Chapter 12

She lay in bed, quite still, in her silk pyjamas, but she was not going to go to sleep. She had a plan.

They had stood opposite one another at her room doorway after she had used the bathroom.

"Good night," he had said.

She had pulled him to her and kissed him and he responded. They pressed their bodies together and his hands roved over her back, hers in his hair which pushed her breasts against him, her nipples prodding his chest. They broke and she kissed his throat downwards, until she reached his open shirt. She looked up at him.

"Good night," she said. It was on the tip of her tongue to say 'I love you', but she somehow couldn't say it. The three words had a weight she had never felt before; she had often used the phrase lightly. She could not do that with Joseph.

They had disengaged and she entered her bedroom, and with the door ajar (for Bob, she told herself), she stripped and put on her pyjamas, and then climbed into bed.

Bob had plodded in after Joseph had let him out for his toilet break, and had made himself comfortable. She had heard Joseph prowling round the house locking doors, making up stoves to last the night and putting out lights. Then she heard him in the bathroom, then walking up the stairs.

She waited a further ten minutes, and then slipped from the bed. Bob raised his head and then relaxed again. She stepped lightly up the stairs in the darkness, quietly opened his door and entered his room. The room was quite dark but there was a moon that night and with the curtains opened, it gave enough light for her to see which side of the bed he was on.

Her heart was beating rapidly and she felt a little afraid: this could go horribly wrong. She steeled herself and walked to 'her' side of the bed, lifting the duvet and climbing into bed.

Joseph had his back to her, but was only half asleep. He came to full consciousness with a start.

"Wha? Ugh? Who? Angela! What are you doing?"

It was at that moment, as she touched him, that she realised something. He was certainly naked above the waist! No wonder he was flummoxed!

"Ssh!" she crooned. "It's all right. I'm only doing what Ruth did in the story. You don't have a cloak to spread over me, so you don't have to marry me. You don't have to do anything at all, except..."

He turned to face her in the dark. She could just make out his face. He was confused. "Huh?"

"All you have to do is cuddle me. Hug me. Then you can go to sleep with me. I love you Joseph, where you go, I go. OK?"

Silence, then his hand was on her side as she lay facing him, a gentle pull. She scooted into his arms and he held her fast, her head on his shoulder, his arm round her shoulders, as she stroked his naked side. His free hand caressed her back from shoulder to the small of her back, but no further.

"I haven't got a cloak, so the duvet will have to do," he said with a chuckle as he pulled it over them both.

"This bed is not lumpy!" she chastised him.

"I changed the mattress this week," he said with another chuckle.

She let out an exasperated sigh of reproach, and allowed her hand to glide over his hip and onto his thigh. Yes, it was true, he was indeed completely nude. Starkers! Naked! She gave a little moan of pleasure and desire, and decided that tomorrow night she would imitate him. She stroked his chest, twisting the hairs she found there round her fingers.

"You need to sleep," she told him. "Good night, my love."

Kiss. He felt more than just a stirring down below. She felt it too. She sighed.

"Good night, sweetheart," he replied, and it gave her such a warm giddy feeling. She gave a little moan of happiness.

They disengaged and soon fell asleep facing each other.

Joseph awoke in the darkness, not needing an alarm. In any case he had silenced it as soon as Angela had arrived in his bed.

It must have taken all of two seconds between him thinking, hardly-awake, that Susan was in the bed, then traversing eight years as he wondered who it was and finally realising it was Angela, remembering her arrival at the house the previous night. He carefully turned to face her, having awoken with his back to her. The moon had set and he could hardly make out her face.

He lay on his back for a while, revelling in the warmth and comfort of another body with him in the bed and the emotional warmth of her protestations of love the night before. She was some woman – imaginative, clever, open-hearted and, he reckoned, single minded, not to mention her astounding good looks now denied him in dark of the early winter's morning.

He slid out of bed so as not to wake her, gathered his clothes and made his way down the stairs. Bob was sitting patiently by the front door, watching his master putting on his clothes. Joseph realised it was later than usual, already six fifteen. He let Bob out, knowing the dog would come round to the back door when the front was not opened to his scratching.

He went through the kitchen and restocked with wood from the outside store, filling the cooker and the stoves in the kitchen and living room, before letting Bob back in and settling for a shorter meditation than usual. He was expecting to have all sorts of ideas about what had happened the night before, but instead he sank easily into stillness and peacefulness. There was a sense of completeness, fulness, in his wordless mind and exhilaration too. His timer went off all to soon and he arose feeling happier, he realised, than he had for many a long year and that it was down to the sleeping woman upstairs.

