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Back to the Farm Ch. 01

By: jul85



Desirae couldn't help letting her mind wander as she made the drive from the airport. The plains of the Midwest are notoriously flat and devoid of scenery, especially this time of the year before the fields have been planted.

As she traveled, she thought back to the summer she and her cousin Doug had taken their relationship a step or two further than what would be considered "proper" by the rest of the family. 

They'd always been buddies even though he was a few years younger than her. When her family would visit from out of state, he was the one who hung out with her, going to the lake or giving her an excuse to not have to stay around with the older generations. It was perfectly natural for that to continue even as they reached their early twenties.

It had started with a kiss. She wasn't sure who had initiated it, but it may have been her. There had been a look in his eyes that compelled her to lean in the truck window and press her lips to his. It was a powerful kiss, full of promise that they explored at every opportunity that summer. The few chances they had to do anything more than steal a few kisses were always overshadowed, or perhaps enhanced, by the chance that they could be interrupted at any moment. 

Remembering the feel of his lips and hands on her body was arousing her and she had to remind herself to keep her mind on the road. She could easily get distracted by those memories. She would be there in about an hour and was more than a little anxious to get there. 

It had been over twenty years since that summer, and life had come between them. Marriage, kids, jobs and distance and limited their contact over the years, but their last meeting had held a good bit of suggestion, although they had no time alone together. Still, she wondered if he felt the same connection and attraction that she did. 

He and another cousin owned a house in the small town near the old family farm. They used it primarily when they were hunting, but Doug had invited her to stay there with him during her visit. As she made her way through the familiar streets, she felt a warming in her groin. Her clit was swelling with anticipation and her juices were flowing. 

She found the house easily enough and was pleased to see him standing on the front porch watching for her. She felt awkward and fumbling and took a few deep breaths as she got out of car and started the short, but seemingly endless walk to the steps. She smiled up at him as he wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace. There was that same compelling look in his eyes in the moment before he kissed her and it took her breath away. 

The kiss grew with passion until there was no doubt in her mind how he felt. Her lips parted as his tongue pressed against them. She could feel his arousal in the swelling of his cock as they pressed together in their embrace.  His hands found their way under the fabric of her shirt and the chill of their touch against her warm back sent a tingling jolt through her body and she gave a soft gasp.  As their kiss ended she took a half step back and his hands moved around the front of her waist and upward until they were cupping her heavy breasts. As his thumbs grazed her erect nipples her hand fell between them to grasp the bulge in his jeans which grew even harder on contact and he pushed his hips toward her in response. 

Finally, they parted. She took a deep, recovering breath as he guided her in the front door. As they stepped into the living room, they turned to each other again to continue the embrace. His hands pulled her shirt up and she stopped the heated exploration of his body to lift her arms as he slipped it over head. She worked at the buttons of his shirt, while he unhooked her bra. As she squirmed out of it, he grasped a breast in each hand and brought his mouth to a nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue and pulling it into his mouth as it grew more and more firm. After savoring one, he turned his attention to the other nipple stopping only long enough to help her get his arms out of his shirt. With four hands working at it, their clothes were soon scattered around their feet.. She stepped closer, pressing the full length of her body against him, while his hands ran down her back to caress and cup the fullness of her buttocks pulling her even closer to his throbbing erection. 

They kissed again, he ran his hand around her hip and lightly brushed her pubic hair before burying his hand over her mound. Her swollen lips parted and his finger rubbed against her clit. As she came, she grasped his shoulders for support as her head fell back in ecstasy. 

Instinctively, she knew he would cum quickly though she would have liked this encounter to go on for hours. Her hands caressed the length of his torso, skimming down along his sides and back up, then wandering down through the scattered hair on his chest followed by her lips and tongue. Her hands brushed his hips as they reached around to caress his ass as she knelt in front of him. Her tongue ran the length of his hard cock and she brought her hand around to grasp the base as she guided the head into her mouth randomly sucking and licking until he grasped the back of her head to hold her against him, whispering "Oh God, Des. I'm not going to last." as he shot his load in her mouth. She swallowed his cum and relished the salty taste as she smiled, thinking it was going to be a great week after all.

Back to the Farm Ch. 01



Melissa's gaze travelled once again to the clock on the wall. Twenty minutes late. This was getting ridiculous, she thought, glancing across to the desk where the solicitor's receptionist sat typing at a keyboard, her perfectly coiffed white hair slightly squashed by an audio headset. Replacing the dog-eared copy of Woman's Weekly upon a pile of similarly ancient magazines Melissa rose to her feet. "Excuse me?"

The white-haired lady looked up, clearly annoyed by the interruption. She slid the headset down so that it dangled around her neck, somehow managing to frown with her eyes despite her mouth curving into a polite smile. "Yes?" 

"Will Mr Barrington be much longer?" Long-experienced at dealing with delays and excuses, Melissa knew it was best to keep her tone friendly but firm. "My appointment was at five o'clock. I understand he must be busy but--" 

"Oh!" The receptionist's expression cleared. "I'm sorry. I assumed you knew. Mr Barrington's ready. We're just waiting for Mr McKenzie to arrive. He phoned a few moments before you arrived to say he was running a little late. He should be here soon."

"Wh-what? " Her stomach gave an unexpected lurch. "Mr McKenzie?" Please God, no... "You mean, Matt McKenzie?"

"That's right, dear. You didn't know he was coming?" The receptionist looked up again and her smile suddenly broadened as she looked beyond Melissa towards the door. 

"No. I thought he--I'd heard he was abroad. China--or--or..." It was proving impossible to quell her rising sense of panic. "Hong Kong or somewhere like that--"

"Singapore actually."

At the sound of the wry male voice, Melissa inhaled sharply then stopped breathing altogether. Rooted to the spot, she couldn't turn to acknowledge the tall man who'd arrived beside her at the counter.

"Sorry I'm late." He dropped a briefcase to the floor, narrowly missing her right foot. "The plane was delayed at Changi but luckily I found a cabbie at Heathrow who was willing to break a few land speed records." There was a pause. "Hello, Lissy."

Melissa opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out, hot colour surging into her cheeks as she felt his appraising glance. 

"It's been a long time."

No kidding, Melissa thought grimly, still unable to move. It'd been more than fourteen years. But before she could gather herself enough to respond she heard a door open. 

"Matt! I thought I heard you. So glad you could make it after all." 

Heart thudding in her ears, she managed to look up at last. A much shorter, rather stout man was striding towards them, his right arm outstretched. Charlie's solicitor, she supposed.

"How are you, my boy?"

The two men shook hands then to her astonishment, clapped each other on the back like old friends. "I'm fine," Matt said. "Just a pity we couldn't be meeting again in happier circumstances."

"Indeed." She felt a gentle touch on her arm. "And you must be Miss Barton. I'm Archibald Barrington. We spoke on the phone."

"Oh, please." Forcing herself to smile, she lifted her head to find herself gazing directly into the little man's inquiring grey eyes as she clasped his hand. "It's Melissa. Do call me Melissa, Mr Barrington."

He smiled back amiably. "I will, so long as you call me Archie. Would you believe, my wife Mary and I--" he nodded towards the receptionist "--went to school with your uncle. Such a wonderful chap. He'll be greatly missed." He sighed, exchanging glances with Mary who also sighed, then gestured towards the open door. "Shall we?"

Still unable to look at Matt, Melissa allowed herself to be ushered into the solicitor's inner sanctum. As she moved towards a battered brown leather armchair she couldn't help glancing around. Although twice the size of her own office, this room seemed cramped, the desk squeezed between huge grey filing cabinets and bookcases crammed with folders.

"Please--do sit down." Archie settled himself behind the desk and retrieved a buff coloured wallet from a teetering pile. "This shouldn't take long."

"I daresay it won't." Melissa heard the wobble in her voice and hated herself for sounding so nervous. She perched on the edge of her seat, aware of Matt dropping rather less elegantly into the adjacent chair. "Uncle Charlie seems to have left rather detailed instructions about everything else."

"Yes, indeed." Archie's expression was soft. "He was quite determined to put everything in order before he died. But then he was that sort of chap."

Melissa swallowed hard. There it was again--that now familiar hard lump at the back of her throat. Charlie had known he was dying. He'd known for six months that lung cancer was going to kill him. But she hadn't. She hadn't even suspected he was ill. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. "The funeral's arranged for next Friday," she said quickly, determined not to lose her fragile grip on control. "Two o'clock, at St Mary's Church--in Ebberlea of course. The vicar's name is Michael Wright. I've made an appointment to meet him on Wednesday morning to go through the eulogy and the hymns and readings. Though--" Steeling herself, she finally braved a glance at Matt. "I suppose you'd probably like--" The words caught in her throat as his stony gaze met hers. Those oh-so-familiar chocolate brown eyes, once so full of mischief and laughter, now held no trace of a smile. 

"To be there?" His tone was icy. "Well, yes, I would actually, thank you." 

She felt her face flood with colour again. "Look," she said, biting her lip. "I--I didn't think--I wasn't sure you'd be able to make it." 

His expression hardened further. "You seriously thought I'd miss Charlie's funeral?" 

"No!" It took considerable effort on Melissa's part to maintain eye contact. "But I wasn't sure you'd be able to get back in time--well, not in time to help make any arrangements." 

Despite herself, she found herself drinking in his appearance. His face and what she could see of his neck above his shirt and jacket were lightly tanned, the ends of his dark brown hair curling into his neck as though a trip to the barber was long overdue. But otherwise, his clear-cut features appeared much the same as they had when he was a teenager. He certainly didn't look his thirty-one years, only the tension in his face betraying travel-induced fatigue. 

"But now that you're here--of course--you'll want to--you'll..." It was hopeless. Quite unable to bear his open animosity, her voice died and she had to look away.

After a moment of deafening silence, Archie coughed politely. "You're both aware that the funeral is prepaid? So cost isn't a consideration."

Melissa was relieved to be able to shift her focus back to the solicitor. "Yes, so you said in your letter," she said, striving for a more cheery tone. "Trust Charlie to do that. He planned the whole thing. Everything. The music to be played when they carry in the coffin, the precise order of service, the readings, the hymns--he even wrote down the names of the tunes so that we'd choose exactly the right ones. Oh, and he requested that no one should wear black. No black suits, no black ties. The brighter the colours, the better." Aware of sounding more hysterical than cheery, she forced a short laugh, then on catching Matt's eye again, rather wished she hadn't. 

Archie was nodding sagely. "Jolly good idea. I'm all for that. And as for planning everything, I know he wanted to make it as easy on you as possible." He opened the wallet and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "And I'm glad you're both here today as it makes things rather easier for me. There's a few forms to sign I'm afraid. Probate, etcetera."

"Of course." She experienced another, more muted spasm of pain. It had been two years since her mother died but sometimes it seemed like only yesterday that she'd signed a similar set of forms in another solicitor's office across town. 

Archie was still speaking. "Obviously, we'll leave the formal reading of Charlie's will until after the funeral," he said, pushing a paper across the table and passing her a pen. "But I can tell you now that it's very straightforward. In a nutshell, his estate is to be equally divided between the two of you."

The pen slipped from her grasp. "What?"

"You seem surprised." Archie smiled. "To whom were you expecting he'd leave his money?"

Still reeling from the shock, she stared at him. "Well, Matthew of course." She shot a bewildered look at the man sitting silently beside her. "Charlie was his uncle. I'm not a blood relative."

"Yes but you were his wife's niece," the solicitor explained patiently. "And even though Suzie passed away some years ago Charlie considered the farm still belonged to them both and therefore in the event of his death that it should be passed to you as Suzie's heir and, of course, to Matt. That's right, isn't it Matt? That's what was agreed that day?" She watched as Matt nodded his confirmation then felt Archie press the pen back into her hand. "Just there please--on the dotted line," he prompted, pointing to the bottom of the form.

Automatically, she began to sign only to stop midway through her first name as Archie's words registered. "'That day?'" she repeated, lifting her head. "What day?"

"The day Charlie made his will." Archie frowned and hastily took a glance at his watch. "Sorry, Melissa, I don't mean to hurry you but my wife will be most upset if I'm late tonight. Golf club dinner you see."

"You were here?" She turned to Matt, this time feeling no apprehension. "You were here when Charlie made his will?" A chill grabbed at her heart as he nodded again. "And when--exactly--was that?"

"Miss Barton, please." Archie motioned again to the page before her but his anxious tone confirmed her suspicion he'd inadvertently revealed more than he'd intended.

"Matthew?" she persisted. "When?"

He winced but didn't try to look away. "The end of December," he admitted. "Just before I went out to Singapore."

December. Four months ago. As she allowed the truth to seep into her consciousness, she stared at him, strangely numb. Then at last she curled her trembling fingers around the pen and completed her name before shoving the paper along the desk to Matt.

A relieved-looking Archie placed another sheet in front of her. "And this one too--just there--and again there, please," he murmured.

The shaky scrawl bore little resemblance to her usual tidy signature but she supposed no one would know. And as soon as the last page had been signed and countersigned Archie stood up, clearly keen to end the meeting. He pressed a lumpy envelope into her hand. "The keys to the farm--perhaps you would like to look after these, Melissa?"

She nodded, clutching the packet to her chest. "Thank you."

"No, not at all. Thank you. Thank you both, so much. I appreciate you coming here today--especially you, Matt, straight from the airport. You must be very tired."

"I slept on the plane," she heard Matt reply as she stumbled to her feet. "It's been great to see you again, Archie. Will we be seeing you at the funeral?"

"Goodness me, yes. The very least Charlie deserves is a decent send off." But when Archie opened the door, he touched Melissa's arm once again. "Please let me offer my deepest condolences to you both at this very sad time." And then as she looked up, he added, rather more pointedly, "I truly am very sorry."

She understood. He was trying to apologise for having let the cat out of the bag. "Thank you," she said curtly. She stuffed the envelope into her bag and slung it across her shoulder. Then without a backward glance, she threw her black jacket over her arm and hastened out of the office.

*

"Wait." Grabbing his briefcase, Matt shot Archie a resigned smile before hurrying after Melissa. By the time he reached the vestibule she'd already burst through the outer door and was rapidly descending the steps. "Hey!"

But Melissa paid no heed, her red head bowed as she scurried into the street, walking so quickly she was almost running.

"Wonderful. I don't need this," he muttered, bounding down the steps two at a time, his long legs protesting at the sudden activity after being cooped up in a plane seat for hours. He lifted his voice again. "Lissy! I know you can hear me. Wait. We need to talk." It was impossible for her not to have heard, he reasoned, trying not to notice the blatant stares of passers by. So she had to be deliberately ignoring him. "Lissy!" he bellowed one last time then swore and broke into a sprint.

Those punishing hours in the gym were about to pay off. He weaved effortlessly through the pedestrians, managing to dodge a double buggy and hopping over a Yorkshire terrier. Just as Melissa was about to step off the kerb to cross the street he grasped the sleeve of her cream blouse. "Oi! I said wait! Don't you think there's a few things we need to discuss?" Reeling her in, he caught her hand so that she came lurching to a halt then spun her around to face him. "We've got a funeral to arrange, in case you've for--" But then he trailed off, staring at the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, hell. Lissy--"

"Don't call me Lissy!" she spat, pulling away from him and swiping at her face with the back of her hand. "My name is Melissa."

"Right." Disconcerted, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. "Here." 

"You knew." Ignoring the offer, she stared up at him, her pale blue eyes wide with fury. "You bastard. You knew he was dying. Archie knew he was dying. Did everyone know? Was I the only person who didn't know?"

Matt grimaced. He'd warned Charlie this would be her reaction. "No, of course not. He didn't want anyone to know."

"Then why tell you?"

It was a fair question. And not one to which he could provide an easy answer. He'd understood Charlie's reasons but knew Melissa wouldn't find them acceptable. He sighed. "Look, Lissy--"

"Melissa."

He sighed. "Sorry, Melissa. Please?" He waved the handkerchief like a flag of surrender. "Let's go somewhere we can talk. The middle of Mickleton High Street really isn't the place to be having this conversation."

"I beg your pardon? Go somewhere?" She glared at him, the high spots of colour deepening on her freckled cheeks. "Oh no, I don't think so. I haven't had a conversation with you in fourteen years. If we were going to start speaking again, don't you think it should've been--oh, let's think--" she raised a mocking finger to her chin "--sometime in December?" She shook her head in disgust then turned on her heel. "See you at the funeral, Matthew."

Matt watched her walk away, an unexpected smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She'd always had the fiery temper to match those flame red curls. Even after fourteen years some things hadn't changed. But others clearly had. She was much curvier than he remembered. He allowed himself a moment to admire the view then lifted his voice. Just enough. "Melissa." 

As though half-expecting he wouldn't let her leave, she stopped but didn't turn around. 

"Come on. I bloody miss him too. Please? Let's go to the White Flag and have a drink."

*

Melissa sipped at her Diet Coke, her fingers wrapped tightly around the ice-cold glass. She hadn't been in the White Flag for years but unlike the other bars and pubs in the town, it didn't look any different. Somehow the establishment had escaped the notice of the larger breweries; it hadn't been bedecked with fake memorabilia and there wasn't a children's play area. It was, as it had always been, a drinking man's pub. The three regulars standing at the bar had turned to give them curious stares when they'd entered but had long since returned their attention to their pints.

Matt tossed two packets of salt and vinegar crisps on the table. "Thought you might be peckish," he said, reaching for a bag as he sat down in the opposite chair. "I know I am. I haven't eaten since I got off the plane." He hesitated. "We could go out to dinner if you like."

She didn't like. "I'm sorry, I've already got plans for this evening and I don't want to be late," she replied stiffly, glancing at her watch to further corroborate the lie. "So can we just cut to the chase? What exactly did you want to talk about?"

Matt sighed, putting down the crisps. "Lissy--"

"Melissa."

"Fine--Melissa, whatever." He shook his head, a flash of impatience clouding his dark eyes. "We've got a funeral to arrange."

She frowned. "Weren't you listening? There's nothing to arrange. Charlie left very detailed instructions. Everything's already been done."

"What about after the funeral? Where's the wake?"

"Funeral tea," she corrected, irritated. "At the King's Head in Ebberlea. As I said, everything's been done."

"No, it hasn't. You said you were meeting the vicar on Wednesday to discuss the service." Matt's cool gaze unnerved her. "What time and where?"

Damn. She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Ten o'clock. Up at the farm." She picked up the glass and took another nervous sip.

"Right--thank you. I'll be there." Matt eyed her thoughtfully for another few seconds then leaned back and took a swig of his lager, squeezing his eyes closed as he swallowed. "God, I can't tell you how good this tastes." He released another huge sigh. "You just can't get this stuff in Singapore."

"What on earth were you doing out there anyway? Can't you get any work in the UK?"

His eyes snapped open again. "I'm working on a project for a UK-based pharmaceutical company," he said, the dignity in his tone alerting Melissa to the fact that this time she'd irritated him. "For a new regional office in Singapore. We're in the building phase now."

"Oh." Once again, she found herself wanting to look away. That stare was just too frank. Too open. "You're nearly finished then."

He shook his head. "I wish. No, I'm not finished until the whole place is built. And that's going to take about another four or five months, as long as everything goes to plan. If it doesn't..." He shrugged.

"So you'll be going back?"

He nodded. "But hopefully not for a few weeks." He took another swig of his beer and Melissa, remembering her glass of Diet Coke, took another tentative sip. "So I'll have time to help you sort through Charlie's things, if that's what you were wondering." 

Melissa spluttered in shock. "Oh, no. That won't be necessary," she said hastily, trying to cover her dismay. "I'm sure I'll manage."

A smile flickered across Matt's face. "Are you kidding? When did you last go to the farm?"

"Just before Christmas. I would've gone again but he kept finding reasons to put me off. Of course, now I know why. I phoned him--or he phoned me--every couple of weeks or so." She stared at her glass, twisting it between her fingers, guilt washing over her. "But I should have gone, shouldn't I? I should've guessed. If I'd gone, I'd have known he was ill. I'd have seen..."

"He didn't want you to go." Moved by her obvious distress, Matt pried away the glass and set it on the table before closing his fingers over hers. "He didn't want you to see. He didn't want you to know. He didn't want anyone to know."

She snatched her hand away as though she'd been burned. "You knew."

He frowned. "Yes, but I only found out by accident. On Christmas Day, of all days. And he made me promise--"

"Christmas Day?" She stared at him, confused. "Wait. You went to Spain this year too?" Charlie had been spending Christmases in Benidorm for the best part of a decade. He said he'd never been able to face the prospect of Christmas at the farm without Suzie.

"He didn't go to Spain this year." Matt released a sigh. "Lissy, he--"

"Lied," she finished flatly. "Well, that's fantastic. He just pretended he was going to Spain as usual so I wouldn't find out he was dying." She put her head in her hands. "So, were you there when he called me on Christmas Day, pretending he was on the beach? Was that your idea?"




Back to the Farm Ch. 01



"No, it wasn't my idea!" He sounded exasperated. "I begged him to tell you, if you must know. But he wouldn't have it. He made me promise not to tell you. Not to tell anyone."

"Well, that's just great." Melissa slapped her hand on the table. Their glasses bounced and clanged. "You must have felt very virtuous, managing to keep a promise like that, Matthew."

He uttered a low growl. "Lissy, I--"

"My name is Melissa." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "You know Matthew, I really don't think we've got anything more to discuss. I need to go. I'll see you up at the farm on Wednesday."

But as she turned to leave, he caught her hand again, his grip surprisingly firm. "For God's sake, Lissy! Do you really think I wanted to keep it from you? And what's all this Matthew--Melissa rubbish? What the hell is all that about? What's wrong with me calling you Lissy?"

"It isn't my name. It's just what everyone called me when I was a kid." She glared at him angrily. "But I'm not a kid anymore. I grew up. I had to. Apparently, you never did. Now, would you please let me go?" 

To his surprise, Matt experienced a powerful surge of remorse. Lissy had coped with more in her twenty-nine years than most people coped with in a lifetime. And he hadn't been there for her. But then, few people had... "I'm sorry," he murmured at last, squeezing then releasing her fingers. "You've had a rotten bloody time just lately, haven't you?"

"Yes, well." Caught off-guard by his belated sympathy her eyes once again filled with tears and she turned away. "It's amazing what you can cope with if you have to. And I'll cope again this time. I don't need your help. I don't need--"

"I know you don't need my help, Liss--" he groaned and corrected himself "--I mean, Melissa." He sighed heavily. "But to be honest, I might be needing yours. It didn't feel like this when my father died--but then as you know, we weren't exactly close. I hardly knew him. This is different. Losing Charlie--losing Charlie is bloody hard." 

Hearing his voice tighten, Melissa looked up in time to see the raw pain in his expression. But before she could think of a response he rose to his feet and laid a hand on her forearm. 

"Look. We need to go up to the farm to see what needs doing. Together. And preferably before Wednesday. I've a feeling it might be quite a mess. You know Charlie. He hoarded everything."

"I know he did. I remember." A reluctant smile curved her lips. "If I ever tried to get rid of anything he'd always say 'good God, girl, you can't throw that out. You never know--'"

"'--when you might need one of those'," Matt finished with her in tones that matched Charlie's perfectly. He grinned. "'Waste not, want not'."

His unexpected imitation of Charlie's voice was almost her undoing. Blinking hard, she returned her gaze to the glass on the table. "All right. When do you want to go?"

"I've got a practice meeting on Monday. How about Tuesday?"

"I have to work."

"So do I." Matt sounded amused. "I meant after work. Where do you work? I'll come and pick you up."

She hesitated. Charlie had been hugely proud of Matt's career success. But despite her glowing school reports, her own career had been a non-starter. "It's never too late, you know," Charlie had murmured encouragingly, the day of her mother's funeral. "You've put your life on hold for long enough. You could go back to university now, try again." She'd smiled and nodded, unwilling to explain why she couldn't. That had been two long years ago and she was still working for the housing association.

"No." She shook her head. "Pick me up from my flat. Six o'clock okay?" Reaching into her handbag, she pulled out a pen, hastily scribbled down an address on a beermat and gave it to him. 

Matt's eyes widened. "Barrington Heights, eh?" He whistled softly. "Very nice." Smiling, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a business card. "All my contact details are on there," he said, pressing it into her hand. "Call me if you need me." Then to her surprise, he leaned forward and lightly kissed her cheek. "I'll see you on Tuesday. Enjoy the rest of your evening." 

And without another word, he rose to his feet and walked away.

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments gratefully received.

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 02



Des sat back on her heels feeling quite pleased with herself and the effect she obviously had on him. She gave a little giggle and smiled at Doug as she said, finally "Well, Hi."

He gave a wry grin as he realized they had not spoken until then and replied "It's really great to see you." He blushed a little and added, "I am sorry about that, I just couldn't hold off."

Des chuckled: "Believe me, I understand. If you've been thinking about it as much as I have, it was bound to happen."

Des stood and finding his shirt in the scattering of clothing on the floor, put it on. Even unbuttoned, it covered enough of her to give her the small feeling of modesty that she needed. She was in her mid 40's and carried a few extra pounds. Enough to make her voluptuous but not fat. With large breasts and curvy hips, she still had an hourglass figure that turned a man's head now and then. 

She knew, too that the peek-a-boo effect of the shirt was alluring as it hung straight down from her nipples allowing an enticing glimpse of the bottom curve of her breasts and almost, but not quite covering the expanse of closely trimmed pubic hair. Almost, but not quite covering the cheeks of her ass as she moved around. 

He had settled down on the couch as his legs had nearly buckled after cumming in her mouth that hard. Des sat near him, laying her hand on his thigh. 

"I'm glad to see the attraction is still there for you, too. I'd always been afraid to mention that summer or ask if you still felt the same." She said. "I didn't want...I don't know....embarrass you or something."

"I've always remembered that summer. We shared something special. It felt as natural then as it does now." Doug replied reaching out to caress her neck. "I just wish we'd had some time alone at the last reunion or when you guys stayed with us in the city." 

They talked about the reunion and caught up on news of their families. She had a new grandson and his oldest was going to graduate this year. Their parents' health and gossip about some of the more notorious cousins were mentioned and he filled her in on some of the business of the farm.

