Chapter 6

People can be too grateful, Mike thought. The rest of the weekend and the whole of the following week were once again filled with Claire's gratitude. She couldn't do enough for him – again – bringing him the inevitable cups of tea, asking how he'd like the chicken cooked for Sunday lunch the following weekend, inviting him for a walk with the family (except Siobhán who had better things to do) in the parkland surrounding one of their local stately homes. The last of these was a tussle. At first he refused and then saw the disappointment and pleading on her face. He was beginning to feel persecuted.

So it was that they were in the park early. The July morning was very warm and while the children were in jeans and tee shirts, Claire was in a very fetching sundress. It was sleeveless with a 'V' neck and well above the knee. A pair of sandals was the only other thing she wore, apart from a bra and sensible knickers which were just visible through the brightly coloured fabric of the dress.

Claire and Ryan were walking ahead, and Ginny and Mike were a distance behind. The sun shone through Claire's dress and outlined her body clearly. She was truly a beautiful woman: her shape was captivating. Ginny was chatting away but he didn't hear her. He was jolted when there was a sudden silence.

"Mike?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"D'you like Mum?"

"Yes, Ginny, your Mum is very special."

"You love her?"

Oh dear. With Ryan, he thought, he could get away with a bland answer but Ginny was a girl, and was nine now (he remembered the riotous birthday party and felt residual fear; she invited the whole class and most of them came). He knew what she she was getting at, but was unsure how to answer.

"I admire her very much," he began. "She's brought you all up wonderfully. Look at the three of you! You're each one of you a real credit to her. She's strong and caring, and she looks after me wonderfully."

Did he really expect to get away with it? Fool!

"Yes, but do you love her, I mean really love her?"

"I'm not sure exactly what that means," he prevaricated bravely. "I care about her very much, I want her to stay here with you all. I'd be very sad if you all went, as I suppose you will one day."

"Oh."

She was disappointed; it showed in her voice. He wondered what she was driving at but the silence that ensued, coupled with her taking his hand in hers stopped him from asking. It would only provoke further embarrassing questions.

They ended up at the adventure playground, where the children ran off and began their own workout. Claire and Mike sat together on a bench. She sat close, and he could feel the warmth of her arm against his.

She sighed.

"This is so wonderful," she said. "I can't remember when I've felt so relaxed and so much at home as when I've been with you. You know the children adore you?"

"Don't know about that," he said, "but we get on fine."

"Ryan was asking were you going to be their new dad. You're always there for them, you take them out; you listen to them. You kick a ball around with Ryan. You make time for them. You tell them off when they're naughty. You might as well be."

"I only try to support you. You know how much I love having you all. I can't imagine life without the house full. The children are precious to me, you know. I'll always be there for them.

"Umm. Good." She sighed again and it was a relaxed happy sound, and it gave him a warm feeling.

He wanted desperately to put his arm round her and tell her his feelings for her, but there was something stopping him and he didn't know what it was. He felt it strange for he was never one to be reticent. People, both at work and socially, knew he spoke his mind but somehow he felt scared to do that now.

Perhaps, he thought, he was afraid of being rejected by Claire of all women; perhaps afraid of ruining what relationship there was between them. It mattered to him more than anything to keep her. Nothing had ever mattered as much to him as to get this relationship with her right.

On Monday morning Rosemary took her coffee break with Mike as she usually did. They talked shop for a while then chatted about the previous weekend. He told her about Cheryl's arrival, and she agreed it was unusual and even suspicious, but they couldn't think of a reason she could have for finding him again.

Then it came, a change of tack.

"It must be about five weeks to go now."

"Pardon?" he said.

"To Claire's Decree Absolute."

"Yes, I suppose so," he said, wondering where this was leading.

"She'll be a free woman."

"Aye."

"Thinking of doing anything about that?" One eyebrow was raised as she asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Mike, I've seen the way you look at her. You know what I mean."

