The winter and early spring seemed endless, as one cold, grey, wet day gave way to the next and a constant armada of heavy, saturated clouds rolled across the landscape, delivering their unremitting message of damp misery. Eleanor, usually the picture of a calm and placid young woman, was beginning to fray at the edges and to hanker after warmth and sunshine, whilst even the very strong and self-controlled James was actively considering succumbing to her persistent, if discreet, hints that they should send Sophie to her aunt for a week and escape to the warmth of the Indian Ocean. In reality, neither of them really wanted to be parted from her, but the rising damp does, on occasions, distort one's reasoning!
As for the adored child herself, the weather had meant that her parents had been compelled to spend even more time than usual in liaising with friends in the same position, who were seeking safe and healthy outlets for the rapidly growing force fields that were confined to barracks. The cruellest aspect of all was that there had not even been any decent frosts or snowfalls!
Eleanor was sure she heard James use an extremely unparliamentary word just after the ten o'clock news one Monday evening in April, when a cluster of bright yellow smiling faces suddenly appeared on the weather map. Whether born of incredulity or sheer frustration, neither of them seemed in the least bit willing to accept this tantalising promise from a weatherman who, quite unjustifiably, had even started to earn pariah status in some of the tabloid newspapers as the constant harbinger of climatic woe! Nevertheless, on this occasion, optimism emerged the victor in the battle with cynicism and James subdued his deep misgivings and decided to take the weatherman at his word.
James folded his newspaper, rose from his old leather armchair and walked the short distance to where Eleanor was nestling comfortably on the sofa, legs tucked under her, with a book in her hand that was proving an effective antidote to the meteorological depression outside, with a matching psychological situation indoors. James knelt for a moment at her side, ran his hand slowly under her hair at the nape of her neck and stroked the soft skin very lightly and tenderly. Eleanor tried to mask the frisson she always felt when the man she adored started to push her buttons and simply carried on reading, with just the faintest of smiles on her lips.
"Eleanor," whispered James, "why don't we take a gamble and book into a quiet country hotel somewhere next weekend, whilst Sophie is away with the Brownies. We could get out for a couple of good long walks and blow the cobwebs away!"
Eleanor put her bookmark in the page, silently berating James lovingly in her mind for always choosing the best moments in the narrative to come along with his interruptions, and turned to him. She removed her glasses and rested one of the arms on her lower lip for a moment or two as she pondered. She then turned to her husband, smiled at him and said: "Do you know, James, that is a really good idea. It would be wonderful to get out into a different setting for a while and convince ourselves that things are going to get better!"
James rose, kissed Eleanor on her forehead and left the room. Eleanor heard the murmur of his deep voice from the far end of the hall, but could not tell what he was saying. Sensing that he would be back fairly soon with some news, she decided not to carry on reading for the time being and to allow the imminent dénouement in the intricate plot of the story to continue to exercise its tension on her mind.
As predicted, James soon returned, smiling very contentedly, and announced that they would be leaving on Friday for a favourite small hotel and would be enjoying a couple of days of well-earned escape and refreshment in the National Park, relishing what would, at this time of year, be the relative solitude of long, quiet valleys and moorland hills.
James almost chided himself for his cynicism the next morning, when he drew the curtains back to look out at lush greenery in rich early morning sunlight. Large drops of moisture glinted on the ivy alongside their bedroom window and a low mist hung over the lawns and the adjoining meadows, whilst the trees of the neighbouring woodland thrust their crowns ecstatically up from the murky haze into the bright early sunshine. James took a very deep breath and opened the curtains slightly, allowing the furnishings and fabrics to show off their colours and textures in a way they had not done for months.
Eleanor blinked and rubbed her eyes as James placed a cup of Darjeeling tea at her side. Then she sat up bolt upright for a moment before leaping out of bed and rushing over to the window. She stood for a few moments and drank in the sight that greeted her and she felt her spirits rise. James watched her from the bed and kept a firm grip on his reactions as he admired the lovely shape of his wife's young body through the silky semi-transparent fabric of her nightdress. His eyes embraced her beauty and admired those feminine curves that kindled such fire within him.