As they talked, their hands moved over each other gently. Their conversation stopped frequently for a kiss or a nuzzle. Soon, her mouth was working it's way around his neck and shoulders licking and nipping here and there and she started a downward journey over his chest, lingering over his nipples. She rubbed his thighs, grazing her fingertips against his balls and burrowing in the triangle of hair above his growing rod. 

As much as Doug was enjoying the attention, he couldn't take it anymore. He had to touch her. He wanted to taste again the sweetness of her juices that he remembered from so long ago. With his hands on her shoulders, he pulled her back up to kiss her, working the shirt she was wearing off her shoulders and down her arms where she willingly abandoned it, letting it slip off her hands and onto the floor. Their tongues entwined in lustful abandon as he leaned her back on the couch. Her legs curved around him and his mouth started it's own journey. He cupped her tits, pushing them together and his tongue made a wet path down the cleavage and along the sensitive underside. Teasing the hard nipple with his tongue, he drew it into his mouth, stroking it with his tongue. Doing the same to the other large breast and continuing down the slight swell of her belly. 

With his hands at her hips, he shifted her upward so his tongue could finally reach the slit of her lips. He parted them and licked along each side of her clit, teasing and exciting her as her hips lifted. At last, his mouth was at her opening. He felt the flow of her juices and lapped it up eagerly. Running his hands back up along her stomach, he caressed her tits and fondled the still hard nipples. Her hands ran through his hair, giving subtle guidance to his movements. 

"Oh, yes", she groaned as she felt her ecstasy nearing it's peak. His tempo increased as her hips gyrated, pressing her mound into his tongue. As she came, her body spasmed and shook as she let out the gasp of breath she'd taken.

He moves up to kiss her passionately and share with her the sweet taste of her own desire. He runs the head of his cock over her swollen lips, slowly teasing, gently penetrating with just the head, turning wants into needs before he slowly enter the warm wetness with the full length of his throbbing cock as it disappears deep inside his heaven. He slowly moves and gyrates, trying to find that spot that will make her moan with pleasure. He stops, wanting to savor the moment and starts again, wanting to feel her cum on the whole length of his throbbing cock. He feels her tighten and slowly, sinking his cock in up to his balls, feels the flood. Hearing the pleasure coming from her throat and feeling the warmth of her cum, he starts to pump back and forth along the length of his cock, hearing how wet she is on every stroke.

His tempo increases with his urges and soon he feels the explosion of his climax as he fills her with his own juice. He holds his hips tight against her until the pulsating orgasm subsides then relaxes against her.

For both, this was the fulfillment of long held dreams and fantasies and they were content to lie in each others arms enjoying the quiet.

They laid together until the ringing of his phone stirred them. He was working this week and had to answer it. He usually had a long lull from mid-morning to early afternoon, but knew he'd be busy for a couple of hours now. After Des's mind cleared a bit, she realized she had to make the calls that being a wife and mother obligated her to so she called her husband to let him know she had arrived safely. She apologized for not calling sooner, and used the excuse that they'd been chatting and catching up. 

As expected, both her daughters called shortly after. Sometimes Des resented the fact that it seemed like she was answerable to so many people and had little freedom of movement. It had taken the justification of paperwork concerning the transfer of the farm to make this trip up here. Overall, she had a good life that she wouldn't trade, but there were times she'd like to do what she wanted, go where she wanted without having to explain anything to anyone.

While Doug was working, she laid down to rest. She'd had an early start that morning to get to the airport and crossing zones had disrupted her circadian rhythms. She fell asleep pleasantly reliving the events of the day and the events of that summer so long ago. 

At the sound of her even, relaxed breathing, Doug walked over to pull a blanket over her. There was still a chill in the air that she needed some protection from if she was going to get enough rest to bolster her stamina while she was here. As he looked at her, he was struck by how beautiful she was. 



Back to the Farm Ch. 02



"You gave him my address?" Gemma gave Melissa an incredulous look. "Are you mad? What's wrong with giving him your address?"

"Everything," Melissa wailed. "I don't want him to know where I really live."

"Why not? Okay, it's small—"

"It's tiny. It doesn't even deserve to call itself a studio flat."

"Yes, but it's all yours." Her best friend smiled. "At least you've can say you own something. This place is beautiful," she waved an arm around the luxurious flat "but it's rented. It'll never belong to us. I'd love to be able to put down some roots, buy a place of our own, get a mortgage—" Gemma pulled a face. "God, listen to me. Get a mortgage." She sighed. "But Steve won't even discuss it. I told him last week that if we got divorced, I'd get half of nothing." 

"Get divorced?" Melissa frowned. "What are you talking about? You two are okay, aren't you?"

Gemma flapped a dismissive hand, her smile returning. "Oh God yes, of course we are. I just wish he wasn't away so much. I know the money's great, but I've kind of had enough of it all now. And maybe if he had a normal job..." She cast a downwards glance at her abdomen.

"I know." Melissa winced in sympathy. Her friend had been trying to get pregnant for nearly a year now, but her husband worked on the oilrigs and was often away for weeks at a time. It was time to lighten the mood. "So when's he back?" she asked, even though she knew exactly when Steve would return. This was a game they played on a daily basis.

She grinned. "Two weeks, three days, two hours and, ooh—" Gemma consulted her watch "—seventeen minutes. I can't wait." Her grin widened. "Phone sex just isn't the same."

"You're terrible."

"Not as terrible as you. You're going to let this Matthew bloke think that you live here."

Melissa pulled a face. "I just don't want him knowing what a failure I am."

"Oh, don't start that again. You're not a failure, Melissa." Gemma dropped gracefully on to the white leather sofa, curling her long legs beneath her. "Yes, you're too bloody smart to do the job you do but then again, you're bloody wonderful at it. The homeless of Mickleton salute you."

Melissa sat beside her, trying to repress a grimace as she took a sip of Gemma's incredibly strong coffee. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot of experience," she mumbled. "And the truth is I'm too scared to go for another job."

"Rubbish. You don't want another job. You love the one you've got. It's just a pity the money's crap. I think you ought to try asking Jonathan for a pay rise again. He'd be lost without you and he knows it."

"What's the point?" Melissa remembered the last time she'd tried dropping hints to their amiable but budget-constrained office manager. He'd spent over an hour explaining in intricate and confusing detail exactly why the Board couldn't offer her any more money. That he frequently had a fight on his hands to even keep a branch of the association open in Mickleton. Eventually, he'd managed to negotiate an additional five days annual leave for her but, as she could never afford to go on holiday, that hadn't proved particularly helpful. "It's just not worth the effort."

Gemma tossed her long blonde hair back over her shoulder. "Tell him you've had an offer you can't refuse. Make out you've found yourself a new job."

"I couldn't do that." Melissa sighed. "Jonathan gave me a job—"

"—when no one else would," Gemma finished on a sigh. "I know all that. But you hold the office together and he knows it. You're his Girl Friday. No one else would do what you do for the money. If you were to apply for a job in another housing association—"

"They'd take one look at my lack of qualifications and laugh me out the door. No one's going to take me on."

"Of course they would." Gemma frowned. "With all your experience? They'd be crazy not to." Then she tilted her head on one side. "You could always fake your qualifications. I've done that before."

Melissa shot her a reprimanding glance. "I don't tell lies."

"You managed to tell that cousin of yours you live here. That was a lie."

She winced at the reminder. "Matthew McKenzie is not my cousin. My Aunt was married to his Uncle. We're not related."

"Oh, really?" Gemma's gaze narrowed with interest. "Is he married?"

"Don't even think about it. I'm not interested."

"Is he?"

"No."

"Got a girlfriend?"

"I didn't ask. I don't want to know. I don't care. I hate him." Melissa put down her mug on the glass-topped table then put her head in her hands and groaned. "Why couldn't he have stayed in Singapore? I don't need this. I don't want to have to be around him."

"You hate him?" Her friend leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity. "Why? Didn't you tell me you spent every summer with this guy when you were kids?"

Melissa nodded, not moving her hands. "Mum couldn't afford to take the time off work so Aunt Suzie and Uncle Charlie had me to stay every year until I was fifteen. And Matt's parents were usually away in some far-flung country—Matt's father was a hotshot businessman, always making some deal or another. They settled in South Africa in the end. Anyway, Matt got sent to boarding school and then spent summer holidays at the farm."

"Poor kid." Gemma sounded outraged. "Kind of makes you wonder why they had a child if they couldn't be bothered to look after him."

Melissa looked up, biting her lip. "I know. He always tried to be laid back about it, but I know he wished things were different. Mum and me—we didn't have much but we had each other..." Her voice trailed off, yet another stab of grief twisting through her stomach. 

Gemma's glance was sympathetic. "So you and Matt didn't get on."

"Oh no, we got on fine. We did everything together. Charlie and Suzie gave us jobs to do around the farm, well, it wasn't exactly a farm in the truest sense of the word. It was a proper farm when Charlie's parents had it, but when they died, they left it to Charlie and his brother Roger—Matt's Dad." She pulled a face. "Roger made it clear he didn't want anything to do with the place, so he got Charlie to pay him his share of the inheritance by making him sell off quite a few of the fields. Anyway," she shrugged, "it was still a smallholding and there was plenty to do. There were chickens to feed and we had goats and a cow and grew fruit and vegetables and made jam. It was a wonderful place for kids." 

Melissa felt wistful, her eyes closing at the memory. "There was so much space. The orchard, the paddock, a great big barn... We used to spend hours playing hide and seek or going on picnics. And then when I was about six—Matt would've been eight—Charlie built us a huge tree house in the oak tree in the back garden."

Gemma held up a hand. "Wait a minute. Is that the tree house in that gorgeous watercolour that hangs in your hallway?"

She hesitated. "Yes," she admitted reluctantly. "Matt painted that. He gave it to me for my fourteenth birthday."

Her friend narrowed her eyes. "Let me get this straight. You hate this guy, but you've still got the picture he painted for you."

"It's of the tree house," she protested weakly. "It brings back happy memories."

"Hmm." Gemma looked unconvinced.

"Of all those summers at the farm. They were wonderful." Melissa felt a pang of nostalgia. "Charlie and Suzie made a huge fuss of us. They didn't have any kids of their own. I found out years later they couldn't. So they spoilt us rotten."

"And you and Matt were good friends back then?" Gemma frowned as Melissa nodded. "So what went wrong?"

She grimaced. "It's complicated."

"Don't tell me." Gemma gave her a shrewd look. "He took your virginity and everything got a bit weird?"

"No!" Melissa gasped, appalled. "Oh my God! No! I can't believe you just said that."

"You should see your face!" Gemma laughed delightedly. "Okay, so he didn't, but you wanted him to be the one who did, right? You wanted more than friendship but he didn't. Is that it?"

"Everything's about sex with you, isn't it?" she groaned, covering her eyes again. If Gemma ever discovered the truth about her sex life she'd never hear the end of it.

"So you two falling out had nothing to do with being attracted to each other?" her friend persisted. "I don't believe you. You said you hate him. Everyone knows you can't hate someone if you don't love 'em first."

Melissa grimaced. "All right, all right!" Gemma could be scarily perceptive. "When I was fourteen, nearly fifteen, Matt and I—" She paused, feeling an odd ache in her chest at the memory. "We kissed and he told me he loved me. The night before I was due to go back home."

Gemma's smile was triumphant. "I knew it. He broke your heart. What happened?"

"I don't really know. I wrote to him a few times but he never wrote back." Melissa shrugged, still finding the recollection painful after all these years. "So that was that."

"You gave up on him? Just like that? You're kidding me. Are you telling me you never actually asked him why he didn't write back?"

Melissa smiled sadly. "Oh Gemma, it's obvious why he didn't write back. He realised he'd made a huge mistake, that's all."

She snorted in surprise. "How do you work that out?"

"Come on, Gemma! His parents were loaded. He went to a posh private school. And he was a good-looking bloke. He could've had any girl he wanted. Why would he choose me when he could pick a girl with impeccable parentage and all the right connections?"

"Would you listen to yourself? You sound like a Victorian novel. So you came from a one-parent family. So what?"

"So everything. I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. It just wasn't meant to be, that's all."

"Hmm." Gemma narrowed her eyes. "I still can't believe you never asked him why. Where's your self-respect, girl?"

"I never got the chance to ask him why, all right?" Melissa sighed. "I didn't see him again until the following July. When I got to the farm I found out he'd asked if his friend Jason could stay for the summer." She grimaced. "It was awful. Between them, they made my life a living hell."

She hadn't allowed herself to recall that summer for years. Nervous about facing Matt again, she'd made the decision not to go to the farm at all. But Aunt Suzie had been devastated when she'd telephoned to explain she'd be staying at home. "I know you're growing up fast but I look forward to you both being here," she'd said, sounding suspiciously close to tears. "Please—it means the world to me. Just this one last time." She was later to discover Suzie had known for sure it would be the last time. Six months later cancer had claimed her life, just as it was to later claim Charlie's.

On arriving at the farm, Melissa was taken aback to find an unfamiliar lanky teenager stretched out on the settee beside Matt. "Jason's parents are going through a rough time at the moment so he's staying here with us," Charlie had said heartily, by way of introduction. "I'm sure you'll all get along famously." 

But as soon as Charlie left the living room, Jason had fixed her with a long hard stare. "Good God," he'd said with a sneer. "You never said she was a carrot top, Matt. She's bloody ugly."

Startled, she'd turned to Matt for reassurance and was horrified to find him laughing. She'd fled before either of them could see her tears. But that had just been the beginning. Jason taunted her relentlessly the entire summer, always careful to be polite and courteous whenever Suzie and Charlie were around, then launching into a tirade of abuse the moment they were gone.

"What a git," Gemma said feelingly, when Melissa finished telling the tale. "And Matt never came to your defence?"

"No." She shook her head. "He seemed to find it all hilarious. It was like he'd had a total personality bypass."

"Bastard."

Melissa smiled at the vehemence in her tone. Solidarity of the sisterhood. "And I've not spoken to him since. Well, until today."

Gemma shot her a disbelieving stare. "Are you telling me you've never had any of this out with him?"

"Would you? I just wanted to forget it all. " She heaved a sigh. "The last time I saw him was at Suzie's funeral the following Christmas. And if anything, that was even worse. He couldn't bring himself to speak to me at all."

"Shame. After being bosom buddies for all those years," Gemma ruminated. "So what was he like today?"

Unexpectedly, Melissa found herself remembering the warm brush of Matt's lips on her cheek. "Well, surprisingly nice in the end." She bit her lip. "Considering I gave him such a hard time."

Gemma narrowed her eyes. "Oh, you did the right thing, hon. Sounds like he deserved everything he got." Then she paused, still frowning slightly. "But don't you think it's a bit odd that he's being nice now? After all this time? Hmm." She shot her friend a knowing look. "Maybe you should watch out. Maybe he's up to something."

*

"This is ridiculous," Melissa muttered, tugging off the blouse and throwing it across the rapidly growing heap of discarded garments on the sofa. "There has to be something I can wear." With a frustrated groan, she reached into the wardrobe, the hangers screeching on the rail as she rifled through her remaining clothes. Too old... too frumpy...too small... Then her hand stilled upon a simple V-necked white summer dress.

She hung the dress on the door and regarded it critically. She'd bought it in an end of season sale last September but had never worn it; there hadn't been a day hot enough since. Though today wasn't exactly warm either. It was the second week in April but the weather didn't seem to know it was spring. A glance at her watch galvanised her decision. Teamed with her olive green cardigan, it would have to do. 

When she arrived at Gemma's front door twenty minutes later her friend eyed her up and down, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "I thought you said you weren't interested in this guy."

"I'm not!"

"Right." Her friend nodded sagely. "Didn't you look in a mirror before leaving home? Oh, I forgot—you don't have a mirror, do you? God, I wish I had a cleavage."

"What?" Melissa shot her a horrified glance before gazing down at herself. "It's not that revealing, is it?" 

"Relax, you look great." Gemma ushered her inside, propelling her towards the full-length mirror halfway down the corridor. "See?"

Melissa frowned as she regarded her reflection. There was rather more flesh on display than she'd realised. "Are you sure? Oh, this was a bad idea!" She groaned deeply, tugging her cardigan more closely around her. "I couldn't find anything to wear other than my work suits and jeans. And it's not like you're going to be able to lend me anything, are you? You're two sizes smaller than me."

"Melissa, I'd kill to have a figure like yours. Look at me." Gemma joined her at the mirror and pouted, putting her hands on her hips and twisting from side to side. "No bum, no boobs. Whereas you are definitely all woman."

"My heart bleeds for you," Melissa muttered sarcastically, watching Gemma's reflection. "It must be so hard being pretty, skinny and blonde." She picked at a strand of her own curly red hair, sighing in frustration.

"Will you stop it? You look fantastic. Though I can't believe you're actually going to wear those."

Melissa followed Gemma's gaze down to her comfortable brown leather sandals. "Why? What's wrong with these?"

"Well nothing, if you don't mind looking like an extra from Ben Hur. Jesus Himself would've been proud of those sandals." Gemma opened a cupboard and bent down. She rummaged for a moment then emerged with a strappy pair of heels, the exact shade of Melissa's cardigan. "Here."

"I can't wear those! They're much too high."

Gemma fixed her with a stern glare. "Put them on."

Groaning, Melissa kicked off her shoes and slid her feet between the delicate straps. "You know I can't walk in heels."

"You're only going to have to walk to his car. Besides, they make you look fabulous." Gemma spun her around to face the hall mirror again. "See?" 

She grimaced at herself, reluctantly noting how the additional height improved her posture. "I s'pose. But if I break my neck—"

"You won't break your neck. When's he coming?"

Melissa glanced at her wristwatch. "Any time—" They both jumped as the door buzzer sounded. "Now. Oh God, I don't want to do this, Gem."

"Too late, he's already here." Gemma leaned across to pick up the entry phone and pressed it to Melissa's ear with a meaningful glare.

"Hi. Come on up," Melissa gabbled before thrusting it back on the hook.

Gemma rolled her eyes and reached around her again, pressing the button that buzzed open the door. "Calm down, woman."

"Easy for you to say." Melissa stared at her, suddenly panic-stricken. "You open the door. I need the loo," she said, hearing Gemma's peal of laughter as she fled down the hall. 

*

Barrington Heights. Bemused, Matt shook his head slightly as he pushed the door open into the ornately decorated entrance hall. Charlie had told him Lissy worked for a pittance and often struggled to make ends meet, yet here she was living in a two year old luxury apartment complex in the upmarket part of town. Something didn't quite add up.

Reaching the top of the thickly carpeted stairs he made his way along to the door marked number nine. But before he could lift his hand to knock, it opened. He found himself face to face with a tall attractive blonde, her long hair streaming across her shoulders in a glossy golden curtain. "Hi!" she said brightly. "You must be Matt. Come on in." He allowed himself to be ushered inside, unable to prevent himself from taking a second glance at the girl. "I'm Gemma," she said with a smile that told him she'd noticed his frank appreciation. "Melissa won't be a moment. She's in the loo."

Having heard the introductions from the sanctuary of the bathroom, Melissa repressed a groan. "Thank you, Gemma," she said sarcastically, pulling open the door. "Matthew really didn't need to know exactly where I was." He shot her a grin and she blushed immediately, feeling his eyes zoom straight to her cleavage. She attempted an icy glare. "You're late."

"What?" Matt tore his gaze away from the front of Melissa's unexpectedly low cut dress to check his watch. "Five minutes," he protested with a startled laugh. "Considering I had to take an urgent phone call just as I was leaving the office I thought I'd done quite well. I decided I didn't have time to go home and change. Just as well, apparently. I'm sorry, I didn't realise we were keeping to such a tight schedule." 

He watched in amusement as she checked out his suit before casting an oddly self-conscious glance at her own attire. As her freckled cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink he experienced a long-forgotten rush of affection. She'd always been easy to rile. "Shall we get going then?"

"You'll be needing these," Gemma said, swooping towards the hall table. She pressed a set of keys into Melissa's hand, her eyebrows rising slightly. "I'd better get going myself." For a split second, Matt thought he saw confusion in Melissa's expression as her friend moved towards the door. 

"Um—yes, right. Thanks. Er, actually, we'll walk down with you."

Matt found himself shepherded back out of the flat. "Are you happy to come in my car or would you prefer to take yours?" he asked, watching Melissa tug the door closed behind them. Gemma gave what sounded suspiciously like a snort and he swung around.

"Sorry, just sneezed," she said with a grin. "Bloody hay fever."

"We'll take your car if that's okay," Melissa said quickly. "My car's being repaired. At the garage. Dodgy gears."

"Oh." Matt followed them down the stairs. "Gearbox or clutch?"

"Er, gearbox." 

Gemma sneezed again.




Back to the Farm Ch. 02



"Oh." Matt was sympathetic. "That can be really expensive."

"Yes." Melissa glared at her friend. "You know Gemma, p'raps you'd better start taking those antihistamines again."

"Good idea," she agreed cheerfully before turning to Matt as they reached the front entrance. "Well, it was nice to meet you at last. Melissa's told me so much about you."

It was Matt's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Really?" he said disbelievingly. "What's she told you?"

Gemma seemed to give the question serious thought. "Mostly that she hates you, to be honest," she said at last, pushing open the door and leading them outside. "But I think it's about time you two buried the hatchet. You should take her out to dinner. Talk things through."

"Gemma!"

Matt twisted in time to see the full horror in Melissa's eyes and had to repress a smile. "Right. Thanks for the advice. I might just do that." 

"Gemma?" Melissa said, her tone dangerously quiet. "A word please—before you go?"

Matt backed away. "My car's just over there," he said warily, gesturing to the corner of the car park. "I'll er—I'll wait for you there, okay?"

Melissa watched him walk most of the way across the tarmac before turning back to Gemma. "I can't believe you said that!" she hissed.

"'My car's being repaired'. You liar! What car? You can't even drive—you came here by bus." Gemma's eyes narrowed as she peered across the car park. "Though that's a very nice car he's got there. Brand new. And bloody expensive, by the look of it."

"Gemma! You're supposed to be my friend!"

"I am your friend. Which is why I think you two should bury the hatchet. Preferably not in each other's heads, mind."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drop these down that drain." Melissa held Gemma's keys over the grille. "I have never been so embarrassed."

"Oh come on, Melissa! You're going to have to spend some time with this guy over the next few weeks. Why make it any harder on yourself?" Gemma threw her a despairing glance. "You're grieving for an uncle you both adored. You need each other right now."

Melissa's temper flared. "I don't need Matthew McKenzie."

Gemma shook her head. "I disagree. I think you do. I've been listening to what you've said about him and you two have far too much shared history for things to stay as they are. Besides." She grinned suddenly. "You said he's not married and he's bloody gorgeous."

Infuriated, Melissa gave a heavy sigh. "Really? I hadn't noticed." 

"Yes you have. You're lying again. Now give me my keys." Gemma held out her hand, smiling as Melissa slapped them into her palm. "Have a good time."

"Well." Matt smiled at Melissa as she slithered into the leather seat beside his. "She seems nice."

She fixed him with a glare. Men always wanted to know more about Gemma. "Don't even think about it. Yes, she's blonde, she's slim but let me tell you right now, she's happily attached and her boyfriend's built like a brick shit-house."

"Whoa!" Matt gave a short laugh, switching on the ignition. "That's not what I meant."

"Really? You're saying she's not your type?"

"Oh, I'm not saying anything. You are." And startling her, he slung an arm around the back of her seat, reversing out of the space so rapidly the tyres screeched. 

"Do you mind?" she gasped. "I haven't put my seatbelt on yet."

He stopped the car with a jerk. "Go ahead, put it on," he said, pulling on the handbrake and folding his arms.

She reached for the belt, aware of his steady gaze as she tugged it awkwardly across her lap. But to her dismay she discovered her fingers were shaking too much to push the metal prong into the socket.

"May I?" Without waiting for her reply he took the end from her hand and fastened the belt. "There you go. Can we drive on now?"

"Fine." Unable to look in his direction as they moved off again, she allowed herself a cautious glance around the interior of the car, noting first the plush trim then the dashboard, its dials and displays worthy of a spaceship console. "Nice car."

"Thank you." There was a pause. "Look, Lissy—"

"Melissa."

"Sorry. Melissa." He sighed heavily. "I know you don't like me very much, but please, couldn't we call a truce for now? Whether you like it or not, we're going to have to meet up like this quite a bit over the next few weeks."

She winced at the uncomfortable echo of Gemma's words. "I never said I didn't like you."

"Ah no—let's get this right. You hate me." Matt casually drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Strong word that, hate. But to be honest, I'm not sure why. Any chance you could explain?" 

She felt his eyes on her face as they halted at a set of traffic lights. "Oh, you know why. Don't pretend you don't."

"No, I'm not sure I do." He sighed again. "Unless of course, you're still holding a grudge against me for the way Jason and I treated you that summer all those years ago—fourteen years ago to be exact. But you're not, are you? Because that'd be ridiculous."

She swallowed hard. "I don't think it's ridiculous. Not really," she faltered, maddened he could dismiss their behaviour so readily. "You were pretty cruel."

"Lissy, we were kids! It was teasing."

"Teasing?"

"Yes, teasing. We were two seventeen year old boys spending the summer with a fifteen year old girl who happened to have red hair. What did you expect? That's what boys do."

"Is it?" Melissa couldn't believe her ears. "Do you have the faintest idea how much that 'teasing' hurt me? To have someone call you every name under the sun? Carrot Top, Cheeseball, Copperknob, Coppertop, Belisha Beacon, Freckle Features, Ginger Nut, Matchhead, Volcano Head—"

"Oh come on!" Matt shot her a grin. "You have to admit some of those are actually quite funny."

"Oh, right. Funny?" She stared back, aghast. "You think its funny to have someone tell you day after day how ugly you are? That having red hair is a genetic mutation and that every redhead in the world should be lined up against a wall and shot? That's funny is it? That's teasing, is it?"

Matt frowned. "Now hang on. I don't remember saying any of that."

"No." She shook her head, suddenly deflated. "You didn't. But Jason did. Mostly when you weren't around. But even when you were you never stopped him. You never once stood up for me. You let him treat me like dirt the whole time. Why? Why did you do that?" 