It was while he was seeing to the goats and collecting the eggs, that doubts began to creep in. The hurt that Susan's rejection of him had done came to the fore and he wondered if he could stand it happening again if he let her into his life. Angela might believe she had fallen in love with him, but he came back again and again to the fact they had only known each other for a few weeks and had only been in physical contact for a few days!

It was in a different emotional state that he returned to the house with the milk and the eggs.

Barry arrived and took one look at him.

"Problems?" he asked.

"I'm not used to women," answered Joseph with a shrug.

"Didn't give yer the 'let's just be friends' routine?"

"She came to my bed, climbed in and spent the night there. We've only seen each other for four days, Barry. Four days!"

"Bloody hell!"

Joseph could have sworn that Barry looked impressed.

"Nothing happened," he hastened to add. "I'm not ready to commit that far!"

"That's the way things are nowadays," Barry said. "Elaine goes out with some lad and I know she's shagging him after a couple of dates. It's just fun apparently."

"Not for me," said Joseph.

There was a moment of silence and then both men burst out laughing. They both realised what Joseph had said. It seemed sex was a real chore for Joseph!

"Nay, I ken what tha means," Barry said, more seriously. "But women ... well. Mary said she knew for certain she wanted to marry me after the first date. She'd walked out wi' a number of blokes, but when she met me, she said she 'just knew'."

"I 'just wonder' about her," Joseph confided. "She lives in a posh flat, middle of the city, got a good job from what I can tell – her car's new, and her clothes aren't cheap. Is she likely to stay with me here, miles from anywhere? She'd soon tire of this life, you think?"

"And there's Susan isn't there?" Barry asked, now all seriousness.

Joseph looked at him in surprise. "All those hours on that tractor of yours, they've made you a wise man, Barry. Yes, there is that. Bitten once. I was certain she would never change when we married and look what happened. I don't know if I could commit that far again. Risky."

"You don't have to," Barry asserted. "Take your time. Let her come weekends. Get Elaine in, you know she loves to babysit the place, and go see the maid in her own place. If she's worth it, she'll wait. If not, you've lost nowt."

"Thanks Barry," Joseph smiled. "I needed that – a bit of balance, a bit of sense."

They sat supping their tea, while Barry munched his toast. They were comfortable with the silence, the farmer and the small-holder. They relied on each other, and Barry and Mary were the only people with whom he had shared his life-story.

At that moment Angela entered the kitchen.

She was still wearing the ivory coloured silk pyjamas. They clung to her figure, outlining her buttocks in their rounded perfection, and the crease between, the top hung from her breasts, her nipples defined by the fabric. Her hair was still tousled from her night's sleep. It was the perfection of natural woman.

"Good morn..." she stopped, seeing the visitor.

Joseph, who had his back to the door, looked round. His eyes took in all her feminine charms and there was a stirring below.

"Angela," he said, recovering himself, "This is Barry Denton, Barry – Angela Furness."

Neither Angela nor Joseph could miss the effect Angela had on Barry. They saw his jaw slacken and then his effort to stop gaping at the déshabillé vision of womanly beauty.

"Er, 'ow d'you do?" Barry stammered, rising to his feet, toast in hand. Angela held out a hand to shake, and Barry unwittingly offered the toast, corrected himself, changed the toast to his left hand and shook her proffered right hand. She smiled.

"Pleased to meet you, Barry," she said, smiling at his discomfort, and sat down at the table, pouring tea into the third mug which Joseph had put out ready to take to her in bed.

"Likewise I'm sure," he replied with a grin. "This hermit looking after yer proper?"

"Very proper," she laughed, "and he's a superb cook."

"Never had the chance to be poisoned by 'im," Barry said with a straight face, "but I can tell thee, thou've made a big impression on 'im – he's bin almost human this week. Well, best be off. See yer again Angela, I 'ope."

Joseph noticed Barry's accent had broadened; the man was overawed by Angela, and Joseph knew why. He remembered her effect on him when he first saw her in the house.

Angela had noticed Joseph had looked solemn as the brief conversation between herself and Barry continued.

As soon as Barry had shut the door, Joseph said, "I'll get some breakfast; do you want to get dressed? Then I think we need to talk."

Angela felt a stab of fear. She had gone too far the night before joining him in bed. Now she felt mortified at her effrontery in doing so.

"Joseph, I'm so sorry," she gabbled. " I should never have–"

He stopped her.

"No, don't get upset," he hastened to intercept her. "I'm not upset you came to bed, but I do think we need to talk about it a little, don't you?"

She nodded as relief swept through her.

"Breakfast first," he said. "You getting dressed?"

She nodded again, her happiness returning, and went to change. She returned in jeans and a tee shirt.

After breakfast and clearing away, they sat back at the table with mugs of tea.