Chapter 7
Alison's eyes moved slowly around the kitchen. A more cosier inviting place it was hard to imagine. From the solid flagstone floor to the warmth of the range it was perfect. Old, in the form of the beautiful Welsh dresser, mingled in perfect harmony with the new of the kitchen units. Blue gingham curtains which should have been twee framed the windows perfectly and pots of herbs stood on the window sills. The centre of the kitchen was dominated by a huge old pine table, which should be the place for a family to gather around, except John seemed to have no family. He seemed to live completely alone.
She watched him as he moved around the kitchen with an easy familiarity preparing food. This had been a surprise, she'd not expected him to know a skillet from a toaster, yet here he was working with the practiced ease of a chef.
He'd insisted that she rested while he dished up the tea. She'd smiled, this was evidence that she was in the north; down in Bath they'd have pretentiously called this meal supper. She'd agreed to rest but here at the table not on the sofa, she'd been alone too much in the last twenty-four hours and it gave her too much time to think.
He turned suddenly and caught her staring at him.
"What?" he asked warily, as he placed cutlery on the table.
"You are a surprising man John Standring I'd never have guessed you'd know your way round the kitchen."
His eyes slid down to look at the floor. Embarrassed at her words he turned away. Alison sighed, he certainly wasn't used to compliments and it seemed he had no idea how to deal with them. Alison sensed that few people if any gave John any praise. Had it always been that way she wondered?
"So what's for tea then Jamie, or is it Nigella?" She teased, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.
He turned back to face her and caught her cheeky grin.
"It's a rare Northern delicacy; I thought you might like to try it?" He said carefully keeping his face neutral.
"Really a rare delicacy, what is it?" Alison asked intrigued.
"Tripe and onions."
"Tripe, I've heard of that but have no idea what it is and I have to say the name isn't inspiring."
"It's lining of a cow's stomach."
Alison was horrified.
"You're joking right?"
John's face fell and he looked crestfallen.
"No it's really popular and nourishing"
"Stomach lining!"
"Aye I poached it in a little milk with some garlic and Wensleydale cheese. I thought we'd have carrots and asparagus and mash potatoes with it."
He looked so hurt, but there was no way she could eat the lining of a cow's stomach.
"John I'm sorry, I'm sure you've gone to a lot of trouble but there is no way I can eat stomach lining. I just can't. I'll just have the vegetables." Alison felt terrible.
John turned away silently and began to strain the vegetables placing them on the table. Alison couldn't meet his eyes he'd gone to so much trouble and here she was refusing to even try it.
He reached into the oven
"Well seeing as how you don't fancy tripe it's a good job I made cottage pie," he said, placing the dish on the table. He sat grinning like the Cheshire cat.
The next thing he knew a tea towel hit him squarely in the face.
"You sod, I really believed you. Here I was thinking that I'd really offended you."
"You did by calling me Nigella." He smiled at her. "We should eat while it is still hot."
"Ok cottage pie I can manage. Do people really eat tripe?"
"Yeah you can eat it. It is really nutritious and won't kill you or owt, but it tastes disgusting. Now come on lass eat up."
************
Alison was sat on the sofa trying to work out the man who was busy doing the dishes. She'd wanted to help but he wouldn't hear of it. So she was sat trying to work out the puzzle that was John Standring. Just when she thought she was getting a handle on him he would do something that threw her completely. He seemed so uncomplicated and straightforward. It would be easy to call him simple and she suspected that people did mistake his shyness for being not very bright, but there just below the surface she believed he was an intelligent complex man.
His life she suspected had not been easy; there was an air of sadness about him that was often reflected in his eyes. He seemed lonely and she wondered if living out alone at the farm was born of necessity not choice. His dry sense of humour had taken her by surprise not least because like a flash of lightning, it had appeared out of nowhere and then quickly disappeared and he had lapsed into silence once more. His solitary life and shyness seemed to have robbed him of any social skills, small talk was apparently beyond him and he had blushed and stammered at her compliments on the food.
Her own emotions were in turmoil. Two days ago she had been a happily married woman who had never even looked at another man. The intensity of her feelings towards John staggered her. Her hand touched her lips as she remembered the kiss. Her physical injuries meant that for the time being kisses would be all they shared and the sensible part of her knew that that was no bad thing. Trapped here alone at the farm it would be easy for things to move too fast and she needed to be sure what her feelings really were for John before moving on; he deserved that.
She wondered what he thought of her, was he in the kitchen analysing his feelings about her as she was him? She already knew that he found her attractive; beautiful was the word he used. Had Rob ever called her beautiful? If he had it had been too long ago to remember. He'd always called her lanky. It was funny, until today she'd thought of it affectionately, now it just irritated her. John had called her beautiful and it had made her breath catch but she wondered was he curious about her beyond that? He hadn't seemed to be but that could just have been his shyness.
She smiled softly as he came into the room carrying two mugs of coffee. He placed them on the table in front of the sofa before going round lighting candles.
"Sit down John you've done enough today," she told him when he had finished.
He glanced about the room nervously.
"Shall I sit with you on the sofa like?" he asked quietly.
There it was again the socially awkward man; did he realise how gorgeous he was standing there shuffling about, unsure what to do?
"Yeah come and sit with me," she smiled at him.
He sat down in the corner his arm resting on the arm of the sofa his tension obvious. Alison sighed wondering how to get him to relax.
"Let's play a game shall we?"
"What kind of game?" he asked cautiously.
"A getting to know you game. We each have twenty questions but first introductions." She held out her hand "Alison Rose Robinson."
He took it slowly his long fingers curling around hers.
"John Standring."
"No middle name?"
John mumbled something.
"Sorry I didn't catch that."
"Ralph, me first name's Ralph."
And you don't like it much Alison thought, named for a relative no doubt.
He waited for her to laugh, everybody else did but she didn't.
"But you go by John?"
"Yeah I do, Ralph were me Granddad's name."
Something in his tone made Alison realise that John had been close to his namesake.
"Right do you want to go first or second asking questions?" she asked.