To her dismay, those ever-present tears began to blur her vision again. "Nearly all of my childhood memories have you in them. I can't remember a single summer without you. We went everywhere together, did everything together. You were my best friend. And then—you weren't." She blinked hard and turned away, staring unseeingly out of the side window. 

The horn sounding from the car behind broke the awkward silence. The traffic lights had turned green. Matt cursed under his breath before pulling rapidly away from the junction. "You make it sound like I was the only one who'd changed," he said at last as they left Mickleton behind. "You were completely different that summer too."

"I was completely different?"

"Yes, you were." He gave her another sidelong glance. "You made it quite clear you didn't want Jason there, even though the poor git had had a bloody awful time. His Mum and Dad were always splitting up and getting back together again and then finally, that year they decided to have the messiest divorce in history. Neither of them wanted Jason to live with them."

"I can't think why not."

"Oh Lissy, have a heart!" He scowled. "It was bad enough for me, being packed off to boarding school from the age of seven but at least I had a home to go back to. And in the summer I had Uncle Charlie and Aunt Suzie too. Jason didn't. Can you imagine what that must have been like? To be in the middle of a war zone when you're just a kid?"

Melissa glared at him, incensed. "So you're saying it was okay for him to bully me, right? Because he was from a broken home?"

"No, I'm not saying that!" Matt seemed equally annoyed. "I'm saying you never gave him a chance. I'm not surprised he didn't like you. You made no secret of the fact you didn't want him there, did you? He was my friend and you were jealous."

"I was jealous?" She gave a snort of astonishment. "I didn't give him a chance? You know, that really isn't how I remember it."

"No, I'm sure it isn't," Matt replied, sarcasm weighting his tone. "How strange."

"But you were there the first time we met!" She shook her head in desperation. "He didn't give me a chance. Don't you remember?"

"No, I don't." He sighed again. "But I daresay you're about to remind me."

Wanting to scream, she stared at him for several seconds. Then, abruptly, the bubble burst and the remaining fight in her drained away. "No," she said quietly. "What would be the point? Whatever, Matthew. Have it your way."

He shot her a surprised glance then shrugged. "Fine."

After a minute or two, she peered across to find Matt staring at the road ahead, his lips set in a firm line. She turned away, conscious neither of them had acknowledged the other contributing factor to that miserable time. The memory of that never-to-be-mentioned-again, passion-filled kiss they'd shared the summer just before she'd turned fifteen. Had he forgotten that too? It didn't seem likely. But she sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to bring it up.

Only when the car finally rolled down the hill into Ebberlea did she feel her spirits lifting again. She gazed out of the window at the familiar grey stone buildings. "This place hasn't altered much in twenty years."

"Hasn't altered much in a hundred years," Matt agreed, sounding relieved the silence had finally been broken. "The houses have probably changed hands a few times though."

"I daresay the locals can't afford to live here anymore." She sighed. "I wonder if Mr Anderson still runs the Post Office?"

"No. They closed the Post Office a few years back after losing a long and bloody battle to keep it open. Charlie said the old boy never got over it. He died last year. His wife still runs the shop part though."

"Oh." Melissa frowned. "At least Mike and Jean still own the pub."

"Yeah. After all these years. We could drop in for a drink and something to eat on the way back if you like. Check the arrangements are okay for the wake on Friday."

"It's not a wake. It's a funeral tea."

"And Gemma said I should take you out to dinner."

She heaved a sigh of frustration. "I don't think so."

Matt uttered a growl. "Oh, come on Lissy. You'll need to eat at some point this evening, won't you? Is the idea of spending more time with me really that terrible? I promise to be on my best behaviour."

"For heaven's sake—how many times do I have to tell you? My name is—"

"—Melissa," he finished, thumping his left hand on the wheel. "Of course it is. Would you give me a break? I've called you Lissy since we were kids. Your mother called you Lissy. Aunt Suzie and Uncle Charlie called you Lissy. It's going to take me a while to get used to it, you know. Old habits die hard. What's so bad about being called Lissy anyway?"

She'd only just figured out the answer to that herself. It seemed as though practically all of the people who'd called her Lissy were dead. The hard lump formed at the back of her throat again. "No one calls me Lissy anymore. Just call me Melissa, okay?" She heard him mutter something under his breath and gazed out of the window for inspiration to change the subject. To her relief she found some almost immediately. "Oh! Someone's done up the factory."

Last time she'd passed through the village the old boot and shoe factory had been almost in ruins, every window smashed by vandals, tiles missing from the roof. Now the building had been restored to its former Victorian glory, although was clearly no longer a business property. "It's been converted into flats."

"Yep. Well, four apartments actually."

Catching the nonchalant note to Matt's voice, Melissa groaned. "Flats, apartments—what's the difference? Architect-speak." 

He smiled. "No, it isn't, actually. An apartment is usually on one level. And it's about the concept. What sounds best, apartment or flat?"

"Neither. Both words just mean a group of rooms in a building."

"I beg to differ. I'd prefer to live in an apartment. Sounds more spacious."

"Sounds more American."

"Exactly." Matt was grinning. "Like I said, it's a concept. Though those apartments are more like lofts, to be honest."

She rolled her eyes, exasperated now. "What's the difference between an apartment and a loft?"

"Ah, now you're getting technical. A loft is more open plan. No walls, no doors. More like one room subdivided into sections. Kitchen, living area, dining area, etc."

She silently wondered whether that meant her tiny studio flat qualified as a loft. "With a separate bathroom I hope? Could be embarrassing if you had guests otherwise."

He shot her an amused look. "Yep, they generally have separate bathrooms. Those lofts back there certainly have."

"You've been inside to look?"

He didn't answer immediately, busy checking the road for traffic before turning right at the T-junction. "I designed them."

"Oh." That explained the nonchalance. She turned to look at him. "Am I supposed to say well done?"

"Nope." But his cheekbones lifted as though he was trying to repress a smile. "Just doing my job. That's how I happened to be around at Christmas."

She bit her lip. Christmas. When Matt had discovered Charlie was ill and she'd been left out of the loop. "But you're not around very much these days are you?" she ventured. "How come you're out of the country so much?"

Matt shrugged. "Ah well, I get the good jobs by virtue of being the only unattached partner in the practice. The others have families. Doesn't go down too well to ask one of them to spend months halfway round the world so good old Matt goes instead. It's been okay. I've seen some places I thought I'd never get to see, all expenses paid."

"And you don't get fed up with living out of a suitcase?" 

He grimaced. "Want the truth?" There was a pause as he pulled the car into the slip road. "I'm sick of it. I should've been here ." He waved his hand towards the gate. "Not seven thousand miles away."

She looked up at the battered rusting sign swinging above the gate. Beech Tree Farm. The hard lump returned to the back of her throat. "I'll go and open up." 

As she stepped out of the car, the cold wind whipped her hair into the air and made the white dress flap around her legs. It was much breezier here than it had been in Mickleton but then the farm was on high ground. The weather had always seemed more extreme here. Mostly she remembered long hot lazy summer days but when they came, the storms had been spectacular. 

Picking her way around the potholes, she walked on the tips of her toes, hoping the thin spikes of her heels wouldn't catch in the ground. Why ever had she listened to Gemma? Dainty sandals were a ridiculous choice for tramping around a farmyard. She lifted the latch, first leaning on the gate then shoving hard until with a loud squeal, it began to swing in towards the driveway. She waited for Matt to bring the car inside, catching the top bar of the gate ready to close it again. But as she turned she spotted the ominously dark sky. "Looks like it's going to pour down in a few minutes," she told Matt when she climbed back in beside him.

He shrugged, looking back over his shoulder. "Probably just a shower. We'll be safely inside long before it starts." He released the handbrake and began to move slowly forward, steering carefully around the largest of the potholes, and grimacing as the car shuddered across the smaller ones. As the car gave a second violent lurch he swore softly under his breath. "You know, maybe the first thing we ought to do is arrange for the driveway to be resurfaced."

"I don't suppose that was high on Charlie's list of priorities."

"No." He frowned again as the car jerked again, forcing her to scrabble at the armrest for support. 

"Aren't unmade roads an occupational hazard for you? You know, this isn't exactly the type of car I would've expected an architect to drive."

"Oh really?" He shot her a caustic glance, swearing again as the car dropped into yet another hole. "What sort of car should an architect drive then?"

"I don't know. Something with four-wheel drive. Something meant to get mud-splashed and filthy. A Land Rover or something."

"I'll bear that in mind for the next—oh, hell!" Spotting a huge crater, Matt slammed his foot on the brake and shoved the car into first. The car promptly stalled. Then the air turned blue.

"Matthew, do you mind?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't even know what half of that means."

He pulled a face. "Liar. P'raps you'd like to drive your car next time."

She stayed quiet, deciding this was probably not the time to confess that first she'd have to pass her driving test and buy a car. Still muttering, Matt dropped the gear stick into neutral and pulled on the handbrake before reaching to turn the keys in the ignition. Nothing happened. There wasn't even a whirr.

"What's wrong?"

Matt frowned and tried again. Still nothing. He removed the keys altogether, studied the car key for a few seconds then pushed it back in and turned. Silence. No lights on the dashboard. 

"Ah. Houston, we have a problem," she quipped, suddenly nervous.

Matt responded with another stream of expletives. Then he tugged his jacket from the back seat and retrieved a mobile phone from the inside pocket.

"What happened?"

"I haven't a clue. At a guess, that last bump fried the electrics."

"I thought men were supposed to know about cars."

"Not this man. This man knows about computer-aided design, multi-million pound contracts and structural engineering. Not bloody cars." He began to tap at the phone.

"Who are you calling?"

He gave her an isn't it obvious? glare. "Someone who does know something about cars. Hi, Greg?" Someone had picked up the other end. "It's Matt McKenzie. Listen, I've got a bit of a problem with the—hello? Hello?" 

The phone emitted a series of loud beeps then a rather odd squawk. "Great. Battery's dead." Still swearing softly, Matt leaned across Melissa's lap and reached into the glove box. "Damn. No charger." He twisted his head to look at her. "I'll have to use yours, if that's okay."

She looked at him blankly. "My what?"

"Your mobile." He sighed. "I'll reimburse you for the call if that's what you're worried about."

"Oh right." Melissa nervously moistened her lips. "I—um—haven't got a mobile phone."

Matt straightened up. "You mean you haven't got it with you."

"No, I mean I haven't got one at all." As his incredulous stare turned into a deep frown she bit her lip. "I've never needed one. No one needs to be in constant touch with me." Come to think of it, not many people phoned her at all. "I've never seen the point in having one." And she'd never been able to justify the expense of having one either, but she wasn't about to admit to her limited personal finances.

Matt gazed at her as though he considered she was extraordinarily stupid. "Never seen the point? What about personal safety? What about when you go out on your own at night?"

She tried to look affronted. "I try not to put myself in dangerous situations." And hardly ever went out at night.

"Right." Matt's expression was grim. "Okay," he said at last. "Not the end of the world. We'll walk up to the bungalow and call someone from there."

"Won't Charlie's telephone have been disconnected?"

"Doesn't matter. I've got a phone charger in my briefcase. I'll plug it in and use the phone while it's charging."




Back to the Farm Ch. 02



She hesitated. Was now the right time to point out that if Charlie's phone had been disconnected, there was every chance the electricity might have been as well? She took another look at Matt's grim expression and decided that it wasn't. "Okay," she agreed, gazing disconsolately at her feet in Gemma's flimsy sandals. "Let's do it."

It proved impossible to lock the car doors. Matt gave the front wheel a disgusted kick. "I can't believe I was talked into buying this heap of crap."

"Wasn't your first choice then?" Melissa waited for him to pick up his briefcase, casting a nervous look at the darkening sky above them before trying to assess just how far it was to the bungalow. It had to be another eight or nine hundred yards, at least. It would feel like three miles in Gemma's flimsy shoes.

"No. It's only about the fifth time I've driven it. I bought it just after Christmas and I've been away ever since." Plump raindrops began to spatter on to the ground. It was Matt's turn to glance at the sky. "Hmm. Maybe we should get a move on."

She struggled valiantly to match the increase in pace but as Matt had considerably longer legs it meant she was almost running to keep up. "So why did you buy it?" she asked, trying to catch her breath.

"I'd just found out Charlie was dying and that I'd got to go to Singapore for three months. It seemed a good idea at the time."

"At least you knew Charlie was dying."

He gave an exasperated sigh. "Don't start that again."

"Why not?" Rivulets of rainwater were beginning to trickle down her bare arms. "You know damn well you should've told me, no matter what Charlie said." 

"I couldn't tell you. I promised him I wouldn't. Do you really think I wanted to keep a secret like that? I had to go to Singapore knowing he probably wouldn't be here when I got back."

"Oh." An unexpected surge of rage swept through her. "Poor old Matthew. Bought yourself a flash car to make yourself feel better then, did you? I thought it was only women that did retail therapy."

"Oh, for God's sake!" As the heavens opened, Matt shrugged out of his jacket and pulled it over his head then began to walk even faster, leaving her behind. "It wasn't retail therapy!" he shouted over his shoulder. "I needed a new car."

"What the hell for? You just said you haven't been in the country since January."

Matt swore loudly. "Do you think we could drop this for now? We're going to get soaked!"

"Then maybe we should've stayed in your crappy useless car!" She blinked back tears, already soaked, her feet slipping painfully against the soles of her shoes as she took each step along the track, blisters developing on her little toes. Gemma's sandals were clearly intended for decoration only. They provided no protection at all. 

Wrenching her handbag off her shoulder, she reached into it and retrieved the keys to the bungalow. "Matt!" When he turned she sent the bunch sailing through the air. "Catch! I can't keep up. It's pointless for us both to get drenched."

The keys landed in a puddle, splashing mud halfway up his trouser leg. "Oh, great shot!" he called sarcastically, snatching them up. "I'll see you up at the bungalow!"

Melissa watched him break into a jog then disappear round the bend, miserably wondering why on earth she'd agreed to this. Peeling off her cardigan, she pulled it over her head as Matt had done with his jacket then trudged on for a few more steps. But it was no good. In far too much pain to continue, she stopped, swore using precisely the same words she'd claimed not to understand earlier and decided it would be easier to walk barefoot. 

Without further deliberation, she whipped off each sandal, ducked her head through the strap of her handbag so that it was slung securely across her body and set off again, feeling the dirt and grit squelching between her sore toes and yelping as some of the sharper stones dug into the soles of her feet. Her dress was plastered to her body, the skirt catching between her legs making it difficult to weave around the largest of the rapidly filling potholes, let alone run.

"Hey!"

She looked up to see Matt standing about a hundred yards ahead, holding aloft Charlie's huge green and white golfing umbrella. "Go back in!" she yelled, waving at him frantically. "It's not like I can't get any wetter now anyway!" But Matt simply stared at her as if he hadn't heard. As though he could hardly believe his eyes...

Matt couldn't believe his eyes. Her saturated dress, now fused to her body like a second skin, had become startlingly transparent. He could see the swell of her full breasts... the tapered outline of her waist... the flare of her hips... Dear Lord, she's beautiful, he thought, entranced by the vision of womanhood before him.

"For heaven's sake, I'm coming!" Melissa bellowed, oblivious to his admiration, agitated he hadn't moved. "Please! Go back inside!" She swore again, trying to force her legs to move more quickly. "Matt! Please! Go in! I'll be there in a—oooarrgghh!" 

"Lissy!"

She heard Matt's shout as she hit the ground, every bit of air slammed out of her by the impact. But before pain could set in, before she could even recover enough breath to cry out, strong hands had seized her beneath her armpits and were roughly hauling her backwards to her feet. Twisting her. Lifting her high into the air. Turning her upside down...

"Matt!" she screamed, realising she'd been slung over his shoulder in a perfect execution of a fireman's lift and that he was already jogging back up the drive. "Put me down! Put me down!"

He ignored her, moving effortlessly as if running up a dirt track in the pouring rain with a damsel in distress across his shoulder was for him an everyday occurrence. Reaching the bungalow, he bore her through the open front door and kicked it shut before slowly lowering her down. Disorientated, she staggered against him then slithered to the chequered linoleum floor, gasping from combined shock, pain and hurt pride. "You—you—pig!"

"No need to thank me." Matt stepped around her and went to try a light switch. It was dead. "Hmm. Could be a bulb, I s'pose." He walked down the semi-darkened hallway opening the doors into the bedrooms, the living room and the bathroom fruitlessly flipping switches as he went. Then he came back towards her, plucked up the telephone receiver from the small table by the front door and held it to his ear. 

She dragged in a breath. "Don't tell me. No electricity, no phone."

Matt sighed, replacing the handset. "You're a glass half-empty sort of girl, aren't you?"

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"Okay." He squatted beside her, picking up her grazed and muddied hands and inspecting them solemnly. "You're wrong." She swore and he rolled his eyes. "I thought you said you didn't know what any of that meant."

"I don't—arrgh!" She yelped as he slid his arms around her waist and lifted her to her feet. "Ow! What the hell are you doing now?"

Matt's eyes swept from her face to the front of her dress. "Lissy, you need to get cleaned up. You're wet, you're filthy and, er—" He appeared to be struggling to keep a straight face. "It's pretty obvious you're cold." 

She took a glance downwards, for the first time registering that not only was the dress awash with liquid dirt but that the material was clinging to each and every curve of her body. Every curve. Her nipples stood out like buttons. "Stop it!" she gulped. "Stop looking!"

Grinning openly now, Matt theatrically averted his gaze, tucked an arm around her and began to steer her down the hallway towards the bathroom. "Where are your shoes?" 

She groaned. "I must've dropped them when I fell. They aren't even mine. They're Gemma's. She's going to kill me." Either that or she was going to kill Gemma...

"You seem to have lost your cardigan too," Matt observed, almost casually. "So what happened? You went down like a ton of bricks. Did your foot go down a pothole?"

"I don't know." She had to bite down hard on her lower lip in an effort to hold back tears. Her knees were stinging and her right hip ached. "I could see you were waiting for me so I tried to go a bit faster. And then I fell."

"Are you trying to blame this on me?"

"No. Yes." A tear escaped and trickled down her face. Damn. She really didn't want him to see her crying again. "You shouldn't have come back for me. Wh-why did you come back for me?"

When he twisted her around to face him, she noticed for the first time that the left side of his shirt was caked with mud from shoulder to waist from where he'd carried her. And to her astonishment, he lifted his hand and gently brushed the tear away from her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "Because you called me Matt." 

Their eyes met for a heartbeat. Then he pushed her into the bathroom and closed the door. "Get cleaned up," she heard him say. "I'll see if I can find you something to wear." 

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments gratefully received.

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 03



Melissa put a hand to her cheek and drew in a deep trembling breath. She'd called him Matt. So what? He'd persisted in calling her Lissy. Like he said, old habits died hard. But she knew it was neither the name nor the caress that had unnerved her so much. It'd been the surprisingly tender look in his eyes.

The bathroom suite was the same faded yellow she remembered from her childhood, except now the taps were solidly encrusted with lime scale and the bath ringed and pitted as a result of more than forty years of constant use and ten years without Aunt Suzie's cleaning expertise. A tattered discoloured blind hung at the frosted window, the tiled ledge filled with cans and bottles, shaving foam and aftershave. She experienced a sharp tug in the middle of her stomach. Uncle Charlie wouldn't be needing any of those things anymore.

Shoving the thought to the back of her mind she stepped up to the sink and spun on the hot tap. Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the basin and gasped. Her hair was matted flat to her scalp, her pale blue eyes a stark contrast to her mud-splattered cheeks. She plunged her sore hands beneath the stream of water, only to note with shock that the water itself was coppery brown. "Oh no," she muttered unhappily, making the connection. No electricity meant no immersion heater. No immersion heater meant no hot water. 

Groaning softly, she leaned over the bath, pushed in the plug and turned on the cold tap. Then she bent to sniff at the two threadbare towels hanging from the rail. They too had once been yellow but thankfully smelt cleaner than they looked. There was a similarly coloured bathmat on the floor. Uncle Charlie had been a great believer in function over condition. It wasn't that he'd been mean. It was more that it would simply never have occurred to him to buy new soft furnishings. 

With another sigh, she turned back to the bath, grimacing as she watched the water swirl into the tub. "This'll be okay," she whispered to herself encouragingly. "You can do this." But removing the dress was another matter. When dry, the fabric had shimmied across her skin. Now that it was wet it was welded to her. After several attempts she managed to peel it off, only to discover her bra was similarly saturated. Sighing, she wrapped it in one of the towels and squeezed tight, hoping it might dry enough for her to put it back on. Luckily her knickers seemed reasonably dry. Just as well, she thought ruefully. There was no way she wanted to spend time in Matt's presence without them. 

Naked now and shivering, she frowned at the rising water. This would be like paddling in the sea, right? If she tentatively put in a toe, the water would feel icy. So the best thing to do would be to plunge straight in. She closed her eyes and moaned quietly. It wasn't as though she really had a choice. The mud had to be washed off. Ducking beneath the string that ran from one end of the bath to the other, serving as a makeshift clothesline, she stepped in and sat down. Then shrieked.

There was a sharp rap at the door. "You okay in there?"

She gasped, shrieked and gasped some more. "I'm--I'm f-f-fine!" she called with chattering teeth. 

"You sure?" Matt sounded puzzled. "Spider in the bath or something? Want me to come and get it out?"

With a start she remembered she hadn't locked the door. "No! D-don't you dare come in!"

"All right." He was clearly amused. "Keep your hair on. Let me know when you're ready for dry clothes."

Trying to repress further exclamations, she splashed water on to her face then worked steadily downwards, whimpering as she reached her skinned and bloodied knees. The whole procedure took less than two minutes but by the time she climbed out again her skin was mottled and the water opaque with filth. Grimacing, she released the plug and wrapped herself in the second towel, rubbing vigorously in an attempt to restore her circulation. Then she swilled out the tub. "All right, I'm ready," she called tentatively, pulling the towel tightly around her. "But you'll have to close your eyes."

The door opened immediately. "I'm not looking," Matt said, eyes squeezed shut as he held out what looked suspiciously like one of Charlie's shirts and a pair of thick woolly socks. 

Her heart sank. "Is that all you could find?"

Matt opened one eye and she beat a hasty retreat behind the door. "What exactly were you expecting? Come on, Charlie was a big man--the shirt will look like a dress on you. His trousers won't fit you, that's for sure."

Muttering rude words, Melissa snatched the clothes and slammed the door. She retrieved her bra from the towel, deciding with regret that it was still too damp to wear. Slinging it over the clothesline across the bath, she re-donned her knickers then slipped on the shirt. It swamped her. Charlie had indeed been a big man, as tall as Matt but probably three times as round. 

She turned to peer at her reflection in the mirror and frowned. Though it fell to her knees, buttoning it right up to the collar still didn't prevent it from gaping hugely at the neck. If she leaned forward without thinking, Matt would have a wonderful view, she thought wryly. Sighing, she tugged on the socks then, still shuddering with cold, used the towel to wipe up the muddy mess on the bathroom floor.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?" Matt's voice came again.

She dumped both towels in the bath along with her dress and opened the door a crack. "First you have to promise not to laugh."

"In that case, you can't laugh at me either. Deal?"

She opened the door to discover that Matt was wearing another of Charlie's shirts. The fabric billowed balloon-like over his trousers. "Classy," she muttered, unable to repress a smirk.

"That's me. Follower of high fashion," he said dryly, candidly appraising her appearance. "I should worry. You look like Wee Willy Winky." But then his gaze reached her bleeding knees. "Hmm. Come on." He turned and walked off down the hallway.

Clutching at the top of the shirt, she limped along behind him. "So what's the bad news?"

"Oh, you already know the bad news. We have no transport, no electricity and no telephone." Matt led the way into the kitchen and motioned to her to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs before reaching up to a cupboard above the sink. He pulled down the large yellowing Tupperware box that contained the First Aid kit and dropped it on the table.

"What's the good news?" She watched him tear off the lid and rummage inside, eventually producing an aged-looking box of plasters.

"We do have Calor Gas and matches." He motioned to the stove and for the first time she noticed a bubbling saucepan of water resting on a lit gas ring. "And I've found teabags and sugar." He opened the box of plasters and peered inside. "Do you think these things have a best before date? They've probably been in this tub since we were kids." She shrugged and he passed over the box. "Oh well. Can't see how they could do any harm. I'll make some tea."

"Thanks." Still trembling a little, her fingers numb with cold, it took several attempts to remove a plaster. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past seven. But don't worry. It'll only take me about an hour to walk down to the village."

"Wh-what?"

"One of us needs to get help, Liss." 

Melissa gazed at him in horror as he brought two steaming mugs of black tea to the table. He sat down in the opposite chair and grimaced back. "Don't look at me like that. I wasn't expecting you to volunteer. You haven't even got any shoes."

"No, I know but--" She threw a desperate glance towards the window. Rain was still pelting against the glass. "It's pouring down out there!"

"I'll take Charlie's umbrella. I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." Her hands shook even more as she tried in vain to open the plaster packet. As a child she'd never liked being alone in the remote farmhouse and she had no desire to be left there now. Certainly not so soon after Charlie's death, surrounded by all of his things. "You'd have to be crazy to go out in this. It's going to take you much longer than an hour to get to Ebberlea. And--" she hesitated then added in a small voice "--it'll be dark soon."

He reached across the table and took the small packet. "I'll be back before you know it," he said calmly, unwrapping the plaster and offering it back.

"But--oh!" She tried to grab the plaster but her hand wouldn't keep steady. "Sor-sorry," she got out, her eyes filling with tears. "Can't seem to st-stop shaking!"

Matt gazed at her and his eyes narrowed. "Oh, hell... You're in shock." He reached for the bag of sugar and heaped two large teaspoons into her mug.

"No, I'm not!" she protested, feeling foolish. "I'm all right--I--I'm just cold."

"Yeah, right." He gave the mug a vigorous stir then brought it around the table to her. "Drink," he said simply, pushing it into her hands.

She obeyed and immediately felt better as the hot sweet liquid slipped down her throat. He watched her closely while she drank then, to her further embarrassment, he seized the box of plasters and tended to her knees, his slender artist's fingers working deftly and gently. "Thanks," she whispered as he fastened down the last tape.

"I'll go and find you something to wear over that shirt," he said, straightening up.

