swallow her up, though if she was honest with herself, she had been dissatisfied with her marriage and had longed to be free for a long time. She knew that there was only one person James loved and that was himself. The description ‘a self-centred egotistical bore’ fitted him perfectly. He was a selfish, shallow man. She had let her mother down and lost Tom in a vain effort to keep this rotten husband. What a blind creature she had been. It had been easier that way but she was determined that things would be different in future. If he thought he could crawl back when he was down on his luck he would have to think again. She glared at him, hate distorting her features for a moment as an unaccustomed hardness and resolve surfaced.
James turned abruptly away from her and heaved a noisy sigh of relief. The bloody woman did not show signs of hysteria, thank goodness. The parting was not going to be as difficult as he had anticipated. He opened the car door, lifted his lean body into the driving seat and slammed the door, which emitted a loud clang. He gripped the steering wheel, placed the key in the ignition and started the engine.
‘Dull as ditchwater this place,’ he shouted over his shoulder as he started to edge the car forward. ‘There are a few nice views, pretty in the usual crap Russetshire English way but that’s all. I long to savour the vibrant African heat, Australian outback and all the other interesting places I’ve read about during the past few years!’ An old map of Africa had been stowed in his bag and he was determined that North Africa would be his first destination. ‘I’ll come back if I’m broke and have nowhere else to go,’ he continued, ‘but I don’t know when. Don’t worry about me old girl.’
Janet shuddered and gritted her teeth. It was the first she had heard about his plans. What did he mean, don’t worry about him? That was something she realized with startling clarity that she would be glad not to do again. Had he really said those dreadful things to her? She had realized that he was restless but had not expected him to depart in such an abrupt manner.
‘Goodbye, good riddance dreary teacher wife,’ he shouted ‘I’m off!’
Janet stood deserted and amazed on the road outside Primrose House and watched as the small red car they had shared disappeared into the distance.
James made his way to Dover where he sold the car to a dealer. He heaved his luggage on to a ferry bound for France and without a backward glance at the white cliffs toasted his freedom with a strong cup of coffee he laced, exhibiting extravagance and greed, with three spoonfuls of fine white sugar.
Chapter 4
John Lacey
John Lacey was the only son of a wealthy merchant and entrepreneur. His father spent thirty years building up a thriving business near Newbury before he died and John inherited, to his dismay, a considerable fortune when still only a young man. Unlike many of his contemporaries and the majority of the human race he was not interested in money; he would have exchanged it eagerly for affection and love, something he had little experience of during his childhood. When he was older he would appreciate being able to use his wealth to indulge his hobby of collecting antiques and other beautiful objects he loved, and buying gifts to please his second wife, but he was a simple man with simple needs and did not crave luxuries.
John was never able to get to know his mother well and was left with a vague memory of a quiet young woman with a thin peaky face and dark brown curly hair that lapped around her forehead and emphasised her pale grey eyes, who was always ill and suffered constant headaches. He often observed her reclining on her bed, pale and wan, whilst her long slender fingers untrammelled by household chores rested on luxurious silken bed covers. They were smooth, almost transparent and tipped with neat manicured nails, a chore untaken daily by her young maid Betsy who prattled on
James turned abruptly away from her and heaved a noisy sigh of relief. The bloody woman did not show signs of hysteria, thank goodness. The parting was not going to be as difficult as he had anticipated. He opened the car door, lifted his lean body into the driving seat and slammed the door, which emitted a loud clang. He gripped the steering wheel, placed the key in the ignition and started the engine.
‘Dull as ditchwater this place,’ he shouted over his shoulder as he started to edge the car forward. ‘There are a few nice views, pretty in the usual crap Russetshire English way but that’s all. I long to savour the vibrant African heat, Australian outback and all the other interesting places I’ve read about during the past few years!’ An old map of Africa had been stowed in his bag and he was determined that North Africa would be his first destination. ‘I’ll come back if I’m broke and have nowhere else to go,’ he continued, ‘but I don’t know when. Don’t worry about me old girl.’
Janet shuddered and gritted her teeth. It was the first she had heard about his plans. What did he mean, don’t worry about him? That was something she realized with startling clarity that she would be glad not to do again. Had he really said those dreadful things to her? She had realized that he was restless but had not expected him to depart in such an abrupt manner.
‘Goodbye, good riddance dreary teacher wife,’ he shouted ‘I’m off!’
Janet stood deserted and amazed on the road outside Primrose House and watched as the small red car they had shared disappeared into the distance.
James made his way to Dover where he sold the car to a dealer. He heaved his luggage on to a ferry bound for France and without a backward glance at the white cliffs toasted his freedom with a strong cup of coffee he laced, exhibiting extravagance and greed, with three spoonfuls of fine white sugar.
Chapter 4
John Lacey
John Lacey was the only son of a wealthy merchant and entrepreneur. His father spent thirty years building up a thriving business near Newbury before he died and John inherited, to his dismay, a considerable fortune when still only a young man. Unlike many of his contemporaries and the majority of the human race he was not interested in money; he would have exchanged it eagerly for affection and love, something he had little experience of during his childhood. When he was older he would appreciate being able to use his wealth to indulge his hobby of collecting antiques and other beautiful objects he loved, and buying gifts to please his second wife, but he was a simple man with simple needs and did not crave luxuries.
John was never able to get to know his mother well and was left with a vague memory of a quiet young woman with a thin peaky face and dark brown curly hair that lapped around her forehead and emphasised her pale grey eyes, who was always ill and suffered constant headaches. He often observed her reclining on her bed, pale and wan, whilst her long slender fingers untrammelled by household chores rested on luxurious silken bed covers. They were smooth, almost transparent and tipped with neat manicured nails, a chore untaken daily by her young maid Betsy who prattled on
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