Chapter 6
Despite having a “perfect” wife and two bright, attractive teenagers, Nicholas Morley found life in Bournemouth unimaginably dull. Thus, weekly business trips to London to buy and sell antiques, visits to auctions, valuations and occasional dealings with Philip Green, a reliable fence with an eclectic collection of booty, kept him occupied and well supplied to wheel and deal with a healthy profit margin.
But he wanted more. And more he got when he met the desirable widow, Sophie Fox, at Fortes Auction House.
Sophie selling, Nicholas bidding – for an exquisite nineteenth-century bronze horse. Bang – it was his and she gave him a grateful hug and he took her for tea.
But what of Nicholas’s wife, Kate, a special-needs teacher?
Nicholas professed to Sophie that she was stunning and perfect, also adding that he would never transgress the invisible line from chaste companionship to divine communion with another woman.
So Nicholas and Sophie continued their trysts, without sex being the currency of their relationship. The strength of their friendship – an easy compliance with each other, a breezy affinity, mutual joy in the romance of life. Innocent meetings, greeting and parting with a kiss on the cheek and a friendly hug.
And yet… Sophie, this lovely woman, married at twenty-two and widowed at thirty, when he looked at her ravishing face, her languorous sea green eyes, her gentle Cupid smile, her generous breasts and slim hips, her English-filly coltish legs, his thoughts wandered into darker waters.
As time slid by, Nicholas struggled to keep his vow of chastity, but he held on, knowing that the complications of intimacy would make his life uncomfortable. And now that he had his easy parallel life, the boring gaps in his marriage were filled.
In truth, Sophie and he shared the same passions, whereas Kate and he had nothing in common. He loved books, music, art and Mediterranean luxury holidays. She liked TV – mostly cooking programmes – cleaning, gardening and big nighties.
Selfless with her vulnerable pupils, but when it came to her husband she would not surrender to his pleasures and nor would he to hers. Theirs was a sex-free marriage and, try as he might, she wasn’t interested in his conjugal rights anymore.
And so it was London life with his new frisson of excitement, the delightful and alluring Sophie, that kept his marriage ticking.
He waived his chaste relationship like a badge of honour to Kate, who was happy to let him have his fun.
‘She trusts me,’ Nicholas told Sophie. ‘She knows that I would never betray her… never have, never will, but,’ he added, just to keep things rolling in Sophie’s court, ‘if I were single, I would marry you tomorrow.’
Lovely to be spoilt without a price tag, Sophie was happy to be entertained. Visits to galleries, dinners in elegant restaurants, flowers and walks in the park and in turn she liked to play wifey at her pretty house in Holland Park, cooking and baking, making him comfy beside her on the sofa with cups of tea served with home-made feather-light biscuits. Silky Sophie, fragrant and sexy, touched his cheek in a motherly way, pleased to see him enjoying her little pleasures.
But, when she found herself falling into dangerous lusty dreams, she played the wise owl, wished him well in his future life and kissed him goodbye.
***
A visit to her friend Claudia gave Sophie little comfort.
Even a marvellous summer garden swathed with fragrant jasmine and climbing roses couldn’t distract her from her misery.
‘I just don’t understand why he doesn’t leave her. He talks as if there’s nothing to keep them together… I’m so fed up.’
She poured herself a second glass of Chablis. It would cool her brain.
Sunday afternoon and Nicholas was probably having lunch in the local pub with his dogs, while his wife was watching TV, eating a pizza from the freezer. What’s to leave?
‘I’m not surprised,’ Claudia replied, ‘but you chose to be in a relationship with a married man. Of course it’s going to be problematic.’
‘I told him I wasn’t going to see him again, but I didn’t really believe it myself.’
‘And how did he react?’
‘He’s not leaving her.’
‘Well, at least he’s truthful.’
‘Why are you defending him? You’re meant to be helping me.’ She leant down and stroked the cat.
‘Sophie, he could have lied to you, like so many married men do. There are probably many reasons why he might feel he can’t leave. For instance, you told me he said the children would never speak to him again. And that’s just one.’
‘Yes, but they’re grown-ups, and anyway one day they’ll be gone. And what then? He’s left with his boring wife who doesn’t make him happy. Can you imagine, she cooks for the kids but never for Nicholas?’
‘Really?’ Claudia raised a quizzical brow. ‘You’re so naive, Sophie. I’ve heard the same story from clients over and over again. He says he doesn’t sleep with her, she doesn’t cook for him, they have nothing to say to each other… That’s Nicholas’s story. He’s telling you what you want to hear. I’m sure much of it is genuine, but he isn’t leaving in the near future unless there’s a change in the family dynamic. It’s a co-dependency built over many years of unhappy marriage.’
‘Thank God I haven’t slept with him. That’s to protect me, not her. It’s the only shred of self-esteem I have left.’ Sophie drained her glass.
‘Yes, very wise. The power of an emotional relationship with you without sex is more powerful than consummation. There’s anticipation, excitement and forbidden fruit.’
‘Please, Claudia. I’m struggling. I don’t know why I’ve fallen in love with Nicholas. He’s not my sort of guy at all. Very shy and polite. Doesn’t make waves. He’s just there. And although he says he loves me he’s adamant he doesn’t want an affair.’
She leant forward and whispered her confession.
‘He makes me feel like I’m the predator. And in a strange way I enjoy it. I think I’m going crazy… lusting after a married man. So what do I do?’ Sophie’s face was flushed and her eyes glazed. Half disgusted with herself and the other half ignited. The wine and the thought of ravishing Nicholas had brought flames to her cheeks.
