Free The Village Newcomers by Rebecca Shaw Page A

to answer it with his mind very much elsewhere.
     
    Standing on the doorstep was someone he knew but couldn’t quite place. She was possibly now in her early fifties, like himself, more plump than he remembered, very fair-haired, with round pink cheeks and looking remarkably like . . .
     
    ‘Peter! Good morning. You don’t change. Still that lovely youthful look.’
     
    ‘I’m sorry I don’t . . .’ Oh God! Oh! God! It was her! It couldn’t be. It was. Hell! ‘Why, it’s Suzy . . . Meadows. No, Palmer. Of course it is.’
     
    ‘Yes.’
     
    She looked intently at him, remembering every inch of his handsome compassionate face, his thick strawberry blond hair, knowing she’d done the right thing coming unexpectedly, he’d never have said yes otherwise. ‘Can I come in? The whole village will gossip if . . .’
     
    ‘Of course.’ Peter opened the door wider and invited her in. What the blazes . . . Thank God Caroline was out. And the twins. What was she thinking of coming here uninvited?
     
    ‘I knew you wouldn’t mind. Did the twins tell you I wrote?’
     
    ‘Eventually.’ Peter didn’t know whether to go in the study or invite her into the sitting room. ‘Shall I make us coffee?’
     
    ‘Yes, please. It’s been a long drive.’ Her acceptance solved the problem of where to sit. She followed him into the kitchen admiring his back view as much as she had admired him face to face. She remembered him physically so vividly, and still without a single white hair. Bless him!
     
    He suggested she sat on one of the rocking chairs Caroline always had by the Aga. He was making instant. Ground coffee was beyond him right now. His hand shook as he spooned the coffee out into the mugs. She should never have come. What was she thinking of? ‘Milk? Sugar?’
     
    ‘Both, please. I still have a sweet tooth, you know.’
     
    How could he know that after all these years? He didn’t know it when she lived in the village.
     
    He handed it to her, placing it carefully, as Caroline would have done had she been here, on the corner of the Aga, her favourite place for her morning coffee. It was no good, he’d have to ask straight out, with no beating about the bush or polite conversation for conversation’s sake. ‘Why have you come?’
     
    Suzy observed him over the rim of her mug. ‘You ask me that?’
     
    ‘Yes, I do.’
     
    For a while Suzy remained silent, sipping the coffee. It was too hot, too sweet, his abruptness too horrifying. This wasn’t the gentle Peter she’d kept close to her heart all these years when remembering their moment of heart-stopping passion.
     
    ‘Well? It’s no good coming and saying nothing, or is that the whole point of this sudden arrival? Silent accusation?’
     
    He’d become harsh and inconsiderate; this wasn’t like Peter. All these years with Caroline had obviously taken their toll. ‘The twins, are they at home?’
     
    ‘No, they are not.’ He didn’t add ‘thank God’, which he would have liked to have done.
     
    ‘Caroline?’
     
    ‘No.’
     
    ‘That’s a pity. I would have liked to see her again. I’ve chosen the wrong morning. I thought we could all have a talk together, make arrangements, you know. It’s simple: I want to get to know my twins. Now they’re older they can make their own decisions, can’t they? If they see me I’m sure it will have more impact than the letters.’
     
    For one brief moment Peter recalled the sensations he’d felt that fateful morning, when . . . but the attraction wasn’t there now, that overwhelming need for her body which had scuppered - well, almost scuppered his marriage. If it hadn’t been for Caroline’s profound love for him . . .
     
    ‘What you are doing right now is quite simply grossly unfair,’ he said.
     
    ‘Not at all. I gave birth to them, they were mine, and now I want to see them. I’m not taking them away from you - I can’t, legally - I’d just like a share of them. I got