"No." She forced herself to her feet. "I can do that."

Matt sighed loudly then followed as she hobbled down the hallway towards Charlie's bedroom. 

The bed was neatly made, covered in a fraying white camberwick bedspread. The curtains were partly drawn, showing a row of perfectly aligned albeit dusty ornaments along the windowsill. A china bell. A tiny figurine of a ballerina. A roughly hewn clay pot, painted garishly with blue and red stripes that she'd made at primary school and given to Aunt Suzie for a birthday present. Beside the pot was a small wooden boat, the words 'Uncle Charlie' lovingly carved along the side. Ten-year-old Matt's handiwork. She swallowed. Everything ordered and in its place. As though Charlie had merely gone away on holiday for a week or two.

Matt pulled back the bedcovers. "Doesn't look as though anyone's slept in this bed. The sheets are clean."

She crossed the room and tugged at the gilt handle on the gloss-painted wardrobe door. With a squeal, the door opened and she found herself staring at a tightly packed rail full of her Uncle's clothes.

"Found anything?" Matt stepped past her and reached into the wardrobe. "Here, this should do the job." He retrieved an enormous beige and brown woolly cardigan and held it up ready for her to slide in an arm. "Put this on."

But she didn't move. Couldn't move. The cardigan had been one of Charlie's favourites. She'd seen him wear it a hundred times. Now he'd never wear it again. He was dead. It was a simple, inescapable, horrifying truth. Who was she trying to kid? He wasn't on holiday. He wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Matt throw the cardigan on the bed. And then, before she had a chance to resist, before she had a chance to protest, he gathered her to him. His arms wrapped around her back, anchoring her so securely it felt as though his whole body was pressed against hers, the intense rush of heat warming her more effectively than any cardigan ever could. And as he held her, his cheek resting against her hair, she discovered she had no desire to protest or resist. Though it had been years, being back in Matt's arms suddenly seemed so familiar, so comforting she found herself leaning into him, her eyes closing, her mind dropping into neutral. 

"You smell of Charlie," she whispered, inhaling deeply. Pipe tobacco mixed with laundry powder and a splash of Old Spice.

"So do you. I think it's the shirts." His breath tickled her ear. "You're freezing." He rubbed her back gently and she shivered as if to prove his point. "How did you get so cold?"

"No hot water."

There was a pause as Matt processed this information. "You mean you washed all that mud off with cold water?" He chuckled softly. "Hell, no wonder you yelled."

"It must be getting dark." Melissa didn't dare open her eyes to see for herself. Opening her eyes would mean having to deal with reality. Dealing with reality would mean confronting the fact that Matt McKenzie was holding her so closely she could feel every ripple of the layer of hard muscle covering his abdomen. Dealing with reality would also mean confronting the fact he was about to leave her alone in the bungalow while he went to fetch help.

"Yep." It didn't sound as though he was any keener to confront reality than she was.

"Matt?"

"Mmm?"

"It's still raining and it's nearly dark. Maybe you shouldn't go out again." She hesitated, unable to believe what she was about to suggest. "The Vicar's meeting us here at ten o'clock tomorrow. Maybe--maybe we should just stay here?"

"Stay here?"

Her eyes shot open at the astonishment in his voice. Disorientated by the dim light, she pushed herself out of his embrace and took an unsteady step backwards. "Yes. Why not? The Vicar will have a car, right? Probably a mobile phone too. And this way you don't have to go out and get soaked."

There was a silence while Matt considered her suggestion. "Let me get this straight," he said at last, folding his arms. "You'd rather stay here with me--even though you hate me--than have to stay here on your own?"

She glared at him angrily. "Hey, I'm not scared of being on my own."

"I never said you were." He lifted a dismissive hand. "Look, it's a good idea. I'm not complaining."

"It makes sense, that's all. There's probably something we can eat in one of the kitchen cupboards." She swept up the cardigan and wriggled into it, a fresh burst of essence of Charlie flooding her senses. "And we've got a bed." Heat swooped into her face as she realised what she'd said. We've got a bed? "Probably more than one bed," she gabbled hastily. "Maybe we could clear one of the other bedrooms."

"Lissy." There was undisguised amusement in Matt's tone.

"There has to be another bed." Embarrassed, Melissa shot out of the room and pushed at the door to the second bedroom across the hall, the bedroom that had been Matt's when they were younger. "It's probably buried under a mountain of junk but we could clear it out." Meeting resistance, she shoved hard with her shoulder. "Going to have to do that sooner or later. Might as well start now." 

"Lissy--"

"It's stuck." Puzzled, she leaned her entire body weight against the door. There was a low rumble followed by a deafening crash. And then the door swung open and she fell headlong into the room with it.

Completely winded for the second time in half an hour, she heard Matt shout with laughter. "Sweetheart, you're going to have some stunning bruises tomorrow. Is the idea of sharing a bed with me really that terrifying? 'Cause it's not like it'd be the first time. How many times did you crawl into my bed when we were kids? Hundreds of times. Aunt Suzie used to joke it was hardly worth you having your own bed. But you know what? You needn't worry. I'll sleep on the settee."

Melissa was too breathless to reply. In fact, if she could have found enough breath she would probably have wept. She looked up and saw towers of boxes, blocking all but a chink of light from the window. Other battered cartons had spewed their contents across the floor as they'd fallen. Books. Swathes of fabric. Plastic bottles. Goodness only knew how Charlie had managed to pile up so many boxes so close to the door. And if there was a bed in the room it was buried beneath dozens more.

Matt stopped laughing and crouched beside her. "Lissy?"

"My name is Melissa," she whispered with all the dignity she could muster.

"Thank God. For a moment there I thought you were seriously hurt." He eased her up, propping her against the doorjamb before turning around to view the carnage for himself. "Something tells me it's going to take quite a while to clear this place up. We're going to need a skip. Possibly two. I'll have a word with Jason."

She shot him a horrified glance. 

"Oops." Matt grimaced and stood up. "Something tells me I should fetch you another nice mug of hot sweet tea. Don't move. I'll be back in a second."

Dismay fuelling her strength, she heaved herself upright and padded after him to the kitchen, wincing with every step. "Jason?"

Ignoring her, Matt peered out of the window at the darkening sky as he refilled the saucepan with water. "We're going to need to find some candles soon." 

But Melissa wasn't about to let him change the subject. "The same Jason?"

He shrugged, conceding defeat. "Yes, the same Jason. He's been a good friend." 

She stared at the back of his head, still breathless, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. "Well that explains why you're still defending him." Pushing past him, she opened the cupboard next to the back door and bent down to retrieve an old ice cream tub, stifling a sob of pain. "Candles," she said, quickly straightening up and slapping them on the worktop in front of him.

"Look, he's a building contractor. We've worked together quite a bit over the years. In fact--" Matt finished lighting the stove and turned around. "Oh hell, there's no good time to tell you this. I s'pose you should know that Charlie and I were working on--" Then he stopped abruptly, frowning slightly. "Are you okay? You're swaying."

Hardly hearing his words, Melissa made a grab for the edge of the worktop in an attempt to steady herself. "I'm all--all right--oh..." she heard herself say, her voice sounding oddly far away. Black dots began dancing in front of her eyes, a roaring noise in her ears. 

"I told you not to get up." Matt seized her tightly around the waist and walked her backwards until she felt the seat of chair pressing against the back of her knees. "Sit," he said firmly, pushing her down and pressing her head between her knees.

"I'm a-all right," she managed shakily. 

"Like hell you are."

"It's not--it's not--because of Jason." Melissa knew she sounded hysterical but she needed him to believe her. Needed to convince herself. She forced her head back up. "I'm n-not scared of him."

"What?" Matt knelt beside her, studying her with an intensity that made her nervous. "This isn't good," he said with a sigh. "You nearly passed out and now you're talking gibberish. Is this still shock or did you hit your head when you fell just now?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay--stop fussing," she muttered, hoping she would feel better in another minute. At lease she didn't feel quite so dizzy now.

"When did you last eat?"

She frowned, irked by his continuing concern. But then she remembered she'd skipped lunch. One of her appointments had overrun and there hadn't been time. She'd made do with what she could salvage from the crumbling cereal bar she'd found at the bottom of her handbag. 

"Right." Matt read her guilty expression in one glance. "Let's see what there is."

"I'm okay," she repeated, as much to persuade herself as him. She watched him move straight to the tall cupboard beside the fridge freezer and rummage inside. It occurred to her they both knew this kitchen as though it were their own.

"Hmm. There's a tin of baked beans. Tinned peas. Tuna--not sure about that one--looks like it's been here for decades. Unopened packet of pasta. That seems to be about it--oh, hang on--there's soup."

"What flavour?"

Matt turned and pulled a face. "You won't want it. Mushroom."

She grimaced. He was right, she didn't. Neither of them had ever liked mushrooms. "I suppose we could do something with the pasta. Put the beans with it."

He brightened. "Haven't had that since I left university. Better with grated cheese though." They both regarded the fridge. "I wonder how long the electricity's been off?"




Back to the Farm Ch. 03



As Desirae slept, Doug's work wound down and he moved to a chair near her and watched her. As she slept, his thoughts wandered back to the summer he fell in love with her. 

She had always been his favorite cousin and it seemed like they had always had a connection. Whenever her family visited, there was never any awkwardness, they just slipped into the buddy roles so easily. That year, there was a big family reunion going on and too many people to keep track of. It was nice to have someone he could just hang out with and not have make polite conversation with. They were all camping at a lake and the younger crowd spent most of their time in the water, or at least, on the beach. 

He was thirteen and rapidly becoming more aware of the female body. And more importantly, his own reactions to it. Still, he was surprised by his reaction to seeing her in that white bikini of hers. She had just turned 18 and was a bombshell. Their shared Scandinavian heritage showed in her build. Taller than average, with ample curves in all the right places.  She seemed oblivious to the effect she had on the young men around her and was completely at ease in her enjoyment of the activities. He could not get her and that bikini out of his mind that first night (or many after) and she became the first "real" woman he jacked off fantasizing about. He'd been a little ashamed of that, but from what he overheard his two older brothers saying, he figured he might not have been the only one. 

She was there over a month that year since her mother's family was having a reunion later on.  Her other grandma lived only a couple of houses down from them, so it was easy to spend at least part of every day with her. She had friends in the town she did things with and other relatives to visit, but she always made him feel welcome when he showed up at the door. Looking back, he probably made quite a fool of himself following her around like a lost puppy.  

He saw her a few times over the next few years and his feelings and yearning for her only grew with each encounter. He heard of her marriage and her move to the coast and the births of her children through the family grapevine. 

In a small town like theirs, you knew everybody's business and he couldn't help being thrilled to learn she would be there that summer. Her mom's family was having another reunion and she would be staying just two doors down again.  Of course, by then he was a working man all of 20 years old and couldn't devote as much time to her, but once again, they fell into the buddy roles with ease. Des hadn't changed much and his reaction to her was the same as had become normal. She had a grace in her movements and a spark in her eyes that always drew his attention and instantly turned him on.

He spotted her and the kids at the park one evening and pulled his truck in to say hi. Even now, he's not sure what happened, but she leaned in to kiss him as he was leaving. When the kiss ended, they looked at each other, puzzling over the intensity and kissed again, even deeper. Their lips parted and their tongues hesitatingly danced with the others.  By now, he was rock hard and her eyes were clouded with desire, but as she stepped back, they cleared as one of her girls called out for her. She said her farewells and left to tend to them. 

He'd never been so aroused by a simple kiss before and went home with no other thought than relieving the pressure in his cock. 

He spent as much time with her as he could over the next weeks. Most of the time, the kids were with them or there were others around who could show up with no warning.  What started with a few passionate kisses soon escalated into more and more fervent explorations of each other's bodies during the brief moments they had. 

As her other relatives started arriving and preparations for their reunion geared up, he knew he'd see less of her for the time being. While that was true, the time they did have together was beyond any hopes he'd had. His parents were away for a couple of weeks and it was getting crowded at her grandma's house. Doug almost choked on his beer when Des's dad, Uncle Ray, suggested that Des and the kids could sleep down there. It was late when he heard her come in and settle the girls into bed for the night. He waited, almost holding his breath until he heard the creak of that loose stair, his cock swelling in anticipation as he waited.  She knocked quietly and asked if he was awake and, at his affirmative response, entered his room and in the dim light from the televiosion, made her way to his bed. 

Des sat on the edge and leaned in to kiss him. His arms rose to embrace her and pull her closer. Their lips moved with impatient frenzy around each other's necks and chest as he all but ripped her t-shirt off of her.  Their lips kept contact with each other as she rose up to slip off her shorts while he unhooked her bra. As her breasts were released, they were engulfed by Doug's hands. Their desire for each other was frantic as she rolled over him to stretch out beside him and explore his body as he was exploring hers.  His arousal was at a peak, and he thought he might cum as soon as he felt her hand rub the length of his almost painful erection. 

The initial passion of the embrace faded and as their lips parted, panting with the heat of desire, they sought to catch their breath. They leisurely caressed each other and he took the time to look at her gorgeous body as he moved his hands and lips over it. She stretched a little as she moved to her back. Her legs parted as he positioned himself between them working his mouth over each nipple in turn. As they firmed, he drew it into his mouth with more force flicking the bud with his tongue before gently scraping it between his teeth. He continued his tortuously slow journey to the tangle of pubic hair. He looked up at her for assurance and she smiled as their eyes met. Placing her hands on his head, she pushed his face toward her swollen mound. 

He paused and inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of her arousal. His tongue lightly brushed the crease of her lips, then along the sides before gently coaxing them apart. His tongue traveled the length of those soft folds before finding the little bud of her clit. The feel of its hardness enticed him to explore its shape by circling it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. Her hips raised and bucked while her hands held his head tightly to her. He felt her tremble as she came and heard the deep, gutteral groan as her orgasm produced a flood of moisture that he had to taste. With his tongue at the opening, he relished the texture and taste of her wetness and after the initial taste, explored her depths with his tongue.

"Oh, yes. Eat me, Doug." Des cried as her hips gyrated around his efforts.  Her cunt felt the emptiness as he moved back to her clit and she begged "Put your finger in me." As he did, he felt the velvety smooth walls contract around it as he continued the oral exploration of her clit. He pulled his finger out and teased the opening before sliding it in again, marveling at how she was so smooth and slippery, yet so tight around his finger. He pulled it out once again and inserted two fingers with the next invasion. Her hips thrust upward as another climax came over her and she pulled him up, away from her clit to kiss him deeply, tasting her own juices on him.

She pushed him off of her and straddled him. His erection was nestled between them and she moved her hips rubbing her clit against it as she leaned forward to continue the kiss and nibble at his neck. He had never had a woman make love to him like this and tried to relax and just enjoy the seduction. The light, feathery bush of her mouth and tongue both tickled and aroused him. She teased his nipples worked her way downward, tracing the contour of his ribcage and teasing the hair on his abdoman that grew thicker as she approached his cock with tantalizing slowness. She positioned herself between his legs and rubbed his upper thighs coming nearer and nearer to his balls and cock teasing him until his hips lifted off the bed and he begged her to touch him. 

She licked his balls and ran her tongue the length of his shaft. Wrapping her hand around the shaft, she guided the head toward her mouth and licked around the swollen knob before taking it completely into her mouth. A little at a time,, she worked her saliva further and further down until she could finally slide her mouth easily along the length of it. She took it all into her mouth. He could feel the back of her throat loosen around the head before she started sliding it out of her mouth. She was sucking on it as she did and the sensation was almost enough to make him cum then. He didn't want to cum too soon or in her mouth, so he stopped her, pulling her toward him and rolling her onto her back in one fluid motion.

As she looked at him with desire, he lifted up so he could reach down and position his cock at the entrance to her incredibly wet pussy. Intending to tease her with just the tip, his desires compelled him to thrust into her. Oh, that was better than anything he'd experienced before. Better than anybody he'd experienced. Her muscles gripped the length of his cock as he slid it in to her depths. Taking it out slowly, he thrust again, burying the solid shaft even deeper in her. As he started the rhythmic pleasure, her legs wrapped around his back pulling him closer and drawing her ass up off the bed. "Fuck me", she begged. "Fuck me deep." He did his best to drive his rigid cock as deep inside her as he could. With a final moan, he said "I'm cumming, Des. I'm cumming in you." as he felt the surge of his juices pulse into her depths. 

She drew him close as he collapsed on her. He wasn't a virgin, but his previous experiences had never been as fulfilling as that was. He had fantasized about it for years and she had far exceeded those fantasies. Taking a deep breath, he rolled off to the side and they lay in silence with her head resting on his chest and his arm around her back. 

"Stay with me." he begged as she made a move to get up. 

"I can't." she said. "The girls won't know where they are if they wake up." He didn't have the strength to argue and sat up to watch her dress. He heard her go down the stairs and into the bathroom. He drifted off to sleep before she finished and went to her own bed. 

She and her girls stayed one more night at the house with him. She came to him earlier and she had sucked the cum from his cock before they started a slow, erotic love making that lasted almost all night. 

As Doug drifted back to the present he realized she was awake and watching him rub his swelling cock through his pants as he relived the start of their sexual relationship. 

"Thinking good thoughts?" Des asked. 

Doug smiled. "Yeah. I was thinking I'm glad you kissed me in the schoolyard that summer, cuz I would never have had the guts to try anything without that encouragement."

She laughed as she got up. "Me too." she said as she bent to kiss him before moving off. He got up, too and gathered her into his arms. It was so good just to have her close. He let her go and moved to the kitchen. "How about some supper?" he asked. "I think I'm going to need all the nourishment I can get."



Back to the Farm Ch. 03



"Matt--please! Don't!" Melissa gulped as his fingers moved towards the handle. "I don't think I'm up to coping with the smell of mouldy food."

"Then hold your breath. We need to know what we're dealing with."

She clapped a hand over her mouth and he opened the door. But the fridge was empty. Matt leaned in and sniffed. "It's clean. Everything's been cleared out. And--" he opened the lower door "--the freezer's empty too."

"The bathroom was clean as well." She hadn't given it a second thought until now. And there had been fresh linen on the bed. "Someone's been here ahead of us. I wouldn't have thought that Charlie was up to doing that kind of thing before he left."

Matt frowned but didn't comment. Instead he found a pile of saucers and passed her the ice cream tub and a box of matches. "I'll cook. You stay put. Light some candles before it gets too dark to see what we're doing." 

Fifteen minutes later they were tucking into steaming platefuls of pasta. There was a certain irony to this situation, she thought, ravenously shovelling in the first few mouthfuls. She was eating a candlelit supper with a man she'd detested for years. 

He paused to watch her, fork in hand. "When exactly did you last have a meal?"

She hesitated. "Work was busy. I didn't have time for lunch. Doesn't often happen, but it did today, okay?" She sighed and looked down at herself. "And anyway, it's not like I'm going to fade away, is it?"

"Hmm." Matt gave her a long, appraising stare. "This is where I'm supposed to say you're not fat, right?"

So much for the romance of a candlelit supper, she thought bitterly. "Whatever," she said, with another heavy sigh. "I know I'm never going to be Miss World."

He looked amused. "Now you're really fishing."

"I'm not!" She was grateful the flickering light wasn't enough to fully illuminate her face. "That's not what I meant. I just meant I'm aware I could do with losing a few pounds. And I'm not especially pretty." Oh God. Not only was she digging an even deeper hole for herself, she couldn't think of anything to say that would make things any better. "Look--just forget it."

Remembering the breathtaking sight of Melissa virtually naked on the driveway--an image he knew he wouldn't easily forget--Matt put his fork down, his smile widening as he continued to watch her. "You actually believe what you're saying, don't you?"

"I said forget it!"

Unbelievable, Matt thought, almost sadly. She had no idea how beautiful she was. "Newsflash, Lissy. Not all men find stick-thin blonde bombshells like your friend Gemma attractive, okay?"

"You do! I saw the way you looked at her. And Charlie used to say that every time he saw you you had a different long-legged gorgeous blonde on your arm." 

"Oh that's not fair." Matt was still smiling but there was a defensive edge to his tone. "I haven't been out with a long-legged gorgeous blonde in months."

She shook her head, scooping up another forkful of pasta. "Matthew McKenzie, when you get married I guarantee it'll be to a long-legged gorgeous blonde."

"No, it won't because I have no intention of getting married."

She gaped at him, taken aback. "Ever?"

"Nope." He met her gaze, solemn now. "And before you ask, I don't intend to have any kids either."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? After the mess my parents made of it all? No way."

She still couldn't quite believe he was serious. "But if you found the right woman, if it was true love--"

He shook his head. "There's no such thing as true love."

"There is! What about Charlie and Suzie? I've never known two people more in love."

"Oh, come on Lissy! Even their relationship wasn't perfect." Matt finished the last mouthful of his pasta and pushed the plate away.

She frowned. As the child of a single mother her uncle and aunt's relationship had seemed pretty idyllic to her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "No relationship can ever be perfect. Look, I have nothing against other people getting married and having all the children they want. It just isn't for me, that's all." He pushed back his chair and carried his plate across to the sink.

She considered his words in silence for a moment, watching as he poured a saucepan of hot water into the washing up bowl before adding a squirt of washing up liquid. "That's ridiculous," she burst out at last, getting up to join him. "And completely selfish."

Matt frowned and threw her a tea towel. "How is it selfish? Whenever I start a new relationship I make it clear from the outset that marriage and kids are never going to be on the agenda. "

She couldn't help giving a snort. "How romantic. Bet that goes down well with the ladies."

"Most of them don't seem to mind."

"Oh really?" She picked up a wet plate and began to dry it. "Are you going out with someone at the moment?"

"No."

"How long was your longest relationship?"

He raised his eyebrows. "How long was yours?"

She grimaced, determined that topic would remain off-limits. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. Who was your longest relationship with?"

"I don't know." He pondered for a moment. "Rachel, I s'pose. We went out for about a year."

She remembered Charlie telling her about Rachel. Pretty but dim, he'd said. "And why did you split up?"

"It was when I first started working abroad for weeks at a time. She met someone else while I was away."

"Ha!" Melissa pounced. "So she wanted more from the relationship."

"Well yes, I guess she wanted a boyfriend who was actually around." Matt sighed and shook his head. "What's your point?"

"My point is, a lot of women will say that they don't mind about the marriage and kids thing. But the truth is, nearly every one of them believes that she might be the woman that changes your mind."

"Oh, come on Lissy!" He emptied out the bowl then turned to face her, clearly annoyed. "We don't live in the dark ages any more. It isn't every woman's dream to be a wife and mother these days."

"No, I don't suppose it is, but it's nice to have the choice. Any woman who decides to get involved with you for the long haul won't have that choice. That isn't fair. People change." She hesitated. "You might change. You might fall in love."

Matt snorted. "There you go with that 'love' word again. I sincerely doubt it."

Melissa frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't think love exists. Not really." He turned to pick up the saucer and candle from the kitchen table. "Oh, I know other people think it does. But I think it's probably just a manifestation of lust. Or a state of co-dependency. But love is just a myth, Lissy. The stuff of romantic fiction."

He couldn't be serious, she thought. "How d'you know? Haven't you ever been in love?"

"I thought I was once." He lifted his gaze and gave her the briefest of smiles. "That's how I know that I'm right." And with that, he walked out of the kitchen.

The sudden gloom was overwhelming, immediately blocking Melissa's ability to make sense of his words. "Matt!" Suppressing a shriek, she hurried after him into the hall. "Do you mind? I was still in there."

"So you are you're still scared of the dark. Lissy, you're twenty-nine years old!"

"I'm not scared of the dark! Of course I'm not. That would be really silly--" She stopped abruptly, seeing him pick up the umbrella and open the front door. A draught of chilly air flooded the corridor. "Where are you going?" A knot of fear tightened in her stomach. She'd annoyed him so much he'd changed his mind. He was going to walk down to the village after all. He was going to leave her there. Alone...

"For heaven's sake." Matt threw her a scornful glance. "I'm going out to the shed. I'm hoping there'll be some logs for the wood burner. In case you hadn't noticed, it's bloody cold in here. If that's okay with you, of course?"

"Right. Yes." She let go of her breath and stared at the candle he was holding. "I s'pose you'll be needing that then."

With a sigh that nearly extinguished the flame, Matt turned and thrust the saucer into her hand then strode out of the door.

*

"What the hell are you still doing out here?" 

Melissa shrieked as Matt's deep voice cut through the darkness of the kitchen. "Do you mind?" she gasped, heart pounding. "Did you have to creep up on me?"

"I didn't. You just didn't hear me." There was no trace of apology in his tone. He arrived at her elbow and peered into the washing up bowl. "That's my shirt."

"Yes." Frowning, she lifted up the fabric to the candlelight. "I'm fairly sure it's clean now. It's hard to tell in this light." With a sigh, she plunged it back into the water with her dress, squishing them together for one final rinse.

"Oh. You didn't need to do that." His voice softened. "Wow. I can't remember the last time someone washed a shirt for me."

She shrugged. "Your mother, maybe?" But even as she said the words she knew it was unlikely.

Matt laughed bitterly. "I doubt my mother's done any washing in thirty years. Heaven forbid--spoil her manicure? That's what the hired help's for. No, Aunt Suzie would've been the last person to wash a shirt for me."

They were both silent for a moment, picturing Suzie standing at that very sink. Yet another painful memory. Suddenly desperate to push away her grief, Melissa tipped the water out of the bowl and attempted to squeeze as much moisture out of the clothes as possible. Not an easy task, given both hands were numb with cold. "So who washes your shirts now then?" 

"I do, of course." He sounded indignant. "Did you think I have them all dry-cleaned? Or that I just buy new ones when they get dirty?"

"I don't know." Melissa was growing weary of the constant sniping. "I don't know what I thought, to be honest." Hauling the empty bowl on to the draining board, she dropped the clothes into it then rinsed her hands one last time, grimacing at the iciness of the water. "Look, Matt." She sighed deeply. "Does it have to be like this?"

"Like what?" 

"Well--" She hesitated. "We're stranded here tonight, right? Whether we like it or not. So how about--?"

