Authors: Penny Jordan
It was on the tip of Louise's tongue to point out mildly that the French, along with the Dutch, and the Portuguese, come to that, had all been equally vigorous at some stage of their history in pursuing the acquisition of new colonies, lands and seas over which they staked ownership, but Jean Claude's serious tone prevented her, and besides, as she had often noticed, sensationally handsome and attentive though he was, for her tastes the Frenchman lacked one vitally important virtue: he had virtually no sense of humour.
'It's going to be next week before I can see you, Jean Claude,' she told him instead.
'Very well...then I shall ring you next week. Although we could always be together later...after your dinner is over...' He started to purr meaningfully.
Louise laughed.
'Spend the night with you, you mean...
Non. Non, non...'
'Now you say
non,
but one day soon you will say
oui,
and not just to spend the night with me,' he warned her, and she could hear the smile of satisfaction in his voice as she laughed and said her goodbyes.
'You're wrong, Jean Claude,' she murmured to herself as she replaced the receiver. Attractive though he was, she was in no danger of being tempted to join his long list of lovers.
'Oh, but you are so cold,' he had complained the last time she had refused him. 'Cold outside, but I think
very,
very hot inside. Very, very hot...' he had whispered as he had attempted to deepen the passion of the kiss they were sharing.
'Why so bashful?' he had added when she had gently, but firmly, disengaged herself from him. 'You are a woman of very great attractiveness, Louise, and I cannot be the first to tell you so—nor the first man to take you to bed...'
'
Y
OU
haven't taken me to bed,' Louise had felt bound to remind him.
'Not yet,' he had agreed, adding wickedly, 'But I shall...and very soon.' His voice had deepened as his hand reached out to stroke her breast.
Deftly Louise had manoeuvred herself away from him and opened the door of his car.
He was right about one thing. He was not the first to have wanted to take her to bed, but...
'Oh, no...
No,'
Louise told herself fiercely. 'I'm not going through all that again. I'm not travelling down that road...thinking
those
thoughts...'
Wasn't it one of the first signs of long-term spinsterdom when one started talking to oneself...?
Spinsterdom... It was an old-fashioned, very non- politically correct and out-of-favour word, with all its unkind connotations and in-built prejudices. But a spinster was, after all, what she was, and what she was likely to remain...
By choice, she reminded herself fiercely. By
choice.
By the expression of her
free will
because... because...
'Stop that,' she told herself sternly, reminding herself mundanely, 'You've got to be up early in the morning!'
'
L
OUISE
. Good!' her boss greeted her as she hurried into Louise's office. 'I'm glad you're here early.'
'I thought you'd want me to brief you on the possible legal complexities of this proposed change in fishing rights.'
'Yes, yes, I do,' Pam Carlisle agreed. 'But I also want you to accompany me to this morning's meeting. Things have changed rather a lot since we first discussed the matter. For a start, there's been a good deal of political argument brought up by some of the other committee members over the fact that the proposed Chair, Gareth Simmonds, is British, and of course the existing fishing rights are also British.'
'Yes... Yes, so I understand,' Louise agreed tensely, keeping her face averted from her boss as she fiddled with some papers on her desk.
'You know? But how?'
'My sister told me, and as it happens Gareth Simmonds was on the same flight as me. I... He was my tutor for a while when I was up at Oxford,' Louise explained brusquely. There—it was said...out...over and done with.
'Oh, you know Gareth, then.' Pam beamed at her. 'We're most frightfully lucky to have had him agree to accept the Chair, and, as I've already pointed out to the other committee members, they simply couldn't have a chairperson who could be less biased. Well, if he was your tutor
you
must know that. He really is the most— It's just as well I'm a very happily married woman,' she told Louise frankly, with a wide grin. 'I can tell you, Louise, when he smiled at me I could practically feel myself melting. His students must have fallen for him like ninepins, poor man...'
'Poor man?