"I'll go second," he told her, not at all sure what he would ask.
An hour later John realised that it was easier than he had thought it would be. He'd learned that Alison was a thirty-three year old school teacher from Bath but these were just the words. From the expression in her eyes when she spoke of teaching he realised that she loved it; her eyes sparkled when she told him about her students. Bath was a place she had no long term connection to, it wasn't home that was Worcester, where she was brought up and where her parents still lived. She'd gone quiet when speaking of them and he'd asked what was wrong.
"It's occurred to me they must be worried."
"As soon as there's a signal or the landline is working you can call them and let them know you're safe."
She moved closer to him.
"Thank you. I was stupid to run like I did, they'd not be worrying if I had thought a little bit."
She fell silent her head laying against his chest. John slid his arm around to cradle her.
"How long have you been married?" he asked.
"Five years, I thought happily but it seems my marriage is not what I thought it would be."
Alison reflected later that the quiet words John spoke in response to her answer, pulled the rug from beneath her feet and stunned as much as the impact of falling in the snow.
"No, my marriage weren't what I expected either."
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Chapter eight
No signal again, he slammed the phone down again cursing in annoyance. Where was she? And more importantly what was she planning? He looked through the window at the snow. There had to be ten or twelve inches out there, fucking freak weather conditions if it hadn't been for the snow she'd never have found out. It should have been perfect. Ali had been away on a teaching conference so the house was empty. He'd liked the element of danger in smuggling Claire in unseen by the neighbours. Letting her wander around where Ali had been; allowing her to touch and use Ali's things, before screwing her in their bed. The conference had finished early because of the severe weather warnings. He couldn't be sure how many times they had fucked when Ali found them, all he knew was it hadn't been enough.
As a mistress Claire was perfect; exciting, daring, dangerous, different. In short everything Ali was not. She'd picked him up at a sales convention. Like the predator she was she had eyed him up, liked what she saw and moved in like a lioness stalking her prey. Not that he'd been unaware of her; he'd have to have been blind not to notice her. Dressed like a siren in some figure hugging dress displaying more curves than were found on a scenic railway .Bristling with attitude and intention that screamed sex. They'd had intercourse within half an hour of meeting and the flaming desire he felt for her showed no signs of abating.
Claire wasn't the first woman he'd had. There had been several. He'd been seeking something that he just did not have with Ali but until Claire he hadn't found it. He'd known immediately that she was different. There was something wild and untamed about her. She forced him to toss away his inhibitions encouraging him to act rashly and take risks. With her there were no responsibilities, no consequences for his actions; there was just that moment. Until Claire he thought he had been sexually adventurous but she'd shown him what a novice he was. She was like a professor of debauchery and he was a willing student. She was as addictive as any drug and he could not give her up.
The problem was though, Claire alone wasn't enough. He wanted it all; the danger and excitement with Claire and the perfect marriage and wife. He had that with Ali, everybody told him. He'd lost count of how many people had told him what a lucky sod he was to have found a woman like Ali. He normally smiled and nodded, Ali was the perfect wife. She had created a wonderful home for them. She had found the house in an executive area of Bath the ideal place for an upwardly mobile couple such as them. He looked around at the furniture and furnishings all things Ali had selected and lovingly put together. He acknowledged her taste was exquisite.
They entertained friends and business associates frequently; their dinner parties were becoming famous. He teased her gently about being a domestic goddess to rival Nigella Lawson. Nothing threw her. He could turn up with business associates unannounced, which he often did, and she would welcome them in and entertain them as if she had been preparing for their arrival for months.
She currently worked full time in a traditionally female job that she would give up when they started a family. He wanted Ali to be the mother of his children; she'd be a perfect mother, just as she was a perfect wife. No he was neither prepared nor ready to give up the life he had with her.
It was the balance between this perfect marriage and his dangerous and daring affair he was scared of losing. He needed both things to keep him satisfied. One would not work without the other. He shivered slightly terrified that because of the weather he might lose it all.
He glanced out of the window, it had finally stopped snowing. A part of him was glad as it meant that the services would be reconnected. It was odd how much people took gas, electricity and the phone for granted . Of course though once things were reconnected Ali's parents would be in touch. They were close to their daughter and she would be the first person they would want to talk to. He had to speak to her before they did.
Ali's behaviour was so out of character. Running was an impulsive action and she was a creature of habit. She never did things on the spur of the moment, Christ her lists and plans were legendary. All of which meant her impromptu flight gave him no clue where she had gone. It hadn't been to any of their friends though. Before the phone lines went down he'd checked with them, unless they were lying, Ali wasn't with them and he guessed she must have gone further away.
Would she have gone to her parents? Rob hoped not. He knew that he stood a better chance of smoothing things over if her parents were not involved. There was no way that they would understand about Claire and they would see through any assurances he gave Ali. Not that he intended to give Claire up, he couldn't, but Ali was prone to be too trusting and gullible and he felt certain if he could get her alone he would be able to sort this out. Maybe he'd tell her he wanted to make a baby. Sex with Ali although different than with Claire was still satisfying. He was a good lover, he loved taking her after he had been with Claire and he knew she enjoyed intercourse with him.
He sighed, it was the not knowing where she was combined with the inactivity caused by the storm that was driving him crazy. He needed to do something constructive.
A sound from the doorway made him turn away from the window. Claire stood framed in the doorway.
"You need to accept that there is nothing you can do at the moment. It is just a waste of energy. Energy that if I may say could be put to better use." She pouted prettily.
He moved towards her his eyes taking in the silky peach robe she wore.
"Is that Ali's?" he asked.
She nodded as he took her in his arms. Her scent mingled with Ali's causing him to groan.
"I can smell her scent on your skin," he murmured.
"Does it turn you on?" she whispered.
"God yes." He kissed her neck. "It's like tasting her on your skin."
Claire undid the robe revealing glimpses of the peach underwear beneath.
"Do you recognise these?"
"Jesus, you're wearing her underwear." He cupped her breasts. "They're fuller than Ali's. Look at them straining against the lace."
