A Wedding Worth Waiting For

Suddenly she became aware of his faultlessly cut trousers, shirt and tie—and her own grubby appearance. Then Farne was there, standing looking at her, his glance going from the bunches she had made of her hair, over the fine bone structure of her face, and down to her dirt-fingered tee shirt, baggy kneed trousers, and ending at her worn and soiled plimsolls. Karrie, left blushing furiously, was absolutely certain that she couldn’t have looked more scruffy if she’d tried!

‘Caught me looking my best again!’ she attempted, wanting the ground to open up and swallow her.

‘I didn’t think women did that any more,’ he remarked teasingly about her blush, his blue eyes now holding her brown ones.

Trust him to notice! He smiled, and her knees felt as saggy as her trousers at his smile. ‘I only do it when there’s an “R” in the month,’ she managed to trot out lightly—regardless that it was July.

His glance went down to her upward-curving mouth. ‘I’m on my way to lunch at The Feathers,’ he informed her, mentioning a smart hotel nearby. ‘I was passing when I thought I’d stop and ask if you’d join me?’

Like a shot! Her heart went all fluttery. She wasn’t going to have to wait to see him! She wasn’t going to have to wait and hope he would phone! This was happening now! ‘My mother will hate me!’ Her prevarication was no prevarication at all. No way was she going to deny herself this opportunity of a few hours of his company. ‘I’ll let you be the one to tell her she’s peeled too many potatoes while I go and get cleaned up.’

Taking Farne indoors, she left him talking with her mother while she went sedately up the stairs—and then positively flew around getting ready.

Fifteen minutes later, wearing a dress of a delicate nasturtium colour, Karrie—just as sedately—returned down the stairs and went into the drawing room. Farne got to his feet. ‘Hope I didn’t keep you too long,’ she smiled, having completed the quickest scrub-up and change on record. He made no answer—but his glance was appreciative.

‘I’ll see you when I see you,’ Margery Dalton said, knowing full well that her daughter had an appointment elsewhere for tea.

Karrie had been to The Feathers Hotel quite a few times before. But this time, lunching with Farne, everything seemed so much better, brighter—magical.

Again she enjoyed his company. He was amusing, charming, attentive—and gave every appearance of seeming to enjoy being with her as much as she enjoyed being with him. Oh, she did so hope it was true, that it wasn’t all part and parcel of his natural charm—and that he wasn’t like this with everybody. In short—she wanted to be special to him.

After lunch she excused herself and went to the ladies’ room to freshen up and to give herself something of a talking to. For goodness’ sake—special to him! They hadn’t known each other a week! She had been out with him twice. Twice—that was all—and she wanted him to regard her as someone special in his life!

Grief—he was a man about town. He could have his pick of just about anybody. What was so special about her? Karrie just then had a blindingly clear—and unwanted—mental picture of standing in front of Farne, her hair pulled back in two rubber bands, dirt everywhere—and also a picture of the polished and elegant women she was sure he more normally went out with. Special—get real!

Pinning a smile on her face, she left the ladies’ room to join him. They went out to the hotel’s car park and, striving hard not to think that the drive to her home would take only about twenty minutes—less than that if Farne happened to put his foot down on the accelerator—Karrie got into the passenger seat.

More joy was hers, however, when Farne forgot to turn left at a road junction. ‘You’ve missed the turn,’ she felt honour-bound to point out.

‘I thought we might go and take a look at the river,’ he replied. Her heart rejoiced. ‘That is, unless you’re desperate to get back?’

She was desperate to stay exactly where she was, with him. ‘It’s very pleasant down by the river,’ she answered, desperate not to be pushy, but having a hard time not grabbing at every opportunity to be in his company.

In no time they were in open countryside. When Farne pulled over by a footbridge and asked, ‘Fancy a stroll around?’ she thought it a splendid idea.

They walked over the bridge, and, keeping by the water’s edge, across a couple of fields. And it was in one particularly grassy area that Farne commented, ‘If we’d had a car rug we could sit down.’

