Sublime Trust

Mark dropped his jaw briefly—we’d surprised him. I concluded my husband had tested him and he’d passed. Mark was going to be his willing participant in his games and join his little circle of protégés. “Thank you, Mr Lucas. I would be honoured.” Mark bounded around the desk to open the door.

“Good. I’m going to take my girl for her lunch, and once she’s come to her senses, she can tell me what a fine accountant you are.” Jason propelled my stupefied form through the door.

In the back of the car, he handed over the knickers, and I slipped them on, letting the fabric soak up my juices.

“Thank you, Master.” I snuggled under his arm, looping it over my shoulders, demanding my post-scene cuddle. He scooped me up onto his lap and rained kisses around my face and neck.

Lunch was pleasant, but there was no sex for afters. Instead, he dropped me back at the gallery then sped off back to work. I was in my happy place all afternoon. Mark had been right—surprising Jason with my submission was a wonderful aphrodisiac.

Chapter 24. Breaking Down

I wanted my parents to attend my gallery opening, especially my mum, who’d tacitly supported my desire to be an artist since childhood, even though she’d pushed me into a different career. The weekend after my unusual encounter with my accountant, Jason, Joshua, and I went to visit my parents for Sunday lunch, enabling me to personally invite them to an early preview and the opening event.

Sitting in the lounge after lunch, I brought them up to date while Jason occupied Joshua on the floor with a few picture books. Josh’s little voice punctuated our conversation: “ball,” “dog,” and “sock,” being the most frequent. An eclectic collection of first words, which he’d learnt over the summer. As I summarised my final preparations, Joshua grew restless and started to empty the shelves of my father’s beloved classical collection of CDs.

“No, Joshua.” Jason shook his head and gave Joshua his daddy cross expression.

Joshua giggled and carried on his task with renewed eagerness. I liked to see Joshua rebel a little—it reminded me of my tendency to be cheeky.

“I’ll take him for a run outside,” said Dad, putting on his shoes. Joshua jumped about, demanding, “Kick, ball, Gradad.”

Mum and I collected up the empty coffee cups and we went to wash up in the kitchen, leaving Jason reading the Sunday Times. He coped with my parents by keeping quiet and focused on Joshua. I’d come to the opinion that the best way for Jason to deal with my parents’ small talk was to shut down and take the chance to recuperate from the demands of his working life—lie back and rest his eyes.

Standing in the kitchen, Mum and I watched Joshua playing in the back garden with Dad. There were pans left over from lunch to scrub, and I ran the tap, waiting for the hot water to arrive.

“You’ve a lovely boy there, Gemma,” commented Mum. “When are you going to try for number two?”

I nearly dropped the saucepan. Mum wasn’t always subtle with her requests for information.

“If you have to know, I’ve stop taking the pill, but it took a while the first time, so don’t get excited.” I sank the pan into the bowl and the suds began to pop and disperse. A ring of scum bloomed across the surface of the water.

“You know, having sex regularly helps,” she said matter-of-factly, shaking out a dry tea towel.

“Mother! Please.” I gripped the handle under the water. Was she doing this on purpose?

“Your dad sells lots of the ovulation-kit things in the chemist. They’re meant to be very helpful with predicting ovulation, you know, when to do it.”

“Mother!” I screeched under my breath. “I know this. I have conceived before.” I didn’t want to explain that even when I wasn’t trying to conceive, Jason and I had sex regularly, frequently, in fact.

She glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen door then leaned towards my ear and whispered. “I know. But Jason is a busy man, and you must make sure he doesn’t neglect you.”

Neglect me! I suppressed a laugh.

“Mum, please! We’re not in a hurry.” I passed her the dripping pan. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. After all of those pep talks you gave me about not having sex.”

She wiped the suds off and frowned. “That was a long time ago. I despaired of you, back then. Hanging around with boys all the time.”

My heart froze a fraction, the last beat shattering loudly. What was she trying to say to me? “I wasn’t! You had John look out for me.”

“Until he left home. I know you slept about after he left. You hid things in your room, but I found them when I put things away.” She continued to wipe the pan, even though it was bone dry. Round and round, she stirred the cloth, her lips pressed tight together.

My hands remained deep in the cooling dishwater, wishing I could wash more than pans—I felt dirty. Things in my room, she meant my vibrator and sex books.

I hung my head down and spoke through gritted teeth. “Mum, it wasn’t like that. I was careful, back then, took precautions.” The last sheen of white bubbles disintegrated, and I saw my hands at the bottom of the bowl, the wedding band and manicured nails. Those hands had been cultivated for Jason, kept beautiful for his eyes. I tried to focus on him.

She snorted, rather callously. “I hope you did, because it felt like nothing I said or did stopped you.”

She opened a cupboard door and tucked the pan away. She didn’t have to say “disappointed.” The huff in her tone proved sufficient. I couldn’t move, and my inability to confront her encouraged her to ramble on.