Lucy wanted to sigh. But she didn’t.
‘Yes,’ she said, wondering if all this was a good idea, after all.
Perhaps she shouldn’t be indulging herself in this illusion of an ordinary, loving domestic life with an unattainable man. She had to accept the relationship the way it was – sporadic, ad hoc, futureless. Hot sex for a season. To do otherwise was to doom herself to dashed hopes and heartache.
Richard stepped up to the work surface and began slicing onions in a highly competent manner while Lucy struggled to light the range. Soon enough, a glowing warmth spread through the room, and her bones too, lending a magical air to proceedings. The blatter of rain on the window added to this, much as she sympathised with poor Rob, making his haphazard way through it.
Richard didn’t seem to have much to say, so she switched on Radio Four and let a drama about a 1950s public school take up the conversational slack.
‘Are you nervous?’ she asked, chopping the lamb while Richard sauteed onions and garlic in a frying pan.
‘About what? Meeting Rob? No.’
‘I am. I’m very nervous. I so want you to get on.’
He let go of the frying pan handle briefly, to put a hand on her shoulder.
‘We have one very important thing in common,’ he said. ‘I think we’ll both bear that in mind.’
‘Do you cook often?’ Lucy watched him put together a redcurrant sauce.
‘No. Not often enough.’
She wanted to ask so many questions, but something about his manner held her back. Instead, as they ate, they talked about previous trips to Wales, their days at work, their backwoods survival skills.
This is what lovers do, thought Lucy, watching Richard intently as he shovelled lamb casserole into his mouth. The mouth that commanded her, kissed her, did unimaginably ravishing things to her … She so rarely saw it doing these usual things. And then, when the meal is over …
She knew that look on Richard’s face.
‘It seems rude,’ she blurted. ‘To start without him.’
‘I’ve left some in the Aga on a low heat,’ said Richard, deliberately misunderstanding.
‘No, you know what I mean.’
He watched her intently for a moment then sat back.
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to leave soon anyway. Game of cards, then?’
Lucy shook her head, jittery with nerves again.
‘Tell you what,’ said Richard, clearing away the plates. ‘You might not want to start anything without Rob, but how about you get changed? Put on a dress and nothing else.’
Lucy laughed, her eyes wide with disbelief.
‘Shoes?’
‘Wellington boots. And a little dress and nothing else. You have brought one?’
Lucy blushed. ‘Yes, yes, I have.’ It seemed shameful to be admitting that she was expecting sex this weekend - though why it should be, she couldn’t quite understand.
‘Go on, then.’
He finished the dishes while Lucy bolted upstairs and stripped off her jeans and top and workaday underwear.
In her suitcase she found Rob’s favourite skater dress. Thank goodness all the netball and hockey kept her breasts high and perky, she thought, slipping it over her head. Of course, the minute her nipples hardened, they would telegraph her bralessness to all who cared to look, but hopefully that would be nobody but Richard and Rob. It would only take a tiny gust of wind to raise her skirt and bare all. She was definitely staying in the car. Richard could get out and help Rob with his bags when they got to the station. She would sit on the big front seat of the Range Rover, with her thighs pressed together, and wait.
Her bare feet were light and quiet on the stairs, but Richard still anticipated her, waiting at the bottom with arms folded and an expression of quiet satisfaction.