done earlier to him with her comment about the typewriter.

‘Yes, um, well … about Olivia.’ Her voice came out in an embarrassing croak which smoothed out as she explained the situation.

‘How you love to interfere in other people’s lives, Julia. Fortunately I have no such compulsion.’

‘Giving someone a viable alternative isn’t interfering,’ she protested. ‘She needs an escape clause from that commune, that’s all.’

‘It’s nothing to do with me, leave me out of it.’ Evenness edged into impatience.

‘Oh yes it is. You’ve gone all lawyer-like. You always do that when you feel defensive.’

‘Don’t try me too far, Julia,’ he said dangerously. ‘Be satisfied with Charley. I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. I am not going to get involved.’

‘But you are involved already,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Look how involved you were tonight—and look how much you enjoyed yourself. You did, you know!’ as he opened his mouth. ‘Even if I didn’t, I could see that much. All right, all right, I’m going!’ she held her hands up and backed away as the broad jaw firmed, sensing she would get no further. Obviously Hugh had no intention of working tonight, at least not with her. Much as she wanted to stay she sensed that Hugh had reached the limit of his patience. Perhaps he was even a little dismayed at his uncharacteristic behaviour.

Later she had reason to be glad that she had left quietly. That night proved to be another turning point in their relationship, the start of a mutual journey of discovery. Julia still laughed and teased, but with a loving sensitivity that held no sting, while Hugh in his turn guided her more willingly into his world. The reluctant fascination with which he watched her became less reluctant. No longer did it disturb him if a piece of music, selected specifically to educate her inexperienced ears to the complexities of the classical repertoire, prompted Julia to dance, swirling across the Persian carpets in uninhibited physical response to its beauty. He would lie in his favourite chair, eyes half-closed as they followed her movements, content in the realisation that, though hers was still a sensual rather than intellectual appreciation of music, she had the capacity for both. He could even admit to himself that he was enjoying her slow process of discovery, the freshness of her outlook provoking him to re-appraise his own response to the music which was so familiar to him, so much of a refuge.

Neither of them mentioned Hugh’s fast-healing hand, quite capable by now of using a typewriter. By tacit agreement the pace of their work slowed, allowing more time for conversation. At last Julia felt that he was beginning to trust her, to know her. But knowing was a long way from loving. It was impossible to tell, from Hugh’s controlled demeanour, what he was feeling, but the physical tension that hovered between them on occasion told her at least that he was aware of a certain attraction. Of course, a man like Hugh wouldn’t fall in love with the ease of someone who was as emotionally secure as Julia. She wasn’t even sure that he had the capacity for her kind of loving, the whole-hearted, generous kind; but if not, she would have enough for both of them. When Julia gave herself, it would be without reservation.