"Have you had sex with her while she was wearing this underwear?"
"No, she removed it first."
"Of course she did prim madam. Do it to me while I where her underwear. Rob felt himself become aroused at her words.
He slipped the gown from her shoulder as he pushed her gently back on to the dining room table. How could he give this up? The answer was he couldn't.
*******************
Alison lay still thinking. She had never known darkness like it. It was so deep and intense that it seemed to swallow the room. Everywhere else she had lived or stayed there had been streetlights that shone through the windows. Here there was nothing. There was a glow from the log burner that cast a small semicircle of light but beyond it was just inky blackness.
John she knew was stretched out on the sofa, which was completely stupid it could not be comfortable but he had said he would be fine. He'd told her that she had to sleep down here where it was warm and that he wanted to be on hand should she need him.
Alison sighed, she did need him but not in the way he meant. She needed him to hold her. It was ridiculous to be scared of the dark but it was more than that, she wanted to feel his reassuring solid strength against her. She wanted to be enfolded in the warmth of his embrace.
His confession that he had been married had stunned her. She had felt the need to apologise for her reaction, for she was sure her jaw had dropped open at his words. His admission that local people had laughed and talked about it behind his back had broken her heart. Her mind went over their conversation.
"Why would anybody be so cruel?"
"Well everybody knew she didn't love me. I suppose they thought I were a fool."
"She didn't love you. Did you marry her knowing that?"
"Aye I did. I'd loved Carol since I were a teenager and when she asked me to wed her, well it were like me birthday and Christmas all at once."
"Why did she ask you to marry her?"
"Her dad had died and she were going to lose the farm. I sold my house and put the money in here."
"I thought that Sparkhouse had been in your family for years? "
"No I just worked here. "
"You sold your home for her. You must have loved her a great deal. May I ask why you say she didn't love you?"
John sighed and waited for the pain to develop in his chest as it always did when he thought of Carol. Strangely this time it didn't.
"She were in love with the neighbour's lad Andrew, had been for years but he were married to somebody else. I guess she wanted to move on from him and as she said we were friends."
"So I'm guessing because of your comment about your marriage not being what you'd expected that you're not married now?"
"No I'm not."
"How long were you married before you split up? And how come you have the farm?"
"We didn't split up. The reason I have the farm is Carol died."
Lying there thinking over his words she realised what an idiot she had been. She should have known that was what had happened. Hadn't she thought that his life had been tough and that he seemed sad? He'd lapsed into silence after that saying no more, his expressive eyes deep with sadness.
"Alison?" His deep voice startled her coming unexpectedly out of the shadows. "You ok, you're very restless?"
"I can't sleep," she told him.
"I could make some hot chocolate if you like?"
She smiled in the darkness. Lord he was so sweet.
"No it's ok. I'm just being silly."
"Silly how?" Alison heard him move and swing his legs off the sofa.
"Do you promise not to laugh?"
"I'd never laugh at you lass." His voice was laced with concern.
"I'm scared of the dark. I've never known darkness like this."
"Ah lass, lots of town folk say that about the country."
"Do they? Well I have a request, do you think you could bunk down here with me?"
He was silent for the longest time.
"John I'm sorry that was wrong of me. Forget I asked."
"I can't forget and I want to lie with you and protect you..." John paused embarrassed. "But I want more than that."
"I am not sure I am following you John?"
"I know we have only just met but ..." he stopped glad she couldn't see how red his cheeks were.
"Do you want me John is that what you are trying to say?" Alison asked quietly.
She heard him exhale sharply.
"I do Alison..." he paused again. "I'd not do owt because you're hurt but if I lay next to you... well um me body... well it would be obvious like," he finished on a rush.
She smiled softly and moved the covers aside
"You arouse me too John it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I want to make love. I know we will have to wait but in the meantime I need you to kiss me and hold me. So please will you come here?"
He swallowed hard at the image her words brought to his mind as he slid to her side. She was lying on her back and she reached for him claiming his lips in the darkness. He lost himself in the exquisite touch of her lips. Her hands were running down his back and he felt his muscles ripple under her touch. Then he felt her mouth at his throat feathering kisses along it and down to the hollow in his shoulder. Her hands had moved to his buttocks and his breath hissed out as she reached under his boxer shorts to stroke his cheeks. He felt himself become aroused at her touch and pulled away embarrassed.
"Hey it's ok, remember what I said, it's normal I'm aroused as well." She took his hand and guided it to her breast. "Touch me John then you will see that I'm as aroused as you."
He hesitantly cupped her breast through the softness of the material and his thumb gently stroked her nipple causing it to harden. She moaned softly.
"See I told you I was as turned on as you. Please kiss me again while you do that?"
They lay in each other's arms kissing and caressing, tentatively taking the first steps in their relationship before tiredness claimed them and they fell asleep wrapped around each other.
_________________
Chapter Nine
Alison turned searching for John's solid warmth as she slowly came awake. Her eyes flickered open and disappointment washed over her when she realised she was alone. The pillow still bore the imprint of his head and his scent lingered on the sheets. Alison realised it was wrong to be disappointed, after all John was a farmer so early starts were part of his life. She reached for his pillow cuddling it close, thinking of how shyly he had touched her as they had kissed. A warm glow filtered through her body and her heart beat a fraction quicker as she remembered being held in John's arms.
As she hugged his pillow Alison had to acknowledge her feelings, there was no point in denying them. She was falling in love. The rational part of her brain tried to tell her it was too soon and that she was confusing her deep gratitude with love but her heart knew that wasn't the case. It wasn't lust either. John Standring was a special man, humble, modest and good down to his soul. Alison found herself drawn to his shy ways, his thoughtfulness, his kindness and above all his tenderness. His soft words, gentle kisses and hesitant caresses had left an imprint on her heart. She couldn't begin to contemplate leaving him even the thought of it caused her heart to contract painfully.
