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‘I think it’s too late for that,’ said Rafe, rising polit
ely to his feet as a stocky grey-haired woman in a baggy beige suit marched into the room, followed by a slender, bird-like woman in a wheelchair, whose thin face lit up at the sight of the hovering man.
‘Rafe! How wonderful that you could come! Oh, Jenny darling, why didn’t you tell me—or did he surprise you, too?’ Paula Scott didn’t seem to notice Rafe’s dazed expression as she coasted forward to hold out her delicate hands. ‘Oh, come down here, you wonderful man, and give me a kiss. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to meet my daughter’s husband at long last—I was beginning to think you didn’t exist!’
CHAPTER THREE
JENNIFER sat tensely upright on the soft couch, balancing her cup of tea on her lap while Raphael sprawled comfortably beside her, his jacket discarded, his long legs tucked under the coffee table and his arm extended along the back of the couch so that his fingers could idly play amongst the tousled waves at the nape of her stiff neck.
‘Yes, I flew into Auckland yesterday, shortly before they closed the airport because of the spreading volcanic smog,’ he was telling her mother. ‘I had been going to catch a connecting flight here, but when the airline said it had no idea when any of the local airports might be reopened I decided to hire a car and drive down. And I’m glad I did—it gave me a chance to see something of your wonderful countryside.’
He was certainly turning on the friendly charm, thought Jennifer sourly, brushing at the faint damp patches which still lingered on her trousers.
After being briefly disconcerted by Paula Scott’s words of welcome, Rafe had quickly summed up the situation and deftly turned the scenario to his advantage. And her mother had fallen for him like a ton of bricks, leaning forward in her wheelchair, her blue eyes sparkling with animation, as Rafe described his drive and his dramatic first view of the rumbling mountain with its ash column rising thousands of feet in the air, casually comparing it with some of the world’s other active volcanoes which he had witnessed in action.
Even Aunty Dot, an eccentric elderly spinster who generally treated all males with brusque impatience—being of the opinion that there were no ‘real men’ left in the world—was looking at him with grudging interest. An amateur naturalist and inveterate shoestring traveller, Dot was a semi-permanent resident of Beech House, living there between her long trips abroad, and anyone who brought news of fresh vistas for her to explore would be welcome grist to her mill.
‘Well, thank goodness you came when you did! That was what I wanted to tell you when I came in, Jenny,’ said Paula excitedly. ‘We just heard on the car radio that they’ve upgraded the volcano alert level to three. That’s on a scale of five, and it means they’re classing it as a hazardous local eruption,’ she explained in an aside to Rafe, before switching her attention back to her daughter.
‘They’ve closed the mountain completely, and with the ash cloud blowing this way they’re issuing a general warning for residents not to go outside without masks and to stay off the roads unless absolutely essential. Driving conditions are awful on the main road already, aren’t they, Dot? We had to crawl along and the headlights didn’t seem to help at all. Did you feel that earth tremor just as we arrived? That must have been another massive ash blast going up!’
Earth tremor? Taking a sip of her untasted tea, Jennifer instinctively glanced at Raphael and found him looking back, a knowing quirk at the corner of his mouth. He knew that neither of them had been aware of any external shocks. She remembered that moment of shattering temptation. A volcano had been erupting outside her window and she had still assumed it was Rafe who had made her world shudder!
Her cup rattled in her saucer as she replaced it with a trembling hand.
‘Careful, darling,’ said Rafe, leaning over to still the teetering crockery. He had already drunk half of his own tea, and eaten two of her mother’s feather-light scones while inveigling his way into her good graces.
Jennifer’s eyes told him she would like to dump the contents of her cup over his head. She wasn’t fooled by his amiable air of relaxation. He knew now why Susie had made her apparently inexplicable mistake and had accepted his assigned role as her husband purely for some nefarious purpose of his own as smoothly as if he had planned it for himself.
He was relishing seeing her hoist by her own petard, knowing that he now had her precisely where he wanted her—totally at his mercy. One word and the whole elaborate charade she had created to protect her sweet, unworldly mother would come tumbling down.
If she had been the crying type she would have burst into tears. But then she doubted that even a Niagara of tears would soften Rafe’s cynically hardened heart.
‘I’ve got it, darling,’ she responded through her beaming teeth.
‘It’s so lovely to see you two together,’ her mother sighed, getting back on the subject that her daughter had spent the last fraught fifteen minutes trying to obscure with meaningless small talk. ‘Poor Jenny has been missing you so dreadfully since she got home; she could hardly bear to talk about you—I had to base most of my impressions of you on her letters and phone calls before your marriage, and your photograph—so I hope you won’t mind if I’m rudely inquisitive.’
‘Of course not, Paula. If you don’t mind the reverse.’ Rafe’s hand massaged Jenny’s neck under her veil of hair, a possessive, lover-like caress that didn’t go unnoticed by the two older women. ‘Jenny and I didn’t seem to talk about anything other than ourselves when we were together. I just hope that photo was a flattering one...’ He trailed off invitingly.
As anticipated, Paula Scott glided innocently into the trap. ‘How could it not be? Having been so often in front of the camera when you were a model, I suppose it’s second nature to show it your best side—not to say your other sides haven’t turned out to be very attractive too,’ she added, looking him over with a twinkle. ‘Actually, it was your wedding photo.’
Rafe stiffened slightly, although his voice remained casually amused. ‘Oh? Which one was that?’
Jennifer considered herself lucky he hadn’t asked which wedding...
‘Would you like to see?’ Paula bent and felt in the tray under the seat of her wheelchair, pulling out her handbag. Her long battle against the debilitating effects of a back injury might have worn her frame thin, but not her valiant spirit. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Jenny—’ she smiled a trifle guiltily, her gamine grin making her look more like a girl than a fifty-five-year-old woman ‘—but I had a copy taken off for my wallet A mother has to have something to boast over!’
‘Of course I’d love to see it,’ said Rafe, with a gentle courtesy that Jennifer would have appreciated if she hadn’t known he was merely sucking up for more information.
‘I’m sure Rafe isn’t really interested—’
‘Oh, let him speak for himself, girl,’ Dot chipped in, creaking heavily in her chair as she scooped another scone off the plate. ‘The man has a mind of his own, doesn’t he? Maybe after three months apart he needs to remind himself that he’s married. I notice you don’t wear a wedding ring, young man.’
Jennifer nervously fingered the heavy gold band on her left hand. ‘Aunty Dot—’
‘I don’t believe in them, Mrs Grey,’ said Rafe without turning a hair.
Dot’s deep voice broke on a crack of laughter. ‘Neither do I, sonny, neither do I. Never could abide a man wearing jewellery. Namby-pamby, I call it. And you may as well call me Dot, seeing as we’re as near as dammit related. Jenny calls me Aunty, but I’m really just an old friend of the family.’