‘You city boys are too sissy for words,’ Karrie, scorned, and was seated on the grass before it dawned on her that was exactly what Farne had intended she should do. ‘You’re too smart for me!’ she accused, but he only grinned and joined her. For the next hour they seemed to amicably fall into a discussion on any subject that happened to crop up. Music, books, ski-ing. She didn’t know how ski-ing had got in there, but it had; everything was just so relaxed and easy between them, somehow.

They both seemed to have gone from sitting to resting, lying on their elbows as they watched a couple of swans majestically glide by, when suddenly Karrie became aware that Farne was not watching the birds. He had turned and was looking at her.

‘You’re very lovely,’ he murmured quietly—and all at once her heart was rushing like an express train. There was something in his look, something in the very air that seemed to tell her that Farne wanted to kiss her. Well, that was all right by her, she wanted to kiss him too.

His head came nearer. He looked deep into her eyes, giving her every opportunity to back away. She smiled a gentle smile—and he needed no further encouragement.

Gently he took her into his arms, moving her unresisting form until they were lying together on the grass. Unhurriedly, his lips met hers in a lingering tender kiss, and it was the most wonderful experience she had ever known. Never had she known such tenderness, and, as her heart started to pound, Karrie knew that Farne Maitland was the love of her life. She was no longer falling in love with him. She did love him, was in love with him, and nothing was ever going to change that.

When their kiss ended Karrie was left struggling to make sense of what had happened to her. She moved a little way away from him, not how she wanted to move at all, but some instinct was taking over from the sudden confusion she found herself in. All she was clear about was that this would be the last she would see of Farne if he gained so much as a glimpse of her feelings for him.

She sat up, hugging her arms around her knees, as she tried with all she had to recover from his wonderful kiss—and the certain knowledge of what was in her heart.

‘What’s wrong, Karrie?’ Oh, heavens—gauche, did she say? He was so quick, able to spot a mile off that something was bothering her. Yet she couldn’t find an answer to give him. ‘I’ve offended you?’ he asked, his tone quiet, concerned.

She shook her head. I...” she said, but couldn’t bear that he should think she found his kiss offensive. ‘To be honest,’ she began, ‘that ranks as one of the nicest kisses I’ve known.’

She was aware that Farne was sitting up too. Then she felt his hand come to her face, and gently he turned her so he could see into her eyes. The concern in his voice was reflected in his eyes, though there was a twinkle there too as he asked politely, ‘Perhaps you’d care for another?’

Laughter bubbled up inside her. ‘Thank you very much all the same,’ she answered prettily, ‘but I shall be having my tea soon.’ She saw his mouth start to tweak up at the corners, and stared for a moment or two in total fascination. Then suddenly that word ‘tea’ started to get through to her, and, ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed.

‘Oh?’ Farne queried.

‘I’ve got to go home,’ Karrie said quickly. ‘Travis is expecting...’

‘Who the hell’s Travis?’

Karrie blinked. What had happened to his concern, that twinkling in Farne’s eyes? All there was now was out-and-out aggression! But she loved him too much to be able to contemplate quarrelling with him.

‘Our first row!’ she mocked, feeling wretched and anxious, but determined to laugh him out of whatever was bugging him.

He did look a shade amused, she was glad to see, but, albeit with his aggressiveness under control, he still wanted to know, ‘So who’s Travis?’

Karrie stared at him. Farne knew she was an only child, and had no brother, so he must realise that Travis was either a cousin or man-friend. Surely he wasn’t angry that she had a male friend! Her mouth went dry at the thought that Farne might be just the tiniest bit—jealous. Oh, for goodness’ sake—as if! Still, all the same she wanted only ever to be as open and honest with Farne as he was with her.

‘My date—last night. The one I broke to go out with you was with Travis.’

‘You’re seeing him this evening?’

Dearly did she want to explain that Travis was just a friend and nothing more than that. But this newly awakened love she felt for Farne made her sensitive to everything. To explain anything of the sort might make Farne think she saw her friendship with him as more important than just two dates should signify.

‘I—promised,’ she said.

‘Did you tell him why you were breaking your date?’ he questioned, his expression unsmiling.

Karrie wanted him happy again. She remembered Travis saying something when she’d phoned him yesterday about being passed over for something better, and smilingly asked Farne, ‘You think I should have told him I’d had a better offer?’