Why
poor man?' Louise asked, rather more sharply than she had intended, she could see, as Pam gave her a puzzled look.
'Oh, dear, Lou, have I trodden on an Achilles' heel?' She asked, with amusement. 'Did you have a bit of a thing for him while you were an undergrad?'
'No. I most certainly did not,' Louise denied vehemently, her colour suddenly very high and her eyes spitting sparks of anger. 'If you want the truth...' She paused, only too well aware of the danger she was running into.
'Yes...?' Pam prompted.
'Oh, nothing,' Louise hedged. 'Look, I've produced a list of possible points that may be raised, and, of course, there's always the chance that we're going to have that old accusation of colonialism thrown at us...'
'Colonialism...?' Pam raised her eyebrows. 'Well, I suppose you
could
be right, and it's certainly best to be prepared for everything.'
Louise, who knew the situation equally as well as her boss, nodded. 'It's going to be my job to persuade the committee that we need to keep fishing quotas down and retain as much control over our fishing rights as we can. It's not going to be easy...'
'No,' Louise agreed. 'I've read up as much as I can on maritime law, and, of course, all the other legal facts that cover the situation. I've prepared several briefs for you on the subject, and I'm also getting hold of translations of the law and legal histories that the other committee countries are likely to be using as counter-arguments.'
'Mmm...looks like I'm going to be doing an awful lot of reading.'
'Well, I'll condense as much of it as I can, and, of course, if a point is raised that needs further exploration...'
'You'll deal with it. Yes, I know you will, Lou. Have I told you recently, by the way, what a treasure you are? When Hugh first recommended you to me I admit I
was
rather dubious., .but he convinced me that you would be up to the job and he was more than right.'
Hugh Crighton was Saul's father, her grandfather's half-brother. Initially a barrister, and now a semi- retired judge, he lived in Pembrokeshire with his wife Ann, and it was from living in a coastal area that he had become acquainted with the European MP Pam Carlisle, for whom Louise now worked.
Originally, when she had been offered the job, Louise had resentfully assumed that this was her uncle Hugh's way of getting her out of his son's life. But at a family gathering Hugh had taken her on one side and told her gently, 'I know what you're thinking, Lou, but you're wrong. Yes, I
do
think it's a good idea for you and Saul to have some distance between you, and for Tullah and Saul to be allowed to build their new life together, but I also happen to think that you're ideally suited for this kind of work. You've got the right kind of fighting spirit it needs.'
'I wanted to be a barrister,' Louise had reminded him.
'Yes, I know,' he had acknowledged. 'But, my dear Lou, you're too hot-blooded and—'
'Too hot-tempered,' she had supplied angrily for him.
'Spirited,' he had amended. 'A crusader...a leader. You need the kind of challenge this work specifically will provide.'
And, of course, he had been right, and if she was honest, the thought of practising law in the dry, dusty courts of the European legal system did not appeal to her any more.
'You just want to be a barrister so that you can prove to Gramps that you're better than Max,' Joss had commented calmly at that same gathering. 'But it's all right, Lou,' he had told her in a kind voice. '
We
all know that you
are
better...'
Better... What did that mean? she wondered now. What had happened to the young woman who had declared that if she couldn't have Saul then all she wanted in compensation was to be materially successful, to make her mark in the world? Why was she suddenly beginning to feel that there might be something missing from her life, that there might be
someone
missing from it?
'Lou? Are you all right...?'
'Yes. Yes, I'm fine,' she assured Pam Carlisle, swiftly gathering up the papers she would need as she prepared to follow her out to the waiting car.
En route
to their destination, Louise studied their surroundings absently through the car window. Brussels, despite hearsay to the contrary, was, in fact, a beautiful city; but it was true it
was
a majestic and very proper kind of rigid beauty that perhaps could not always be easily appreciated. But beautiful it was, nevertheless, Louise acknowledged as the driver brought the car to a halt and got out to open the doors for them.