She offered a silent prayer that they might remain marooned here at the farm for some time yet. Allowing them the space away from the real world to explore their new feelings, to see what might develop without censure and there would be censure of that Alison was certain. People would not understand her declaration of love for someone she had known for forty-eight hours, how could they? Even to her own ears it seemed ridiculous. She wanted what she had with John to be untouched by her past life, especially her life with Rob, which was totally, unrealistic, her past had to be faced and dealt with to allow her to move on. Just not yet, she thought, allow us a few more days before we have to face the inevitable. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments to daydream.
Never one to lay idly in bed once awake, it wasn't long before she became restless and decided to get up. Her muscles and bones seemed marginally less painful today but it still hurt to take a deep breath so she moved cautiously. A glance under the rugby shirt she was wearing revealed that the bruises from the seat belt had turned a multitude of colours. She carefully moved her shoulder relieved that here at least the pain was much improved.
After she had set the kettle on the range she slowly climbed the stairs, shivering now she was away from the warmth of the rooms downstairs. Once she had used the bathroom she was drawn to the room she had found John in yesterday. The pretty wallpaper and bed linen pointed to it being a young girl's room. Alison couldn't help but wonder who and where she was. On the chest of drawers there were two photographs, one of a young woman with her arms around a teenager, the other a wedding photograph with John stood between the two women. She smiled, he looked so happy. What had John said about Carol asking him to marry her? That it was like his birthday and Christmas both together. Was the older woman Carol? If so she was far too young to have died. How had it happened Alison wondered.
She was a very pretty woman with long curly hair and dark eyes. Her smile though didn't quite reach her eyes and Alison was struck by how sad those eyes were. Was she even then on their wedding day regretting marrying John? Had she even attempted to make the marriage a success, to make John happy?
Her eyes moved to the image of the young girl, who was this teenager? There was a marked resemblance to the older woman so maybe she was a younger sister. Like John she looked happy. I'm glad, Alison thought, that someone else was as happy as he was that day.
The room was tidy but lived in and smelt of bees wax polish. Treasured processions were dotted around the room, a teddy rested against the pillow, a poster of Viggo Mortensen was pinned on the door. CD's were stacked on a shelf next to a music centre. A bookshelf was filled with books, on top of which stood a display of china horses and silk rosettes. On the bedside cabinet were two more photographs, one a picture of the woman and one of John. She picked the photograph of John up and slowly stroked the glass. He was smiling softly and in his arms he held a sleeping puppy. The photograph was simply stunning. His pale skin was clear almost luminous, his deep blue eyes shone with some unknown emotion, his dark brown hair so soft and tousled begged to be touched. He hasn't a clue how gorgeous he is Alison thought, unlike Rob who knows he is good looking and wants everybody else to know as well.
This room, she felt certain was still used, it certainly didn't feel like a shrine. Alison felt sure that whoever the girl was she was she was still a part of John's life. She made her way back downstairs not wanting to pry any further, feeling certain that at some point John would explain who the women were and where the younger one was.
The kettle that she had set on the range was boiling so she made her tea. John had left a note on the table explaining where he was and that he would be back at eight to make her breakfast. Alison smiled at his last words 'take two painkillers' and the box was on the table ready. She shook two pink pills out of the box knowing it would be the first thing he would check she had done.
Making her way back into the living room with her tea she heard the wild barking of a dog outside. Moving to the window Alison peered out to see what the noise was about.
Her breath caught in her throat, if she hadn't already been half in love with this quiet, gentle man, the image of him in the farmyard would have set her on the way. His head was thrown back and his face was alive with laughter. It illuminated his features making him appear years younger. Such a contrast to the shy serious man she had come to know. Her hands itched to take a photograph and capture the joy in his expression.
He was throwing snowballs for the young sheep dog, Winston. She watched as another arced through frigid cold morning air before breaking in to pieces when it landed; Winston dashing madly after it snow flying in all directions before he came to an abrupt halt wondering where 'the ball' had landed. He ran in bewildered circles looking for it. The other two older dogs sat looking on indulgently at the younger dog's antics. John's shoulders shook with laughter as the young dog bounded back to him. He patted his chest and the dog jumped into his arms. Alison watched as he showered the dog with love and affection before he lowered him back to the floor. He repeated the game throwing a snowball in the other direction.
Time seemed to stand still as she watched him having pure unadulterated fun.
"How often do you do this John? Just take time away from the responsibility you wear like a skin. Just have fun and play? Not nearly often enough I bet," she whispered.
The game continued for fifteen minutes before the need to do some work interrupted and John headed into one of the farm buildings all three dogs trailing after him.
She glanced at the grandfather clock, quarter to eight. He'd be back at eight to make her breakfast. Taking care of her but who took care of him? Had anybody ever taken care of him? Somehow she doubted it. Well that was about to change she wasn't so sick that she needed waiting on, she could certainly make breakfast for them both.
He paused in the porch, Alison was singing in the kitchen. He recognised the carol from his childhood when he went to church on Christmas Day with his Gran. He wondered if she knew she had a lovely voice. He opened the door quietly, she was at the range stirring something on the hob. Winston's whining caused her to stop singing before she had finished the carol. She spun round at the sound, her face flushed at having been caught.
"Oh God, how long have you been stood there?"
"Since 'Earth stood hard as iron.'" John smiled.
Alison groaned as her hands flew to her face to cover her flaming cheeks.
"Oh great."
John moved towards her and took her hands in his.
"No hiding. It were beautiful. Won't you finish singing it?"
Alison was suddenly nervous which was odd as she had sung in public on numerous occasions. This was different though. It was all together more intimate. John hadn't released her hands and his intense blue eyes were staring down at her.
"Please lass, for me?"
She moistened her lips which had become suddenly dry. How was she supposed to refuse when he looked at her like that? The answer was she couldn't.
"What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb.
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part.
Yet what I can I give him: give my heart."
John pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
"That were beautiful Alison, thank you for letting me listen"
"You're welcome and you're bloody cold Mr Standring. Sit yourself down by the range and get warm. Breakfast won't be a minute."
John looked around, listening to her sing he hadn't registered that she had made breakfast.
"You shouldn't have done this lass, you're still recovering."
