She led him down the path, wishing, for the first time, that she hadn't designed it to lead all round the garden the longest way possible, ending with a bench in a secluded corner. A rose which should have been tied back hung over it creating dappled, scented shade. She dreaded reaching it – her emotions might explode. She knew she felt the same about him but she still wondered if he'd meant what he'd said that evening. She had convinced herself that it had just been a one-night stand, and he hadn't even texted her. But he was here now, clearly upset about something.
She stopped several times on the way, hoping to bore him into going back to the others. She didn't trust herself to be alone with him. 'I used to grow vegetables there -just a few things, sugar snap peas, runner beans, things like that. My parsley patch has survived though. And I'm very fond of my golden hop although it does need a bit of training..
His blatant lack of interest stopped her. He took her by the arm and Jo regretted insisting to the lad who created them for her that the paths should be wide enough for two people to walk abreast. 'I don't want to talk about herbaceous borders, I want to talk about us.’
Jo caught her breath. 'Is there an "us"?' She had assumed, in the moments when she forced herself to have a reality check (something she did as little as possible), that she and Marcus weren't meant to be. Why should he want to stick with a woman of fifty when he could so easily get one so much younger?
‘I don't know. You and Philip seemed to be very cosy. You called him "darling".’
She turned to him. 'Oh, that's just habit!'
‘Is it? You really don't want to go back to him?'
‘I told you before, no, and anyway, I couldn't. His girlfriend is pregnant. All this is hers now.' And then she did what she most wanted not to do and burst into tears.
His arms went round her automatically and she found herself sobbing on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath her cheek. 'Listen, Joanna, I only want you to be happy. If this is what you want, this house, this garden and… Philip, I'll back off. But..
Why oh why did he stop speaking just when he seemed about to say something wonderful. 'But what?' She looked up at him, aware that a tear-stained face was not attractive after the age of about eighteen.
He lowered his head and kissed her cheek. 'You silly woman. I want you for myself.’
Jo sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her hand and then wiped her hand on her new linen skirt. 'Come on, let's go down here where we can sit and I can compose myself. We mustn't be long though, people will talk.'
‘As long as we talk first, I don't care.' He took her hand and led her to the rose-shaded area by the bench.
‘I think this rose is called Lady Hillingdon, but I can't remember.'
‘I don't care a flying-f- fish what it's called.' Then he pulled her into his arms and kissed her properly.
For the first few moments Jo worried about being seen from the house and then she forgot there was a house and just let herself be kissed until she began to kiss him back. She was clinging onto him to stop her knees buckling and then she guided them both to the bench so they could sit down. At last they broke apart.
‘I hadn't made that part up then,' said Marcus.
‘What do you mean?' She was breathless and still not quite in the present.
‘We do have the most amazing sexual chemistry.' Her reply was a shuddering sigh.
‘Joanna, if you want a house and a garden like this, I can give you one. You don't have to live on Hildegarde, which I admit is hardly perfect – or any barge.'
‘It's a bit early – I mean, this has come as a bit of a shock.’
‘Has it? Surely you knew how I felt about you?'
‘I thought it was just lust,' she muttered, blushing profusely.
‘Lust is a much underrated emotion,' said Marcus, and turned her chin with his finger so he could kiss her again.
Foolishly, Jo opened her mouth to protest and was lost to his onslaught.
‘What the hell do you think you're doing?' said a rather red-faced Philip. 'Take your hands off my wife.'
‘Sorry, I couldn't stop him coming,' said Miranda from behind Philip. 'And I can see you obviously don't need me now,' and then she tiptoed away.
‘I think you relinquished your claims to Joanna when you took up with another woman,' said Marcus, getting to his feet.
Jo inched back into the corner of the bench. If she got up too, the rose would take someone's eye out.
‘That's not the point! How dare you come to my house and make love to my wife?' Philip went on, his voice rising in anger.
‘Philip,' said Jo sternly. 'Marcus is right. I'm not your wife any more. You left me for another woman.' She didn't press the point about how much younger Samantha was or the fact that she was pregnant.
Philip looked at her with a mixture of bewilderment and pleading. 'Jo, if you want to come back here, I'll work things out with Sam… Seeing you here, in your proper home, made me realise..
Jo got to her feet, ready to explode with indignation, but before she could, Karen arrived, closely followed by Tom and Dora. Jo removed the eye-threatening spray of Lady Hillingdon and took a deep breath.
‘This is really neither the time nor the place for this conversation,' she began, faintly surprised to hear this old cliché coming from her own lips. 'We have guests. Come along, back to the barbecue, everyone.’
Rather to her surprise, they all followed her meekly down the path. Even through her distress she couldn't help thinking how like a bad television drama the whole situation was, involving as it did a lot of designer shoes, short skirts and St Tropez fake tan.
Bill was happily turning over steaks and chicken breasts, oblivious to the drama going on at the end of the garden path.
‘Have another drink, everyone,' said Miranda, greeting the party as it arrived back on the patio, correctly assuming that Philip's hosting skills would have deserted him. 'Sukie and I were just saying how lovely your garden is, Jo. And there's food ready.'
