A Good Man - Cover

A Good Man

Copyright© 2011 by Marc Nobbs

Chapter 35: The Offer

Clarissa’s eighteenth birthday was in March and fell on a Thursday. Her mother had planned a big society party for her the following Saturday up at Westmouth Hall, but on her birthday itself, she allowed Clarissa to invite some of her closest friends over to the house for a dinner party. Of course, this being a Liddington dinner party, it had to be the best, which is why my sister ended up catering it.

“She’s the best cook in town,” Clarissa reasoned.

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself.”

She laughed. “That’s as maybe, but I’m hosting. I can’t be expected to whip up fabulous food and greet all my guests, now can I?”

As much as I’d gotten used to the idea of Clarissa being as normal as the rest of us, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the sheer scale of her house. This was actually the first time I’d spent any time in it—usually, all I did was wait in the hallway for Clarissa when I picked her up for a date. Still, at least her mom was actually letting me in the house these days rather than leaving me standing on the doorstep.

I was first to arrive and Clarissa gave me the grand tour—from the lounge to the dining room, out through the kitchen to the conservatory that stretched the width of the house and the swimming pool just beyond. And that was just downstairs. She then dragged me upstairs to show me her bedroom, which was easily twice the size of mine, maybe more, and stole a seismic lip-lock before the doorbell rang to indicate the first guest had arrived. Clarissa rushed downstairs to open it. It was Emily, which wasn’t surprising.

“You two look like the cat that got caught stealing the cream. Did I interrupt something?”

“Another five minutes and you might well have done,” Clarissa replied with a smirk.

I just blushed. Emily had taken a great deal of pleasure in teasing me about the nature of my physical relationship with Clarissa over the past couple of weeks. What can I say? Girls talk. And, apparently, Clarissa had been raving about my ... prowess. Grace had a hard time hiding her jealousy, but Emily had clearly had fun with it. Hell, once, when Clarissa was giving me one of those earth-moving, good morning kisses of hers by the lockers, she’d pointedly asked if she could borrow me to make her glow as much as Clarissa was.

The dinner party itself was a success. Vicky’s food was out of this world, and Clarissa’s friends even applauded her when Clarissa dragged her out of the kitchen and into the dining room between the main course and dessert. After dessert, the plan was to chill out in the conservatory for an hour or two before everyone drifted home. It was a school night after all.

I was the last to file out of the dining room, but Clarissa’s mom stepped in front of me to stop me from leaving. “Could I have a quick word please, Paul?”

As respectfully as I could manage given the way she’d treated me in the past, I said, “Of course, Mrs Liddington.” She’d reminded me more than once over the last couple of weeks that she wasn’t just Mrs Rogers, and Liddington-Rogers was just too much of a mouthful. I figured I’d try my luck.

She smiled. “Christine. Please.”

That surprised me. “Sure, Christine.”

She nodded to acknowledge me, then turned to quietly close the door, leaving us cut off from any interruptions. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I would have said she was about to have another go at me and tell me how I wasn’t good enough for her daughter, but she’d just asked me to call her by her first name.

She took a deep breath, looked me in the eye and said, “Paul, I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”

“Eh?” Why did I have a habit of coming up with such lame responses when girls (or women) said something that threw me for six?

“I assumed, wrongly, that you were only interested in Clarissa for her money, or for the status, but clearly I was wrong. And I thought to Clarissa you were some... fad. A phase that she was going through that she’d quickly grow tired of, but, again, clearly I was wrong.”

“Well ... I ... Er...”

She held up her hand to stop me. Her eyes softened and her tone along with them. “You mean a lot to Clarissa. I can see that now. She’s been the happiest I’ve seen her since ... Well, frankly, since her father died, and it’s because of you. I mean, yes, she’s glowing, but I’d imagine that’s just the sex. You must be quite the lover.” I blushed. “But she’s happy in herself too. The other day, I walked into the kitchen and she was cooking dinner and singing. I haven’t seen her do that in far, far too long.” She tilted her head to the left. “And I see the way you treat her and the way you look at her with such love and devotion. It’s...” she sighed. “It reminds me of the way that Andrew used to be with me.” She wiped an unshed tear from the corner of her eye and took a deep breath. “So ... When I’m wrong, I say I’m wrong. And as long as you keep making her happy, you’re welcome in this house any time at all.”

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