"I'm not made of glass I won't shatter. I was bored and aware that you have to look after the farm alone. You shouldn't have to look after me not now I'm feeling much better."
John felt a wave of cold pass over him that had nothing to do with the weather. Alison saying she was feeling better reminded him that she would soon be well enough to leave, which was something he really wasn't ready to deal with yet.
"John, you ok?"
He mentally shook himself.
"Yeah, why do you ask?"
"It's just that you looked worried."
"No I'm fine."
Alison moved towards him.
"Don't lie. Did you know big guy that when you worry you get these three little crinkles on your forehead?" She reached up and touched them, "And they make you look so damn sexy, they really should be illegal. They appear and I get the overwhelming urge to kiss you." Alison reached up, smiling at the blush on his cheeks and then she kissed him. "See I can't help myself. Now sit down while I dish up breakfast and stop worrying, I'm fine."
John sat down, she might be fine he thought but if she left when the snow cleared he knew he wouldn't be.
_________________
Chapter 10.
It was strange that it should feel so good to be this tired. John wondered if other people ever felt like this, tired but satisfied. He'd been out all day leaving immediately after breakfast. He smiled at the memory of sharing breakfast with Alison, for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, he felt complete. The sensible part of his brain reminded him that none of it was real, she wasn't his wife or partner, they weren't making a home together but it had been good to pretend even for a short while.
They'd switched the radio on listening to the news. The country it seemed was at a virtual standstill with all public transport suspended. Huge parts were without electricity, water or telephone. Experts were saying that this was the worst winter storm on record and it could take a week or more to reach people who were stranded in the more remote areas and that was if there was no more snow fall. He'd been relieved by this, it was wrong he knew, countless people would be really suffering, some would probably die but he was relieved that for a while longer at least, Alison would have to stay with him.
The illusion of domestic bliss continued when Alison helped him pack his lunch and made him a large thermos of coffee. He couldn't remember anybody making his lunch since he was a child, certainly not Carol and Lisa, god love her, was no morning person, she could barely get herself ready for college in time for the bus, let alone make his lunch. He'd been taking care of himself for a long time, it was odd to suddenly have somebody else do things for him.
If he'd been unprepared for her help in the kitchen, then he was blindsided by the kiss they had shared before he had left. He could still feel its effects several hours later. It had started like all the others they had shared, soft and gentle but then something had changed, the kiss became more intense, more demanding. Alison's hands had slid under his shirt exploring and pulling him closer, her hips rocking against his seductively. John had never kissed like this before, the power of it scared him; he wasn't used to being out of control. He found himself following her lead, helpless to stop. His hands moved beneath her shirt, touching her bare flesh for the first time. He'd barely touched a woman before and never like this. The tentative caresses through her clothes the night before had in no way prepared him for the petal softness of her skin. He'd wanted to cup her breast as he had done last night but his confidence deserted him and then she'd pulled away clearly as stunned by the kiss as he was. Whatever was happening between them had clearly moved on to another level and neither of them had been prepared for it.
His emotions had been running riot when he'd left the farmhouse and he'd been glad that he had a lot of work to distract him. It was only now as he made his way home that he had allowed himself to analyse what he was feeling. Was it love? He wasn't ready to admit that even to himself. His past had made him cautious and as much as Alison had captivated him, he had a built in need to protect himself. The scars that his marriage to Carol had left, although healed, still served as a reminder that he once given his heart and been badly hurt. He needed to be certain that Alison's feelings towards him were not confused because of the situation she had found herself in.
There was another reason he was being cautious, his inexperience. It wasn't that he was ashamed, he wasn't. Well apart from his first time with Carol. That had been a sordid disaster. No he wasn't ashamed but he was embarrassed. He was over thirty, how could he explain that he'd only had sex three times and that each time had been a fumbled mess? How could he explain he wasn't certain that he knew how to make love? God knows he wanted to and it was where they were heading if the kiss they had shared that morning was anything to go by. He sighed, he was going to have to find a way to tell her or it would be as disastrous as it had been with Carol.
He had taken the tractor and begun to clear a path up to the other fields, feeding and checking the sheep as he went. As far as the eye could see the Dales were covered in a blanket of snow. The stone walls that bordered most of the fields had been lost in drifts ten or twelve feet high. The going was slightly easier heading back down than it had been going up as he had cleared a path. Finding the gates in the stone walls had been difficult and frustrating even for him and he knew this countryside like the back of his hand. He had lost count of the times he climbed down from the cab of the tractor. Snow shoes or skis would have been better than his Wellington boots to walk through the snow.
Now that the light was beginning to fade the countryside took on an eerie kind of beauty. Trees casting long shadows on the snow were silhouetted against the darkening sky. Icicles hung from the branches like glittering jewels. The sun was dipping low on the horizon leaving a paint box of colours across the sky, from fiery red, to blazing gold and finally to soft muted pink all reflected in the dazzling white of the snow. There was not a breath of wind. It was as if the whole world were still, sat in silent wonder watching nature's fireworks illuminate the sky. There in front of him was the farmhouse; soft subtle light glowed from the windows like a beacon calling him home. Alison must have lit some candles.
For the first time in a long time he was actually glad to be going home. Instead of a cold empty house awaiting him, tonight there would be a warm welcoming home. It occurred to him how lonely he had been since Lisa had started her gap year. That had been September and he had spent every night alone at the farmhouse since. He was beginning to see that Alison was saving him just as he had saved her.
He pulled into the yard and let Winston down from the cab. The young dog bounded to the back porch barking loudly. The door opened and light spilled out into the now almost dark farmyard. He glanced up and there she was stood in the doorway a smile on her face. She was the image of wholesome prettiness framed within the doorway, more precious than any work of art in the Louvre. John quickly checked that the outbuildings were secured and than he headed into his home.
He looks tired, Alison thought. She was unsure whether to tell him how worried she had been when the light had begun to fade and he had not returned. While he pulled of his boots and coat she poured him a mug of tea.
"How bad is it out there?" she asked as she handed him his tea.
