LITMIR.BIZ

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if he was a bit dodgy? All right, more than a bit. How easy do you think it is for a man who was raised to be a crook to suddenly go straight?

      He gave me a happy, magical childhood, and the security of knowing that he loved me without limit and I loved him without limit. And there was no more to be said.

      Sometimes he’d get sentimental about the old days and want a ‘final fling’. Since he was useless at it he always got caught and went away for a few months.

      When this happened I’d live with my cousins, who’d gone into white-collar crime and were big-time now. I’d live in their flash houses, receive expensive presents and go on their luxurious holidays.

      That was how I discovered high living, but, given that Grandad had raised me to be honest, it might have been better not to know about it. I met a lot of the wrong people. Charmers, all of them, but you couldn’t have a sustained relationship with someone who might vanish into jail at any time.

      Then I set my heart on being an actress. I got almost no work, but Grandad assured me we were in the money and he could keep me going.

      Of course that was one of his daydreams, and I ought to have known it. But I suppose I blinded myself to what I didn’t want to know until I got a call from a police station. Grandad had returned to his old ways. It was a disaster. If he’d ever had any skills, which I seriously doubt, he’d forgotten them. He ended up behind bars and I did some thinking.

      This was my fault. How was he supposed to stay on the straight and narrow when I was being a drain on him? He’d always looked after me, and now it was time for me to look after him.

      I abandoned the theatre, which didn’t seem to notice my departure any more than it had noticed my arrival, and I got jobs demonstrating in stores. I lived as frugally as possible, saving for when Grandad came home.

      I saw him on every visiting day, and it broke my heart to see him in that place. He was too old for prison, and I had to keep his spirits up by talking about the times we’d have together when he was released.

      On my last visit I’d told him about being a waitress on The Silverado.

      ‘It’s just for a few weeks,’ I assured him. ‘I’ll come and see you as soon as I’m back in England. You’ll be out soon after that, and we’ll never let this happen again. Will we?’

      ‘Never,’ he said, holding up his hand. ‘That’s a promise.’

      The trouble was, it had always been a promise. He was easy-going, and people could talk him into things.

      So from now on I was going to be in total control of everything—my life, his life, the lot. No more nasty surprises.

      And what did I have to go and do? Fall in love with a man I could never have. Brilliant!

      Right from the start I knew Jack and I had no future.

      It didn’t matter that I’d never been a crook. Practically everyone else I knew was. Mud sticks. Jack might be a millionaire, but he couldn’t afford me.

      So our time together had to be something apart. I would enjoy, leave it, and remember it without bitterness.

      I didn’t know how long we’d have. Jack had wanted us to stay together for a while after we left the boat. I thought we might even have a month.

      But then I called home and found that Grandad had been released early. So I had to return at once. I allowed myself that one last evening with Jack. I thought I could handle it, but he took my breath away by asking me to marry him. The one thing I’d never thought of.

      For a few glorious moments I let myself dream. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life, and I never will again.

      But I couldn’t say yes, for his sake. He made it hard for me by talking about love in a voice that seemed to wrap itself around my heart. If only, I thought, he would stop talking like that. If only he would never stop.

      I made him give me a little time, just to put off actually saying no, which was going to break my heart.

      Perhaps I shouldn’t have made love with him, but I knew that if I didn’t spend that night in his arms I’d regret it all my days.

      I remember returning to our cabin after an evening at a little restaurant on the shore. There was some foolery with the dreary nightdress which I found pushed away under the bed, and he took it from me and tossed it away.

      After that there was no going back. He grabbed me in a sort of frenzy. I suppose he was rough, but I didn’t mind because I knew it was only frustration, and I was feeling it too. If he’d gone on being restrained I’d probably have thumped him.

      I heard some material tear and thought it must be my dress. Actually it was his silk shirt, as I discovered when I stepped over it later.

      But if he didn’t rip my dress it was only because he didn’t need to. He was an expert in removing delicate things without damage, but I was pulling my own clothes off at the same time as his.

      I suppose we were naked at about the same moment, and that was like a confirmation that this was really going to happen at last. So then there was no need to rush to bed. There was time to stand there and feel our bodies against each other.

      It was so good. I knew his body well from having spent so much time gazing at it. I knew the heaviness in his shoulders, the hint of power kept in reserve, seldom needing to be used. I knew the way his torso narrowed down to lean hips and long, muscular thighs. I could still feel him lying against me, as he’d done the first morning, his desire unmistakeable. I’d wanted him then and I wanted him now.

      I brushed my lips across his chest, listening to his heartbeat, hearing it grow a little more urgent as I moved my hands over him. It was the same with me. As his fingers tips roved all over me, exploring, inciting, my pulse grew faster.

      He was murmuring soft words. ‘All my life—all my life—’

      Did he mean that he’d waited for me all his life? Or that we would have a lifetime together? I couldn’t afford to wonder. Too much grief lay that way. Tonight I was going to be his in every way I could. In my heart I was already his for ever, and I tried to show him in ways he’d remember later.

      I said he was always in control, but he was losing it then, and that was wonderful. He’d asked me to be his wife, and this was as good as our wedding night, even though the wedding would never take place.

      We walked slowly to the bed, not hurrying because the world and time were ours. He sat on the edge and drew me towards him, between his legs, so that he could rest his head against my breasts. I wrapped my arms about him, feeling strangely protective of this strong man.

      I felt the tears come as I realised that he trusted me enough to be vulnerable to me. I knew I mustn’t think of that. Not when I was about to betray his trust and desert him.

      He kissed my breasts so gently, so lovingly, that all sense of strain fell away from me. I was nothing now but this man’s lover, with no purpose in life but to receive his love and give it back a thousandfold.

      So I arched into him, clasping my hands behind his head and inciting him to love me with his tongue, his lips. And he did, again and again. I took deep breaths, bracing myself for the shattering, beautiful sensations that went through me.

      But before long that wasn’t enough. I wanted him to feel the same. So I drew him down on the bed, made love to him with all my heart, and had the happiness of feeling his response.

      ‘Do you know how much I want you?’ he whispered.

      ‘Not until you show me,’ I whispered back.

      So he did, easing over me and accepting the welcome I offered him. We became one with mutual joy. I could see my own feelings mirrored in his eyes and I smiled, knowing that he was as much mine in that moment as I was his.

      And we were still each other’s when he left me, because we lay for a long time holding on, making the moment last.

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