"Well, not necessarily," Matt interrupted, rather brusquely. "Staying was your idea, remember? But if you like, it's not too late for me to go out in the driving rain to fetch help. It would mean me getting very wet and having to leave you here, all alone in the dark but hey--"

"Shut up!" Infuriated she swung around to face him, her fingers dripping over the floor. "Just shut up! Do you really think I wanted to be stuck here with you tonight? It's the last thing I wanted."

He suddenly smiled, as though enjoying her outburst. "Because you hate me, right?"

"I--" His amusement only served to make her angrier. "I don't like you, no."

He seized her wrists and took a step towards her, still smiling. "You're all wet." Reaching for a tea towel, he began to dry her hands. "You said you hated me."

"No." She watched as he blotted each finger, taken aback by the intimacy of the gesture. "Gemma said the 'hate' word, not me."

"Really?" He was grinning now, eyes dancing in the light of the flickering flame. "You never said 'hate'? You know, someone once told me that hate is the flip side of love. So you can't hate someone if you didn't love them first."

Too late she realised Gemma had said the very same thing. She must have used the word 'hate'. Her cheeks burned. "So? You don't believe in love, remember?"

"Oh yes, that's right, I don't." He tossed the tea towel over a chair and took another step towards her, his body now skimming hers. "Hell, Lissy, you're freezing again."

As he moved closer still, his arms folding around her back, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A sharp tingle shot down her spine. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Warming you up. If this doesn't work, I'll have to take you to bed."

"What?"

He laughed again, looking intently into her upturned face. "Oh no, I forgot. I can't do that. Because you hate me, don't you?" And before she could draw breath to reply, he dipped his head and kissed her. 

It started as the gentlest of kisses, his lips warm and soft, a teasing gesture intended merely to demonstrate he knew she didn't hate him. Except that a second after his mouth met hers, it became so much more, shards of desire skittering through her before exploding like a thousand tiny firecrackers. By the time he finally raised his head, the laughter had faded from his expression, leaving her in no doubt he'd been equally moved. Their eyes met and held for a long moment. 

"Well." He gave an uneasy smile, his hands still warm on her back. "It's been a while since we last did that." 

So he hadn't forgotten. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. "Matt--"

"No, I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. His arms fell away so abruptly she felt bereft. "Forgive me. I don't know what I was thinking." Dropping his gaze, he brushed a hand through his hair. "We--er--we should go and sit in the living room, you know. It'll be warmer in there now."

He turned and left the kitchen without a backward glance. Swallowing hard, Melissa reached into the bowl for the wet clothes. "I'll--I'll be there in a minute," she called, unnerved to find her voice unsteady. "I'll just hang these in the bathroom to dry." She threw the dress and shirt over her arm, grabbed the candle and, on jelly-like legs, stumbled out into the hall. 

That shouldn't have happened. I don't know what I was thinking. Matt's words taunted her as she entered the bathroom and carefully planted the candle on the tiled windowsill. Of course he hadn't meant to kiss her. But oh, what a kiss! She'd experienced the same rush of passion she'd felt that afternoon all those summers ago, when she and Matt had sat side by side in the tree house and shared their very first kiss. And now, just for a fleeting moment, she'd had a glimpse of what might have been...

Stop it, she told herself firmly. The kiss had meant nothing, and even if it had, did she really want to be just another of his conquests? "No, you don't," she whispered, as though hearing the words aloud would strengthen her resolve. Fingers trembling, she arranged the wet clothes across the line strung over the bath. Then gathering the last vestiges of her courage, she walked back down the hall towards the welcoming glow from the living room. 

The wood burner was well alight, orange and yellow flames licking furiously against the glass. Matt was kneeling before it on the hearthrug, fiddling with the air vents. "You found some wood then," she said, attempting a bright tone.

"Yep." He sounded similarly casual. "Just trying to get this thing to throw out as much heat as possible. There's a blanket on the arm of the settee. Wrap yourself up."

"Right. Thanks." Melissa set down her candle on the coffee table then cautiously lowered herself on to the ancient settee, mindful of the springs that had long since burst through its base. Spotting the blanket she shook it open across her lap. "Er--what about you, though? Is this the only blanket?"

"The only one I've found so far. But it doesn't matter, I'm not cold." Matt straightened up and strolled over to the drinks cabinet. "Looks like Charlie's left us some whiskey. I think we could use some." 

"I'll pass, thanks. You go ahead." But now Melissa found she was shivering violently, her hands shaking so much she couldn't grasp hold of the blanket to cover herself more effectively. "God," she muttered after a moment, trying to force a laugh. "This is re-really s-silly. I-I c-can't seem to warm up."

Glass of whiskey in hand, Matt swung around. "What?"

"Oh--I'll be all right in a m-minute, I'm sure" But she wasn't sure at all. Her teeth were chattering.

"Lissy!" Matt strode across the room, unceremoniously dumped his glass on the coffee table then yanked to her feet. "For heaven's sake! I said, wrap yourself up. You'll get pneumonia!" 

"It's supposed to be an old wives' tale that you can c-catch a cold from being cold," she protested as he snatched up the blanket and unfurled it around her shoulders. "Ap-apparently you have to have been infected with a cold virus f-first."

"Is that so?" He sounded grim. And marching her over to the wood burner he pushed her down on to the hearthrug, crouching beside her then reaching back for the whiskey tumbler. "Drink this." 

"N-no! I don't drink alcohol."

"I don't care. This is medicinal."

Melissa opened her mouth to object, but upon seeing the determined look in Matt's eyes thought better of it and took a sip. The fiery Scottish liquor burned her throat and made her choke. "Urrgh," she muttered with a grimace, lowering the glass.

Matt covered her fingers with his own and lifted the whiskey back to her lips. "Stop being a baby. More."

By the fourth sip, Melissa had stopped shivering. With a relieved sigh, Matt sank down on to the rug beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I'd forgotten how you never did what you were told."

Melissa was unsettled by his proximity. "That's rich, coming from you." 

Matt grinned nonchalantly. "I'm an arrogant male, what's your excuse?" He reached over to pluck the whiskey glass from her fingers, took a large gulp then placed it back in her hand.

Surprised, she thrust the glass back at him. "I don't want any more. This was yours anyway."

He waved it away. "Just shut up and keep drinking. It'll do you good." 

Melissa wasn't sure he was right. But the spirit seemed to be gradually warming her from the inside out. She took another cautious sip. Strangely, it no longer tasted so strong. "What time is it?"

Matt examined his watch. "Coming up to half past nine. Why? Is it past your bedtime?"

"Ha ha. You were always the one who got us sent to bed early for doing stupid things. It was your bright ideas that got us into trouble."

"Ah yes, but didn't we have fun?" He grinned suddenly. "Do you remember that day when we played cricket in the orchard?"

"What, the time you threw the ball into one of the pear trees, straight into the middle of that wasps' nest?"

"And all the wasps came swarming towards us." Matt shook his head with a laugh. "What a bloody stupid thing to do. We could've been stung to death."

"If Uncle Charlie hadn't been there with the garden hose we probably would've been."

"Why the hell didn't you stop me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Matt, I could never stop you doing anything. Do you remember the time you tried to jump the stream on your bike? You rigged up that plank--"

"Oh yeah! Evil Knieval-style. God, I was so sure I'd make it."

"Well maybe you would've done if your bike had had a motor."

He grimaced, borrowing the glass for another sip. "Not one of my finer moments."

"No but you did get to sport that rather fetching plaster cast on your arm for the rest of the summer."

"I kept that cast for years, you know. My mother nearly went berserk because I wouldn't throw it away. But how could I get rid of it? I got everyone to write their favourite joke on it."

She looked at him curiously. "Bet you don't remember the joke I put on there."

"Oh, don't I?" He smiled. "What do you get if you cross a sheep with a kangaroo?"

"A woolly jumper. God, that's awful." She found herself absurdly pleased. "So you do remember."

"Oh, I remember lots of things." His eyes met hers for a second longer than was necessary. "You weren't exactly perfect yourself though. How about the time you managed to get yourself locked in the hay barn?"

"What?" She attempted to take another swig of whiskey only to find the glass already empty. "I don't remember that."

"You must do." Matt took the glass, rose to his feet and walked across to the drinks cabinet. "You were probably only about five years old at the time. Aunt Suzie had sent you to fetch Uncle Charlie in for tea but Charlie came in about five minutes later. It turned out he hadn't seen you, just came in of his own accord. We waited and waited but you didn't come back. So we all went out to look for you." 




Back to the Farm Ch. 03



Smiling, he turned around. "It didn't take long to find you, mind--you were screaming blue murder. You must have gone in the barn to look for Charlie and the door had shut somehow. And then we couldn't get the bloody door open again. There'd been loads of rain and the wood had swollen." Matt handed her the refilled glass then settled back beside her on the hearthrug. "Charlie had to take it off its hinges in the end."

"Oh." Sipping at the whiskey, Melissa stared into the fire in silence for a while, thinking hard. Tiny fragments of memory began to surface. She recalled tugging at a door and not being able to open it. She could remember the total, oppressive darkness. Feeling her way around the boards, trying to find a way out, her face and fingers becoming entangled in sticky webs. "I sort of remember," she said at last, taking another long pull from the glass. "You--you pulled a huge spider out of my hair."

It was Matt's turn to frown. "Did I?" Then his face brightened. "Oh, yes, I did, didn't I? Big spindly-legged thing with an incredibly fat body."

She shuddered. "Yuk. No wonder I'm scared of the dark." Then she caught Matt's triumphant glance and groaned. "Yes, all right. I'm still scared of the dark. Happy now?" She lifted the glass and was astonished to find it half-empty again. "Oh."

Matt grinned. "Keep drinking. It's good to see you relax a bit. More like the Lissy I used to know."

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Melissa found she couldn't look at him once she'd asked the question, instead turning her head to stare at the wood burner. It was oddly difficult to focus on the flames.

There was a pause. "And why would I want to do that?"

She took another sip, actually starting to enjoy the Scotch. "I don't know. Maybe you want to have your wicked way with me."

To her chagrin, Matt burst out laughing. "Lissy, if I wanted to have my wicked way with you, I wouldn't need to get you drunk first."

"Oh?" She felt hot colour surge into her cheeks. "You're a bit bloody sure of yourself aren't you? What makes you think I'd be that easy?"

Matt reached across and took the glass from her fingers. He set it down on the table behind them then, without warning, scooped her off the floor and dumped her across his lap. Startled, she saw that the laughter had died from his eyes and had been replaced by something quite different, something she found both arousing and terrifying in equal measure. 

"Matt," she faltered, suddenly aware of just how much she'd had to drink. Her head was swimming. She needed to wrench herself away. Do--something... 

But before she could move, Matt's arms slid around her waist. "Lissy Barton," he murmured, smiling. 

Melissa's mouth went dry. "Matt," she tried again. "Look, I--"

"Melissa Susannah Barton." Shaking his head, he put his finger to her lips, his smile broadening. "Do you know you were the first girl I ever kissed?"

Melissa swallowed. "Yes, well. You--you were the first boy I ever kissed, Matthew David McKenzie," she managed, her voice little more than a whisper.

"I know." Still smiling, his gaze remained fixed on hers as his fingers trailed across her cheek to stroke a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. She fought hard to repress a gasp, her skin tingling from his touch. "Everything was so simple back then, wasn't it? I thought I had it all figured out. I had a plan. I was going to become an award-winning architect, get married to the girl I loved and have four kids, a cat, a dog and a goat."

"A goat?" Melissa homed in on the mention of the unusual pet in an attempt to hide her astonishment. Was he saying that she'd been the girl he loved?

"Yep, a goat." The boyish grin made a brief reappearance. "I hate mowing the lawn."

"Ah." She tried to nod sagely but a wave of regret was sweeping across her entire body, washing through to the very tips of her fingers and toes. "Well, you did become an award-winning architect." 

"True."

"What happened to the girl?" Melissa was appalled to find she'd actually voiced her thought. The heat returned to her face.

Matt studied her intently for several long seconds. "Oh, that's a good question. Such a good question." Then he leaned forward, cupped her chin in his hands and dropped the lightest of kisses on her forehead. "One I've been asking myself for the last fourteen years."

Melissa shivered though she was no longer at all cold. With a sigh, Matt reached for the blanket that had fallen to the floor and wrapped it snugly around her shoulders. "Come on, Lissy," he said softly, still gazing steadily into her eyes. "I really think we should go to bed now."

*

Thanks for reading me. All votes and comments happily received! Lily -x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 04



Go to bed?

Melissa heard the gasp escape her throat before she could stop it. Heart racing, it was suddenly a battle to breathe. "You--you can't be serious," she got out at last, warmth flooding up through her body until even her ears were burning.

Matt's expression was solemn. "Never been more serious in my life."

She couldn't drag her eyes from his, as though invisible magnets were holding them there. "Now?"

He nodded slowly. "I think it would be a good idea. Don't you?"

Every drop of moisture deserted her mouth. It was quite the most outrageous proposal she'd ever heard. And yet, to her utter astonishment, a little voice in her head was suggesting that going to bed with Matt McKenzie would actually be a very good idea. Unfortunately for the little voice, another much louder voice began to object in no uncertain terms...

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." She pushed his arms away and wriggled off his lap. "You're unbelievable! Charlie's funeral's in two days' time, we're stranded out here with no electricity, hardly any heat and no means of getting any help and all you can think about is--"

"Getting some sleep," Matt interjected. As she stared at him, a grin began at the corners of his mouth, swiftly spreading all the way to his eyes. "Want to borrow a toothbrush? I've probably got a spare on in my briefcase."

Dismayed, Melissa began to scramble upright. "You bastard," she whispered, finding it ridiculously difficult to find her balance. "You knew I'd think--"

"The worst?" He jumped up athletically then seized her hands, swinging her up to her feet. "Of course I did. But admit it, you wanted to think the worst. Remember, I'm the bloke who's bedded--ooh--dozens of long-legged gorgeous blondes then purposely--no--maliciously--broken each and everyone of their hearts because I had no intention of marrying any of them." He shook his head, his grin fading abruptly. "And of course, if that's true, you're right. I am a bastard."

She blinked hard. The room was spinning. "I never said that. That's not what I meant."

"You never said you hated me either, did you?" He sighed. "You've got such a low opinion of me, haven't you? So of course you thought I'd try my luck."

Melissa's eyes filled with tears. "No, I didn't, actually." The words came out much more forcefully than she'd expected. "Of course I didn't. Be honest, I'm the exact opposite of the sort of girl you go for, aren't I?" She grabbed a fistful of her hair. "Not blonde, see? Ginger. Legs--" She released a bitter laugh as she hitched up the shirt slightly, exposing her plastered knees. "Oh dear. Too chubby. Not nearly long enough. And no one could ever call me skinny. Why in the world would I let myself believe that you actually found me attractive? Why in the world would I think you wanted me?"

Matt stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "For heaven's sake, Lissy," he said at last, shaking his head slightly. And bending down, he snatched up the saucer holding the candle from the coffee table and walked straight out of the room.

Melissa gasped as the darkness deepened dramatically, the wood burner's erratic flames now providing the only light. Sinking to the floor again, she wrapped her arms around her knees, silent tears coursing down her face. Coming to the farm had been a terrible mistake--how could she ever have thought it was a good idea? And there was no escape. She was stuck there with Matt for the rest of the night. 

Gemma couldn't have been more wrong, she decided bitterly. She didn't need him and he certainly didn't seem to need her. For him, this would just make an amusing anecdote --she could already picture him telling Jason how she'd all but thrown herself at him. Appalled at the thought, Melissa squeezed her eyes tightly shut and began to rock to and fro. "I hate you," she whispered, angrily swiping at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Well, at least you're finally admitting it."

Melissa started. Matt's voice was right beside her ear.

He breathed a sigh. "Lissy, I'm sorry."

"It's Melissa," she muttered half heartedly.

"No it bloody well isn't. I'm not apologising for that. I'm apologising 'cause I've been behaving like an arse." His voice softened. "You're tired. Come on. Up you get." 

When she felt his hands at her waist her eyes snapped open. "Hey!" she protested weakly, aware she ought to put up some resistance. "You can't just drag me--oh..." To her horror, the room still appeared to be rotating. "Oh God. Wait a minute. I feel a bit--"

But Matt was already hauling her to her feet. "Whoa!" he exclaimed as she staggered against him. "You weren't kidding when you said you didn't drink." He narrowed his gaze. "You're not going to throw up, are you?"

"Don't think so," she muttered, recklessly abandoning all thoughts of hatred and clinging to him for dear life. "Just can't seem to--oo-ooh..." She closed her eyes again, hoping the ground would stop moving. It didn't. "Oh God."

"Right." He sighed again. "I think we'd better get you to the bathroom first."

"What?" She opened her eyes again to find that he was already steering her into the hall. 

"Don't worry, I'll leave you alone to do whatever it is you need to do. And I really do have a spare toothbrush if you'd like to borrow it."

"Thank you." Melissa somehow knew that if she hadn't needed his support, she wouldn't have been so polite.

A lit candle was already on the bathroom windowsill. "Toothbrush and toothpaste just there," he said, nodding towards the sink. "For heaven's sake, keep hold of something while you're in here. You've fallen over enough times today as it is. Call me when you're ready." And then he was gone.

Muttering rude words, she used the toilet then brushed her teeth, shivering as she tightly gripped the towel rail. After the warmth of the living room, the air in the bathroom was soberingly chill. When she was finished, she moved cautiously across the floor, determined to reach the bedroom without Matt's help. But when she opened the door she was taken aback to find an upended double mattress blocking her way. "What the hell are you doing?" she gasped, eventually spotting Matt behind it.

"Moving--this--into the living room," he said on a series of grunts. "It's freezing out here." He lifted the mattress again. "If I let you--sleep in Charlie's bedroom--I'll probably find you dead from hypothermia in the morning. Oh, for God's sake, don't argue!" he growled, catching her doubtful gaze. "Just give me a hand."

Grasping the edge of the mattress, Melissa was guiltily aware that she was unable to do little more than steer as Matt lugged it into the living room. After manoeuvring it into position between the settee and the coffee table, he collapsed on top of it with a groan. "Hell. I need to get to the gym."

Melissa couldn't agree. She remembered the effortless way he'd plucked her up from the driveway when she'd fallen, had felt the rock hard muscles of his abdomen when he'd held her in Charlie's bedroom. No, he was frighteningly fit already. She looked at his spread-eagled body then at the battered couch. "Maybe I should sleep on the settee," she suggested, biting her lip. "I'm not as tall as--"

"Don't even think about it," Matt interrupted firmly, sitting up. "I'll be fine." He rose to his feet and headed for the door. "Back in a moment."

Melissa looked at the mattress. Right now, it looked like the most comfortable thing she'd ever seen. Without further hesitation, she threw herself down, curled cat-like into a tight ball and closed her eyes.

Some time later--it could have been seconds, it could've been several minutes--she heard a soft chuckle somewhere behind her. "Lissy." She felt hands lifting her shoulders, then the softness of a pillow being wedged beneath her head.

"Thanks," she muttered, too weary to open her eyes again.

"You know, you should probably try to drink a couple of glasses of water before you go to sleep. Ward off the hangover."

"I didn't drink that much." She yawned as he covered her with the blanket. Getting up again seemed way too much effort. "I'll be fine."

*

Melissa sat bolt upright. Rigid with terror, she couldn't figure out where she was or why her mouth felt drier than the Sahara desert. The darkness was so complete that for a moment she thought her eyes must still be shut. Her second thought, on blinking furiously, was that she'd been struck blind. She uttered a sob, praying she was still dreaming.

"Stop panicking.." The drowsy voice was male. Familiar, reassuring. Oddly near. "You're at the farm with me, remember? You're on a mattress on the floor in the living room." 

Matt... Of course. The recollection that Charlie was dead slammed into her chest like a knife, as it had every time she'd awoken in the last ten days. She knew from experience her grief would fade in time, but right now it was as acute as it had been the day she'd received the call from the hospice. 

"If you need a drink, there's a glass of water on the coffee table."

"Wh-where?" Embarrassed he'd known she'd be thirsty, she turned her head towards the sound of his voice, at last managing to make out the outline of the settee.

"Here." 

Matt's hand touched her arm, then she felt the cool glass against her palm. "Thanks." She downed several large gulps of water, then fumbled to relocate the coffee table.

Again Matt's fingers connected with hers, taking the glass. How on earth could he see through the inky darkness? She heard a faint clink as he set it down again. "D'you want me to light a candle?"

"No," she lied. "I'm okay." 

"Warm enough? I could throw another log on the wood burner, get it going again."

"I said I'm fine." Shivering, she lay back down again, pulling the covers up to her neck. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No problem." She heard a squeak from the settee as he settled back down with a heavy sigh. "Sweet dreams."

Melissa didn't respond. Sweet dreams? Fat chance. Her heart was beating much too quickly for sleep to be a possibility. Closing her eyes only seemed to make things worse. Perhaps using a nightlight all these years had irreparably damaged her night vision, she thought, disturbed by the twisting blob-like formations that danced before her as she stared into the darkness. She could hear Matt's soft even breathing and tried to focus on her own. 

In...two... three... four...Out... two... three... four... 

It didn't work. If anything, she felt more wide-awake than ever. What was it about the darkness that made her afraid? Had being trapped in the barn really triggered such fear? If so, how incredible that a forgotten event from her childhood could still affect her all these years later. 

Her subconscious had clearly been working at retrieving the memory whilst she slept. Now she could vividly recall begging to be let out, only partially comforted to hear Charlie's voice, hearing him work at the hinges with tools, perplexed that he couldn't simply open the door. It'd seemed an age before he'd shouted that she should stand back. Funnily enough, she couldn't remember the door being removed, only blinding light. Being swept into Charlie's embrace and hugged tight. Oh yes, a hug from Charlie could cure all manner of ills. But then so could a hug from Matt.

When woken by a bad dream--though more usually just because she couldn't get to sleep because it was dark--Melissa had crept across the hall into Matt's bedroom and slipped beneath the bedcovers. It'd been a source of great amusement to Charlie and Suzie to find her there in the morning, still wrapped in Matt's arms. Until that awful morning when on a rare visit to the farm, Matt's mother had discovered them instead. She hadn't been at all amused. 

"She's thirteen!" Aunt Ruth had screamed at Charlie. "Matthew's fifteen, for heaven's sake. Just how naïve are you?"

Melissa, for her part, had been very naïve. The sexual connotations of her sleeping with Matt had never previously crossed her young mind. That Matt had been equally naïve was perhaps debatable. But needless to say, she never again slept in his bed.

It all seemed such a long time ago. And now Charlie was dead. Melissa felt her eyes fill with tears. Her mother was dead. Suzie was dead. And Matt... well, Matt had made his feelings very clear. After the house was cleared and sold, she doubted she'd ever see him again. 

She was twenty-nine years old and utterly alone in the world. 

The pain elicited by this unexpected thought caused a tear to escape and roll slowly down her cheek. She'd always envisioned that by her mid-twenties she'd at least have met the love of her life, even if she weren't married to him. But the years spent caring for her mother had scuppered any chance of finding romance. Oh no, instead she'd been trudging alone through the emotional wilderness.

Strange how the pain of losing Charlie brought back all the pain of losing her mother, she thought, a second tear merging with the first. The car crash had left Jane Barton paralysed and brain damaged. Most of the time, Melissa hadn't been sure her mother even recognised her. But there'd been a few, frighteningly lucid intervals where she'd been certain that she had. 

I was supposed to die. Why didn't you let me die?

Melissa tried to suppress a sob as the words echoed round her head. The moment she'd found the huge pile of unpaid bills in the kitchen, she'd suspected, even if no one else had, that when her mother's car had smashed at high speed into the wall of the garage block it had been no freak accident.

"Right, that's it." The sound of Matt's low voice cutting through the darkness made her start. "I'm lighting a candle."

"What?" She heard the settee creak, then felt the indentations into the mattress as he crawled across to the coffee table on his hands and knees. "I'm okay--really."

"I never said you weren't." He shook the box of matches. "The candle's for me. It's just too bloody dark in here. It's freaking me out--I can't get back to sleep."

"No!" Melissa knew he was trying to spare her feelings by pretending it was he who was bothered by the darkness, but he was about to discover she'd been crying. She struggled upright as he struck a match. "Please don't. It's not so bad after a while--"

The tiny flame cast a surprising amount of light across the mattress. In the split second it took for Melissa to lean forward and blow it out, she saw Matt's eyes zoom to her tear-drenched cheeks before the room was plunged back into darkness. 

Matt was the first to break the silence. "You know," he said, rattling the matchbox again, "there are probably another hundred matches in here." 

"Go ahead. Light them all," she muttered, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I'll just blow them all out." But Matt's sudden snort of laughter was infectious and she found herself having to bite her lip to repress a smile. 

He blew out a sigh. "Lissy, this is ridiculous. It's three o'clock in the morning. I'm tired, you're tired--"

"Go back to sleep then. Don't let me stop you." She lay down again and tugged at the bedclothes. They didn't budge. Matt was still squatting on the end of the mattress and it seemed he had no intention of moving.

"How can I go back to sleep while you're crying your heart out? What kind of bastard would I be if I did? Please, let me light a candle so that you aren't scared any more, then maybe we'll both get some rest."

Melissa's face burned with indignation. "I'm not crying 'cause I'm scared of the dark!" she exclaimed. "I don't like the dark but it doesn't make me cry anymore. I'm not ten years old!"

"More's the pity," Matt retorted. "If you were still ten years old I'd know what to--" His tone softened abruptly. "That's it."

"Wh-what?" Oh dear God! Melissa could feel him clambering up the mattress towards her. "Good idea," she said, trying to scoot away but finding her exit blocked by the coffee table. "You have the mattress--I'll take the settee--"

"Just shut up and come here, Liss." 

Matt's hands reached for her, looped around her body and dragged her into the haven of his arms. And for the first time, she fully appreciated how strong he was. A flicker of something--fear?--shot down her spine as she realised that if he was to use that strength to his advantage, she'd have no chance of resisting him at all. 

"You and I aren't s'posed to sleep together any more," she said shakily as he fitted her curves into the frame of his body, his hands working steadily down her back. When his leg curled around hers, tugging her closer still, she was shocked to discover it was bare. Hopefully he'd only removed his trousers earlier. Was his underwear still in place?