"Rosemary!"

"You're in love with her. When are you going to do something about that?"

"Look," he said rather sharply. "She's a good friend. I don't want to ruin that by making a move on her."

"Faint heart never won fair lady, you know."

"D'you think this weather will last, Rosemary?"

"OK, point taken!"

They smiled knowingly and affectionately at each other, and got back to work.

On Tuesday Tom rang him mid afternoon.

"How's it going old son?" he asked.

"Fine."

"Said anything to Claire yet?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Mike," he laughed. "I met Bryony. I hear you turned down a fuck."

"She's not upset is she?"

"Oh no," he said. "She reckoned there was someone else. She had a very knowing look. So have you done anything about Claire?"

"No."

"Once she's divorced, she'll be on the market again. You need to get in there first, or you'll find her gone."

Mike now suspected there was some sort of plot. And his suspicions were reinforced the next evening, when Siobhán sauntered into his room, after a perfunctory knock. Fortunately he was dressed and sitting in an armchair, so she went and sat down in the other one. Something was up; she normally contributed to the demise of the arm of his own chair.

He sensed his reading time was over and reluctantly marked the place and put his book down. He gazed at this pretty young girl with a thirty-year-old head on her shoulders.

"Go on," he said.

She smiled; he quailed.

"Dad – I mean, Mike," she grinned demurely. She did this a lot, calling him Dad. She knew it embarrassed him. The second time she did it he told her he wasn't her Dad but she countered by saying he was more of a dad than her own, and anyway after what Gary did to her she didn't have a real Dad.

"Ginny and I have been talking." She stopped and smiled at him.

"Oh dear," he said with a grin. "What about, and how much is it going to hurt me?"

She pouted. When do girls learn to pout, he asked himself, or is it genetic?

"No, it's not going to hurt." She paused, and he sensed she was about to spring a trap.

"Question: do you fancy Mum?"

It was certainly direct, that question. Not, do you love her, admire her, but fancy her!

"Your mother is a very beautiful woman, Siobhán. Any man would be attracted to her."

She sighed in exasperation at his avoiding the question. "And you like her?"

"Like? Yes, of course I like her. She's strong and clever and funny and decisive and hard working. I admire her immensely."

"So why haven't you asked her out?"

Here we go again, he thought.

"We live in the same house, Siobhán," he said patiently. "She works for me. We're good friends. I'm her employer and it's not fair for an employer to hit on one of his employees."

"Well," she said, with a defiant almost angry stare at him, "that's daft. It's bloody stupid." She saw his face cloud. "Sorry, but it is."

"How?"

"You both behave like our Mum and Dad. You chat together like ordinary married people do. You like her, admire her, let's face it Dad, you're in love with her aren't you?"

He started to feel he was losing his way in this argument and he capitulated. "Yes, I am Hen, but I don't want to spoil what we have by trying it on with her. So don't tell her."

"Dad," she said. "Mum loves you. She has loved you for ages. She doesn't think you love her; you've never shown any sign that you love her."

"I've told you why."

"Sometimes she cries because you don't seem to fancy her."

"She told you that?"

"No, don't be stupid!" she said, exasperated. "I know it's true though. We women know about such things. Now please, will you take her out? We children want you two to get together; we fancy you as our Dad."

"Are you behind the campaign that's gone on all this week?"

She had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Thought so," he said smugly.

Well, he thought, it seems she loves me; I know I love her.

"OK," he said. She jumped up and made for him. "But!" he said holding up his hand. She stopped in mid leap.

"I do this my way and you say nothing about this to your mother. Understand?"

"Yes," she said, then came over and hugged him, sitting on his lap.

"And don't tell the other two either," he admonished her. "They'll never keep it to themselves."

"Ok ... Dad," she gave him a resounding kiss. Then she sashayed out. Well, more of a happy skip really. He made a phone call, asked a question and got a positive answer.