Eleanor turned round, smiling brightly, then her expression switched to a slightly hesitant, almost naughty girl, grin as she read her husband's mind, a skill she had mastered almost to perfection very soon after they were married. Eleanor put the tip of the first finger on her right hand over the corner of her mouth and looked at James with an innocent expression that was one of the keys that almost gave her control over her man. James decided, for the time being, to remain seated, drinking his tea and maintaining an expression, a totally misleading one, of complete composure.
Their eyes met and Eleanor walked slowly towards James, with a widening grin. James put his cup and saucer down on the bedside table and was about to stand up when the sound of young feet came noisily along the corridor outside their room and a well-learned knock was heard on the door. Eleanor and James smiled at one another and sighed. Was this why the adored child outside their door had no siblings?
The whole atmosphere in the village changed during that week, as people began to come out of hibernation and the postman was even to be heard whistling between his high speed entrance and exit along the gravel drive. Suddenly, the Spring had truly arrived and, in a remarkably short time, the ground was beginning to dry out somewhat. The lawns were fringed with the whites and shades of yellow of hundreds of daffodils and the flower beds were a cheerful, colourful sight as the late crocuses bloomed. Eleanor felt a true joie de vivre for the first time in ages and really began to look forward to the coming weekend.
Friday morning was only just organised, since Eleanor was not finding it all that easy to get into gear for the trip. In addition, she had not quite finished making the necessary preparations for Sophie. However, by early afternoon, just before she left to pick her daughter up from school, everything was finally ready and, miraculously, was completely dry after a late wash.
By four o'clock, one excited child was fed, watered and packed up, ready to join a sizeable group of her female peers for a weekend of adventure. Eleanor packed Sophie's little rucksack and case and stood for a moment to admire her smart child. The click of the digital camera recorded this momentous initiation into the life of an adventuress and within moments, the two people dearest to James's heart were well on their way to the village hall.
It was only fleeting, but a stabbing pain seared Eleanor's mind as she waved to Sophie when the coach pulled away from the kerb and set off down the road with its exuberant and extremely noisy young passengers. As Eleanor watched Sophie waving from the rear window, in the middle of a row of bright, fresh faces, an awful sense of déjà vu gripped her heart icily and, instinctively, Eleanor reached round and gently massaged one side of her shapely rear as she waved with the other hand.
The moment passed and the chill grip relaxed, then faded, but Eleanor suddenly found her mind wandering down a new track, as she recalled that evening when she had bent obediently across the bed whilst her husband had laid the cane firmly across her buttocks. A familiar sensation of butterflies returned as Eleanor climbed into the Range Rover and headed home. Deep inside her mind, embryonic ideas were forming and Eleanor felt herself drawn in such a way that she began to feel the strangest sensations.
When she reached home, James was already back and was collecting walking boots and rambling gear for the coming weekend. Eleanor parked the vehicle outside the back door and went quickly into the house and threw her arms around her husband, holding him in a grip so firm that even he was taken by surprise. Eleanor buried her head in his shoulder and felt the security of his firmly-muscled arms enfolding her. She felt safe again, very loved. Eleanor looked into James's eyes and met his gaze.
"Sophie waved to me, James, through the rear window of the coach. For a moment, I..."
James pressed a gentle finger to her lips as he realised what had happened and he held his love close to him, allowing his left hand to slip down her back and over her khaki trousers, stroking her bottom tenderly.
"That spectre left here a while ago, Eleanor. It won't take you over again, I promise."
Eleanor leaned against James's shoulder again and wiped a tear away. James was right. The awful spectre of guilt had been purged once and for all on that memorable evening.
Dinner had been something very special at the hotel and both James and Eleanor had slept deeply in the comfortable four-poster, aided by a good, but not heavy, meal, also excellent wines and a brandy to accompany it and round it off. When they awoke on the Saturday morning, the sky was absolutely cloudless and their conversation with the waiter at breakfast confirmed that it had been a glorious week, in which the ground had dried out considerably, which bode well for their walking plans.