Farne’s glance went to her upward-curving mouth. ‘You’ve charm enough for a man to forgive you anything,’ he commented. And Karrie thought he was going to kiss her again.

She wanted him to kiss her again. But this newly found love was making a nonsense of her. Abruptly, she stood up. Farne followed suit, making no attempt to touch her, or to dissuade her from keeping her promise to Travis. She wished she hadn’t got to her feet, because she knew now that this wonderful interlude with Farne was over. And it was.

Back at her home, he got out of the car and stood on the drive with her for a minute or so. Karrie wanted to invite him in, to prolong this wonderful time in his company. But she’d noted that his car keys were still in the ignition. Quite obviously he wanted to be away.

‘Thank you for rescuing me from the weeding,’ she smiled, and without thinking went to shake hands with him. She saw his right eyebrow go aloft, and quickly put her hand behind her back—and could have groaned aloud. How was that for sophisticated?

But at least her action caused Farne’s expression to soften. ‘Charm, did I say?’ he smiled, and, leaving her to guess whether he meant she had or had not charm, he placed his hands on her upper arms and bent down and kissed her lightly on her left cheek. ‘Thanks for dropping everything to come out with me’ he said, and went to his car. Without another glance or a wave, he drove off down the drive.

Karrie felt bereft. She was unsure whether Farne truly thought she had charm. But what she was sure about was that she’d been totally crass to think for so much as a moment that Farne felt even the smallest iota of jealousy about Travis.

For such an idea to have any substance it would have to mean that Farne Maitland cared sufficiently to be jealous in the first place. And he’d just shown how much he cared, hadn’t he? He’d gone away without so much as a backward glance.

‘Thanks for dropping everything to come out with me’ he’d said. Karrie supposed that there were few women of his acquaintance who would not do likewise. Did he know that? She tried to get cross. Tried to make believe that in the unlikely event that he was passing next Sunday, and stopped by to ask if she’d like to join him, she would tell him that she couldn’t possibly. Fate gave a cruel chuckie—on two counts.

Firstly, having fallen in love with Farne—and Karrie freely owned that this ranked as the most idiotic thing she had done to date—she could not see her denying herself any chance of spending some time with him, if chances there were.

Secondly, there would be no chance. She had been out with him twice—today only because he was passing. Somehow, bearing in mind the way he had departed just now, she had a very strong feeling that there would not be a third time.

CHAPTER THREE

KARRIE dressed with care to go to work on Monday. Much good did it do her. She had not truly expected Farne to walk past her desk on one of his rare visits—so why should she feel such a dreadful ache of disappointment when five o’clock came and she had not so much as seen a glimpse of him?

She drove home, giving herself much the same pep talk that she had given herself yesterday after Farne had gone. She was not going to see him again, and that was the end of it. He might, possibly might, walk by her desk in three months or so’s time—did that mean that her nerves were going to act up, as they had today, every time so much as a shadow, a footstep, was seen or heard near her desk?

Where was her pride? She was in love—she had none. She had tried, really tried, to convince herself that she could not be in love—why, she barely knew him! But it made no difference.

‘Had a good day?’ her mother asked when she arrived home.

‘The work gets more and more interesting,’ Karrie answered.

‘Going out tonight?’

Had her mother expected that Farne Maitland would telephone her at her office? Get him off your mind, do. ‘What, and miss whatever it is that smells so wonderful coming out of the kitchen?’

The phone rang; Karrie jumped. Her mother, nearest to it, went to answer it, and Karrie’s palms grew moist as she waited to hear who was calling. It was her father’s secretary.

‘Looks as though we’ll be having large helpings—your father is “unavoidably detained”. Now doesn’t that make a change!’

The telephone rang a couple of times that night, and each time Karrie suffered the same reaction. She took herself off to bed, knowing that she’d be a nervous wreck if she went on at this rate. Oh, why couldn’t she have fallen in love with someone like Travis?

Karrie went to work the next day determined that that day was going to be different. But it wasn’t. She drove home that evening feeling as wretched and fidgety, with such an aching restlessness inside her that she found it the hardest work to show her mother a smiling face.

