Chapter Five
Jo pulled a wrap around her shoulders as she opened the conservatory door and stepped out.
The morning sky was mostly cloud and a chill breeze blew through the garden where a flurry of leaves whipped across the lawn, piling on the path and steps leading up to the meadow.
She wondered if Alf was out and about and hoped that he’d remember to clear the autumn debris; she didn’t want anyone slipping and could almost hear Hattie whispering, ‘Where there’s blame there’s a claim. ’
Jo was heading to creative writing. She wanted to speak to James.
It had been difficult to give him time earlier as the phones were ringing, several guests had queries and Hattie had buggered off just when she was needed.
She opened the gate to the courtyard and headed for the studios where James would be preparing for his class.
Jo wanted to catch him before the session began.
‘Hello, James,’ Jo said. She closed the door and shrugged off her wrap, laying it on a nearby chair.
‘Hi, Jo,’ James replied. He was busy placing writing equipment on a table that stood in the centre of the room. ‘Thanks for coming over.’
‘I’m sorry, it was busy at the desk and it seemed inappropriate to have a discussion with guests milling around.’
‘Yes, I understand.’ James opened the door of the stove.
‘That will be a welcome sight for your students.’
‘And a welcome sight for me.’ He thrust several logs on the glowing embers, coaxing the fire into life. ‘I love the setup here at Boomerville, it’s a credit to you.’
James remembered the hotel from the old days when he’d known it as Kirkton House.
It had been a treat to dine in the restaurant and he’d enjoyed many meals with Helen, his ex-wife.
It was her favourite venue to celebrate family birthdays and anniversaries.
When the hotel re-opened, James had jumped at the chance to tutor courses.
He’d taken early retirement from the college in Carlisle where he’d taught English and it was a refreshing challenge to work with students of more mature years.
The studio, a former stable block, was full of character and a perfect environment for creativity.
‘Have you got time for a coffee?’ James asked as Jo moved over to the fire.
‘Yes, I’d love one, thank you. It’s very fresh out there today.’ Jo held out her hands and rubbed them together as she stared into the welcoming fire.
In the small kitchen, James flicked a switch on a high-tech machine and watched steaming coffee flow into two mugs. He carried them into the studio where Jo was perched on a sofa by the stove.
‘I’m sorry about Sir Henry and Lucinda,’ Jo began. ‘I promise that I’ll have a word with them.’
‘I didn’t want to mention it. The old boy is very likeable and I’d enjoy having him in the class,’ James said, taking a sip of his drink, ‘but preferably when he’s not half-cut with Lucinda hanging drunkenly off his arm.’
‘I hope it wasn’t too disruptive?’ Jo sipped her coffee.
‘One or two students complained, which is why I had to mention it, but on the whole most of the class seemed to enjoy the show.’ James smiled. ‘They make quite a double act.’
‘Don’t they just,’ Jo agreed. ‘I’ve known him for years. Sir Henry was a guest in days gone by when the hotel was Kirkton House and I felt duty bound to accommodate him when we re-opened as Boomerville.’
‘I’m sure he’ll benefit from his time here.’
‘Hattie thinks I’m too sentimental and we’ll end up with him treating the place as a nursing home.’ Jo placed her empty mug on the hearth.
‘Hattie will have her reasons but in the meantime I’m very happy to work with him, just as long as he is sober.’
Jo glanced at her watch. ‘Look at the time, I’m holding you up and your students will be here any moment.’
‘Thanks for coming over.’ James picked up Jo’s wrap. He held the door as she draped it over her shoulders.
‘Have a lovely day,’ Jo said and with a smile was gone.
* * *
Kate ran across the courtyard just as the coach-house clock struck ten. She’d been so busy daydreaming about Andy that she’d not noticed the time and now she was late for her writing class.
Flinging the door open, Kate saw several pairs of eyes turn in her direction. ‘I’m so sorry. Am I late?’ She faltered nervously in the doorway. Her hair was a wind-swept tumble and she pushed the tangled locks behind her ears.
‘Good morning,’ James called out, ‘do come and join us, we’re just about to start.’ He felt the stiff breeze that followed Kate in and saw that it was catching at paper and pencils.