Once the family were in bed, or in Siobhán's case her bedroom, Mike went downstairs and found Claire in the study where she was doing the household accounts.

"Hello," she said, smiling up at him.

"Claire," he said tentatively, "I wonder would you like to have dinner with me on Friday, and perhaps a few drinks afterwards?"

She started, clearly shocked.

"Mike? What's brought this on? You've never asked me out before."

He knew before he said anything that he wouldn't get off easily, but he had his answer ready.

"Last week you got your Decree Nisi. Before that, you were a married woman and I don't date married women, but in a few weeks you'll be a free woman. I've wanted to say more for a long time, but as I say..."

"You're asking me for a date?"

"Aye."

She smiled warmly at him. "That's what I like about you, Mike. You say little and mean a lot. Yes, I'd love to go with you for dinner. Perhaps some dancing? You don't mind me asking?"

"No," he smiled. "I know just the place."

Rosemary came home with Mike on Friday, prepared to stay the night and as much of the next day as needed. She loved children and they naturally loved her. Claire left the children's dinner for Rosemary to sort out.

The younger two were all smiles and Siobhán had a knowing look, about which Mike privately decided Claire should talk to her! There was certainly a conspiratorial air about the place.

He showered, shaved and changed, and then left his room and made for the stairs. Out of the room at the other end of the landing came a vision. Her hair was up, showing how long her slender neck was. Her 'little black dress' was in fact a deep, deep red. It was demure, v-necked and low at the back; short, just above the knee. Bare legs; strappy, medium heeled shoes, but no jewellery. It struck him she had none.

"Stop there!" he cried, and ran back to his room. He fished out a necklace and earrings, gold inset with diamonds, but not too showy, that his grandmother left to him. 'Give them to the girl you are going to marry, ' she had said. He wasn't going to give them to Claire just yet but she could wear them.

He brought them to Claire, "Would you like to wear these tonight?" he asked.

Her eyes glistened and she admired them. She nodded, turned her back and waited for him to fasten the necklace round her lovely neck. Then she fixed the earrings.

"Perfect!" she whispered and looked at him over her shoulder with a dreamy expression before taking his arm and walking him down the stairs.

The children were lined up in the hallway. There were gasps and murmurings from the girls at the sight of their mother and broad smiles. Ryan just grinned. They hugged and kissed their mother and then came to Mike and did the same. Siobhán hugged him and whispered in his ear, "Be good, and if you can't be good–"

"Siobhán!" he growled.

"Sorry, sorry!" but she wasn't; she ginned that impish grin.

The taxi was waiting and they were off. Claire had her arm tucked in his all the way. They went to the same club Tom and Mike used. Tom wasn't there, having gone to some convention or other. Claire got her share of admiring looks from many of the men there. The meal was excellent as usual and they chatted away through it, laughing and joking.

Then they went into the club area and danced. The first dances were quick upbeat numbers and after three they were both out of breath. Out of practice too. So they had a couple of drinks. Then Mike got a surprise.

"Hi, Mike!" said a female voice behind him. Claire looked up and stiffened. He turned.

It was Sharon, the girl that Tom took home the night Mike had Bryony, or rather didn't have Bryony.

"Sharon! Lovely to see you!" he said and he meant it. He stood and they hugged. Then to Claire he said, "This is Sharon, she's Bryony's friend, you know, the girl who I was with that weekend. Sharon this is Claire."

"Hi!" Sharon said brightly. "You're Mike's housekeeper aren't you? He looks very well on it! Hey Mike, Bryony was disappointed you didn't bed her properly. She said you had someone else in mind?"

"You could say that," he was now very embarrassed but Claire's grin got wider and wider.

Sharon kissed him long and sensuously on his lips until Claire cleared her throat meaningfully, but she was still smiling.

"See you!" shouted Sharon as she sashayed away laughing, looking for fresh prey.

Claire looked after her, appreciating what he had given up, then at Mike.

