As she walked around the room, Kirsty felt there was something missing and after a few minutes she realised what it was. It needed some sort of colour – the sort of colour that a woman would introduce in the way of flowers and cushions and maybe a few colourful pictures. The sort of colour that Kirsty knew she could bring to this lovely apartment. The colour she knew she could bring to Larry Delaney’s whole life.
Kirsty took off her coat and outdoor things and then Larry gave her a guided tour of the very modern kitchen and the bathroom, which even had a shower. Then he led her upstairs to the two large bedrooms that were on the floor above.
‘I’m not always as tidy as this,’ he confessed as they stood at the door of his spacious bedroom, which was the exact shape as the sitting-room downstairs and with the same tall bay window and wine striped curtains. From first glance Kirsty thought it was so obviously a man’s room, with the heavy Victorian wardrobe and chest of
drawers with a man’s ivory brush and shaving set, and a large carved dark wooden chair with a similar striped fabric to the curtains. The high, wide, wooden bed with pale blue sheets and pillow-cases and a navy top cover took up most of the main wall. ‘I have an older woman who comes in to tidy up for me on a Friday,’ Larry explained, ‘and with us being away until yesterday afternoon, I haven’t had a chance to untidy it all yet.’
‘I think you keep this very well,’ Kirsty told him, looking around the high-ceilinged room. ‘I think you keep it all very well.’
Then there was a silence as they stood opposite each other on the threshold of Larry’s bedroom. Kirsty looked up at him; their eyes met and she saw the same look in his eyes as she had seen in the hotel the night he came to her room.
He reached for her now and drew her into his arms, and she could feel the warmth of his heart beating through the fine wool of his sweater. Then he kissed her long and deeply, and a hot wave of desire shot through her, leaving her weak and breathless.
She reached up to her full height and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, feeling his lips hard on hers and then his kisses became slower and deeper as his tongue gently probed her mouth.
Kirsty Grace had been held tightly and kissed many times before now by young boys, but it had never ever felt the way that it felt with this handsome older man. And her body had never responded in the way it was responding to him now. The feelings she had were new and wonderful and exciting – but there was also a little edge to all the feelings that was frightening.
Then, Larry’s kisses slowed down until he eventually stopped, then he took her hand and led her across the room to the big high bed. He didn’t lift her this time as he had done a few days ago in the hotel – and he didn’t need to. There was no question that Kirsty Grace was willing. They lay down on the bed together, their arms wrapped around each other as though they were the only two people in the whole building and in the whole world.
They kissed and talked and then kissed again – and each time the kissing became more passionate until Larry had somehow moved to lie on top of her and she was suddenly startled when she felt his male hardness pressing close against her lower stomach and hips. Within moments she felt herself instinctively moving against him and the little darts of desire were now growing into an overwhelming passion she had never ever imagined. As their kisses grew deeper Kirsty found her hands were moving under Larry’s sweater as she wanted to feel and touch and breathe in so much more of him.
Eventually, through the silent encouragement from Kirsty and the heat that had now generated between them, Larry moved into a sitting position and pulled his sweater over his head. Then, as he lay back down again and Kirsty ran her hands across the fine hairs on his chest and then over his bare shoulders and back, she thought how his body looked even more attractive than she had ever imagined. He looked even more handsome now than he had in the sexy dreams she’d had about him.
Passion escalated between them until Larry’s hands gently brushed over Kirsty’s breasts and then came to seek them under her sweater, and at that point she did exactly as he had done. She sat up and pulled the sweater up and over her blonde hair, and came to lie beside him again wearing only her little white bra.
Larry’s arms came around her again and they hugged and kissed and moved against each other until at last Larry pulled himself away from her. ‘We’ve got to stop, Kirsty,’ he said in a low, reluctant voice. He moved to sit on the side of the bed, his fingers running through his thick dark hair.
‘Do you want to stop?’ she whispered, leaning over to stroke his back again.