‘Thank you.' Jo's gratitude wasn't just for this informa tion but also for Miranda taking over the social bit for her. She struggled to become the hostess again. 'I think we should all get eating. Sukie, Cliff, help yourselves to some garlic bread.' She looked at the bread and realised she had absolutely no recollection of making it. Was this early-onset Alzheimer's or had Marcus's kisses wiped her memory? There was a moment's hiatus where Jo prayed that everyone would go on pretending that there had been no scene at the end of the garden. Plates were passed, knives and forks distributed, bottles clinked against glasses.
‘What's going on?' demanded Karen, just when Jo had started to relax a little.
‘Darling, I don't think-' Jo began.
Marcus interrupted her. 'I was having a private conver sation with your mother, and your father..
Philip exhaled loudly and indignantly.
‘I do wish everyone would just get eating,' said Jo, clinging desperately to her duties as hostess.
‘Yes, come along.' Miranda came to her rescue. 'Tom, Dora, Cliff, Sukie, everyone, fill your plates. I would just hate to see all this lovely food wasted.’
Thankfully, everyone did as they were told and settled themselves on seats, or the wall, depending on age and need for comfort, and began eating. Then Dora noticed that Jo hadn't got anything. She leapt up and put a bit of salad and a lamb chop on a plate and brought it to her. 'There you are, eat that.'
‘Can I have a fork, do you think?' said Jo.
‘Oh goodness, here.’
There was a moment's reprieve from the ghastly scene that was about to erupt while everyone except Jo chewed and murmured about how nice it all was. Jo couldn't have eaten if she'd been paid ten pounds a mouthful.
Marcus had taken a plate as far away as he could and still be on the patio. Philip shot him sidelong glances of resentment and dislike from time to time. Jo almost expected little snarls to emerge from him, as from a jealous dog.
Jo got up. Staying seated made her feel trapped. She handed things round, noting cynically that although Philip and Marcus were treating her like an old bone, she couldn't help feeling they may not have shown any interest in her at all if the other hadn't been present.
Bill, Sukie and Cliff were all looking a little startled but politely chose to ignore the air of tension and kept up a discussion about barges with admirable valour. Miranda seemed to be having a one-sided conversation with Philip about antiques and Tom and Dora were telling Karen all about the festival. Marcus was just sitting there, watching everyone in silence.
Jo could bear it no longer and, mumbling something about more bread, she headed resolutely towards the kitchen. Once inside, she rested her head on the cool surface of the worktop and sighed.
‘Jo?' She heard Marcus say quietly behind her.
She lifted her head and turned towards him. There was a gentle but resolute air about him.
`Jo?' he said again. 'I've never been with a woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with – until now.’
His words made her heart contract. She looked up at him and saw how much he meant them in his eyes, but she just couldn't speak.
‘I'm staying at the White Swan,' he said. 'I know you can't leave your guests just now, much as I yearn to carry you away, it wouldn't be fair. I want you to come because you want to be there as much as I want you to be there. No pressure.' Then he was gone.
Almost, Jo could have laughed at his words. Pressure from something, it could have been love, was building up in her diaphragm until it threatened to burst out of her, in the form of either tears or laughter.
She stood still for a few minutes, her mind in turmoil. Her guests were outside wondering what was going on but were thankfully too British to demand an explanation. And as for Karen and Philip…
‘Mum, there's something going on between you and Marcus, isn't there?' Karen said as she and Philip materialised in the kitchen behind her.
Karen looked so vulnerable and yet so defiant, Jo knew she had to tell them the truth. 'Yes,' she said quietly.
‘And you think you can trust him?' Philip said. 'He's never had much of track record..
Jo bristled, her resolve strengthening. 'If you don't mind me pointing this out,' she said, more calmly than she felt, 'your own staying power seems a bit lacking of late.’
Philip harrumphed. 'I may have made a mistake.'
‘I'm sure you have,' said Jo, suddenly feeling very tired, 'but it's too late to undo it.'
‘Would you go back to Dad if you could?' asked Karen. Jo looked at her daughter and shook her head. 'No. I'm sorry, darling, but I couldn't. Not now.'
‘Jo, I can sort things out, really I can-' Philip insisted.
‘I don't want you to,' said Jo firmly. 'You leaving me was possibly the biggest favour you could have done me. I wouldn't go back to you even if Sam wasn't pregnant. And deep down I think you wouldn't want that either.'
‘But, Mum, if Dad says..
‘Sorry, Karen. I realise it's probably quite upsetting for you, but I really can't go back to your father.'
‘But why not?' Karen insisted, a little petulant.
‘Because I love Marcus.'
‘Do you?' Philip said, although she could tell he knew she meant it. He sighed and smiled at her sadly and Jo caught a brief glimpse of the Philip she had known and once loved. 'If that's what you want, I wish you every happiness.' And he walked back out into the garden.
‘Mum?' Karen said.
Jo turned to her daughter and took her in her arms, stroking her hair as she had done when she was a child.
Karen sighed and then pulled away. She smiled at her mother and then grinned. 'I'm not sure I like the idea of a stepfather, at my age, but at least he's good-looking.’
Jo laughed and linking arms with her daughter they went outside.
As Jo and Karen walked slowly back to their guests, Jo's emotions were all over the place, but she felt certain of one thing: Marcus did love her and she loved him. Karen was disappointed, of course, but she was an adult now and she seemed to have taken it very well, considering. Philip too.
There was a moment's silence as they rejoined the others and then everyone resumed their conversations.
‘We found the trifle,' said Karen, winking at Jo.