Shattering Settled Thoughts
Laura watched Neville leave, taking Megan along with him. His daughter would be dropped off at Ambleside, the care home where she was gaining some work experience in the long summer vacation, and he would then go on to the chinaware factory that took up so much of his time. Neville had said that he would be back by 'about one'. The weekend was two days ago and her mind had been eased by the routines that they had all settled into.
Megan and Josh had met her two weeks ago, and a fractious first meeting had been lived through. She understood, only too well, the effects that divorce had on a family, her consultancy, Unity, having to deal with such cases only too often.
She waited until the car was out of sight before going downstairs, clutching the blouse she had chosen to wear that day with cropped jeans and some flats; a few beads and a valued chunky bracelet would set it all off.
She'd have the place all to herself, for most of the morning and she would deal with business emails and phone calls. She wore Nev's thin dressing gown and had seen his eyes wander over her, how the thin fabric clung to her skin. It was 'a turn-on' to see her wearing it he had confessed before leaving her.
She loved to hear his compliments; she also loved the soft feel of the silk on her skin.
Josh was about somewhere, at work in his study bedroom or still in bed. He had been heard coming in late during the night, the sound of his scooter's exhaust echoing off the walls of the courtyard below the window of the bedroom that she shared with Neville.
'Safe,' was all she heard Neville say before he fell asleep against her. The sound had reassured him. Their touches, their slow and devoted loving of each other during the night, had made her sleep well. Her man could reach her so deeply.
But, she remained conflicted by her relationship with Megan, more especially with Josh.
She would find herself thinking of the father, and then the son, of the tall and well-built young man, the eighteen-year-old who was so vigorous in his movements; his neatly cropped sandy-brown hair showing him to be on trend and not threatening. You felt obliged to take a closer look at him, at his sleek face already darkened by the hint of a beard, the line of a moustache evident above his full lips that could so easily, and surprisingly, break into a captivating smile.
She had even chosen to ask it of him, a day or so ago, as she sensed his tacit acceptance of her presence in the house now and that he was being easier on himself and others around him.
'I'm at home and not kept away miles from the place I ought to be in,' he had even confessed. He had hated being at boarding school but that time was now over and he was deciding on what to do. Full-time study was not for him.
It had been something she chose to keep to herself, unsure what Neville would make of that admission, of what went down in Josh's world away from the family home. But, Neville was sensitive to his children's needs, so perhaps he knew of this already but had chosen not to speak of it with her.
She had taken it all in, what Josh said and how she would often find him looking at her. She thought a younger Neville had also been seen, perhaps from a time when he too had played the belligerence card or had taken a rebellious turn just to announce who he was and to show a 'devil may care' attitude to his peers.
Josh was also so very like Neville in his arty ways. He was often to be seen drawing and scribbling or scrabbling for some colouring implement, or felt-tip pen, in a large box where the palette seemed endless, the contents near to overflowing.
She saw the young man's ebullience in the colours that he chose, in the wide sweeps of the brush or tip of some implement that gave colour, context and content. He drew smiling faces, or wild-eyed and gaunt features dredged up from his imagination. Some images lacked any sign of trust or were devoid of all emotion. It had soon become apparent that a picture was a commentary on the people that he met, liked or disapproved of. It might also reflect his arrogant streak and vanity.
A sensitive, even passionate soul was also to be seen, both in his ways about the house with Neville and with her. It was also to be seen in his work. She had lingered on Josh's drawings of his parents, framed pictures on the landing by the bedroom she often shared with Neville. Many others, he had told her, proudly, were in his art books or pads. Others, of varied faces, even hung on the walls of his room. They were both finished and unfinished and were to be seen as works in progress and never to be shown. They were to be thought of as waymarks in perfecting his skills.
'No, there aren't any of my girlfriends,' he had told her. 'They're here and then they're gone. They don't quite capture the eye...not even Leanne whom you've met.'
Not for the first time, she'd met his appraising look upon her when he had said that.
The young man may even be flirting with her and she'd felt mildly flattered, fanciful as the whole idea was. It may all have been an act, a diversion from the reality of his true character. But the young man appeared to be the sensitive sort, even in need of another's reassurance or acceptance of him and his ways.
He was not given to flares of temper and hot words; they seemed to be the province of Megan, an unpredictable young woman, but what did she know after such a short acquaintance? What Josh put down on paper, and often in colour, Megan spat out in choice words. She was taking Neville's divorce badly and she had learned that it was a case of divided loyalties or whom to entrust with your emotions.
As she began to iron, she hummed and thought of it all, the world of other people that she had entered on account of Neville. She ironed somewhat distractedly and knew that an engaging young man was somewhere in the house, while Neville was away dealing with his artwork and preparing moulds of a sculpted piece at Anderson's factory in Stoke.
'Hi...so you're in here.' She had been lost in thought and was startled to hear a voice speak so loudly. 'I heard you humming.'
Laura turned to look his way and met Josh's smile and his appraising glance upon her. It again showed overt interest in her. It also hinted at a renewed confusion in his mind.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the oval mirror that hung over the redundant stove in what had once been a parlour but now served as a utility room. The sunlight streaming through the window made her long, unfastened hair glisten as she turned to look at him.
Neville's silk bathrobe was tightly fastened at her waist and it accentuated the press of her breasts against the fabric. Its hem was just above her knees so he would have seen her slender legs and that she stood barefoot before him, neatly painted red on her toenails as on her fingernails. Her hair did look a mess but she sensed that he did not notice that, at all.
She suppressed a sigh. This could get complicated. It was only too easy to look his way and more difficult to understand the sudden flush of longing that she now felt on seeing him and knowing that they were alone in the house. The young man's reputation with girls was something that Neville had spoken of and in some exasperation.
'Hi...so you're up."'
'Sorry, if I startled you,' he smiled. Josh leant casually against the door frame, his reticence all but gone. 'Dad's out, I suppose?'
'Yes, Josh, he is. How long have you been standing there?'
'It's only been a few moments. Why, Laura, is it a problem?'
'Never mind...'
She resumed her ironing but wondered about him; turning occasionally to look his way. Josh continued to lounge, with one hand in his pocket and evidently at ease; his bulk seemed to fill the space. He exuded confidence now in what he was doing.
'I don't mind you being here, you know?' he soon told her.
Laura smiled.
I've gathered that, Laura thought, and she saw his eyes narrow as if he'd taken in something new about her. Perhaps it was the way that she moved or the slip of the silk over her skin. As her tan faded the freckles on her breastbone, to the bridge of her nose and her arms, became more pronounced. The effects of the Barbados sun on her auburn hair, the sun-bleached strands, that she was so pleased with, would remain a while longer.
She had become the centre of his attention; where was she to go with that?