Several of the other committee members and their assistants had already arrived. Louise knew most of them by sight if nothing else. Brussels' political circles were surprisingly small, in view of the number of politicians and ancillary workers and diplomats who worked at the commission.
She was grimly amused to see that the French representative had with him a particularly aggressive and highly qualified legal adviser big-wig, who Louise suspected was far more used to running his
own
committees rather than sitting in a back seat capacity on someone else's. She had never actually met him before, but knew of him by reputation, and, as she whispered discreetly to her boss, it proved how seriously the French were taking the issues that they should have supplied their representative with someone so very senior.
'This is a very serious political issue for them,' Pam Carlisle agreed. 'Even more so in many ways than it is for us. But it's the Spanish contingent we should expect to have the most trouble with.
'Oh, look, there's Gareth Simmonds just walking in,' Pam told her, but Louise had already seen him.
His dark, impeccably tailored suit emphasised the masculine power of his shoulders—and their breadth. Beneath the pristine crispness of his shirt Louise could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed. Was it still bisected by that same dark arrowing of soft, finger-magnetising dark hair? Did he still...?
Angrily, she turned her head away.
'I'd like to have a word with him, but I've been warned to be especially careful. We can't afford to take any risks of having him accused of favouritism,' Pam commented.
'Strictly speaking he shouldn't be in a position to favour
anyone
,' Louise reminded her dryly. 'The issue is to be resolved by sticking to the
law.''
From the past Louise could almost hear Gareth Simmonds' voice as he lectured them on the finer points of European law, his tone becoming increasingly passionate as he pointed out to them that the way ahead lay not so much in the British law courts, but in those of the new European parliament.
'New community laws will be written which will supersede the old, nationalistic laws, and the responsibility for making those laws could well lie in your hands...'
The meeting was being called to order. Out of the corner of her eye Louise watched Gareth. He was deep in conversation with a stunning blonde whom Louise recognised as one of the phalanx of legal advisers attached to the German embassy—Ilse Weil. From her body language, it was quite plain that it wasn't just Gareth's attention as the chairperson of the committee she was courting, Louise decided derisively. And, what was more, Gareth Simmonds didn't seem to be doing anything to put a less intimate distance between them.
Abruptly, she turned away. If Gareth Simmonds chose to respond to another woman's sensual come- on, then that was no business of
hers.
No business at all. Nor was there any way she would ever want it to be.
'Thanks, Lou... I appreciate the way you handled everything. We were faced with some pretty tricky questions, and I could be wrong, but I've got a gut feeling that one or two people were quite definitely caught off guard by the answers you were able to come up with.'
'Mmm... I wouldn't be
too
optimistic,' Louise warned her boss, adding dryly, 'We
are,
after all, dabbling in pretty murky waters...'
'Murky, maybe, but hopefully legally within our territory,' Pam responded with a grin. 'You haven't forgotten we've got this wretched dinner tonight as well, have you?'
Louise shook her head.
'I must say that I'm not particularly looking forward to it—all that boring small talk.
Why
is it that diplomatic small talk is even worse than any other kind?'
Louise laughed. 'Cheer up,' she consoled her boss. 'Only another few days and then you'll be going home.'
Her boss had some leave she was due, which she had decided to take to coincide with her husband's early retirement from the local government department he headed.
'Once Gerald has retired, at least we'll be able to spend a bit more time together. Although I'm not sure how well he's going to adapt to living here in Brussels,' she confessed.
Louise suspected that it wasn't so much Brussels her boss was concerned about her husband adapting to as the fact that he would be living there rather in her shadow.
The nature of her job meant that Louise rarely worked normal office hours, and so she had no qualms about her plan to head straight back to her apartment now the meeting was over. She had some reading up she wanted to do, and one or two other things. A couple of points had been raised at the meeting that she wanted to check up on, and then, she decided luxuriously, she would probably go for a swim. The apartment block where she lived had its own gym and in- house swimming pool facilities, which Louise used as regularly as she was able.