‘Oh dear, I’m so sorry,’ Kate apologised as she stared at the class, who were scrambling about to retrieve their writing tools.
But James didn’t hear her apology.
He was poleaxed and stared at the gorgeous creature who’d fallen into his class.
For a moment, time seemed to stand still and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed her at the cocktail party on Saturday.
She must have been surrounded by admirers and hidden from his sight.
He should have stayed on for dinner instead of disappearing home after drinks.
The woman was tall and curvy, with long muscular limbs and her skin peachy on a face that seemed ageless.
He was hypnotised by the changing colour of her eyes as they adjusted to the light, rimmed by thick lashes.
James felt a deep-seated emotion as his heart lurched and he watched Kate toss her hair until it fell softly to her shoulders.
He melted when she turned and her anxious eyes met his.
‘I didn’t mean to be late,’ Kate said.
‘No problem at all,’ James replied and waved an arm mechanically in the direction of the class. ‘Do join us.’
Kate closed the door and placing her bag down, found a seat. She realised that she was next to Andy and tried not to meet his eye as she felt colour flood into her cheeks, the memory of their passionate lovemaking still fresh.
James watched everyone shuffle to make space for Kate. He noted that she smiled and her cheeks were flushed when a man pulled out a chair and helped her settle in. James frowned and wondered who the man was, for the two were clearly familiar.
Kate tried hard to concentrate as she heard the tutor introduce himself. His name was James Bryne and he explained the content of the course. A single name badge sat in a box on the middle of the table. Kate reached out and pinned it to her shirt.
‘Hello, Kate,’ Andy whispered and Kate felt his hand run along her thigh.
His fingers created ripples of pleasure as they stroked the soft skin beneath her skirt and she wondered how on earth she was going to get through the session in such close proximity.
Taking a deep breath, she attempted to focus on James’ instructions.
The class were to write in longhand for the next twenty minutes, writing a memory of their favourite childhood toy. James explained that they were to let the words flow and not stop to think about the content.
The only content that Kate could summon up was X-rated and suitable for a porn magazine not a middle-aged writing class.
She closed her eyes and forced pictures of teddy bears and fluffy bunnies into her mind but images of Andy’s naked form pounding into her own submissive body soon took over.
She glanced sideways and saw that Andy was writing.
Words appeared with a flourish as he concentrated and Kate could see that he’d already covered half a page.
Grabbing a notepad and biting hard on her pencil, Kate forced herself to focus.
As everyone settled to the task, James took a seat nearby and discreetly observed.
The new set of pupils looked a mixed bunch but he knew that you could never tell at this stage.
Expect the unexpected, he told himself. James took a deep breath and tried not to stare at the woman who’d arrived late and awakened such feeling.
He squinted at her name badge and could see that she was called Kate.
A clock on the wall ticked. It was an old fuse clock, of the type found in a schoolroom, with a circular face and wooden surround and James enjoyed the sound as it methodically echoed the passing minutes.
He looked up. It was time for the class to stop writing.
James noticed that Kate was nibbling the end of a pencil and seemed lost in thought.
Sun streamed through the window and caught the sheen of her porcelain skin and he wondered what it would feel like if he reached out to stroke her cheek.
His stomach fluttered and again, he was startled by the attraction.
Kate sat back. She gripped her notepad and wished that she was hotfooting it across the courtyard, not waiting for her work to be read.
She dreaded anyone reading the nonsense that she’d written and wished that she’d been able to put something interesting together instead of a garbled memory that would be mortifying when told to others.
She heard James ask how they felt about the writing exercise and as the class joined in, Kate looked at Andy.
His replies were interesting and stimulated discussion.
Many of the women were spellbound and hung off his words.
James asked the class to share and Kate felt sick as she listened to the polite applause as each student stood and read their work to the group.
All her insecurities about writing came flooding back.
‘That’s wonderful,’ she heard James say.
‘You’ve all done well to express yourselves and it’s been enlightening. ’
Kate’s cheeks began to burn and she felt herself grow tense.
‘And finally, we’ve one more piece to share.’ James indicated that Kate stand up and as she gripped the table and forced herself to her feet, Andy reached for her chair to assist.
‘Kate,’ James said, ‘would you like to read your work from today’s lesson?’