"That was when we were kids and my mother was convinced we wouldn't be able to control our rampant teenage hormones. Right now I'm so bloody tired I'm willing to take the risk." Matt pulled up the covers and released a contented sigh. "God, that's better."

Too exhausted herself to consider the implications of what he'd just said, Melissa had to admit she too was blissfully comfortable. "Is your mother coming to the funeral?" Her cheek pressed to his chest, she found herself revelling in the heat that radiated from his body. And his scent... The shirt no longer smelled of Charlie. Oh no, it smelled of warm, muscular Matt McKenzie. She fervently prayed he had no way of reading her thoughts.

"Yep." He sighed again, less happily this time. "I tried to tell her she needn't come, but you know what's she's like. Never one to miss a family drama. She's flying into Heathrow on Thursday night. Asked if I'd drive her from the airport and ferry her from the King George Hotel in Mickleton on Friday morning. So that'll be fun.

Melissa heard the sarcasm in his tone and understood his sentiment entirely. Ruth McKenzie wasn't an easy woman to love. "Well, it'll be nice to see her again."

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her ear. "You liar. You can't stand her." 

"Only because she's never liked me."

"No." His arms tightened slightly. "I've never quite understood why."

Melissa's eyes were growing heavy, the reassurance of Matt's embrace already working its old magic. And yet, bizarrely, a part of her now wanted to resist sleep. She'd been parted from Matt for so many years--too many years. She'd honestly believed their relationship was beyond repair. So to find herself in his arms once again was like hearing her morning alarm in the middle of an unexpectedly pleasant dream. She never wanted to wake up. "Matt?"

"Mmm?"

"Promise me you won't tell her we did this?"

She felt him smile into her hair. "Go to sleep, Lissy."

*

When the sun began streaming through the living room window, Melissa awoke ensnared in a tangle of sheets, blankets and Matt McKenzie. At some point during the night, she must have turned over, for now her back was tucked snugly to his chest and abdomen and his right hand was inside her shirt, his palm delightfully warm on her naked left breast.

"Matt?" she whispered, wondering whether he was still asleep or whether the placement of his fingers had been the result of a conscious decision. When there was no reply, she reached up to reposition his hand, only for him to slide it down to her shirt-covered tummy. Better, but still much too intimate now that it was morning. "Matt?"

"Uh?" He sounded drowsy enough. 

It was then that Melissa realised that even if Matt himself was still asleep, the part of him poking into her back certainly wasn't. "Matt!" With a shocked gasp, she wrenched herself away then yelped as her battered knees made contact with the mattress. Grimacing, she retreated to the foot of the mattress. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"




Back to the Farm Ch. 04



"What?" he murmured, his eyes remaining closed. "I'm not doing anything. Oh, hell..." He swore then opened one eye. "You're not going to try to pretend that you don't remember getting into bed with me?"

"I didn't! You got into bed with me." Noticing that the top two of the buttons of her shirt were undone--had he unfastened them?--she yanked at one of the blankets and hastily pulled it up to her chest.

"Glad we've got that straight." He frowned, rolling on to his back then yawned hugely. "What's--all--the shouting about then?"

"You! Taking advantage, getting all--" Melissa stopped, her face flooding with heat as she realised that given he hadn't actually noticed his condition yet, it might be rather less embarrassing to abandon her attack before he did. "Never mind. I'll go and make some tea."

"What?" As she scrambled off the mattress, he sat up, winced then shot her a rueful grin. "Ah."

"Forget I said anything," she gabbled, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders and limping from the room. 

His laughter was ringing in her ears by the time she arrived in the kitchen. She reached for the saucepan and filled it with water, only remembering then that the matches were still on the coffee table. "Damn!" Drawing a deep breath, she turned and stepped straight into Matt. Thankfully, he'd re-donned his trousers.

"Looking for these?" Grinning, he rattled the matchbox then nudged her arm. "Hey, if I offended you, then I'm sorry." He held out his hands, palms upward in a defensive gesture. "But I woke up with a beautiful woman in my arms. I'm only human, Lissy. I couldn't help my--er--reaction."

Beautiful? He couldn't mean that, she reasoned. He was just trying to sweet talk his way out of this one. "You'll be telling me next I should take it as a compliment." She slapped the saucepan on the stove. "Tell you what--why don't you make the tea? I need to find some half decent clothes to wear."

She left him standing in the kitchen with his mouth wide open and hobbled across to the bathroom. Please Lord, let my dress be dry, she prayed, opening the door.

And miraculously, it was. Perhaps just a little damp at the hem and somewhat crumpled, but Melissa decided that her body heat would soon rectify that. Now that it was light, she felt way too exposed in Charlie's overlarge shirt. Her bra was dry too, thank heavens. Remembering to lock the door this time, she stripped off the shirt and splashed as much cold water on her face and upper body as she could bear without screaming, then dressed quickly. 

She tried not to think about sleeping in Matt's arms, tried hard not to think about how pleasurable it had been to wake up with his hand sensuously cupping her breast--and then realised she couldn't help thinking about it. But, she scolded herself hastily, Matt had made it quite clear he wasn't interested in her sexually last night and number two, and besides, she didn't want him to be, did she? Because if she did, she wouldn't have reacted the way she had, would she? She'd still be lying there, on the mattress, letting him touch her anywhere he damn well pleased...

Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was a riot of copper curls, her face pale, making her blue eyes seem huge and accentuating the faint circles around them. Matt's usual type of woman would never look so unkempt in the morning, she thought bitterly. Oh no. Her shiny blonde hair would be lightly mussed, her skin would look clear and healthy in the absence of make-up. Melissa longed for some concealer and mascara and vowed she would never again leave home without them. With a sigh, she raked her fingers through her hair in an almost futile attempt to restore order, dumped Charlie's shirt in the bath with the damp towels from yesterday and turned to open the door.

"Hey." Matt was standing outside with a mug of tea in one hand and Gemma's sandals dangling from the other.

"Oh," she said in surprise as he handed her the shoes. "You--you found them."

He smiled. "That pothole you fell into was enormous. It's a wonder you didn't break your ankle." He held out the shoes and she took them. "Luckily they weren't actually in the puddle. They cleaned up quite well, I think. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of your cardigan. I put it in the washing up bowl to soak but I'm not sure you'll be able to save it."

"Thank you." Touched that he'd already ventured outside to retrieve them, she stared at the sandals then remembered his shirt and reached back to unhook it from the clothesline. "Here. It's almost dry, though it's a bit creased, I'm afraid."

"It looks great, thank you." He took the shirt from her then handed her the tea. To her amazement, he began to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. Melissa's mouth went dry as more and more of his firm chest was exposed then his abdomen. Oh, she'd felt the musculature beneath the cotton, but the sight of the lightly bronzed rippling flesh made heat flash to parts of her that had only previously felt hot when reading the steamy parts of romantic novels.

"What time is it?" she said, her voice unsteady as she dropped her gaze. She turned away on the pretext of taking a few gulps of tea.

"It's nine fifteen. So don't worry, you'll be rescued by the vicar in exactly forty-five minutes. Less if he's early." There was a pause. "Er--Lissy--do you mind?"

She looked up to see him motion past her into the bathroom and realised she was blocking the doorway. "Oh--yes, of course," she said hastily, stepping out of the way.

Seeing the blush on her cheeks, Matt repressed a smile as he closed the door. It certainly wasn't the first time a woman had responded that way on sighting his body. But Lissy's almost childlike innocence was refreshing. He couldn't ever remember a woman scooting out of his bed at top speed because she'd felt his erection--quite the opposite in fact. And the way she'd delicately removed his hand from her breast... Oh no, he hadn't been asleep. Just playing with fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, grimacing at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. "What kind of low-life are you?" 

Was it just that it had been a while since he'd had a woman in his arms, he mused, stroking the stubble on his chin? Could it be that simple? Or was his infatuation for Lissy Barton as strong as ever, even after all these years? Last night, when he'd kissed her, he'd felt such a surge of desire he'd wanted to make love to her right there in the kitchen. Though when he'd pulled himself to his senses and broken the kiss, he could've sworn he'd seen a reciprocal flash of something in her eyes.

With a sigh, he pushed the plug in the sink and twisted on the cold tap. What he'd seen was probably disgust, he reprimanded himself. And even if it hadn't been disgust, exactly, Lissy deserved better than him. Love. Marriage. Children. Security. He couldn't--wouldn't--offer any of those things. Shaking his head, he cupped water in his hands and braced himself for an icy wake up call.

When he emerged several minutes later, washed and fully dressed, he found Melissa surveying the mess in the second bedroom, the room into which she'd made her spectacular dive the previous evening. "How on earth are we going to sort everything out? Where do we start?" she said as he reached her side. "There's just so much."

"Hey, come on." Taking a look at her stricken expression Matt instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "It's not that bad."

She gave a snort, wriggling away from him. "Really? Let me take you on the guided tour and then see if you still think it's not that bad."

Matt had no choice but to follow as she led him along the hallway, visiting each room in turn. And very soon, he had to concede she had a point. All three bedrooms and the dining room were crammed with boxes and furniture, all cupboards full to overflowing. Books, papers, clothes and shoes were wedged into every available space and drawers were filled with broken hand tools, screws, nails, pens and pencils, coins and tins.

"Why?" Melissa breathed at last after she'd forced open the wardrobe door in the third bedroom only to discover a mountain of empty ice cream containers. "Why did Charlie keep all this stuff? Did he have some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder?"

Matt gave a wry smile. "Maybe." He leaned across and tugged at the other wardrobe door. "Oh look. My old Wellington boots."

"This is ridiculous." She bit her lip. "Admit it, Matt. This is going to take weeks to sort out."

Matt had to admit he'd been thinking the same thing. "Well, it'll certainly need a concerted effort." He gave her a sidelong glance. "Is there any chance you could get some time off and stay here for a week? Before I go back to Singapore in June?"

Startled, she turned to look at him. "I s'pose I could. I'm owed quite a lot of leave, actually."

"Good." This time his smile was complete, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. Melissa felt an odd fluttering in her stomach. Gemma was right. He really was extraordinarily good-looking--and that thousand watt smile was just for her. "Let me know when and I'll take the same week. I'll get that skip organised and we'll clear everything out, one room at a time."

"You--you'll stay here with me?" Her stomach gave another sudden lurch. A week. One whole week with Matt...

"Of course. You didn't think I'd leave you to do it all on your own?" He leaned forward and picked up the green Wellington boots. "Here," he said, thrusting them into her hand before striding towards the hall. "Put them on. We'd better take a look outside as well." 

Her head still reeling at the thought of being alone with Matt for a whole week, she wriggled her feet into the boots and plodded after him through the front door to find him staring at the potholed tarmac.

"I can't believe Charlie didn't have this patched up."

Melissa guessed he was thinking about his paralysed car stuck half a mile down the driveway. "Maybe he couldn't afford to. He didn't say much about it, but he gave me the impression things were a bit tight."

Matt breathed another heavy sigh. "He only needed to ask. Or call Jason. I'm pretty sure Jason would've sorted something out for free."

She recoiled at the mention of her nemesis. "Too much pride maybe."

He glanced at her with a frown. "I know you don't think much of Jason but Charlie had a real soft spot for him. And Jason felt the same way about Charlie."

Melissa swallowed. "Yeah, well, Charlie was the father we all wanted, right?" She turned away to hide her face. During her early teens she'd nurtured a secret fantasy that Charlie was her father. Her mother had never revealed the name of the man who'd got her pregnant at seventeen, despite Melissa's many attempts to discern the information. But it was a ridiculous fantasy. Charlie would never have been unfaithful to his beloved Suzie.

"Speaking of Jason, there's something I need to talk to you about."

Melissa jerked her head back up. "I beg your pardon?"

Matt looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Look, we should've talked about it last night--well--I started to but then you nearly fainted and--" he gave a shrug "--other stuff got in the way--"

"What?" she interrupted, feeling rather uneasy herself now. "Just get to the point."

Sighing, he spread out both arms, vaguely gesturing at the bungalow and the surrounding fields. "This place. We need to make a few decisions."

"What on earth does that have to do with Jason?" She frowned at him, puzzled. "I--I just assumed we were going to clear everything out and--sell up." Those words sounded so final, she thought unhappily. She could hardly bring herself to think about there being new occupants of Beech Tree Farm.

"Right." He hesitated. "It's just--er--it may not be quite that straightforward..."

*

Well, of course it won't be. There'd be no story otherwise!

Thanks as ever for reading me. All comments, votes are gratefully received

Lily -x-  



Back to the Farm Ch. 05



Okay, Chapter 5 at last. Sorry for the long wait - and thank you so much for having patience with me. I know I'm going to get things thrown at me now, but I'm afraid I've got another exam coming up on May 13 so there'll be a slight delay before Chapter 6 appears I'm afraid. I promise faithfully that the moment the exam's done, I'll get back to the story!

*

'Always look on the bright side of life' - written by Eric Idle, originally featured in the film 'Monty Python's Life of Brian' (1979)

'My Way' - as popularized by Frank Sinatra, lyrics written by Paul Anka. The melody is a French song "Comme d'habitude" composed by Claude François and Jacques Revaux.

*

Before Melissa could ask him what he meant, she heard the approaching roar of an engine and turned to see a dark blue Land Rover Discovery hurtling up the driveway towards them, moving effortlessly across the potholes. 

"Never mind, we'll talk about it later," Matt said hastily, as he too turned to watch. "Looks like the vicar's here. You know--" his eyes narrowed "--you're right. That's exactly the sort of car an architect should drive."

She stared in disbelief. "But it can't be the vicar."

"No?" Matt shot her a grin and began to stride forwards. "Wrong sort of car, right? What sort of car should a vicar drive then? Ford Fiesta? Skoda? Morris Minor?"

But by the time she'd managed to think of a suitably scathing reply the car had reached them, the window lowering as it drew to a halt. A white-haired man leaned out. "Matt!" he called, much to her astonishment. "So it is your car at the bottom of the drive then?"

Melissa stared. There was no doubt this was the vicar--the dog collar was stark against the man's grey shirt. She watched, speechless, as he climbed down from his car and shook Matt's hand.

"Good to see you again, Michael," she heard Matt say warmly. "Yes, it is my car and you're not allowed to laugh. It broke down."

The vicar turned twinkling brown eyes on Melissa. "Well I tried to tell him not to buy it. I said that an architect should drive a car like mine, but would he listen?" He held out his hand. "Hello, my dear. I'm Michael Wright. We spoke on the phone?" 

Completely wrong footed, she took his hand, throwing Matt a bewildered glance. "You two--you've already met?"

"Oh yes." The vicar smiled. "We met at Christmas."

Christmas. Melissa felt an unwelcome surge of guilt, anger hard on its heels. If she'd visited at Christmas, she too would've known about Charlie's illness. His death wouldn't have been out of the blue. She would have had time to prepare herself, ready herself for the worst. She could have made the most of the conversations she'd shared with Charlie, made every word count. "I see," she said slowly. "Well, it's good to meet you at last, Reverend Wright."

He held up a hand. "Please--just call me Michael. Is it all right if I call you Lissy? Your uncle told me so much about you."

"Actually," Matt began, looking amused. "She doesn't like being called--"

"Lissy's fine," Melissa interrupted hastily. "Would you like to come in? I can make some tea--though there isn't any milk, I'm afraid. Actually, there isn't any electricity either, but we can boil a saucepan on the stove."

"No electricity?" Michael appeared puzzled. "Well now, that's strange. Charlie asked me to keep an eye on things here. I've been dealing with the post and I don't remember seeing any red bills." Then his face cleared. "Of course, you did realise it's switched off at the mains?"

Heart sinking, Melissa gazed at Matt. "Please tell me you checked?"

He looked rather sheepish. "Well, you were the one who kept saying everything would've been disconnected."

"Matt!"

"Hey--why is it my fault?"

"Because it was your stupid car that broke down. Because you were the one who tried all the light switches. You were the one who said the phone was dead!"

"It was!"

"Yes, because it needs the power to be on for it to work!" She swung around to the vicar. "We had to stay here last night."

"Excuse me," Matt said with dignity. "That was your idea. I was quite willing to walk down to the village to get help--"

"It sounds like you had quite an adventure," Michael interjected, smiling. "But may I make a suggestion? As I knew there wouldn't be any milk here, I took the liberty of bringing some along. Why don't we go inside, turn the electricity back on and make ourselves a nice pot of tea?"

Sitting at the kitchen table twenty minutes later, Melissa was beginning to feel rather foolish. Why hadn't it occurred to her that the electricity had merely been switched off? She'd spent a most uncomfortable night with Matt, and for what? There'd been no reason for it to have happened. They could have called for help any time. As it was, she'd spent the night in Matt's arms, for heaven's sake. That should never have happened...

"So what do you think, Lissy?" As Michael's voice penetrated her thoughts at last, she realising she hadn't been listening at all.

"Sorry?" she said, embarrassed. 

Matt shot her a grin. "Michael was just asking whether you were happy with the order of service for the funeral," he said helpfully.

Melissa could feel herself blushing. "Of course I'm happy," she said. "That's what Uncle Charlie wanted wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," the vicar agreed. "But if you aren't happy with that--"

"It's fine," she said hastily, not wanting to admit she hadn't been paying attention.

Michael's brown eyes softened but he said nothing. Instead, he drained the last of his mug of tea and pushed back his chair. "Well, that's just about everything then," he said. "But if you think of anything else, please, just give me a call."

"We'll do that," Matt said, still watching Melissa with obvious amusement.

Michael smiled, walking across to the window and peering out into the garden. "I see planning permission was approved then, Matt?"

To Melissa's surprise, Matt's smile faded. "Yes, it was," he said rather curtly. 

"I didn't think you'd meet with any objections. Goodness knows, the village could do with some new blood."

She stared from one to the other. "Planning permission?"

Before Matt could reply, the vicar gave her a beaming smile. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? For six houses isn't it? Or is it eight?"

"Eight," Matt said, not meeting her gaze.

"Eight?" Melissa frowned. Matt's demeanour seemed puzzling. "Where are you going to build?"

"Here, of course," Michael said with a laugh. And then seeing her face, he frowned. "Oh my. You did know that Charlie asked Matt to draw up plans for the land here at the farm?"

She shook her head, staring at Matt. "No," she said slowly. "He didn't mention that."

"Look--" Matt gave a guilty sigh. "I was going to tell you. In fact, I was just about to tell you when Michael arrived." He grimaced. "The thing is, Charlie asked if I'd draw up the plans for a new development here. He wanted to maximise the worth of his estate."

"The worth of his estate?" she echoed. "Please tell me you're kidding?"

He shook his head. "It's what he wanted to do, Lissy. He wanted us to use the land to its best potential."

"Right." Melissa wasn't sure what to think. She'd known that the farm would have to be sold, but naïvely, she'd thought she'd always be able to pop back from time to time and re-visit her childhood memories. Not even for a moment had she envisaged that the place would be altered beyond all recognition.

"Jason found out that the District Council were going to release the land across the road at Roper's Field for housing development and--"

"Jason?" She stared at him, shaking her head. "I might've known he'd have something to do with this."

He hesitated. "They've just granted planning permission for a hundred homes there, otherwise I doubt we'd have got permission to build here. It seemed like the perfect opportunity."

"Oh, I'll bet it did!"

Matt gave her a wary look. "I knew you wouldn't take this too well."

Wouldn't take this too well? Suddenly, Melissa's angered re-ignited. "You know what?" she said, barely managing to keep the fury from her tone. "You're damned right." And rising to her feet, she found herself walking straight out of the kitchen.

"Lissy!"

Ignoring Matt, she picked up the pace, opening the front door and carrying straight on down the drive. They'd spent the last sixteen hours together and he hadn't found a way of telling her? Just what kind of coward was he?

To her dismay, she discovered she was crying. This wasn't fair. She hadn't known Charlie was dying, she hadn't known she was the last to know he was dying, and now, she'd been the last to find out that the farm and everything in it was going to be redeveloped?

"Lissy, come on." Glancing back over her shoulder she saw Matt was jogging down the drive behind her. "Please? I was going to tell you. It's another thing that Charlie should've told you--"

"That's right, blame a dead man" she said, turning on her heel to face him. "That's bloody convenient, isn't it Matt? You should've told me, all right? You should've told me all of this. What kind of flaky woman do you think I am? Yes my mother died, yes, the last few years haven't exactly been a picnic--but I'm really not that weak, okay? You bastard."

And suddenly running out of steam, Melissa found herself dropping to the ground, giving a yelp as her scraped knees made contact with the driveway. 

"Liss." Matt crouched beside her. "You have to believe me when I tell you that I told Charlie you wouldn't like this. This wasn't my idea, okay? This is what he wanted."

"Whatever," she said, shaking her head. "I just want to go home. I don't want to be here anymore, okay? I just want to go home."

He nodded, releasing a heavy sigh. "I'll go and call the garage," he said. "See if someone can come and fix the car."

"It's all right," she said, swiping at her face with one hand. "I'll walk back to the village and get the bus. It's not like it's raining now.

"There's no need to do that," came Michael's voice. 

Oh, just great, she thought miserably. Now even the vicar had seen her being feeble... 

"I can take you home," he said gently. "I've got to go to Mickleton now anyway. Want to come along for the ride?"

*

"You okay?" Gemma's glance was sympathetic.

Melissa nodded. "Sort of. As all right as I'll ever be." She heaved a sigh. "God, I hate funerals."  "Well, it'd be kind of weird if you loved them," her friend said dryly. "Wow," she added, looking rather startled as she steered the car into the crowded church car park. "Looks like there's been a good turn out."

One of Charlie's stipulations for his funeral was that there was to be no formal procession from the farm. It seemed he hadn't wanted the pomp and ceremony of the traditional hearse followed by black cars. Instead, he'd requested that his coffin be taken directly from the Chapel of Rest to the church and that all those who wanted to pay their last respects would congregate there.

Melissa couldn't help but feel grateful. She certainly hadn't wanted to follow a hearse as one of the chief mourners. That would've meant sharing a car with Matt and she wasn't sure she was ready to talk to him yet.

She'd accepted Michael's offer of a lift home with gratitude. Leaving Matt beside his car on the driveway waiting for a mechanic, she'd barely been able to bring herself to say farewell to him, despite the enforced intimacy of the night before. Bad enough that he'd withheld the information that was Charlie was dying, but now it seemed that rather a lot of decisions had been made without her involvement. She wasn't too sure how to feel about that.

Fortunately, there hadn't been any need to contact Matt again before the funeral. Other than make a phone call to Jean at the pub to check the arrangements for the funeral tea, there'd been no further preparations to make. 

Having turned the car around, Gemma pulled on the handbrake then looked at her friend. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I don't like leaving you here like this."

Melissa forced herself to smile. "Hey, someone's got to hold the fort. It was good of Jonathan to let you drive me here. He hates manning the office on his own."

"I still don't see why we couldn't just have closed for the afternoon." Gemma frowned. "All your appointments were cancelled, it's not like we usually get a last minute stampede on Friday afternoons. I could've come with you then."

"I'll be fine," Melissa muttered, looking at the digital clock on the dashboard. They'd arrived with two minutes to spare, a deliberate ploy. The idea of standing around chatting to virtual strangers about how sad it was that Charlie had died held little appeal. She was dreading having to do so after the service. 

"And you're sure someone will give you a lift home again? Because if no one offers--"

"Then I'll give you a call, I promise." Melissa pulled a face. "Hopefully you won't have to. I don't want you to have to come back again. It was good of you to bring me."

Gemma gave her a stern look. "Are you kidding? I had to bring you, otherwise you'd have caught the bus. I know you. You'd have ended up doing something daft like standing around for three hours. That's the last thing you needed on a day like today."

"I know. But thank you, anyway." She bit her lip then drew in a deep, steadying breath as she looked at the church porch. "I s'pose I'd better go inside."

"Call me if you need to, okay?" Gemma reiterated as Melissa opened the door. "It really wouldn't be any trouble. I'd rather know you were safe. In fact, call me anyway, okay? When you get home? Let me know how it went."

She nodded then closed the door, shooting her friend one last brave smile. But on entering the church, her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't anticipated just how many people would be there. The church was packed, every pew full, around a dozen people forced to stand at the back. And as she saw the coffin at the top of the aisle, she found she couldn't breathe at all, a little voice inside her head insisting on being heard... 

Charlie's body is in there. 

But as she headed towards the front, trying her hardest not to look at that dark wooden box, she realised that many of the congregation weren't strangers at all. It seemed that just about everyone in the village had arrived to give Charlie a good send-off. Furthermore, they'd abided by Charlie's wishes. This was no dark suit and black tie occasion. In fact, many of the men weren't wearing suits at all, the women wearing an assortment of brightly coloured blouses and dresses.

Cheered by the sight, Melissa felt her spirits lift slightly. And as she walked down the aisle and suddenly recognised the rather jaunty tune the organist was playing, she had an unexpected desire to giggle, only for the smile to die on her lips as she reached the front at last and saw who was sitting there.

"There you are!"

Rendered speechless, for a moment she could only stare at the woman clad entirely in black, from the perky little hat perched atop her glossy blonde hair to her high-heeled black court shoes. "Aunt Ruth," she said, recovering at last. "How--lovely to see you."

"Cutting it a bit fine, weren't you?"

Melissa found herself checking her watch. "Er--" It suddenly occurred to her that after herself and Matt, his mother was probably Charlie's next closest relative, albeit by marriage. Doubtless she felt she had every right to be sitting there in the front row. "Well--"

"We were beginning to think you weren't coming."

We? Already irritated by Ruth's affected tones, Melissa was tempted to perform an obvious double-take. There was no one else sitting in the pew. So where was...?

"Move on up, Mother," came a voice from right behind her. 

Startled, she turned to find herself face to face with Matt. And just as she met his gaze, the organist reached the chorus of the song he was playing and several of the congregation began to sing along.

Always look on the bright side of life...

All at once, Melissa really did want to laugh, a desire that only grew as, not content to merely sing, those same singers then whistled the next four bars in keeping with the traditional Monty Python 'Life of Brian' ditty. Judging by the look in Matt's eyes, he too was finding it difficult to keep a straight face. 

Aunt Ruth tutted. "Really!" she exclaimed, not bothering to keep her voice down. "Whatever possessed that man--" she waved towards the dapper grey-haired man sitting at the one hundred year old organ "--to play something so--inappropriate?"

