She felt the blood leave her skin as Jay muttered the angry words in her ear.
‘No … no, of course not. It’s just …’
‘Look, I’ve already tried to explain to you once, Claire: once you’re my wife, you’ll be expected to look the part. Susie always wore designer fashion; she …’
‘I’m not Susie!’
Claire wasn’t sure which of them was most surprised by her vehemence. Jay’s mouth compressed slightly, his eyes flinty.
‘No,’ he agreed in a hard voice. ‘You’re not. And I wasn’t making comparisons, if that’s what you thought.’
Her small spurt of temper died as quickly as it had been born and Claire shook her head tiredly. ‘No, I’m sorry. It’s just that I feel so … overwhelmed …’
Try and think of it as buying a uniform for a new job,’ he told her wryly. ‘That might help.’ They were outside the underwear shop already, and he pulled out his wallet and gave her a sum of money that made her eyes widen in shock.
‘I think I can manage to keep the kids occupied for another half an hour. That should be long enough, shouldn’t it?’
It was and when she re-emerged with several parcels, Claire marvelled at how quickly she had disposed of such a large sum of money.
‘Shoes, and then somewhere to have a cup of tea before we start on the girls’ things,’ Jay pronounced as he took the packages from her. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to look,’ he added drily, correctly interpreting her anxious look. It made her feel gauche and silly.
No doubt Susie had enjoyed not just buying but wearing wisps of lingerie for him. But their marriage wasn’t going to be like that, she reminded herself, forcing down the panic that built up inside her every time she compared herself to his ex-wife. There was no need for her to worry. He didn’t want another Susie … that was why he was marrying her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘WAKE UP, MUMMY; it’s time for breakfast.’
Claire opened protesting eyes and saw Lucy and Heather, both still in their dressing gowns, perched on her bed.
‘Jay said we weren’t to put on our new dresses until after breakfast.’
Wise Jay, Claire thought, struggling to sit up. Those delightful grey velvet dresses with their white collars and maroon velvet bows would not be enhanced by the addition of breakfast cereal. They had been shockingly expensive, but Jay had insisted on buying them, ‘to wear for the wedding,’ and then there had been those irresistible tartan dresses with white collars and matching bows that she hadn’t been able to resist for Christmas Day; a red one for Heather with her dark colouring and a green one for Lucy who had inherited her chestnut hair.
‘The man brought breakfast on a special table,’ Lucy chattered on.
‘But Daddy said we had to come and ask if you wanted a cup of tea,’ added Heather.
‘Ah, so you are awake!’
Jay stood in the doorway. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and a towelling robe—perfectly respectable articles of clothing, but nevertheless Claire felt her stomach clench and contract in response to the sight of him. He must have had a shower, because his hair was still damp.
‘I believe it’s tradition for the bride to have her breakfast in bed on her wedding day.’
‘Not this bride,’ Claire assured him firmly. ‘I’m getting up. Come on, you two,’ she told the girls, ‘off the bed.’ Her dressing gown lay just out of reach on a chair, and although her cotton nightshirt was perfectly respectable, she felt reluctant to get out of bed in front of Jay.
She was almost frozen with horror when he casually walked over to the chair and picked up her faded dressing-gown, holding it out to her.
As clearly as though she had spoken her anguish out loud, he came over to the bed, and said in a low voice so that the girls couldn’t overhear,
‘I’m not going
to touch you, but there are going to be times when we’re going to have to act the part of an apparently normally married couple. Children are very quick, and we don’t want either of them worrying that something isn’t right about our marriage. They’ll accept the fact that we have separate rooms much more easily if they can see that we’re on reasonably intimate terms. And the time to start establishing that is now, unless you want to be the object of village speculation and gossip.’
Claire knew that he was right. Even so, she wished he would move away from the bed, and more than that she wished that he would put down her robe and go away, but he wasn’t going to. So she had to push back the covers and swing unsteady legs to the carpeted floor, trying to appear as casually relaxed as Jay was himself as he handed her her robe. As she turned to take it from him, his fingers rested on her arm, his mouth brushing a light kiss against her forehead. She could smell the clean mint freshness of his breath, and the soapiness of his body.
The reality of him was so different from her deeply suppressed memories of her attacker that it held her tense with surprise.
She heard him say her name, but wasn’t aware of the harsh undertone to his voice until his grip on her arms tightened and she focused on him.