There was a silence. ‘No, I really
don’t
want to stop,’ he said quietly, pulling his sweater back on.
‘I don’t want to stop either,’ she told him.
Larry turned back to kiss her lightly on the forehead. ‘I think that we’re going to have much bigger problems if we don’t.’
Chapter 60
Heather went back into work on Monday morning. The weather was milder again, all signs of snow having disappeared with the small but significant rise in temperature.
‘Make sure you keep well wrapped up,’ Sophie had said as she had seen her off at the front door earlier in the morning. ‘It’s this changeable weather that catches people out. Keep your scarf and gloves on at all times when you’re outside, and make sure you have something decent to eat at your lunch break.’
Heather had assured her mother that she’d do everything right, and went walking up to Rowanhill train station, sighing to herself as she went along. It would be a long time before she was allowed to forget the fainting episode.
Everyone was very nice to her, saying they hoped she felt much better and discreetly not mentioning the funeral, and Mr Walton told her she should take things easy around the office for the next few days. Danny and Maurice came up to her, making good-natured jokes about her fainting at the boss’s feet and then saying very kindly that she should look after herself.
Then, halfway through the morning, Sarah came up to her while she was typing out a letter. Heather had spotted her coming across the floor, and deliberately turned her head to the side as if she hadn’t seen her.
Sarah stood for a moment, hesitating, then she plunged in. ‘I’m really sorry about what happened to your old boyfriend . . . and I’m sorry about the night we went to see the show.’
‘Thanks,’ Heather said, staring straight at her typewrite
r. She lifted the file from her desk and proceeded to thumb her way through all the documents, pretending she was looking for something.
‘That night,’ Sarah continued in a wavery voice, obviously very embarrassed and awkward, ‘it was all a big misunderstanding.’
‘Forget about it,’ Heather said abruptly, still not looking at her workmate. She lifted out one of the documents, pretending to scan it closely.
‘Marie can back me up . . .’ Sarah attempted once again. She bent down towards the desk, her face close to Heather’s.
‘Go away!’ Heather whispered in a heated voice. ‘I don’t want anything to do with you. You had your chance to be friends with me over Christmas and you ruined it.’ She looked straight up into Sarah’s face now. ‘You don’t need me to be friends with you, you’ve got that wonderful Barbara. You should just stick with her because you make a lovely pair.’
‘I made a mistake,’ Sarah said, her eyes filling with tears. ‘And I just came to say I was sorry, but if you’re not interested in listening, then I’ll just leave it.’
At the morning break, Marie Henderson came to stand beside Heather in the queue at the canteen.
‘Could I have a wee word with you while we’re having our tea?’ Marie said in a quiet but friendly tone.
‘Of course you can,’ Heather said, handing her money to the assistant for her cup of coffee and a chocolate biscuit. Although she still wasn’t that hungry, she was making sure that she ate something at all the breaks. Besides, she had lost enough weight now to fit into even her smallest clothes, and she didn’t really want to go any thinner. Things hanging off you were just as bad as having clothes that were too tight.
They went to sit at an empty table by the window.
‘It’s about Sarah,’ Marie said, putting her cup and saucer down on the table. Then, when she saw the set of Heather’s jaw, she reached across the table and touched her arm. ‘Look, I was in the exact same situation as you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Heather asked, her brow furrowe
d in confusion.
‘I went out to stay at Sarah’s house a couple of times, and then that Barbara came out with us, and it caused a big row.’ She halted. ‘That’s why I didn’t go to the show at Christmas.’
‘But I thought you weren’t well . . .’
‘I made it up,’ Marie told her, taking a sip of her tea. ‘I decided after the last time I stayed at her house that I’d never go there again. When we went to the dancing Barbara was horrible to me, making snidy remarks about my hair and clothes, and she kept trying to leave me out of the conversation all the time.’
Heather’s eyes narrowed as she remembered how she had felt when she got the same treatment. ‘What did Sarah do about it?’