"It's exactly what Charlie asked for," Matt said, rolling his eyes briefly at Melissa before edging past her so that he could take his place in the pew. "I told you, he planned all of this long before he died."

Grateful that Matt had planted himself as a buffer between her and his mother, Melissa gave him a tiny smile. But before she could decide whether to attempt small talk, Michael appeared in the pulpit.

"Welcome, all of you," he said, smiling at the assembled congregation. "I'm sure Charlie would've been deeply touched to see so many of you here today. As some of you will know, he left specific instructions that this was not to be a sombre affair. He reminded me, in fact, that the word 'funeral' actually begins with 'fun'. This service, then, is intended to be a celebration of his life. So let's begin that celebration right now by singing our first--" the vicar hesitated, giving another broad smile "--song."

"For heaven's sake..." Matt heard his mother mutter disapprovingly as the organist began playing the introduction to 'My Way' and everyone arose. "Whatever was the man thinking?"

Cringing inwardly, he turned away, even more embarrassed by her behaviour than usual. He clearly remembered telling her on the phone that Charlie had asked that no one wear black yet it seemed she'd decided his simple request shouldn't apply to her. And when she'd automatically taken up residence in the front pew, behaving for all the world as though she were the grieving widow, Matt had found himself having to excuse himself, seeking refuge in the belfry. Sometimes, she was just too much.

As the congregation began to sing, he found himself glancing at Melissa, noticing that the blue dress she was wearing was exactly the same shade as her eyes. She looked beautiful. Not that she'd believe him even if he told her, he mused, wishing that things hadn't been left the way they had been on Wednesday. He hated that he'd lost her trust yet again, that he hadn't had a chance to explain. But there hadn't been a right time to tell her about the plans for the farm and he'd known she'd react badly to the news. Hell, he wasn't sure that developing the land was something he wanted to do. But Charlie had been adamant.

"Matt my boy," he'd said, when Matt had started to object, "no one's going to want to keep this place as a small holding, not in this day and age. When the time comes, the first thing anyone who wants to buy this place is going to consider is whether they can build on the land. Why should that person be the one to benefit when you're an architect and your best friend is a builder? At least get outline planning permission. That way, when you come to sell, you'll get more money. Lissy will get more money."

That had been the moment Matt realised that putting up any further argument would be pointless. Charlie had been worried about Melissa for a long while. He'd hated watching his niece struggle to get by. Matt had understood, he didn't want to think of her struggling either. But he'd also known that ultimately, he'd be the one who'd have to break the news to her--and that if he told her the truth about Charlie's motivation for gaining planning permission, she'd hit the roof.




Back to the Farm Ch. 05



Lissy was trying to sing, he realised, feeling a lump in his throat. Not loudly--he could hear those in the rows behind singing much more lustily--but it was possible to discern her small melodious voice, the tremor in her tone giving away just how much the effort was costing her. But when he spotted the tears rolling down her face, he felt rather as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Fighting an unexpected urge to drag her into his arms, he instead reached for her hand, astonished but relieved when she made no attempt to pull away, her chilly fingers closing tightly around his.

And as though they'd made some tacit agreement of truce, there her hand remained for the rest of the service. It was only as they processed up the aisle, following Michael and the coffin back out of the church that Melissa became acutely conscious of the continuing contact between them, suddenly feeling as though the collective gaze of the congregation had zoomed to their intertwined fingers. 

But curiously, she couldn't bring herself to break the connection, if anything, needing to cling to Matt even more tightly as they drew to a halt outside and watched in silence as Charlie's coffin was reloaded into the waiting hearse.

"No, no, no. This won't do at all."

Startled by the heavy note of disapproval in Ruth's voice, Melissa finally snatched her hand from Matt's grasp. "I'm--I'm sorry?" she stammered as she turned to look at her, feeling rather as she had that morning all those years ago when they'd been discovered together in Matt's bed.

"This." Ruth gestured towards the hearse with a look of disdain. "Matthew, I want you to take me to the crematorium."

He frowned. "Mother, I told you. No one's going to the crematorium. Charlie didn't want any of us to go. He said that he found that the most depressing thing about funerals these days and that he'd rather spare us all the trip."

"But he shouldn't go alone. He shouldn't be making his final journey alone."

"His final journey?" Melissa repeated, unsettled to find herself bereft without the warmth of Matt's fingers. "Aunt Ruth, he's already made his final journey. He made his final journey in the hospice last week. He's not in that coffin. That's just his body. Charlie isn't in there."

"Lissy," Matt said gently. "She knows that."

"Does she?" As the hearse pulled away, she twisted around to face his mother, feeling oddly agitated. "All of this is what Charlie wanted. He didn't want anyone to know he was ill. He didn't want anyone to know he was dying. He didn't want a traditional funeral with flowers and depressing hymns. He wanted it to be more like a party."

Ruth pursed her lips. "A party? How absurd. Typical Charlie, making a joke of everything. Honestly, he must be the laughing stock of the village."

"What?" Melissa was shocked. "Of course he isn't. Everybody loved him. Just look at how many people are here," she added, waving her arm around at the people gathering behind them before realising to her horror that many of them were watching the proceedings with interest. "This is what he wanted, okay?" she went on, abruptly lowering her voice. "And he didn't want anyone to go to the crematorium. Not you, not me, not--"

"Come on, Liss," Matt put in, sounding uncomfortable. "She didn't mean it like that."

"Of course she did!" She regarded him with disbelief. "How else could she possibly have meant it? But what right does she have to say whether what Charlie wanted was absurd or not?" Once again, she turned on Ruth, beginning to feel wildly out of control now. "When did you last come to visit him? When was the last time you phoned him? I wasn't aware you even cared about him that much, to be honest."

"How dare you?" Ruth looked aghast. "Of course I cared--" 

"Really?" Melissa knew she should stop but found she couldn't, days of pent-up emotion finally finding an outlet. "Here you are, at his funeral, all dressed in black when Charlie specifically said that he didn't want anyone to wear black, muttering under your breath about the songs he wanted us to sing, saying you want to go to the crematorium when he made it quite plain he didn't want anyone to go the crematorium--"

"Indeed he didn't," a conciliatory voice interrupted. "And I think we should respect his wishes, however out of the ordinary they might seem. That much we can do to honour Charlie's memory." Feeling Michael's hand on her arm she looked up to see him smiling at her, his brown eyes soft. "Lissy, my dear, shall we start leading the way to the King's Head? I think if you and I begin heading in that direction, everyone else will follow."

Grateful for the vicar's timely intervention, she allowed him to draw her away, aware she was trembling slightly. "I'm so sorry," she murmured as soon as they were out of earshot, rather embarrassed. "I shouldn't have said any of that. I don't know what came over me."

"Well." Michael sent her a diplomatic smile as they set off along the lane. "Funeral's are tricky occasions. They have a tendency to bring out both the best and the worst in us, I'm afraid. And I gather that you and Matt's mother have never had the easiest of relationships."

Melissa looked at him guiltily. "Who told you that?"

He smiled again. "I told you, Charlie and I had many a conversation about you and about young Matthew. I rather think he hoped that you two at least would be able to patch things up some day."

"Matt--and me?" she said, startled. "He talked about that too?"

Michael nodded. "I hear you were once the best of friends. I think Charlie always felt he should've done more to help you repair your relationship. But I told him of course that you were both adults now and that if it was meant to be you'd find a way." 

Not knowing how to respond, Melissa took a glance backwards and was astonished to see just how many people were snaking along the pavement behind them. "I didn't think everyone would come," she said, glad to be able to change the subject. "I hope there's enough room at the pub."

She needn't have worried. When Jean met them at the door she explained she'd opened up both bars and that the garden was also available for use. "It's wonderful to see you again, Lissy my love," the landlady added warmly. "It's been such a long time."

It was a phrase Melissa was to hear over and over again. When Matt arrived a few minutes later--Ruth giving her a haughty stare before marching straight into the pub--they stationed themselves by the door, dutifully accepting the numerous expressions of sympathy and condolences as the mourners filed in. 

But as the line of people began to dwindle, she became aware of Matt's gaze on her more and more. Realising he was probably determined to talk to her just as soon as they'd greeted all the guests, the knot in her stomach tightened. Already feeling horribly vulnerable, the smile she'd plastered to her face growing weaker with every passing second, she knew there wasn't a chance she'd survive the conversation they needed to have without breaking down. 

"Need the loo," she muttered to Matt the moment the last guest to enter had disappeared into the lounge, hurrying inside before he had a chance to respond. 

She headed straight for the ladies' toilets, her chest aching with the effort of holding back tears but to her dismay there was a lengthy queue in the corridor outside. Desperate to find sanctuary, she ducked her head and headed towards the door at the far end, grateful when it opened and she found herself in the pub kitchen. 

In the middle of removing the cling film from one of the huge trays of food laid out across the counter tops, Jean shot her a startled glance. "Lissy dear!" she exclaimed. "Whatever are you doing out here?"

Too choked up to speak, Melissa stared back miserably for a moment, her vision rapidly growing blurry. And finding it was much too late to do anything to prevent the inevitable, she burst into tears.

"Oh darling," Jean said in concern, pushing the tray of sandwiches safely back on to the worktop and hurrying across the kitchen. "Oh my poor darling..." And suddenly Melissa was enveloped in motherly arms, her head pressed against the landlady's shoulder as she sobbed. "Just let it all out," the older woman urged, gently patting her back. "It's bad for you to keep these things bottled up. Let it go, my love."

But fearing that if she actually gave free rein to her feelings, she might never stop crying, Melissa was already battling to regain self control. "I'm all--I'm all right," she choked, scrabbling for the handkerchief she'd tucked up her sleeve and finding it was soaked. "I'm so sorry. I'm f-fine, really."

"Good heavens child, of course you aren't fine." Jean tutted, drawing a length of kitchen roll from its dispenser on the countertop and thrusting it into Melissa's hand. "There's no need to be embarrassed. No one expects you to be brave on a day like this."

Melissa dabbed at her eyes gratefully. "It's--it's been even harder than I th-thought it would be," she admitted. "Ev-everyone's been so kind."

"Yes, well." Jean smiled. "Your uncle was a wonderful man. We'll all miss him so much."

Hearing those words for perhaps the hundredth time that day, Melissa's eyes filled with fresh tears. "I know. I'll miss him too. Jean--" She hesitated, biting her lip hard. "Is there something I could do to help here? It's just--being out there--with everyone being so nice... I need--I need to do something. Something useful."

"Oh, I don't know." The landlady gave her a doubtful look. "I really don't think--"

"Please?" Melissa begged, her gaze falling on the trays of sandwiches, cakes and canapés around them. "Were you just about to start taking out the food? Could I help you with that?" Then she could keep moving, she thought. She'd have a legitimate excuse for not engaging too deeply in conversation with anyone.

Jean heaved a sigh. "All right," she conceded with reluctance. "But you really don't need to do this. I brought in extra staff today especially. The moment you want to stop, you stop, okay? Promise me?"

Melissa nodded fervently. "I promise." And after taking a moment to repair her make-up, grateful that Gemma had cautioned her against wearing any mascara that day, she found herself entrusted with a selection of ham, egg and cress and salmon and cucumber sandwiches. Steeling herself once again, holding her head defiantly high, she strode back out through the kitchen doors and headed back to the lounge area.

"Melissa my dear!" she heard almost immediately. Re-plastering a smile to her lips, she turned to discover it was Archie who was hailing her, his wife Mary at his side. "Wonderful service," the solicitor said warmly as he took a sandwich. "I have to say--and this is a strange thing to say, I know, but--this has to be the best funeral I've ever been to."

Despite her inner turmoil, she had to agree. It was a far cry from her mother's funeral two years ago. Admittedly, there hadn't been enough money to lay on a bash such as this, but even if there had been, Melissa doubted it would've made much difference. There had been a grand total of ten mourners at her mother's funeral. After years of being practically bedridden, Jane Barton's memory riddled with more holes than Swiss cheese, it perhaps wasn't surprising that so many of her friends had drifted away. It also probably wasn't surprising that having attended a funeral such as that one, Charlie had decided his own funeral would be nothing like it.

He would've been pleased about how everything had turned out, she thought, listening to the loud hum of conversation and frequent gales of laughter as she moved around the room with her tray. Though if he'd been there, he'd probably have encouraged her to talk to Matt. She knew she'd have to eventually. But rather to her relief, he seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, along with his mother. They were probably in the other bar or out in the garden. She wasn't about to go hunting for either of them.

Fixing that fake smile in place before offering her tray to the next group of guests, she found herself wondering what it was about Ruth that had always rubbed her up the wrong way. Perhaps it was just that standing beside the woman she'd always referred to as Aunt--though in reality she wasn't--she'd always felt such an ugly duckling. Ruth always looked immaculate, hair perfectly styled, make-up flawless, nails buffed and polished to perfection. Even on the rare occasions she'd been seen in jeans, she looked as though she'd just stepped from the pages of a celebrity magazine. But, Melissa had to admit to herself, what riled her most was that hoity-toity accent she always used. She was pretty sure Ruth hadn't always spoken that way.

"There you are. Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere."

Matt. Melissa's heart sank. "Hey, I've been here all the time," she said lightly, turning to face him. "I s'pose there's just so many people here that--"

"Liss--" He stared at the tray of sandwiches, frowning. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh." She forced another smile. "Just thought I'd make myself useful. I--"

"What?" Matt looked bemused. "Lissy--you shouldn't be waitressing. I can't believe Jean asked you to do this."

"She didn't!" Melissa felt another flare of annoyance. "I volunteered, all right? I just wanted to help, that's all."

He shook his head slowly. "But this is Charlie's funeral. This isn't what you should be doing." 

"Oh really?" She gave him a glare. "Then what should I be doing? No, don't tell me. I should be working the room, right? Listening to everyone tell me how wonderful Charlie was and having them tell me how much he'll be missed, listening to all those stories about the time he mended someone's fence, or how he manned the bric-a-brac stall at the Christmas Fayre for twenty years on the trot, or how he used to supply the Women's Institute with all the fruit for the jam?"

Matt's eyes narrowed. "And what's wrong with that? That's what he'll be remembered for, that's why everyone loved him."

"Nothing's wrong with that," she shot back. "How could there be anything wrong with that?"

"Then I don't understand. Why are you hiding behind a tray of sandwiches?"

"Hiding? I'm not hiding."

Too late, Matt realised she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. "Lissy," he tried again, more gently now. "People want to talk to you, okay? They want to share their memories, that's all. You need to share your memories."

"I am!" Melissa looked ready to explode now. "I'm doing it my way, okay? I'm not telling you what to do. I'll cope with all this my way, and you cope with it your way. So why don't you just leave me alone? Go and share your memories."

And before he could say another word, she'd turned on her heel and plunged forward into the crowd with her tray of sandwiches.

"That seemed to go really well."

Feeling a wry smile curving his mouth, Matt turned around. "Well good afternoon to you too. Or--" he checked his watch pointedly "--should I make that good evening? Where the hell have you been?"

"Hey, I was at the service," his friend protested. "I just had to pop to the bank to pay in some money. Looks like I might be able to pay the lads next week after all."

"Thompson paid up?" Matt raised his eyebrows. "Wonders will never cease."

"Maybe. I'll start believing in miracles if that cheque doesn't bounce." There was a pause. "I take it she still won't talk to you?"

"Nope." Matt sighed. "I keep putting my foot in it."

"Yeah, well. You can't really blame her for being mad with you. I told you to tell her. Mate, you need to tell her everything. You need to level with her. Take it from someone who knows. Okay--" it was the other man's turn to sigh "--so honesty cost me my marriage, but it was the right thing to do."

"In your case?" Matt grimaced at him. "Yeah, it was. But this is quite a bit different. Besides, I really don't think today is the right day to have that conversation. I'm speaking from experience too, remember?"

"I know, I remember. I was there. Okay then. Don't even try to talk to her today. Do what I've been doing. Check out the talent in this pub."

Matt groaned under his breath, following his gaze across to the bar. "Which one?" he asked resignedly.

"The tall one. Dark hair, drinking red wine. Next to the blonde."

Matt couldn't repress a choke of laughter. "Way out of your league, Armitage."

His friend grinned. "Probably. But a guy can dream, right? And you could take a crack at the blonde. She looks like your type."

Matt shook his head. "I don't think so, somehow."

"Why not? Matt--what the hell's wrong with you these days? I can't remember the last time you went out with anyone."

"It hasn't been that long," he protested half-heartedly, even though he knew exactly how long it'd been--and it had indeed been a long time. But as he continued to stare at the bar, Melissa reappeared, offering the contents of her now half-emptied tray to the group sitting there, the brave smile she was wearing bringing that lump back to his throat.

"Oh my God."

"What?" he asked absently, finding he didn't want to look away.

"Lissy. You're still holding a candle for that girl."

"What?" Forcing a laugh, he turned around. "Don't be daft."

"I'm not. I saw the way you were looking at her just now. Bloody hell, mate. After all these years?"

Matt sighed. "Let it go, okay?"

"Something happened between you two the other night, didn't it? When you were at the farm."

"Leave it."

"Jesus, you slept with her?"

"For God's sake!" Matt glared at him. "I said leave it!"

"Well, well, well. In that case, you really do need to talk to her."

"I didn't--" Matt began heatedly before realising he was speaking too loudly. "I didn't sleep with her, okay?" he finished, much more quietly.

"Yeah, but you wanted to, right?" His friend frowned. "I should've seen this coming. The one that got away, eh?" Straightening up, he peered through the crowd at Melissa, giving her an appraising glance. "I have to say, she's filled out rather nicely. And actually, that red hair's kind of striking, isn't it? Now that she's all grown up." He hesitated, shooting Matt a grin. "Maybe I should go and have a chat with her. What do you think?"

"Like she's going to speak to you."

"Ten quid says she will."

Matt rolled his eyes wearily. "Be my guest."

*

As Melissa returned her empty tray to the kitchen, she suddenly realised how tired she was. Not just physically tired, either. Emotionally tired. What time was it anyway? Would anyone else be thinking about leaving soon? A glance up at the clock made her heart sink. It was only four thirty. Far too early to be considering the idea, she realised unhappily. Even Gemma wouldn't be able to come to her rescue until she finished work at five. 

She looked at the remaining trays on the counter and sighed heavily. After meeting with Matt's disapproval, she found herself reluctant to serve any more food. He was probably right, she ought to be talking to people. But it was so hard. It was all right for him--he'd always been comfortable in a crowd of strangers. He was used to this sort of social event. Melissa felt hopelessly out of her depth.

"It's only for a few more hours," she muttered, closing her eyes briefly while she attempted to muster up enough strength to leave the kitchen. Then drawing in a deep breath, she pushed the door open and re-entered the lounge.

"Hi."

Startled to hear the male voice next to her ear, Melissa swung around to find herself facing a tall man with sandy hair, his smile warm. "Hi," she managed, immediately feeling an odd fluttering sensation in her chest as she looked up into his face. Good grief, he was one good-looking guy...




Back to the Farm Ch. 05



"How are you holding up? This must be such a difficult day for you."

She stared, disconcerted by the familiar manner in which the words were spoken. He was speaking as though they'd met before--but she couldn't place him at all. "I've had better," she admitted, for once not having to force a smile. "But it's lovely to see so many people here. Thank you for coming. Did you know Charlie well?" she added, hoping for a clue to his identity.

When he gave her another smile Melissa's knees weakened. "Oh yes, we went way back. Known him since I was a kid. Things really won't be the same around here without him."

"No," she agreed, puzzled now. Since he was a kid? At a guess, he wasn't much older than she was, a year or two at the most. Why didn't she recognise him then?

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Er--" On the verge of declining, Melissa suddenly caught sight of Matt. He was chatting with a couple she vaguely recognised as owning the bakery in the village and as her gaze connected with his, she promptly found herself changing her mind. "Actually, yes," she said, feeling a strange inward glow of victory. After all, Matt had been the one who wanted her to talk to people, right? So he could watch her talking to this guy. "Dry white wine, please."

But within moments of them finding two empty bar stools at the bar and settling down with their drinks, Melissa froze, staring in horror at the woman charging towards them. "Oh God," she murmured.

"What?" The mystery man followed her gaze, taking a sip from his own wine glass. "Oh, don't worry. Leave this to me."

She gave him an astonished glance. "You know Ruth?"

But before he could reply, Matt's mother had already drawn level. "Mrs McKenzie!" he said genially, standing up. "How lovely to see you again."

Ruth frowned, ignoring his proffered hand. "Have you seen Matthew?" she demanded, behaving as though Melissa wasn't there at all. "I've just received a phone call and I'm going to need to catch an earlier flight. I really need to speak to him before the taxi arrives."

"Okay," he replied, apparently unfazed by her bluntness. "He's just over there," he added, pointing across the room. Following the direction of his finger, Melissa's eyes once again met Matt's. He'd been watching them, she realised, experiencing an odd tug in her stomach.

"Right." Having already turned around, Ruth suddenly stopped, looking back over her shoulder. "Thank you, Jason," she added, seeming to realise she'd been rather rude. "Lovely to see you again too," she went on. "Remember me to your mother, won't you?" 

Barely repressing a gasp, Melissa stared at the man standing beside her. No wonder Matt had been watching them, she realised, her heart sinking. Oh God, how could she not have recognised him?

Jason took another sip of wine. "You're going to stop speaking to me now, aren't you?" he said calmly.

Melissa continued to gaze at him, helpless with humiliation, knowing she needed to prove him wrong, that somehow she needed to engage him in polite conversation, that she needed to pretend that finding out his identity hadn't been a shock. Unfortunately, although she knew for sure that would've been the right thing to do--the mature thing to do, even--her body had other ideas. And as she began to tremble, tears welling uncontrollably in her eyes, she thrust her wine glass down on the bar, jumped off the stool and fled.

Finding herself in the kitchen--she couldn't remember how she'd got there but thankfully it was deserted again--she grabbed the kitchen roll from the counter top and slid down the cupboards to the floor. "Grow up," she muttered furiously, tearing off a strip of the rather rough paper and swiping at her cheeks. "Grow up, grow up, grow up..." But chastising herself proved rather less than effective and defeated by her emotions at last, she finally allowed herself to dissolve into sobs.

Maybe she should've done it earlier, she realised, pulling herself together several minutes later and deciding she felt better. Exhausted, but better. It seemed as though Jean had been right, it did no good to bottle things up. Though she really wasn't sure what to do next. Going back out into the pub didn't seem a particularly attractive option. But... A look at the clock proved reassuring this time. She could call Gemma now. All she needed to do was reach the public payphone at the end of the bar.

Acutely aware that after so much crying she probably looked quite a sight, Melissa made her way to the door that came out behind the lounge bar and opened it cautiously. To her relief, all of the bar staff were working at the far end. So far, so good, she thought, easing out and heading in the opposite direction. But just as she rounded the corner and found the phone, she heard Matt's voice and immediately ducked down behind the bar, finding herself face to face with dozens of pint glasses.

"Mother, you're being ridiculous," she heard him say, praying fervently no one was about to come down this end and betray her location. "There's no way I'm going to do that."

"I don't think it's ridiculous at all," Ruth snapped back. "Just think about this for a moment. She has no right to any of it. Suzie died years ago, for heaven's sake. That girl shouldn't have any claim to his estate."

Melissa forgot all about being discovered, a cold wave sweeping over her from head to toe. Was Ruth really saying what she thought she was saying?

Matt gave a startled-sounding laugh. "I don't believe I'm hearing this. Mother, I'm not going to contest the will, okay?"

Oh God, she was...

"Well, I think you're being incredibly naïve. That land is worth a small fortune. I can't believe you're prepared to split it with the girl."

"I know exactly what the land's worth, okay? But I'm not about to go against what Charlie wanted. He wanted Lissy to inherit her share--"

"Her share? What share?" Though her voice was low, Ruth sounded almost apoplectic. "You're Charlie's heir, Matthew."

"And Lissy is Suzie's heir. It's that simple."

"You know damned well it isn't that simple. Besides, the girl won't know what to do with all that money. She'll end up squandering the lot, just like her mother would have done. She was useless with money. What a waste."

When Matt spoke again, Melissa recognised the barely-restrained anger in his tone. "I'm not going to contest the will, and that's final. I don't care whether you think it's the right thing to do or whether you don't. I know what Charlie wanted and I'm going to make sure that what he wanted is what happens."

There was another silence. Staring miserably at the glasses, Melissa found she could hardly breathe. She'd always known Ruth didn't like her but to discover that she hadn't thought much of her mother either came as a horrible shock.

"Mrs McKenzie?" That was Jean's voice. Even she sounded uncharacteristically timid. "Your taxi's waiting outside for you."

"Right."

Not 'Thank you', Melissa noted bitterly. How rude.

"I'll call you when I get back," Ruth said, various shuffling noises indicating she was already on the move. "Maybe by the time I do you'll have come to your senses."

Melissa closed her eyes until the sound of Ruth's high heels clicking across the tiles died away then dug deep for what remained of her strength. All she needed to do was call Gemma, she told herself firmly. Stand up, get to the phone, call Gemma. But before she could find her feet, she heard another familiar voice and found herself rooted to the spot all over again.

"I'm really sorry, mate. I can't find Lissy anywhere."

Jason. Matt was still there?

Sure enough, she heard him heave a sigh. "Don't worry. I'll find her."

"Look, I had no idea she'd go off like that. I didn't realise she'd be so upset."

"It's okay. I'll talk to her."

"She wouldn't have done anything stupid, would she?" To Melissa's surprise, Jason sounded rather worried. 

"I'm sure she hasn't. She probably just needed some time on her own. I'll go and have a look for her."

"I'll go and have another look outside. Ask if anyone's seen her."

Stand up, get to the phone, call Gemma... 

Melissa held her breath for a moment, trying to discern whether she could hear any movement. Had they gone? Just to be sure, she counted to ten under her breath then slowly rose to her feet, only to gasp as she found herself face to face with Matt.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. "How long have you been down there?" he asked at last, leaning forward and peering over the bar.

She swallowed hard. "Long--long enough."

He nodded, clearly understanding the implication of her words. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." Rather to her astonishment, she found herself smiling. "You don't look so hot yourself, actually."

