The White House - Book 6, The Porth Kerensa Series

Chapter Six

Elise rang James’ mobile phone numerous times, only to get straight through to the answer phone each time. She sat in the dining room, ostensibly doing a crossword at the table, but in reality she clock watched and jumped up every few minutes to check out the window. Surely he would be home soon? He was starting his new job in the morning and James was a stickler for getting a decent night’s sleep if he had work the next day.

The silence hung heavy in the air and eventually, as the clock hands crept closer to ten, she went out looking for him. She cruised around the small village, keeping her eyes open for his motorbike, but she saw no sign of him. After half an hour going up and down the narrow streets she drove slowly back to the white house, hoping his bike would be parked in the driveway.

The house was in darkness when she approached it and she slowed the car, certain she hadn’t bothered to stop and turn any of the lights off when she’d left. Her heart sank when she pulled into the drive and realised James was not there, but as she parked the car she saw that Ben was standing in the porch, watching her. He walked towards the Mini, holding a flashlight in his hand.

“I think there’s something wrong with your electrics, Elise,” he said, seriously.

“Something blew a fuse, perhaps,” she replied, calmly. “I know the lights were on when I left.”

“I got back from dropping Ava off ten minutes ago and your lights were going crazy,” he said, quietly.

Elise stopped walking and looked at him, oddly. “What do you mean ‘crazy’?”

Ben glanced up at the house and shook his head. “It was weird, Elise. It was as if there was a person in every room turning the lights on and off over and over again. All the lights in the house flickered madly for five minutes, and then it all went pitch black.”

Elise laughed, nervously. “It was probably a crazy power outage. I’ll check the fuse box and get it all back up and running soon enough.”

“Is your husband home?”

Elise frowned. “No, but I can manage, thank you.”

“I have no doubt of that, Elise. I just thought I’d offer to help. Do you want to borrow my flashlight?”

She smiled, apologetically, and nodded. “Thanks, I’ll bring it back in a bit.”

“No rush,” he replied, cheerfully. “Drop it over tomorrow.”

He handed her the torch and left with a hearty farewell and when Elise unlocked the front door she wished she hadn’t been so quick to send him away. The eerie glow of the stereo in the darkness told her that only the lights had tripped out. She turned the torch on and went to the cupboard under the stairs where she had seen the box the other day. With trembling fingers she flicked the fuses back on and the house was bathed in light again. She exhaled heavily and only then realised she’d been holding her breath like a frightened child.

Elise walked around the house, locking up and turning off the lights. When she reached the second floor she pushed James’ bedroom door open, slowly. The room was already messy, a sure sign it belonged to her husband, with stacks of his things unpacked but not put away and his duvet and pillows strewn across the bed. The scent of his aftershave tickled her nose and she smiled at the familiar smell, remembering Christmases he had feigned surprise at the regulation present of aftershave and handed her the bottle of perfume he bought in return. She suspected that if she lived to be a hundred she would always associate the smells of cardamom and freesias with the years they had spent together.

She picked up one of his shirts from the floor and sat on the bed. Had he left her? Would he phone her tomorrow and tell her he was coming back to pick up his stuff and she’d hear from his solicitor within a week? She had never seen James so angry, but she knew it had been her fault. She had hit him and she had pushed him as far as he was willing to go.

She didn’t blame him for presuming she was having crazy episodes again. The same thought had crossed her mind, too. She didn’t even blame him for the horrible things he had said to her. All of it was true. She had spent months hiding in a cloud of grief and delusions whilst he tried to keep their lives together. Was it any wonder he was scared she was slipping back into the murkiness again?

He had loved her for twenty-two years, half her life, and the possibility that the altercation at the foot of the stairs was the end of their time saddened her immeasurably. She wondered if he felt the same, or if the thought of a life without Elise bringing him down made him feel free and light. She buried her face in his shirt and inhaled his scent, deeply, wishing she could wrap her arms around him and tell him she was sorry; that she was a selfish bitch who had taken so much from him and she knew he deserved better than her.

Elise lay back, clutching his shirt, and cried herself to sleep.

      ******

James sat awkwardly on his bed and shook his wife awake. She sat up; looking confused and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

“You’re back,” she said, touching his arm, gently. “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning,” he said, quietly. “I didn’t expect to find you in here.”

She glanced around, uncomfortably aware that she was crossing the very boundaries she had originally set when she came out of hospital “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to encroach on your space. There was a problem with the fuses and I came in to turn off the lights. I guess I fell asleep.”

She looked vulnerable sitting there on his bed, holding his shirt, with tear stains on her face and it sent a bolt of desire through him. He imagined pushing her back and taking her roughly; claiming what was his, even if she resisted. James felt a tightening in his groin and he shifted away from her. It had been a long time since he’d felt any kind of stirring for her and the circumstances of his fantasy shocked him. Over the years the sex between them had been passionate and loving, and it had been cold and clinical, but it had never been rough and violent.

James put his hands to his temples and groaned, harshly. What the fuck was happening to him? Why did he want to hurt her so? Why did the thought of tears on her face as he held her throat and pushed himself inside her turn him on so much?

He stood up and said, “I need some sleep, Elise. Can we talk in the morning?”

Elise nodded and walked to the doorway where she hesitated and studied him for a moment. She had seen the look of desire and something else she couldn’t identify cross his face. She knew exactly why he had pulled away from her. She had recognised, as only a wife can, the look of wanting that he wore and how difficult it was for him to force himself away from her. Surprisingly, it had turned her on too and as she stood in front of him she wished she had the courage to throw herself into his arms and kiss him until he dragged her into bed and reminded her how good they’d once been together.

But she didn’t. Instead, she stroked his face, gently; watching as he closed his eyes to her touch. Perhaps he knew she would read the need in his grey eyes. Perhaps he knew she would walk away from it.

“Sleep well, James. I’m not angry with you. I’m glad you came home.”

Her whispered words rang in his ears when he lay in bed and sleep was a long time coming.