As she drove back to the farmhouse, the closer she got to her destination, the slower she was driving, Livvy recognised. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t afraid of him, was she?
Not afraid, but his assessment of her, his denunciation of her, however wildly wrong they might have been, had left her feeling vulnerable as well as angry.
Was it that, or was it that shatteringly unexpected brief reaction to him which was disturbing her?
Uncomfortable with her thoughts, Livvy drove into the farmyard and discovered to her relief that there was no sign of the BMW.
Garaging her own car in one of the large empty buildings, she gathered up her purchases and headed for the house, stopping in surprise when she saw the small, thin cat waiting hopefully by the door.
Automatically she bent down to stroke it, smiling as it responded with a loud purr, weaving itself round her legs.
Although its tabby coat was glossy, its body was thin, the amber eyes pleadingly hopeful as Livvy reached into her handbag for her keys. It had probably come from one of the local farms, she acknowledged, as she opened the door and it followed her inside, and just as probably wasn’t likely to be missed… It had the lean outline of a farmyard hunter rather than a domestic pet, although it seemed to have all the instincts of the latter, from the way it had greeted her and was now making straight for the warmth of the range.
She hadn’t the heart to put it back outside, and before very long Livvy discovered that she was responding with shameful weakness to the silent plea in the amber eyes, pouring it a saucer of milk and rooting through her provisions until she came across a tin of sardines.
Quelling her conscience by telling herself that, as a farm cat, it would probably be a good mouser, she tried not to listen to the sharp voice of her conscience warning her that Gale might not be too pleased about her new house guest.
An hour later, as she sat down to enjoy the omelette she had just made and drink the glass of clean, sharp-tasting if a little rough local wine she had bought, she reflected that if it had not been for Richard Field’s unwanted presence life would be not very far short of perfect.
The kitchen warmed by the range and scented with the rich smell of her cooking, the cat half sleeping, half purring by the fire in front of her; the familiar comforting and yet exciting ambience of a French country kitchen; in the half-light of dusk, stirring memories of happy childhood holidays in Brittany, all combined to make her aware of how much tension she had been under lately, how little time she had had for enjoying this kind of simple pleasure and relaxation.
And if she accepted the assistant headship, there would be even less time. She had gone into teaching because she wanted to teach, and the dilemma she now found herself facing depressed her.
Of course she wanted to progress—who wouldn’t? But as a teacher, not an administrative manager.
She wondered if Gale had had any success in getting in touch with George. She must phone her. She was frowning as she carried her empty plate and glass over to the sink. Richard Field still hadn’t returned. Where was he?
It irked her that she should be so preoccupied with him. It was just because he had made her so angry, she told herself as she washed the things she had used.
Gale and George were going to have to spend a good deal of money if they were to achieve all the improvements Gale wanted, Livvy reflected as she dialled her cousin’s telephone number. In Gale’s shoes, she wasn’t sure she would want to go ahead with putting the work in hand in view of the problems she and George were facing, but Gale had been adamant when she spoke to her that she was not going to let what she had described as George’s foolishness change her plans.
As Livvy waited for her cousin to answer her call, she frowned unhappily. It upset her to know that her cousin was having matrimonial problems, for the children’s sakes as well as for Gale’s and George’s. For George actually to take steps to sell the farmhouse without telling Gale was the last thing she would have expected him to do.
Gale wasn’t answering the phone; she must be out. Livvy replaced the receiver and removed the list of chores Gale had given her from her handbag, placing it on the table.
While s
he was studying it, the cat jumped up on to her knee, miaowing plaintively. Laughing, Livvy stroked her. The cat responded with a loud purr and settled herself comfortably on Livvy’s lap.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Livvy told her. ‘I’m going upstairs to have a shower and an early night. You, I’m afraid, are going to have to go out…’
The cat purred more loudly. Perhaps in the morning she would be gone, back from wherever she had come from, Livvy reflected. If so, she would miss her; there was something comforting about her presence, something reassuring. She stood up with the cat in her arms and then froze as she heard the sound of a car’s engine and saw its headlights as it turned into the yard.
Richard Field was back. Only now did Livvy acknowledge how much a part of her had been hoping that he had changed his mind…done the decent thing and decided to leave.
She wasn’t the kind of person who enjoyed confrontation or arguments, but she wouldn’t, couldn’t let him bully her into giving way to him.
Still holding the cat, she waited for him to appear, watching as the door-handle turned and the door itself opened inwards.
For a moment, as he saw her, he looked almost shocked, and then he demanded grimly, ‘Hasn’t anyone warned you about the dangers of leaving doors unlocked? Anyone could have walked in. Or was that perhaps what you were waiting for?’ he added softly, his mouth curling into a cynical, derogatory smile. ‘I don’t suppose a woman like you can go very long without sex. Who is it this time? Another casual pick-up like the one at the auberge?’
Livvy clutched the cat tightly, ignoring the small protesting sound it made, tension holding her body stiffly upright, her mind flinching from his words as though they were actual physical blows, but she refused to let him see how much his accusations and attitude had affected her.
She was not even going to dignify them by denying them. She had no need to prove anything to him, defend herself from remarks which all those who knew her would have found laughably absurd. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that, contrary to what he had imagined, she had not invited those unwanted attentions—and to add that it was no thanks to him that she had escaped being raped.
In her arms, the cat gave a protesting miaow and wriggled.
Immediately he focused on it, frowning.