‘Nothing. She couldn’t seem to see anything wrong in what Barbara said or did.’ She paused. ‘But she’s had her eyes opened . . . she knows now what a big mistake she’s made by taking Barbara’s side. She came in crying to me the first day we came back after New Year. She said she couldn’t believe that she’d been so stupid.’
‘What happened?’ Heather asked, intrigued now.
Marie looked over her shoulder, checking there was no one listening. ‘She’ll probably tell you herself if you ever get back speaking again . . . but she doesn’t want Danny or any of the lads in the office knowing about it.’
‘Knowing about what?’
‘That Barbara . . .’ Marie whispered, ‘. . . is
queer
! She got drunk at a New Year’s party and made a pass at Sarah – and Sarah nearly died!’
Heather’s hands flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. ‘I don’t believe it!’
‘Well,’ Marie said, opening her Kit-Kat biscuit, ‘they had a big row, and Barbara told her that she’d deliberately insulted all Sarah’s friends so’s they could just be together on their own. She told her that she’s known she was a lesbian for the last couple of years.’ She looked up at Heather now. ‘Sarah’s really sorry about what’s happened between you and her, and she’s already said she’s sorry to me.’
‘So what did you say?’ Heather asked, shocked at the news. She’d never have guessed in a million years that Barbara was that way inclined. But then she’d never known anyone who was a lesbian before.
Marie shrugged. ‘There’s no point in making things worse for her, is there? We’ve all got to work together and nobody wants to work in a bad atmosphere every day, do they?’
Heather thought for a few moments. She supposed she’
d got used to bad atmospheres what with all the rows over Gerry and the big row she’d had with Kirsty. The worst row they’d ever had. ‘I suppose not,’ she said, giving a little sigh. ‘But I’ve no intention of being
really
good friends with her again, and I definitely won’t be going out to stay at her house.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Marie said, smiling now. ‘But I think she’s more than paid for her mistake. That Barbara was her oldest friend, and now they’re not even talking.’ She paused, her head on one side in thought. ‘Although there’s one thing I will say for Sarah – she’s a loyal enough friend. She made me promise not to tell anyone apart from you about Barbara, and she said she’s not going to tell anyone herself. She said that Barbara had made a big enough fool of herself trying it on with her, and she didn’t want everybody else talking about it. She said that even if she was a lesbian, that she was still a nice person underneath it all.’
Heather took a sip of her coffee now, and mulled the situation over. ‘Well,’ she said after a while, ‘I suppose Sarah can’t be that bad if she’s prepared to forgive Barbara for all the trouble she’s caused and for . . .’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And for making such a big mistake as to think Sarah was the same as herself.’
Marie swallowed the last of her Kit-Kat and smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I thought.’
Muriel Ferguson came across to Heather’s desk just before lunchtime to give her a fresh supply of luncheon vouchers. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling so much better,’ she said, giving her an unusually friendly smile. ‘And I must say how much I enjoyed meeting your aunt – she’s such a lovely refined person.’
‘Thank you,’ Heather said, putting the vouchers into her handbag. ‘And thanks again for looking after me when I wasn’t well – it was really good of you.’
‘Not at all,’ Muriel said, still smiling. ‘It was nice to know that we had more things in common than I thought. Your aunt definitely has all the signs of good taste and a good education.’ She sighed and waved a hand down towards the area where Danny and Maurice had their desks. ‘It helps to know there are other people on the same wavelength as yourself . . . especially when you have to mix with the other kind day in and day out. How they let the lowly working-class types into these white-collar jobs is beyond me.’ She leaned forward now, and l
owered her voice. ‘I’m afraid if you educate certain peopl
e beyond their station, you usually end up having to pay the price.’
Heather stifled a smile at Muriel’s pompous observations
, but managed to nod vaguely and say nothing. It was quite obvious that she had decided that all Heather’s family must be tarred with the same wealthy, middle-class brush as Claire and her husband.