"Well there's a lot of drifting and it were really icy this morning. I've not known worse conditions. I cleared a path up through the fields so all the sheep have been fed." As he spoke the words he wondered if Alison would think it wrong that he had not tried to get to the village.
"Did you lose any more sheep?" Alison asked.
"Six more, which were far fewer than I'd been expecting. They were all together using each other's heat to stay warm. They're not as daft as they look."
"I'm glad that the losses have not been too great but it must hurt to lose even one animal," she said softly.
"Aye lass it does but that's farming there will always be deaths, the only thing you can do is the best you can."
"You look tired; I put water on to heat so you could clean up before tea."
John glanced at the bucket of hot water.
"Alison you shouldn't be lifting buckets of water."
"Oh don't worry I didn't, I put the bucket on the range and then filled it up using the kettle. It's boiling now so why don't you take it up stairs and get cleaned up."
"Ok so long as you didn't lift it. I will go and cleaned up. How have you been today and what have you done with yourself?"
"Oh much better, I took some more painkillers and had a sleep this afternoon not that I'm doing anything to be tired. Then I read a farming magazine."
John frowned.
"You're doing it again John, crinkling."
"I should have told you there are loads of books upstairs, I never thought."
"Hey don't be silly. I will have a look after tea. Now go get cleaned up or tea will be ruined."
"Yeah you are better because you are bossing me about." His shy smile slid across his face as he spoke his tone teasing.
"You bet I am now get going," she smiled back.
Alison climbed the stairs, the chilli she had made was keeping warm in the range and because John was still in the bathroom she decided to grab a book to read. She looked in the doors leading off from the corridor until she found the one with a bookcase. She guessed it was John's room it looked masculine and was plain and unfussy. She moved to the bookshelf. His reading tastes were a surprise, eclectic summed it up. Classics nestled next to modern thrillers. History books were popular as was poetry and there were several biographies and autobiographies. She was about to remove 'A Christmas Carol' when she heard a noise at the door.
Turning she gasped in surprise and then froze. John was stood in the doorway, apart from the bath towel round his hips he was naked. If she was asked she couldn't have said what colour the towel was, her eyes were drawn to his chest. Her mouth had gone dry and she was certain her cheeks were flushed. She should move or say something but she couldn't. Small droplets of water were scattered over his chest. One was trickling slowly down towards his abdomen. The hard physical farm work had made his chest and arm muscles strong and well developed. His abdomen was flat and toned. He'd almost certainly never been in a gym and didn't need to. He was physically stunning, she'd guessed that he was powerfully built when she had run her hands over his back last night but nothing had prepared her for this perfection. If she were an artist she would want to sculpt him.
Her skin was hot, her pulse and breathing ragged. Red hot desire and need shot through her. She wanted this man on the most basic human level. She raised her eyes to his face. His eyes were burning and his cheeks were pink with embarrassment. He turned before she could speak or move and fled back to the safety of the bathroom.
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Chapter 11
John was trembling violently; no matter how hard he tried he was unable to control it. It had started when he had found Alison in his room. At first he'd been embarrassed to be seen in just a towel but that hadn't lasted, not once he had seen the look in Alison's eyes. He might be inexperienced but he was certain that what he was seeing was raw, naked passion. Alison's gaze had been transfixed on him. He'd begun to feel panic rising . What if she touched him or went to remove the towel? Memories of that first time with Carol flooded through him. None of the times he had sex did he last long but the first time with Carol it was over before it started. He couldn't face that happening with Alison. He watched as her small pink tongue moistened her lips. He'd felt his groin grow heavy and his face burn with embarrassment. Was his arousal visible through the towel? He prayed not. He swallowed hard trying to think of something flippant to say but words failed him. She seemed to move slightly towards him. Panic surged through him. If she touched him it would happen again and he didn't want a quick fumble with him unable to control himself. So he turned and fled.
His heart was hammering and it felt as if it were rising out of his chest up into his throat, dragging the acid from his stomach with it. His breathing was ragged, being torn from his throat in rapid gasps. Too fast and shallow to take enough oxygen into his lungs. Pain began to spread down his arms resulting in tingling in his hands and fingers. Black spots floated in front of his eyes and his sight became blurred and unfocused.
The bathroom had suddenly become hot and sweat beaded on his brow. John was terrified, he had no idea what was happening but he was certain it wasn't good. Was it a heart attack or a stroke? Whatever it was he wished it would stop. Nausea washed over him and before he could move he vomited all over the floor. Realising he was going to be sick again he moved to the toilet where the vomiting continued. He retched until his stomach was empty.
In the distance he could hear insistent tapping on the bathroom door and somebody repeatedly calling his name, Alison. The mere thought of facing her terrified him and his breathing became rapid once more. The room began to spin and a loud buzzing noise filled his head. His mouth was as dry as sandpaper. He was so hot. The knocking on the door became more insistent and Alison's voice held an edge of panic. He felt the colour begin to drain from his face. Although it had never happened before he knew without a doubt that he was going to pass out. The walls of the bathroom were closing in on him and he began to feel weak and disorientated. He needed help and Alison was the only person here so no matter how humiliated he felt he was going to have to ask her for help. Turning to the door he reached for the bolt, his hand shook and his palm was sweaty which made it difficult to slide it back. Finally he managed to open the door.
Alison's face swam in front of him. John registered that the look of hot passion had gone, in its place was a small frown that showed how worried she was. He took two steps forward before his legs gave out and he fell to his knees trying desperately to get some air into his lungs. It seemed the harder he tried the less air he actually took in.
Although the sight of John falling forwards on to his hands and knees had set her heart rate racing, Alison ordered herself to stay calm. She thought she knew what was happening but she was having difficultly believing that it would happen to her strong dependable rescuer, but she had to be certain.
She knelt by his side her hand resting on the pulse at his wrist. It was a little fast but strong.
"John don't talk just nod or shake your head, ok?" Alison told him quietly.
He nodded slowly.
"Do you have a deep crushing pain in your chest?"
He shook his head.
"How about down your left arm any pain there?"
"Both arms," John gasped.
"Do you have pins and needles in your hands?"
