A SUMMER CHILL, CHAPTER 39

Ducking under the counter, Brian Porter pushed his shirt sleeves up his arms and strode purposefully to his desk, hauled out the top drawer and removed a notepad. He started to scribble with a stock-issue black pen. Across the room the coffee machine grumbled and hissed. Brian had not once looked at his sergeant, his mind being on more urgent matters.

Chris Beresford pressed his pen to his bottom lip. 'What d'ya think you're doing? I thought I told you to sort things out before you came back.'

'I will, just as soon as I've done this.'

'What's that?'

'An official request for a week's leave.'

Chris discarded his pen and got to his feet. His right shoe squealed as he went to Brian's desk. Hoisting his posterior, he perched on the edge and dangled a leg, contemplating the toe of his highly-polished black shoe. 'A week, eh? Will it take that long?'

Baffled, Brian ceased writing. 'What do you mean?

'From the signs you've given out lately I assume that now it's all over you'll pursue the lady. Well, don't forget she needs tender loving care. All you've got to do is gently convince her that you're the man for the job. It'll be no use you scrambling after her with your tongue out and your breath steaming like Saint George's dragon. Tender loving care. Remember that. It'll guarantee you a chance to get installed a second time.'

'That's the trouble with working with a know-all copper, you know me too bloody well.'

'As long as we understand each other.'

He makes it sound easy, thought Brian, who was not so sure. Last time he built up his hopes he got shot down. Still, the feeling in his gut was getting stronger. Perhaps the ice actually was melting.

Chris sniffed the air. 'Coffee smells good.' Returning to his desk, he collected his brown-stained mug and took it to the machine. 'I hope my stomach's not as bad as this cup,' he remarked as he transferred an accumulation of dirty mugs to a battered tin tray. A stream of coffee gurgled from machine to mug and, when it was full, Chris wrapped both hands around it and retraced his steps. 'I picked up a tramp today.'

'I didn't know he'd returned.'

'This was a different one. I must admit, we do seem to be collecting them. Reckon the weather's fetching 'em in. This one was doing a Jimmy on the library wall. Old Doris Pinches was incensed. She came in here in a right rage, laying the law down as if it were my fault. She demanded that I chuck him out of the village.'

'Did you?'

'I did, and I told him never to darken our village again.'

Brian laughed. 'It takes all sorts to keep us in jobs.'

Chris slurped some coffee and tossed a cheery smile at Brian. 'Will you please go and seduce Audrey, or must I throw you out as well?'

'Right, Sarge. About the leave ....?'

'Bugger off!'

'Anything you say, Sarge.'

*****

It took a good half-hour to choose which shirt to wear, rejecting one after the other in an effort to appear casual, and getting more frustrated with each substitution. In the end, Brian settled for jeans and a plain white shirt. He was going to woo Audrey, and he was very nervous.

He walked there; the car was too fast and he needed the space between their two houses to decide on his technique: whether to adopt a soft style, or an offhanded one, or to be plain candid and direct. Of course she might not welcome a visit at all, especially at this late hour, but if he didn't ring that bell tonight, he never would. So, apprehensively nibbling a jagged fingernail, he rang. Almost immediately the curtain twitched. The movement dissolved some of his anxiety and he promptly rapped a knuckle on the window-pane, though he felt foolish when he heard her footsteps approaching the door, as if she had guessed his eagerness.

Audrey led the way to the kitchen, leaving behind a perfume trail like splendid Indian spices. The room was shipshape, yet poignantly forlorn; a lone white china cup and its upturned saucer waited on the drainer to be put away; highlighting the bareness, the ticking wall clock exaggerating the silence. Brian glanced at the gin bottle.

'Can I offer you a drink?' she asked.

'That'd be nice.'

She poured him a double measure, and gave him leave him to add his own tonic. Silently, he added just a splash and took the glass to the seat facing her. Her beautiful hair was piled high and secured by a narrow blue ribbon, and there were more freckles on her arms than he remembered. Inwardly, he ran through a series of hitherto prepared phrases, realising from the expectant way she looked at him that if he didn't speak soon she would interpret his silence as incompetent vacillation. Her small, polite smile gave him a degree of encouragement so, forgetting the rehearsed words, he blew his nose, took a deep breath, kept his eyes locked on his glass.

