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Just like that, Dana raged inwardly as the warm water cascaded over her a few minutes later. All her hopes and plans swept away—and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing.
* * *
‘This is good of you, my dear.’ Mr Reynolds’s kind face was anxious. ‘I know you’d rather be out with your friends, so we’re doubly grateful.
‘The children are already asleep,’ he went on. ‘They don’t usually wake up or fuss. And we won’t be staying too late at the party.’ He smiled. ‘Tomorrow’s my busy day.’
Dana smiled back, reflecting he was not to blame for the collapse of her plans.
At any other time, an evening in the Vicarage’s comfortable, shabby sitting room with a generous chunk of Mrs Reynolds’s justly famous pork pie, a bowl of home grown tomatoes and a dish of strawberries, also from the garden, waiting on a tray, might have seemed a welcome break with routine, she acknowledged with a soundless sigh. But not tonight.
‘I’m not expecting any calls,’ Mr Reynolds said as they were leaving amid more expressions of gratitude. ‘But I’ve left a note of my mobile number beside the phone just in case.’
Dana nodded. ‘Well—I’ll see you later,’ she said, knowing she lacked the nobility to hope they’d have a wonderful time.
She’d had supper and was watching an Agatha Christie repeat on television when the telephone rang.
‘The Vicarage. Good evening,’ she said, reaching for the pencil and pad.
‘Good evening,’ a familiar voice returned. ‘Am I speaking to the babysitter?’
She gasped. ‘Adam?’
‘Who else? Just to remind you we still have a date, only later than planned. I suggest the summer house. When old Reynolds brings you back, get hold of the key and I’ll meet you there, although it may be gone midnight before I can get away.’
He paused. ‘Hang on a minute. ‘His voice faded as if he’d turned away, and she thought she could hear someone else speaking in the background, then Adam again, his voice impatient. ‘Yes, OK, I’ll be right with you.’
‘Sorry about that.’ He was back with her. ‘Any chance your aunt will miss you?’
‘I’ll say goodnight to her. Tell her I have a headache.’
He laughed. ‘Just don’t use the same excuse with me, sweetheart.’ He became brisk. ‘At the summer house, leave the key on the inside and don’t open the shutters, or someone might see and wonder. Do you like champagne?’
‘I’ve never had any.’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Another first. I can hardly wait.’
Dana replaced the receiver slowly and looked at herself in the hall mirror, lips parted, eyes bright with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
Suddenly it all seemed to be moving too far and too fast, with Adam taking much more for granted than she’d expected. And she was not sure she was ready for—that.
I’ll deal with it somehow, she thought, swallowing. Because I can’t turn back now. There’s too much at stake. So, I’ll just have to keep him on a string—make him love me—commit himself.
She’d set herself a mountain to climb, but tonight she would take the first step.
* * *
She was far too early for their rendezvous, but she’d been too restless to wait at the flat. For one thing she was afraid she might chicken out. For another she was worried her aunt might return unexpectedly and find her up and dressed in the party gear she’d opted for after all.
She’d taken a spare bedspread from the linen cupboard and placed it, rolled up, in her bed which should be enough to deceive any casual glance from the doorway.
There was no moon, so it was lucky she knew the path to the summer house so well, particularly in her new sandals.
The pulsating rhythm from the disco had been replaced by something slow and dreamy, indicating the evening was nearing its end, and that people would be dancing wrapped closely together. Adam probably among them.
But then, he would be coming to her, and she must focus solely on that.
She unlocked the door and slipped inside, fitting the key into the lock as instructed. It disturbed her to discover just how dark it was with both the door and window shutters closed, but Adam would soon be with her, so there was nothing to fear.
She made her way cautiously to the sofa, kicked off her sandals and curled up in a corner against the sagging cushions.
Time passed with aching slowness. The air was still and warm, pressing down on her as heavy as a blanket in the pitch black. It was quiet too without the music from the disco, and Dana began to feel actually drowsy, having to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes open.