She rang her cousin Jan that night for a chat, and wished that she could confide in her, but she couldn’t confide in her mother either. The love, the ache, was much too private. Karrie had seen nothing of Farne that day—nor did he phone that night. Not that she had expected that he would ring her.

She awoke on Wednesday, striving to stir her lost pride into action. For goodness’ sake—never before had she waited for any man’s phone call! Bubbles to him; if Darren Jackson asked her to go out with him again today, she’d jolly well go.

‘Fancy coming for a Chinese after work?’ Darren asked as soon as he saw her.

‘Sorry, Darren, I’ve got something on tonight,’ Karrie replied—well, perhaps if he asked her again tomorrow, she excused the pathetic mess Farne Maitland had made of her. The truth was she just didn’t want to go out with anyone but Farne.

She threw herself into her work, and in part succeeded, sometimes for seconds at a time, in wiping Farne from her thoughts. Then, at around half past ten—time never used to drag like this—a shadow fell across her desk. She looked up—and was hard put to it not to leap out of her seat with joy.

‘How’s my best girl?’ Farne enquired with charm that sank her.

Her heart at once went into overdrive. ‘You’re only saying that ’cos it’s true,’ she replied, every bit as if she hadn’t ate, dreamt and slept Farne Maitland since last Sunday.

He grinned and went on his way—and Karrie casually left her desk and headed for the ladies’ room. Her hands were shaking so much she wasn’t going to accomplish very much work anyway.

She washed her hands and dried them, and checked her appearance in the mirror, never more glad that, clad in a crisp linen two-piece, outwardly at least, she looked perfectly composed.

Karrie had been in the ladies’ room getting herself together for about five minutes when the panicky notion dawned on her that Farne’s visit to Mr Lane might only be a fleeting one!

Suddenly it seemed of vital importance that she saw him again. She needn’t talk to him—what was there to say? She just wanted to see him one more time.

She went quickly, only just managing not to run. But she was right to hurry she saw as soon as she entered the over-large area where she worked. Because Farne, having already completed his business, had left Mr Lane’s office and was even then walking in the aisle between the rows of desks.

Karrie, continued walking towards him, though not so hurriedly now. Knowing they would pass, she had a pleasant ‘Bye’ ready, then found that it was not needed. For he halted in front of her and she had no thought to move out of his way. She stopped too. Her feet were taking her nowhere for the moment.

As he looked down, so she looked up, but had time only to marvel that that oh, so superb mouth had actually kissed hers, had given her that most wonderful tender kiss on Sunday, before Farne, a smile somewhere deep in his eyes, casually enquired, ‘Coming out for a coffee?’

Yes, yes, yes. ‘I’m working,’ she answered. Sack me, fire me. I don’t care. I just want to go with him.

‘Then it will have to be coffee tonight—after dinner,’ he stated.

He wanted to take her out! She felt sure her feet had sprouted wings—she felt as if she was floating on air. ‘You drive a hard bargain,’ she accepted, but was suddenly aware that she couldn’t hear the clatter of nearby computer keyboards. They, she realised, had an audience.

Farne seemed suddenly aware too, for he made no attempt to delay her further when she side-stepped him and continued on to her desk. Before she had taken her seat, however, she was already starting to wonder—did she really have a date with Farne that night, or had she misconstrued his remark?

But apparently several of her work colleagues were of the opinion that she and Farne were having dinner together that night, because no sooner had the door at the far end closed than chairs were being scooted up to her desk.

‘You’re dating Farne Maitland!’ Lucy exclaimed in awe.

Karrie had kept to herself the fact that she had seen Farne last Saturday and Sunday. ‘Am I?’ she asked—still not very sure about tonight.

‘That was a definite date if ever I heard one!’ Heather opined.

Fortunately, at that point Mr Lane wandered into their office, and, as quickly as a bomb-burst, four chairs—Jenny was back at work—scooted away.

Karrie drove home at the end of her work day, striving to caution herself that Farne could have just been teasing.

She would get ready—just in case he called for her—but she wouldn’t be too upset if the doorbell stayed silent. Well, not desperately upset.

‘It’s just you and me tonight,’ her mother said when she got in. ‘Your workaholic father’s too busy to come home!’