He nodded again.
"Good, I am pretty sure it is nothing serious. Just hold on a second while I get something and we'll slow your breathing down." She stood slowly and headed downstairs.
It was ironic, five minutes ago he hadn't wanted to see her and now he didn't want her to leave him alone. He watched her disappear downstairs. If he'd had the breath to call after her, beg her not to leave him he would have. He felt so helpless and that scared him. He'd always been the strong one. What would happen to the farm if he were sick? Who would tell Lisa? Christ knows she had suffered enough losses in her young life without losing him as well. He felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck, trailing down his spine. This part of the house had been without heat for three days he should be cold, it was odd that he wasn't.
Footsteps on the stairs confirmed that Alison was returning. The relief he felt was overwhelming. He closed his eyes trying to control his breathing while he waited for her to return. Then she was there, her arm draped over his shoulders speaking softly to him.
"John you're hyperventilating, you need to blow into this bag it will help slow your breathing down."
He opened his eyes. She was holding a paper bag near his mouth.
"You just have to blow John. You know how to blow don't you. You just put your lips together and blow." She smiled trying to get him to relax.
He tried to place the bag to his lips but his hands were shaking too much.
"Here let me hold it, you just concentrate on blowing."
They stayed there for several minutes while John followed her instructions. Alison sat at his side rubbing his back, praying she was wrong. Slowly his breathing returned to normal.
He lowered the bag from his lips.
"You feel better now?" she asked.
"Yeah I guess, what happened to me?"
"I think you had a panic attack."
John turned away saying nothing, he was too ashamed to. A panic attack! Was that all! He'd panicked like some useless wimp. What the hell must she think of that?
"You need to get dressed or you'll catch cold. I'll go and get you something for you to put on."
"It's ok I can manage, you go back where it's warm."
He started to struggle to his feet. Alison placed her arm at his waist to help him.
John pulled away so ashamed of himself that he didn't want her to touch him.
"I said I could manage. Just go downstairs." His tone was sharp, far more so than he'd intended.
Alison backed away as if she had been smacked. Tears flooded into her eyes. She turned away hoping he hadn't seen them and hurried downstairs.
He watched her retreating. Shit, he thought, I've made her cry.
"Alison..." His call went either unheard or ignored as she ran away.
He pushed his hand through his damp hair before hitting the wall in frustration. He hadn't had pain in his chest before but he had now. Pain brought on by the regret of having hurt her. What kind of bastard was he to make her cry? All she'd done was offer to help him and he'd bitten her head off.
Sighing and cursing his stupidity he went to his room and quickly pulled on his clothes. He had to explain, he owed her that much. How did he do that though? He could hardly just go up to her and blurt out that that he had a problem with premature ejaculation. The first thing he had to do in any case was apologise, he'd never made anybody cry before.
Lisa's bedroom door was open and once again he was drawn to it, as if he were somehow closer to her here. He picked up the photograph of him and her. You'd tell me I was a prat, he thought which would be right, a little voice in his head told him, so quit stalling and just go down and apologise. If they weren't snowed in he would give her flowers to let her know how sorry he was. A roll of pink wrapping paper in the corner of Lisa's room stirred a memory and gave him an idea.
Alison stood gazing, out of the window silent tears trickling down her cheeks. She'd told herself that she was being ridiculous but it hadn't helped. She'd had worse rows with Rob and never cried like this. What was going on with her? Her emotions were shot to pieces. Was it being trapped here? Did it make everything feel more intense and reactions more extreme? Is that why John had had a panic attack? Her reaction to him in the towel had been blatant she was aware of that. She'd practically dissolved in a puddle at his feet. That didn't explain the look of terror on his face; most men would have been flattered not scared. Nothing made sense, if she hadn't known better she would have sworn he'd never been with a woman, but he'd been married. This knowledge made her all the more confused. As did his snapping at her, he'd been so patient and kind so where had that attitude come from? She was damned if she knew.
A slight cough brought her out of her contemplations; she turned slowly at the sound. John stood by the kitchen counter, one arm behind his back. She wanted to be mad with him but just one look had her dissolving all over again. It wasn't his body this time, although it looked wonderful in jeans washed so many times that they were white in places and hugged his thighs like a second skin and a powder blue jumper that looked like soft cashmere. Gorgeous though he looked it was his eyes that undid her. They were the most expressive eyes she had ever seen, every thought and emotion was displayed in their fathomless depths. She had never seen such unconcealed misery in a man's eyes before and it broke her heart. What had happened to cause him such pain?
"Alison lass I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you or make you cry." His voice was little more than a croak. He moved towards her his hand moving from behind his back and held out a pink paper palm tree. "I don't have flowers," he said with a shy smile.
Her heart flipped, it really was official she loved him. How could she not love a man who made her a palm tree out of paper because he had no flowers? The tears flowed again.
"Oh God please stop, Alison I'm so sorry, so sorry, I'll do anything please stop lass."
"They're good tears," she sniffed.
He leaned forward and using his thumb brushed the tears away.
"There are things I need to explain," he told her.
"John there really is no need."
"There is but it's difficult."
She nodded.
"Ok if you insist, but we eat first. I don't do difficult on an empty stomach." She moved to the range and started to take out the food.
"Alright food first," he agreed. "Oh yeah and while I remember isn't that quote, 'You know how to whistle don't you Steve, you just put your lips together and blow.'" He smiled as he spoke.
"Oh God now I know you're perfect, you like Bogart and Bacall."
Chapter 12
He tensed as her fingers gently ruffled through his hair.
"You're supposed to be relaxing," she told him sternly.
"Well having me stretch out on the sofa with me head in your lap wasn't the best place to start lass," he grumbled.
"I thought it would be like being on a couch talking to a therapist," she told him cheekily.
He felt his tension slip away.
"If you were a counsellor you'd be guilty of being unprofessional playing with me hair like that."
She pouted.
"I can't help it you have all these lovely little waves that are begging to be touched. I imagine it is quite curly when it's longer," she said, her fingers fluffing through his hair.
