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‘My brother has more in common with his livestock than he has with me,’ her father had once commented witheringly to her after a particularly sharp exchange between the two men. There would be jokes and party games at the farm, but Dee knew that she would not be able to throw herself into it as unselfconsciously as she would have liked because she’d be conscious of the fact that her father could not do so.
The best bit of Christmas for her had always been the quiet shared hours she and her father spent alone together: the ritual attendance at church, the early-morning rising, the excitement as a child of her stocking, the comfort of the traditional cooked breakfast after their return from church, followed by the thrill of opening her proper presents. These days the present bit of Christmas was, of course, not quite so exciting, but she still enjoyed their small traditions.
Her father was a keen swimmer. As a young man he had swum for the county, and this year Dee had been thrilled to find a book in Lexminster by one of his boyhood heros, a little-known Channel swimmer, which she knew he would be delighted to have. He also had a weakness for Turkish delight, which she had also bought him, and she had saved hard for an antique snuff box to add to his extensive collection.
He would, she knew, give her a small parcel of shares—a gift and a test, for she was free to do what she wished with them, either keep them or sell them. All she had to do was use her own judgement to decide. The shares would be in unfamiliar companies: Australian mines, South American crops. Last year she had been spectacularly successful in her decision. The shares she had kept had increased their value two hundredfold. She would be hard put to it to better that this year.
She missed Hugo, as she had known she would. After all, they had been seeing each other every day, and she was so very, very much in love with him—and he with her. What she hadn’t expected or been totally prepared for was the way his absence manifested itself in an actual physical ache of longing for him.
Her father guessed that something was wrong, and Dee could hear the curt note of disapproval in his voice as he demanded to know, ‘What’s wrong with you, Dee? I hope you haven’t done anything foolish and got involved with some student...’
Hugo isn’t ‘some student,’ Daddy, Dee wanted to protest, but something stopped her, warning her that her father wasn’t quite ready yet to admit another man into her life or her heart. In the last few weeks she had become far more aware of the vulnerability of the male ego. After all, Hugo could, at times, display an unexpected vein of jealousy against her father which both touched and amused her, making her feel so protectively tender towards them both that it made her heart ache.
‘He’s my father and you’re my...you’re mine,’ she had whispered reassuringly to him as she’d lain in his arms.
They had been at his flat, untidy and strewn with papers and possessions. It even smelt different from her own all-female household, Dee recognised. Although they still hadn’t actually made love in the fullest sense of the words, there was very little that Hugo did not know about her body, nor her about his. It had shocked her a little to discover how easily and thoroughly he could satisfy her and she him without that final act of penetration, but that did not mean that she did not want it.
Looking lovingly up into his eyes, she had teased the thick springy curls of his hair with her fingers. She loved the way it brushed his shoulder and her own skin when he kissed and caressed it. It felt so soft and yet so strong...so vibrant...just like him. She liked to bury her face in it and breathe in its scent, his scent. It suited him worn that length, made him look individual, gave him all the romantic appeal of a macho Renaissance warrior knight...
They did, of course, speak to one another often over the Christmas holiday, and then, three days before they had arranged that they would go back to Lexminster, Hugo rang her.
‘I can’t bear it any longer,?
?? he groaned passionately. ‘I’ve got to see you.’
‘But it’s too soon. We said next Monday, and besides, you’re in the north and—’
‘No, I’m not, I’m here...back...’
‘In Lexminster?’ Dee gasped. ‘But...’
‘You can come to me, Dee,’ he told her softly. ‘Or I can come and get you... I don’t mind which, but I can’t spend another night without seeing you.’
He could come and get her. Dee could just imagine her father’s reaction to that!
As it was it was difficult enough convincing him that she needed to return to university three days ahead of the time she had already stipulated. He was huffy and a little distant with her, and Dee knew why, even though she tried to pretend that she was not aware of his reaction. No mention was made of Hugo, and Dee cravenly hoped that there would not be...not yet...not whilst their feelings for one another were so...so overpoweringly intense. She wasn’t ready yet to let anyone else into their relationship, not even someone as close as her father.
As she drove away from him, for the first time in her life Dee knew that she was actually happy to leave her father behind. She loved him dearly, of course she did, but now there was a new male focus in her life; now she was ready to step from girlhood into womanhood, from the protection of her father’s arms to the excitement of Hugo’s. She had rung him to tell him that she was leaving and he was waiting for her when she arrived.
‘Don’t get out of the car,’ he told her as he hurried down the stone steps leading to her house, where he had been sheltering from the driving rain.
‘Don’t get out? But I thought you wanted...’
‘Oh, I do, I do,’ he assured her wickedly, with a sabre-toothed male smile. ‘But not here...’
‘Not here? But...’
‘I want this to be special...very, very special,’ he told her huskily, and then he urged her, ‘I’ll drive you...’
‘No, I’ll drive,’ Dee told him firmly. ‘Where are we going?’
When he told her she gasped.
‘You’ve booked us a room at the De Villiers Hotel—but, Hugo, that will cost a fortune.’
‘No, not a room,’ he contradicted her.
Dee looked at him. She knew his zany sense of humour by now.