Her mother, Karrie felt, was starting to sound more and more bitter by the day. ‘Actually, Mum, I’m not wanting a meal either tonight. I...’

‘You’re starting to get just like him!’ Margery Dalton complained. ‘Meals cooked and not wanted.’

‘I’m sorry. I...’

‘It never occurred to you to pick up a phone, I suppose? ’

Karrie felt dreadful. ‘I should have done. I’m sorry,’ she apologised again. With her mother in sour mood, now did not seem the right time to explain that she hadn’t phoned because she wasn’t terribly certain that she would be eating out. It was only now, with her possible date with Farne looming closer, that she realised that she wasn’t the least bit hungry, and that, in or out, she didn’t think she could eat a morsel.

She went up to her room to shower and get ready for what might be a night in, and found that on top of her anxiety she was feeling all upset at having been taken to task by her mother, who had accused her of starting to get just like her father.

She didn’t want to be like her thoughtless father. She loved him, of course she did, but sometimes she did not like him very much. Karrie didn’t like the way he treated her mother, nor the fact that, because experience had shown that she only made matters worse, she could not do anything to put things right between her parents.

Karrie was out of the shower and blow drying her hair when it came to her that she didn’t want to be like her mother either. Her mother was so embittered. Yet Karrie was positive she hadn’t started out that way. Her marriage to Bernard Dalton had done that to her. And, while Karrie felt so sad about that, she felt she could not bear it if one day she woke up and found that she had grown into the same kind of person her mother had become.

But Karrie shrugged her sadness and fear away. Hang it all, there was no earthly reason why she should be embittered. She gave a hurried glance at her watch and, since she wanted to be ready by seven—just in case—realised she’d better get a move on. Besides, what had she got to be bitter about? With any luck, the man she was in love with would be calling for her soon.

Karrie was ready with five minutes to spare. She used those five minutes to watch for Farne’s car turning into the drive. She felt so churned up inside she could barely stand still because of the high tension of her emotions.

He won’t come, he won’t, she told herself, striving for calm—and then she saw his car in the drive, and almost burst into tears from the strain of it. But she didn’t, and flew down the stairs on winged feet.

Her mother was on the telephone, but broke off. To Karrie’s relief she saw they were friends again when her mother smiled. ‘Farne’s here—I’m just off,’ Karrie told her.

‘Have a good time!’ Margery Dalton bade her.

The doorbell sounded. Karrie managed to wait five seconds before she went to the door. ‘My mother’s on the phone,’ she smiled, by way of explaining why she wasn’t inviting him in, her heart fit to burst with her joy at seeing him again.

‘Then we’ll go, shall we?’

It did not require an answer, and Karrie thrilled to his touch as he placed a hand under her elbow and they went over to his car.

‘Busy?’ she enquired as they drove along, feeling suddenly tongue-tied.

He took his attention off his driving for a brief moment so he could look at her. ‘Doing my stint,’ he agreed pleasantly. ‘How about you?’

‘I manage to keep occupied,’ she murmured of her extremely active section. But she didn’t want to talk about her; she wanted to know more about Farne. ‘I don’t suppose you’re at board meetings every day?’ she enquired.

‘You suppose correctly,’ he answered. ‘Though, prior to my attending a meeting in Milan on Friday, there’s a board meeting tomorrow.’

He was going to Italy! Karrie pushed panic down. She’d never used to be like this. Until she had fallen in love she’d have said she didn’t have a panicky bone in her body. Yet here she was fretting that because he was off to Italy—giving no mention of when he was coming back—it could be an age before she saw him again! Not, of course, that she had any guarantee that he would want to see her again after tonight.

Somehow or other she managed to keep up a light conversation with him until they reached the restaurant where they were to dine.

It was another splendid establishment, the menu looking most appetising. Although by then Karrie was so in love with Farne she would have been equally happy to eat eggs on toast in the humblest of eating-places. She had thought she couldn’t eat a thing—but suddenly her appetite was back.

‘So...’ Farne began, in between the lobster bisque and the mouth-watering main course, ‘tell me about Travis.’

‘Travis! She stared at him in astonishment. Travis was a dear, a love, but there was no place for him in her thoughts tonight. ‘You want to know about Travis?’