"Well?" she asked him. "Why didn't you 'bed' this Bryony? Who's the 'someone else'?"

"You know perfectly well who," he shot back. "I've loved you for months. I couldn't go with anyone else, even though we were at odds that weekend."

"That true?" asked Claire her eyes shining.

"It's true."

"Since when?"

"Oh," he said, "I think it was when you said you wee gong to see Gary. You were resolute and told me to keep out of your business. You were strong and independent."

"Let's dance," she said.

It was a slow dance and she came into his arms, her arms round his neck and she pressed herself against him. He put his hands low on her waist and pulled her to him. He felt her breasts, she his growing erection and she laid her head against his chest just underneath his chin.

Nothing was said as they moved gently to the music but after a while she lifted her face and her hands pulled his head down. They kissed. It was very gentle, very soft and it didn't last very long, but it said 'I love you' as clearly as if she'd shouted it to the room. Then she sighed; a quiet sound of satisfaction and contentment.

As the dance ended, she said "Let's go home." So they did.

The journey in the taxi was passed in silence. She was in the crook of his arm, her head against his chest and his arm round her shoulders. From time to time she lifted her head for a kiss and smiled beatifically which made her pretty face radiant. He was sure that at that moment there was no woman more beautiful in the entire universe.

They arrived home at one o'clock to find the house quiet. Everyone was asleep and Rosemary had also gone to bed.

He got them their drinks, set them on the coffee table and they sat down together on the sofa in the living room. Or rather he sat down on the sofa and she knelt straddling his lap and started kissing him. The hem of the dress had ridden up. Before long they were both moaning as their kisses became more and more intense.

"Mike," she said breathlessly as they came up for air. "Can we use your room? Mine is a little too near the children."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "This was only our first date."

She kissed him again. "Mike we've lived together for seven months. For most of that time I've been frustrated as hell seeing you everyday and wanting you so badly."

"Me too," he said, "though I tried to deny it. I didn't think you thought of me like that."

"Come on," she said, taking his hand in a firm grip, and leading the way.

They climbed the stairs and went to his room.

"Undress me," she commanded, turning her back to allow him to unzip her dress. He pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her lithe body, until it fell away and pooled at her feet.

"And your lovely necklace," she ordered, with the back of her long swan-like neck still facing him. He kissed her neck and she shivered. She then took off the earrings. He thought how intensely erotic a woman removing her earrings was. Then she turned to face him and stepped back.

"This is what you bought me for Christmas," she smiled with a hint of shyness.

The bra and bikini knickers were in coffee. Under the breast the fabric was translucent, giving the faintest hint of her nipple, while above the nipple was the finest lightest lace. The straps were scalloped. The knickers were very brief with scalloped edges, of the same translucent material, tightly hugging her vulva and outlining it and the valley between her lower lips, with a panel of fine lace on each side.

Her body! There was perfection in the proportions of her waist and hips, and her legs were wonderfully slim and shapely. Above there was the perfection of her pretty face, looking apprehensive as his gaze travelled all over her. He briefly recalled her face when she had arrived, so damaged. She was beautiful then, but now...

Her hands went up to her hair and she shook out her auburn tresses, as they fell down over her shoulders. His lustful expression was obvious, and she smiled more boldly.

"I love it when you look at me like that," she said and did a slow turn so he could see her tight bottom, the exquisite curve of her back and the valley of her spine.

He held out his arms as she finished her turn, and she came into them and they kissed again gently and at length, before she stepped back a little and pulled up his shirt. He bent forward to help her and she pulled it off then in one fluid movement undid his pants but slid the zip down so very slowly.

He wasn't sure about other men, but the sensation of a woman drawing his zip down was among the most erotic feelings he knew. A woman who did that was issuing an invitation. She slipped the garment down, kneeling as she did so. She removed his shoes and socks and then he obediently lifted each leg in turn so she could remove his trousers completely. He stood back and she gazed at him.