Claudia looked at her dear friend and said in her calm, impartial way, ‘I honestly think it’s important to create some space between you. Let him miss you. All you’re doing is facilitating his marital relationship.’
‘But it’s so lonely being on my own. Why can’t he just get a flat in London? He says he hardly sees her anyway. I know it’s true because he’s up here most of the time and he’s with me at least three times a week, and on Friday evenings he’s out playing poker with his cronies. What sort of marriage is that?’ The words flew from her lips.
‘It’s a typical twenty-year marriage of people who don’t work at their relationship. Why not enjoy a bit of glamour and fun with a beautiful woman and then back to the wife and dog walks? Would you like to pull a card on his wife?’ Claudia suggested gently.
‘Okay. I know he loves me, but I just can’t go on in a relationship that’s going nowhere.’
Sophie pulled one from the deck. ‘The Empress?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ Claudia replied, ‘the Empress Demeter, Mother Earth. The Major Arcana card of femininity and motherhood. She sits on her throne. A symbol of female fertility, creativity and stability. Giving birth and nurturing, giving and receiving unconditional love.’
‘How interesting,’ Sophie said. ‘Did you know that Damien wrote a book called The Empress ? It’s about a wealthy woman who rescues Brazilian teenagers sold into prostitution and takes them to live with her.’
‘I did,’ Claudia replied. ‘He really knows how to write about women. Not the usual one-dimensional females you get in thrillers written by men.’
‘In fact, the lady has some of Demeter’s qualities,’ Sophie mused. ‘Down to earth, gives the kids discipline with a fair hand. Loves them all, even the kid who attacks her with a knife. It’s a brilliant novel, don’t you think? Such an intriguing story. I would never have guessed the ending.’
‘Sophie, please keep on track,’ Claudia said. ‘We haven’t got all day. Just try and focus.’ But in truth Damien had played on her mind. He was handsome, dynamic and passionate. She looked forward to reading his cards, finding out what made him tick.
Passion was something that Peter lacked. But he was kind and warm and she knew he would never betray her.
Not like her first husband, Adam, who’d had an affair with Lala, a Southern belle married to a Russian billionaire called Boris Smirnov.
Claudia had caught them together having erotic sex. Lala was lying on the kitchen table, while Adam was licking her breasts, which were covered with honey.
Sophie glanced at the card. ‘Is that really meant to be his wife?’ she asked. ‘Because I certainly don’t think she’s creative. According to Nicholas, she hates the arts.’
‘Whatever you say, I am sure she’s been a good mother, maybe too good. Her children might find it hard to fly the nest. He also may well have become her son, if there isn’t sex – after all, she’s had the children. What’s the point!’
‘That’s spot on.’ Sophie nodded vigorously. ‘They’re at home way past the time they should be, and he said the sex stopped after the children. Can I pull a card on whether he will leave her?’
‘Only if you’re prepared to accept the truth,’ Claudia said.
Sophie pulled the card. ‘Three of Swords!’ She clutched her breast. ‘That’s so horrible, three swords through a heart. Please tell me… do you see death?’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ replied Claudia. ‘There’s no blood.’
‘So what will happen?’ Sophie asked.
‘He won’t be leaving any time soon. Absence, delay and separation, putting things on hold for logical reasons… It could be three years.’
‘Well, I am not waiting!’ Sophie raised her voice. ‘It’s not fair. How can he be so weak? She’s just a convenience and he thinks I’m prepared to be his bestie without benefits.’
Someone coughed from over the next-door fence.
‘Sophie,’ Claudia said, ‘please keep your voice down and do stop airing your dirty laundry in my back garden.’
‘Dirty laundry in my back garden. Funny, funny pun.’
Sophie shook her head and giggled… and then she cried and wailed like an air-raid siren until the new neighbour, a literary sort in a Panama hat, popped his head above the fence and said, ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I’m trying to write and it’s very hard to concentrate with all the noise.’
‘No, no, it’s we who should apologise,’ Claudia replied. ‘We’re just going inside.’
Sophie’s eyes lit up, despite the rivulets of black mascara running down her cheeks.
‘Are you writing a book?’ she said, all cocktail-party chatty. ‘What’s it about? You look academic. Let me guess. Is it hysterical?’ She gripped the arms of the wicker chair and, rocking back and forth, levered herself to her feet.
‘I mean historical… silly me!’ She teetered towards the fence. ‘Mind you, it could be a funny book, couldn’t it?’
He was a handsome man in a writerly sort of way. An intelligent, refined face with defined features and a smooth jawline.
Sophie wondered if he was single and, tilting her chin just a little, gave him a coquettish smile, half shy, half come-hither.
‘You got it right first time. I am a historian.’ He looked at this divine woman who, even in a dishevelled state, her white linen dress creased, her messy hair and sweaty face – a damsel in distress – appealed to his chivalry.
But just as he was ready to progress the tête-à-tête, a woman shouted from the window.
‘Claude, shall we eat alfresco?’
‘Oh.’ Sophie sighed. ‘Claude! What a lovely name and of course that must be Mrs Claude?’
‘Well…’
‘Well yes,’ Sophie said. ‘The world is full of married men.’ She blew him a kiss and turned away.
Claudia took her by the arm and guided her back through the French doors. ‘Please, Sophie, pull yourself together. How much did you drink before you came?’
‘Just enough to give me courage. Because, Claudia, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good news. And the Empress proved it. Because that’s not me, it’s her. What a shame. Can I pull another card?’
Claudia handed her a glass of water.
‘Sophie, stop trying to change the outcome!’