Jo parked her car feeling rather guilty and yet elated. After hugs and kisses and see you soons and a promise of a 'proper' catch-up from Dora and Tom, Jo had crept away early from her own party. Now, as she pulled Marcus's grip out of the car she decided the guilt added a certain frisson to her pleasure. She was a married woman – well, tech nically she was still married – going to join her lover in a fabulous hotel. It was so unlike her, she couldn't help giving a little skip. If someone had told her a year ago that she'd have turned into the sort of woman who did things like that, she would have believed she'd fly to the moon first.
She went into Reception, blushing and laughing to herself. 'Can you tell me which room Mr Rippon is in? I've arranged to meet him.'
‘Oh yes, Madam, he told us to expect you.' As the man behind Reception gave her directions, she realised she hadn't given her name. Had Marcus given a detailed description of her too? He met her in the corridor and she realised they must have phoned from the desk to say she was on her way. And then his arms were round her, hugging her so hard she thought she'd suffocate.
‘You came,' he whispered into her hair.
‘I can't breathe,' she squeaked.
‘Sorry. It's just that I let you slip through my fingers once, I'm not going to let you go again.'
‘But perhaps we could just go to the bedroom, couldn't we?’
He gave her another squeeze and then laughed. 'You can go anywhere you like. The world is your oyster. You are the pearl.'
‘Oh for God's sake, Marcus!’
He had propped the bedroom door open and now he edged them both into the room without letting go of Jo. Then he kicked the door shut and released her.
‘Are you sure this is what you want? A life with a roving vagabond instead of a safe middle-class, middle-England life with Philip?'
‘My life with Philip wasn't safe, was it? I might as well try my luck with the roving vagabond.’
He put his arms round her and kissed her again and then murmured into her hair. 'You're going to make a lovely vagabond's moll.’
And middle-class, middle-England Jo sighed in satisfaction.
Back at the house, the older members of the party were carrying on as if nothing unusual had happened, all except Philip, who had driven off, presumably to see Samantha.
Dora, Tom and Karen had taken a bottle of wine to a little table in the garden and were sitting round discussing the situation.
‘I do think you should have told me, Do,' said Karen, still a bit indignant that Dora hadn't forewarned her about her mother and Marcus. 'I mean, you must have realised there was something going on between them.'
‘I didn't, not really,' said Dora, defending herself.
‘I told you I thought he fancied her,' said Tom. 'He looked at her a lot, when she wasn't looking at him.' Karen regarded Tom. 'Boys aren't supposed to notice stuff like that,' she said.
‘I don't see why not. Do you two want more trifle, or shall I just help myself?'
‘Help yourself,' Dora and Karen said in unison.
‘Well, at least I don't need to worry about you and him, Do,' said Karen.
Dora laughed. 'You don't need to worry about your mother, either. Marcus is a really good guy. He may have had a bit of a bad rep with women before, but I suspect he's always wanted her and will settle down for ever.'
‘I just don't like the thought of my mother having hot sex, that's all.’
Dora giggled. 'Don't think about it then! But I think they're a great couple.’
Karen leaned forward and patted her friend's hand. 'I think you and Tom are a great couple too. I knew I was right to make you go and live with Mum.' She raised her hands in a triumphant gesture. 'Even from across the Atlantic I can make things work out for the best.'
‘Karen!'
‘It's all right, no need to thank me. Now, do you know of any other gorgeous men that I might like? I quite fancy Going Dutch myself.’