The Thorn in His Side

‘How are things?’ she asked, making a conscious and unsuccessful effort to push the face away.

‘A bit … twilight zone, really. I think it’s the sleep deprivation. Chloe’s having a nap. I know she’d love to see you, but you don’t mind if I don’t wake her …?’

Finally banishing the image of a specific dark lean face complete with designer stubble, Libby shook her head and struggled to hide her relief.

‘Not a problem. To be honest I’m a bit tired. I want to get home and Mum and Dad—’

‘Yes, of course!’ A spasm of sympathy crossed Joe’s face. ‘I heard, Libby. I’m so sorry. If there is any—’ He broke off, looking over his shoulder and groaning as the unmistakeable sound of a baby’s demanding cry rang out in the distance.

Oblivious to the alarm in Libby’s expression, he gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Sorry, must go before Chloe wakes up. She’s all in and—’

‘No problem, you go and give my love to Ch—’

‘You’re a pal.’

If Libby had not stepped back the door might have hit her nose. As it was she turned her ankle on the cobbles that ran around the house.

Teeth gritted and ignoring the stabbing sharp pain in her ankle, she retraced her steps, the sound of Joe’s voice amplified in her head above the sound of her feet on the gravel driveway—I heard, I’m so sorry …

Heard what? Sorry about what?

She had to fight the impulse to run back to the cottage, bang on the door and demand that Joe explain himself. However the sound of the dog barking and the baby crying did suggest that Joe had enough on his plate … and anyway she might be misreading what he had said.

She shook her head. Deep down she knew this wasn’t the case. She wasn’t misreading anything or overreacting—she had known something was wrong!

And how did she respond to a potential family crisis? She stopped off to kiss a total stranger on her way home!

The fact the kissing had not been planned did not constitute an excuse in Libby’s mind. It did make it all the more difficult for her to forgive herself for her reprehensible behaviour.

Resisting the impulse to floor the accelerator—she’d already caused one accident today—Libby drove through the village at a sedate pace responding mechanically to the waves she received from several people. Was she being paranoid or had there been sympathy in those waves? It was a small community and everyone pretty much knew everyone—and secrets, forget it, there weren’t any.

She was probably the only person in a twenty-mile radius who wasn’t in the know, Libby thought as she struggled to keep her imagination in check.

She failed miserably. By the time she slowed automatically to negotiate a particularly awkward hairpin bend a mile beyond the village her fertile imagination had gone into overdrive to the point where she felt physically sick.

‘Please let everything be all right.’

Just two hundred yards further was the driveway for Maple House. People who did not know the area frequently missed the turn and drove past. Hardly surprising—it had once been an impressive entrance but, like the house it led to, had seen better days. One weathered stone griffon had fallen off his sentinel perch on the high, once-ornate but now crumbling gatepost. One of the massive wrought-iron gates that had once borne the name of her family home lay propped up against the wall—reattaching it was one of those tasks that somehow no one had got around to—covered by ivy and moss.

Libby did not notice the signs of decay and neglect that might strike a stranger as, her white face set in a pale mask of apprehension, she drove down the potholed tree-lined driveway with scant regard for the suspension of the car she drove.

The sight of the people carrier her brother and his wife had traded their smart sports car in for after the birth of their twin sons two years ago did not encourage optimism.

It was definitely not a good sign. She was glad her brother was here, but she knew that with the imminence of her due date and the problems heavily pregnant Meg had had with her blood pressure during this pregnancy he wouldn’t have left her alone with the twins and made the long trip down from Scotland for anything that wasn’t urgent.

After being away the first sight of the mellow stone of the façade of her home usually gave Libby a sense of calm and well-being. No matter what problems she had the old stone walls had always represented safety and security and a sense of continuity. Those feelings were absent as she stepped out on the gravelled driveway.