'For many years, like it or not, you've been my whole world.' He paused and lifted his head to look directly at her. 'I want to marry you.' Unwittingly, he crossed his fingers and searched her face for a sign of acquiescence, but he could read nothing from her expression.

Speaking at last, Audrey looked him squarely in the face. 'I tried not to love you at the beginning and at the end, because there was no future for us. Has that changed?'

The clock's tick filled the room and Brian pondered on how time had flown since they first met, since they fell in love, since their son was born. 'Is it too late to make a new start for
you and Matthew?'

'Why Matthew?'

'He's my son, damn it!'

'It's a bit late, don't you think, to worry about him!' Her words were loaded with sarcasm.

Brian mentally recoiled. She was absolutely right to be cynical, allowing that he'd never publicly admitted to fathering a third son. She had struggled along valiantly, making no demands, striving to overcome the stigma of single parenthood. She toiled to make ends meet, always fighting to conquer each problem ... with no help at all from him. He had hoped, wrongly, that by drawing Matthew into the equation he would swing her decision.

Lifting the gin bottle, he poured them both a drink. 'This reminds me of the night we drank a whole bottle.'

'I know.'

'I thought of going away,' he announced. The statement was, in fact, an untruth conjured up as a childish attempt at blackmail.

Audrey tensed. 'Go away? You can't! How would I contact you. What if Matthew ever needed you?'

'I'm trying to modify that. I deeply regret not making myself available to him. Not being a proper father.'

Audrey said nothing, merely curled her fingers around her glass, soberly regarding him.

Equally taciturn, Brian brooded over the disregarded proposal, marooned like his grounded self-esteem. Unable to trust himself not to outwardly wail, he got up to go.

Audrey rose too. Stood next to him. 'Did you have a coat?'

'No.'

She offered her hand. 'Goodnight, then.'

'Will you be all right?'

'Of course.'

She slanted away when he moved to kiss her, giving him no choice but to follow her to the door.

'Goodnight,' he said.

Audrey again held out her hand.

Their manners were impeccable but neither of them were prepared for the chemistry which surged when he touched her. Brian caught his breath when he saw her emotion, and the single tear. He kicked the door to and embraced her. When her arms circled his waist, he buried his face in her marvellous hair.

Brian carried her to the long settee where they kissed, and murmured, and kissed again. At length he gazed at her. 'What's happening to us?'

Audrey simply smiled and pulled him closer.

'All those wasted years,' he said, tracing a finger down her throat, moving down to the opening of her blouse. He slipped open the top buttons, and inched his fingers inside. Her head jerked when he touched her breast; her tongue moistened her lips. He pushed the blouse off her shoulders and undid her bra. The explosion of breasts, nipples stiff and ready, set his pulses racing.

Audrey squirmed and edged her body nearer to his. She found his hand and guided it down her body.

'Show me,' he whispered hoarsely, transferring her to the floor and easing off her clothes. He stared at her magnificence then, closing his lips on one nipple, he shifted his hand to fondle that triangle of copper hair he remembered so well.

Audrey moaned. Her hips gyrated.

She tasted of molten honey. Immersed in her smell, Brian prayed that his age and the celibate years would not influence his performance.

Clutching his damp hair, Audrey began to thresh side to side, imploring him to hurry before it was too late. He detected a whiff of hair oil on her hands as she plunged her fingernails into his shoulders. He raised himself until he was on all fours above her, poised for the familiar screech she always uttered when she was ready. And there it was, the long drawn out howl.

He slowly lowered himself until he was at her entrance, teasing her with his proudly bulging manhood until she reared and vibrated in a frenzy. He drove into her, bucking and thrusting, head thrown back, their sweating bodies slapping together as they rose to great heights, her mouth cupped like a baby awaiting its feed.

His eyes were enlarged as he rammed her, his chin pressing into the side of her throat, grunting her name over and over, until they yelled in unison, both shuddering as he emptied into her, the pressure of her hands helping him offload every last drop of love into the body he adored.

They lay united and drained.

Brian hugged her to him. 'Tell me it wasn't a dream.'

'It felt real to me.' She examined his face, eyes travelling from mouth, to nose, to eyes. Finally, huskily, she asked. 'When are you going to marry me?'

She stopped him answering by tantalisingly licking his lips, biting here and there until he wriggled away.

'Minx,' he said, scrambling to his knees, nipping her belly, sliding down until his mouth arrived at her sticky passage and she cried out for more.

(to be continued)