"Lisa says it looks like a bird's nest."
Alison looked down at him, she been about to feign mock outrage but his tone and expression made her stop and change direction.
"Lisa, who's Lisa?" she asked quietly.
"Officially she's me stepdaughter but I love her like she's my own." He smiled as he spoke and his eyes sparkled with emotion.
A stepdaughter, where was she now Alison wondered? Had she gone to live with her biological father after Carol's death? If so that must have hurt John.
"Where is she now John? Do you still see her at all?" she asked softly, her hand continuing to play with his hair.
"After her mother died she decided to stay with me. She is off on her big adventure at the moment. A gap year she calls it. She's in New Zealand working at some outward bounds school." He paused for a moment smiling again. "She'll be good at that she was always fearless."
"So Lisa's what seventeen or eighteen?" Alison tried hard to keep the shock out of her voice; she'd been expecting him to talk about a younger child.
"She's eighteen and she's going on to university next year. She wants to be a teacher." The pride in his voice was evident. "It's daft but I miss her. Since Carol died it's just been the two of us."
She lent forward and kissed him softly on his forehead.
"Crinkles again," she whispered. "You're not daft; of course you miss her its normal. Carol must have been awfully young when she had Lisa?"
"Yeah she were a child herself. They were more like sisters than mother and daughter."
"It must have been hard on her when she died," Alison said.
"It was, but we helped each other."
"How long were you married John?"
"Two years."
Not long Alison thought and if Carol had been sick then not easy either.
"It weren't a marriage like yours Alison."
Alison grimaced.
"I'm not sure what my marriage is or was, certainly not what I thought. John before we carry on you need to know that I'm not using you. When the snow has cleared I will file for a divorce."
"Are you sure about that? You shouldn't rush into anything and especially not because of me lass."
She smiled.
"Do you ever think about yourself first John Standring? Don't answer that because I know you don't. John he violated me in the worse possible way. I'm not going back to him."
The smile that spread across his face melted her heart again,
"I'm glad Alison. For you of course but mainly for me. I've been so scared that I would lose you before I really found you." She moved to kiss him but he stopped her. "There are things about me you need to know before we go any further."
"Ah the difficult things and why you had a panic attack."
"Don't remind me I was so ashamed. It was why I snapped at you. I already don't feel like a man and that confirmed it."
"Sorry did you say you didn't feel like a man? Why on earth would you feel like that?"
John took a deep breath his face was pink again.
"John whatever it is just say it."
"I don't know how to make love." He spoke so quickly and quietly that Alison couldn't understand him.
"Sorry John I didn't catch that."
Oh God he thought this was so embarrassing.
"I don't know how to make love."
The words hung in the air. He waited for her laughter, but her voice was soft and gentle when she spoke.
"Are you saying you're a virgin John?"
He swallowed.
"As near as damn it. I have only had sex with Carol and with her only three times. It were a disaster, she wasn't interested really and I didn't know how to make it any good." He looked away from her before continuing. "I... finish too early. When you were in the bedroom it was obvious what you were thinking and I panicked. I want you lass but I really don't know what to do."
Alison sat in stunned silence gathering her thoughts knowing that she had to tread carefully. One wrong word and she'd lose him forever.
John made to move. She was obviously repulsed by his story so much so that she couldn't even speak to him.
"Where do you think you're going?" She asked as he sat up. "You've done the difficult bit you've told me."
"What and you don't think I'm a sad bastard who can't get laid or that it is just really funny." He turned and sat with his head in his hands.
Alison moved to his side her hands caressing him through the soft wool of his jumper.
"Is that what others have said John?"
"I've never told anybody else and I've not been near a woman since Carol."
"And before Carol, how come there weren't women before her?"
He laughed bitterly.
"Other girls, you have to be joking. What teenage girl would have hung about with me? Let alone had sex. I was like a skinny beanpole with a big nose and bad clothes. I lived with me grandparents, money was tight I had to help out. There wasn't much time for fun. Then me Gran got sick. It was a bad time, me Granddad he went out to work so I cared for her. Not that I minded I'd do it again in a heart beat."
Of course he would, she thought because that's who he was, always putting others before himself. He'd never had a childhood or been a teenager she realised.
"It seems to me that it's not that you're no good at it but that you never had the practice. You know making out all that kind of stuff teenagers do."
"No I never did owt like that. Are you not going to run a mile from me Alison?" He turned; his face was inches from her own.
"No John I'm not." She kissed him softly. "I'm going to have a lot of fun teaching you how to make love." She smiled wickedly. "Lesson number one making out on the sofa," she pushed him back against the cushions. "Now I had a rule, no hands below the waist."
He was so tense.
"Alison... lass I..."
"Just follow your instincts." She ran her hand down his arm. "Who bought you this jumper?"
"Lisa did, she said I needed updating."
"It's gorgeous and it sends out a signal."
"It does?"
"Oh yes. It says touch me." She ran her hands over the material. "And it shows off a frankly impressive pair of shoulders." Her hands wandered over him as she spoke. "And the V neck shows a little skin, well that begs to be kissed." She lent down and placed her lips against his throat.
The kisses were soft like the flutter of a butterfly's wing but they were driving him slowly mad. She pulled him forward.
"Of course the thing it positively screams is take me off." Her hands reached under the sweater and slowly peeled it over his head.
It was Alison's turn to swallow. His skin was so pale and smooth; his muscles sharply defined by the hard work he did. His movement towards her was slow, hesitant but it was him who made it. His kiss started slowly but then became more intense as she slid her arms round his body. Her hands moved slowly over his back causing his muscles to ripple.
He groaned and kissed her deeper, his tongue dancing over hers. His hands moved to the hem of the shirt she was wearing, slowly sliding under it his hands caressing her skin. He pulled away slightly and looked at her face. Her skin was flushed her pupils dilated. She was enjoying this, it wasn't just him who was turned on.
"John" she whispered. "Don't stop."
"I want to see you, I want to feel you Alison," he whispered against her ear.
She guided his hand to her shirt.
"Well what's stopping you?"
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