After rolling his eyes, Matt smiled back. "Come on," he said, gesturing towards the gap in the bar. "Let's get out of here." And taking her hand as she joined him on the other side, he led her past the throng of laughing mourners and back out through the front door of the pub.

Neither of them spoke as they strolled down the lane that led to the village centre, the noise from the pub fading away with every step, Melissa breaking the silence only as they reached the war memorial. "Your mother really doesn't think very much of me, does she?"

He sighed. "It's complicated, Liss."

"It didn't sound very complicated to me." Melissa stared up at the list of names. To the twenty-two men who lost their lives... "She hates me."

"She hates everyone. It isn't personal. And it isn't up to her, either. Charlie left the farm to both of us."

"You can contest the will if you like." Melissa bit her lip. "I wouldn't put up a fight. She's right, after all. You are Charlie's heir."

"I have no intention of contesting the will. Charlie wanted you to have half the farm, okay? That's what's in his will, that's what's going to happen."

She turned around, giving him a curious look. "Is the farm really worth a fortune?"

Matt shrugged. "It depends what you mean by 'fortune'. If we build those houses, there'll be enough for you not to have to--I mean, for neither of us--" he corrected hastily "--to have to worry about money for quite a while."

"If we build those houses?"

He nodded, holding her gaze. "This isn't a done deal. Not yet. Those houses can only be built if that's what you want too. We both own the farm now. Neither one of us can do anything without the other one's say so."

"So if I said I just wanted us to sell up...?"

"Then that's what we'd do." Matt gave her a small smile. "That's what I've been wanting to explain to you, but I haven't exactly had the chance until now."

She stared at him, her spirits lifting abruptly. "So the farm could stay as it is?"

He grimaced. "It might, but I doubt it. Anyone who buys it is probably going to build there. It's already got planning permission for eight houses. There's a good chance the purchaser might get permission for more."

"Right." Melissa felt her face fall. "I see."

"Liss." Matt rested his hand on her shoulder. "This isn't something we have to decide right now, okay? Whatever we decide, we've got to go and sort through Charlie's things. That is, if you still want to do that with me?"

She frowned. "Of course I do."

"Good." He breathed a sigh. "Okay, how about this? We'll spend a week there clearing everything out like we said we would. And then, when we get to the end of that week, we'll decide what we're going to do then. How does that sound?"

"We really don't have to make a decision until then?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Actually, we don't have to make it then either, if you don't want to. Though we're going to have to make it sooner or later."

"No, it's okay. We'll make the decision then." Much to her surprise, Melissa suddenly realised she felt a lot better. "I s'pose we'd better head back," she said reluctantly. "We really ought to go and--what was it you said?" She grimaced. "'Share our memories'?"

He smirked. "Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Not yet. Let's just keep them between ourselves for now, eh? Let's just keep walking for a while." 

And taking her hand in his again, Matt tugged her onwards down the hill.

*

Thanks for reading me. All votes and comments are gratefully appreciated.

Lily

-x- 



Back to the Farm Ch. 06



I'll start with a couple of apologies--just for a change :-) 

First of all, as ever, I apologise for how long it's taken me to produce Chapter 6. I didn't anticipate how long it'd take me to get back into the swing of writing after studying for my exam. Secondly, in this chapter, I'm afraid Matt and Lissy still don't get around to having any sex. I really thought they were going to when I started the chapter but these two refuse to be rushed. So if sex is what you're after (and hey, it probably is, you're reading stories on an erotic fiction site), then you might want to hold off reading this chapter until Chapter 7 appears on these pages in the next few days...

*

"Lissy? Where are you?"

Melissa gave the wooden shelf above the fireplace one last polish and straightened up, feeling uncomfortably hot and sticky. Typical that they'd arranged to clear out the farm this week, she thought. Slap bang in the middle of a heat-wave. Why couldn't they have come last week when it had done nothing but rain? "In here," she called, dropping the duster to the tiled hearth and rocking back on her heels to appraise the rest of the room. 

It had taken the best part of a day and a half to sort through the clutter in the second bedroom. Most of the teetering piles of boxes were now gone, their contents unceremoniously tipped into the skip parked outside the front of the bungalow. She'd taken care to check the contents of each carton before disposal, but was no closer to understanding why their uncle had felt compelled to keep every plastic bottle, ice-cream tub and jam jar he'd emptied in the last decade. 

"Wow. You've nearly finished."

Even though she'd known he was searching for her, the nearness of Matt's voice still made her jump. Coughing to disguise her startled yelp, she looked up to find him leaning against the doorjamb, her mouth going dry as she saw he was naked from the waist up, his khaki shorts slung low on his hips. "Getting there. How's it going out in the garden?" she asked, trying her hardest to focus only on his face. 

"Making progress." If Matt had any idea of the effect the exposure of his glistening upper body was having on her, he showed no sign. "I hacked down the worst of the weeds and grass with shears in the end. There's no way I could've tackled the lawn from scratch with the mower. The thing is, after all the rain we've had and now this--" He gestured toward the expanse of cloudless blue sky visible though the window. "The weeds have grown like..." Shaking his head, he trailed off for want of a fitting simile. 

"Weeds?" Melissa suggested, somewhat over-brightly. Why did she always feel so nervous whenever Matt was around? 

He gave a short laugh. "Yep, like weeds." His eyes softened. "You look like you could use a break. Cup of tea?"

"Well." She sighed, turning to regard the last dozen or so boxes still to be unpacked, now neatly stacked against the far wall. "I ought to keep going. There's still so much to do. We've been at this for two days and we've only cleared two rooms."

"The two worst rooms," he said reassuringly, extending his arm towards her. "Come on, you can stop for a bit. The rest won't take so long."

"You're kidding, right?" she said, hesitating again before grasping his hand. To her annoyance, a sharp tingle rippled down her spine as his fingers curled around her palm. What on earth...? "Matt," she carried on quickly, snatching her hand away the moment he'd helped her to her feet, "this room and the study might well have been the worst, but every room in this house is a disaster area. The skip's almost full already."

"I know." He sounded unperturbed. "I've called Jason and he's organising for another one to be delivered tomorrow."

"Great," she responded without enthusiasm, following him out to the kitchen and watching as he filled the kettle. "Something to look forward to."

"I wish you two could get along. He's changed, Lissy, okay? He's not that obnoxious kid you remember."

"Really?" In an attempt to block the return of an unwelcome flood of memories from Charlie's funeral, she crossed to the window and gazed out at the garden. Come on, Melissa, get a grip... "Great job," she said with rather more sarcasm than she'd intended. "That looks so much better." The grass appeared more yellow than green, having grown unchecked for so long the base of each blade had become straw-like. The overall effect was newly-harvested field rather than garden lawn. "I'm not sure why you bothered. We're going to flatten the place. Surely there wasn't a whole lot of point in cutting the grass?"

Matt grimaced at her over his shoulder. "I just thought it'd look better. Besides, we haven't decided whether we're going to be doing the building work here or whether we're going to sell, have we? And you never know, if we sell, there's a chance that whoever buys the place won't want to demolish the existing buildings. There's nothing structurally wrong with this bungalow, after all."

"What?" Melissa stared at him. "Then why are we going to demolish it?" 

"Because that's what Charlie wanted to do. I offered to draw up plans that would include keeping the bungalow and converting the barn, but when he realised that meant we'd only be able to build four houses up here instead of eight, he wouldn't hear of it. He wanted us to maximise--"

"--the worth of his estate, yes I know," she finished, frowning. "But why? Why was he obsessed with making so much money from this place? It doesn't make any sense. Charlie never cared about money." 

"No. But he--" Rather to her surprise, Matt closed his eyes briefly, once again seeming to have difficulty in choosing the right words. "Look, he knew that whoever bought the place would probably build as many houses as they could get planning permission for. So he took the view that if anyone was going to do that, it should be us that got the full benefit. That's all. Plus..." He hesitated again. "He wanted to put some work Jason's way too. He wanted him to be project manager."

Melissa made herself take a breath before responding. "I see," she said tightly, turning to look out of the window again so he couldn't see her expression. "Well, if that's what Charlie wanted, I can't very well argue, can I?"

"Lissy--"

"It's okay, I understand," she interrupted, her gaze falling upon the tree-house Charlie had built for them in and around the lower branches of the huge oak dominating the bottom left hand corner of the garden. That too might soon be gone, she realised, experiencing a sharp pang of regret. "So let me get this straight. If we don't sell, we could convert the barn?"

"Yep. It's still an option. I meant what I said at the funeral, Liss. We don't have to make any hasty decisions here."

"And what about this place?" Swivelling around again, she was unsettled to see Matt propped against the worktop watching her. "Th-the bungalow. If we don't demolish it, what could we do?"

"Well, quite a bit. There are cosmetic changes we could make. Like, for example," he rapped his knuckles on the wall behind him, "this could go. We could open this room out into the second bedroom. Knock through into the lean-to as well and make one big kitchen diner."

She nodded, already picturing the result in her mind. "Or," she suggested, reaching across to touch the wall behind the table, "take this out instead, extend into the dining room and have that as the kitchen diner. Put French doors in place of the window in the dining room. The whole thing would look out over the garden then."

Matt's eyes narrowed for a moment. "That's a much better idea," he conceded with a smile. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Not believing for a moment he hadn't, Melissa nonetheless experienced a rush of pleasure at the unexpected praise. She fanned her face with her hand. "I can't believe how warm it is," she said hurriedly, already moving across the kitchen. "I think I need to go and get some fresh air."

"I don't think it's much fresher outside, to be honest," Matt warned as she reached the door. "But I'll bring out the tea when I've made it."

The moment she stepped out into the garden she realised he was right, the sultry air making her skin even clammier. Hoping the shade of the trees straining against the fence would provide some relief, she kicked off her shoes at the edge of the patio and carried them on to the grass, the butchered stalks prickling her bare feet.

So far, being at the farm with Matt hadn't been at all what she'd expected, she thought, moving towards the tree-house, drawn like a moth to a flame. She'd known going through her uncle's cluttered possessions would be painful. She'd realised stirring up so many memories was bound to be traumatic. And she'd been prepared to find it uncomfortable being with Matt at the farm. Even after their uneasy truce at the funeral, too many years had passed, too much had been left unsaid for it to be anything other than uncomfortable. What she hadn't expected was that they'd barely spend any time together at all.

He'd collected her from Gemma's at noon on Monday, Melissa having once again requested to pretend her friend's flat was her own. This time, Gemma had seemed dubious. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" she'd asked. "Don't you think you ought to tell him the truth now that you two are getting on better?"

"Oh, and how would that look?" Melissa had retorted. "I swear he already thinks I'm being hysterical about everything. I know he thinks I've made too much of a fuss about being the last to know that Charlie was dying--and about being the last to know they were planning to build all these new houses at the farm. If I admit I lied about where I live, he really will think I've got a screw loose."

Reluctantly, Gemma had agreed to the continuing deception. "But he's bound to find out eventually," she'd cautioned as she'd handed Melissa a spare set of keys. "How are you going to explain when he does?"

Melissa had shaken her head. "I won't need to explain. We're going to spend a week together clearing out the farm and then it'll probably be another fourteen years before I see him again. How is he ever going to find out?"

If Matt had had any doubts that she lived at Barrington Heights, he certainly hadn't shown them. But then he'd been uncharacteristically quiet for most of the journey, blocking virtually all of Melissa's attempts at small talk. Concerned, she'd finally plucked up the courage to ask whether everything was all right when they stopped off en route to pick up a few basic supplies from the village store. 

Matt had sent her an apologetic look. "God, I'm sorry. I've been terrible company, haven't I?" he'd said before going on to explain there'd been problems with the Singapore project.

"Serious problems?" she'd asked, relieved it hadn't been anything she'd said or done.

He'd grimaced. "Serious enough that I may have to go back out there sooner than I'd like. I was hoping to be here for another month."

He hadn't seemed keen to discuss the matter any further and Melissa chose not to push him. On their arrival, they agreed she would make a start on what had been Charlie's bedroom. She'd been dreading bagging up her uncle's clothes and had reasoned it would be best to get it over as soon as possible. Rather to her surprise, instead of offering to help, Matt had opted to work on the dining room. It made sense, she'd realised. They'd probably make much faster progress working on two rooms at once. Given how anxious she'd felt about staying at the farm with Matt, it had seemed ridiculous to admit she would have preferred to have his company.

By early evening, deciding the rest of Charlie's bedroom could wait--dealing with his clothes had been distressing enough for one day--she'd moved on to the boxes in the second bedroom whilst Matt continued digging through the papers stuffed into the cabinets in the dining room. 

It was only as the light began to fade she realised they hadn't stopped for a meal and was astonished to discover it was past nine o'clock. Neither of them could face the thought of carrying on after they'd eaten. Matt offered to sleep on the settee and she'd dragged herself off to the bed in Charlie's room. Having fallen into an exhausted slumber, she'd overslept the following morning, emerging to discover Matt already hard at work back in the dining room.

No, there'd been no need to worry about things being uncomfortable with Matt, she thought, arriving at the foot of the great oak. He'd been the perfect gentleman, as though he'd sensed she'd need as much space as he could give her. In fact, she mused, more confused than ever, if she hadn't known better, she would've said he was deliberately trying to avoid her. That should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? Then why on earth did she feel so absurdly disappointed?

Because she'd psyched herself up to be strong, she decided, staring up at the tree-house, marvelling anew at the craftsmanship of the man who'd built it, feeling a lurch in the pit of her stomach at the sight of those familiar worn beams. Because she'd promised herself she'd stand up for herself, that she'd show Matt she was a woman to be reckoned with, that she was a woman who knew her own mind and what she wanted out of life. That was it. He hadn't given her a chance to demonstrate any of that.

She felt ashamed every time she recalled her behaviour that first night at the farm and cringed every time she thought of how she'd woken up in his arms, wishing she hadn't passed comment on the fact she'd felt the evidence of his morning arousal...

Flinching anew at the memory, her gaze fell on the thick rope hanging down between the boughs, then upon the rather haphazard arrangement of footholds scattered across the trunk of the huge tree. And suddenly, Melissa found herself transported back to her childhood, the desire to climb up to the platform of the wooden fort irresistible. She reached forward and tugged at the rope. It seemed sound enough. Without further thought, she slipped her shoes back on then reached high and grasped the knotted twine, allowing gravity to swing her in against the trunk.

Though it had been years--goodness, how many years?--her movements were instinctive, her feet working up the ridges in the bark, her hands crossing one over the other as she hauled herself upwards. She could still do this, she marvelled, experiencing a curious sense of elation. Though she clearly wasn't as fit as she used to be. Panting hard by the times she reached the platform, she scrambled on to the deck on her hands and knees and then turned to look back at the bungalow, her euphoria dissipating the moment she realised how much higher from the ground the tree-house was than she remembered.

"Oh no," she murmured as she gazed down at the grass, experiencing another lurch in her stomach that this time had nothing to do with nostalgia and everything to do with vertigo. Exhorting herself not to panic, she cautiously twisted around into a sitting position then inched forward to the edge of the platform before swinging her legs over the side. When she dared to look down again, it was to see Matt, having now donned a faded black T-shirt, gazing back at her, his face a picture of amusement. And all at once, she remembered exactly how many years it had been since she'd last climbed up into the tree-house...

"What in the world are you doing?" he asked, his smile broadening as Melissa, having noticed her short skirt had ridden high on her thighs, yanked it down to a more modest level. "I've made the tea," he added, nodding towards the mugs he carried. "Are you coming down?"

Melissa wasn't sure she could. But unwilling to admit she'd got herself into a mess she might not be able to get out of, she was relieved when her gaze fell upon the bough supporting the makeshift pulley system Charlie had rigged up years ago. "You think the lift will work?" she called down hopefully, not quite able to meet his gaze, her cheeks remaining hot with colour.

Matt gave a deep chuckle. "You want your tea up there?"

"I thought it might be nice," she lied. "I think it's a bit cooler here."

He shrugged, grinning now. "Sure, see if it works."

She could feel him watching as she reached for the rickety crate they'd used as a dumb waiter all those years ago and began unwrapping the cord. Then easing the crate over the side of the platform, she began lowering it towards Matt, the wheels of the pulley making high-pitched squeaks during its descent.

"Sounds like it could use some oil," she heard him say. Not daring to peer over the side to watch, she felt the lessening of the tension as he caught the crate then sensed the weight of her mug as he placed it in the bottom of the tray. "Okay, haul away."

This was the tricky bit, Melissa remembered, taking care to pull on the cord as smoothly as possible. It'd always been a challenge to raise the lift without losing the contents of their cups. But when at last she was able to reach over and lift the crate back on to the platform, her smile of satisfaction at not having spilled a drop faded the second she saw there were two mugs in the tray. 

"Don't mind if I join you, do you?" She gasped as Matt appeared to her right, springing up on to the deck with Tarzan-like grace. "Lissy! That's the second time I've made you jump in ten minutes," he added with a grin, dropping down beside her before extending his legs over the edge. "You okay?"

Define okay, Melissa thought, acutely unnerved. The platform wasn't wide enough for them to sit side by side without touching, the heat from his thigh radiating through the thin fabric of her skirt. "Fine," she murmured, grateful that the act of reaching around for his mug of tea spared her from having to make eye contact.

"You sure?" As she handed him the mug their eyes met and Melissa felt her face flame with colour. "Or should I go? Only it seems to me as though the last place you want to be is up here with me."

Startled, she found she couldn't look away this time, grateful he couldn't read her mind. It wouldn't do for him to realise she was remembering the last time they'd sat there together on a similarly hot day in August, fifteen years before. "What do you mean?" she said, forcing a laugh. "I don't have a problem with you being here."

"Really?" Still watching her, he lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. "In that case, you won't mind if I ask you a question? You see, I think there's something we really ought to talk about."

"Oh?"Melissa tried hard to keep her tone neutral. It wasn't as though that was going to be what he wanted to ask about, was it? 

"Why didn't you write to me?"

Oh God, it was. Or was it? Aware she'd look a fool if he happened to be referring to some other occasion, she decided upon a non-committal answer. "Write to you when?"

He rolled his eyes. "You know when, Lissy. Don't tell me you don't. You promised you would, remember? That day I kissed you. That day I told you I loved you." Matt sounded as though he was saying something almost inconsequential, as though her answer didn't really mean anything to him. Yet something in his expression hinted it did. "We promised to write to each other, remember? You said you'd write to me when I was back at school." And then he gave a grin. "Hell, you said you'd write every day."

"But I did write every day!" she burst out, unable to bear his casual approach any longer. "I wrote every day for a fortnight. Every day. You were the one who didn't write. You didn't answer a single one of my letters."

He frowned. "What? Liss, I wrote you letters. Not every day maybe, but I remember writing to you twice that first week I was back at school. You know how much I hated it there. God, I remember pouring it all out to you. How I couldn't wait to leave, how sick I was of being locked up there--it was like being in a prison sometimes. I was going on seventeen, but I might as well have been ten. Lissy--" Matt hesitated, placing his free hand on her forearm. "Liss, I wrote to you. But I never heard anything back from you. I thought you must've decided it'd all been a mistake. That kissing me had been a really bad idea--that maybe you wished it hadn't happened--"




Back to the Farm Ch. 06



"Matt, stop it." Melissa glared at him, suddenly suspicious. "Stop this. You're just winding me up again, aren't you? You've got some kind of bet going on with Jason, haven't you?" She closed her eyes and groaned. "Please. Don't do this. You didn't write, I know you didn't. And it's all right, I know why you didn't. Kissing me was just some kind of experiment, wasn't it?" She gave another moan. "God, for all I know, kissing me that day was just for a bet too, wasn't it?"

"Lissy." Matt's voice was more earnest now. "I swear to you, I wrote. And I didn't kiss you for a bet, okay? I kissed you because I'd spent all summer wanting to do just that. Waiting for the right moment. Feeling like a complete prat because I'd never kissed any girl before. I was shit-scared I was going to screw it up, if you must know. Terrified that you'd knock me back, to be honest. Laugh in my face."

He was serious, Melissa realised incredulously. This wasn't a bet? "But if you wrote to me..." she faltered, at last daring to open her eyes to discover that Matt was still gazing straight at her, his brown eyes so dark they resembled liquid chocolate. "What--what happened to your letters? Why didn't I get them?"

"Why didn't I get yours?" he countered gently. "Could you have sent them to the wrong address or something?"

She gave him a withering look. "You were at that school from the age of eleven. I'd written to you before. Are you saying you never got any of those letters either?"

He looked puzzled. "Well of course I did."

"Then tell me how I could've got it wrong?"

Matt remained silent for a moment. "Okay," he said at last. "You're saying you did write--"

"Every day! But you never replied."

"I wrote to you too, Lissy."

"Then what happened?" She gave a bewildered shrug. "I didn't get anything from you. Not even a postcard. Like I said--" She swallowed hard, her fingers clenching tightly around her mug. "I thought you'd changed your mind. So after a bit, I realised I must be making a prat of myself and stopped writing."

"But you didn't even send me a birthday card that year."

She stared at him, aghast. "Of course I did. I stopped writing letters but I would never have ignored your birthday."

He stared back, his expression mirroring her own bewilderment. "Well," he said after a long pause, an odd note to his voice. "All these years, eh? All these years I thought you'd changed your mind."

"I thought you'd changed yours. I don't understand." To her dismay, tears prickled the corners of her eyes. She couldn't cry again... "Oh God, Matt. What the hell happened?"

Frowning, Matt shook his head. "I have no idea. I don't--" But when she tore her gaze away, he swore softly under his breath. "Oh, Lissy. Sweetheart, please don't..."

But it was already far too late, the tenderness in his tone too much. Melissa took a desperate glance towards the rope, but before she could flee, Matt reached in to take her mug and a second later she was in his arms, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. The offer of solace impossible to resist, she let her tears fall unchecked, his embrace tightening as she wept, his head moving down over hers, his hand tracing lazy circles across her back. She had no idea how long she cried, no comprehension of the soothing words he murmured into her ear. All she knew was that when she finally raised her head, his mouth found hers. 

Afterwards, she realised she should've been shocked. Instead, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, his lips warm and gentle, the contact almost piercingly sweet. And when after a few moments he deepened the kiss, she closed her eyes and surrendered to him completely, allowing him access to every part of her mouth before tentatively kissing him back, her desire mounting with every passing second. She could feel the hand on her back sliding lower, knew the moment he eased his fingers beneath the flimsy fabric of her camisole blouse, the mere sensation of his fingertips against her bare skin causing a series of sparks to shoot straight to her groin.

"Matt," she breathed at last, feeling rather giddy. "I... You..." But whatever she'd been going to say was lost the instant the hard object pressing against her thigh began vibrating violently. Her eyes flying open, she saw the shock in Matt's own expression give way to a rueful smile.

"Hold that thought," he said, making her gasp as he slid his hand between them to retrieve a buzzing mobile phone from the pocket of his shorts. "Damn," he muttered, studying the display. "I'm so sorry, I've got to take this." And as she continued to stare, he stabbed at a button and held the phone to his ear. "Hi, I'm here. What's happened now?"

Jolted from her blissed-out haze, Melissa experienced a surreal moment where she wondered whether what had just happened had all been a dream. But her still-tingling lips proved otherwise. And suddenly aware of what they'd done--oh, what had they done?--she abruptly pushed herself back from the edge of the platform and scrambled to her feet.

"Lissy!" she heard Matt call as she staggered across to the rope. "Lissy--wait!"

But Melissa was already on her way down, mortification obliterating the vertigo she'd experienced earlier, friction burning her palms as she loosed her grip too soon and slithered to the ground. "Oh God," she muttered under her breath, sprinting back across the lawn to the kitchen door without a backward glance. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

So what if he'd sent her letters after all? So what if he'd never received any of the letters she'd sent him? It didn't change a thing, she reproached herself, marching straight into the second bedroom. It didn't alter the fact he and Jason had tormented her the following summer, it didn't explain why he hadn't spoken to her at Aunt Suzie's funeral and it sure as hell didn't mean he'd had an excuse not to tell her Charlie was dying. 

Why had she let him kiss her?

Giving a low moan, Melissa wrenched down one of the boxes. When Matt came to find her--and she was certain he would--he'd want to talk, she realised, already dropping to her hands and knees and tearing off the plastic cover. But she couldn't talk if she was busy, could she? "Charlie," she wailed, shaking her head before raking out the contents, a garish selection of fabric swatches and balls of wool. "Why did you keep all this? What were you thinking?" 

But the moment her hand alighted on a battered rectangular tin, her frantic movements ceased, her heart skipping a beat. And taking a deep breath, she lifted it out and opened the lid, the metal cold against her fingers, the distinctive aroma of shaven wood flooding her nose.

Charcoal pencils, a dozen or so, each hand-sharpened to her uncle's exacting standards. She could hear him now, the words so clear he might've been standing right next to her. Always leave your tools ready to use. That way you won't have to waste any time when you get the urge.

She heaved a shaky sigh then smiled, despite herself. The urge. Charlie had encouraged them to draw. He'd been the one to teach them about lines, about light and shade and perspective, maintaining one didn't need talent to draw, it was something that could be learned. Melissa had been none too sure about that; she'd always considered Matt's sketches to be far superior to her own. But she'd loved drawing just the same, relished the challenge of capturing an image, enjoyed the thrill of transforming a blank page into a picture. How long had it been since she'd last tried? 

Intrigued by the thought, she rummaged deeper into the box. And seconds later, tin in one hand, sketchpad in the other, she leapt to her feet and fled out into the hall.

*

Clicking off his mobile phone, Matt toppled backwards on to the deck. "Fuck," he muttered, staring unseeingly at the leafy canopy overhead. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..."

Paula's timing couldn't have been worse. Not that it was his secretary's fault, he conceded, she'd had to call. Things in Singapore were going seriously pear-shaped. By rights, he ought to have asked her to book him a seat on the next flight out. But how could he leave Lissy now?

Groaning, he placed both hands beneath his head and closed his eyes. He'd kissed her--how could he have let that happen again? After promising himself he'd keep her at arm's length, that he'd go out of his way to make sure they spent as little time together as possible? 

Because he'd wanted to kiss her, that was how. There was no way he could've resisted. And holy hell, she'd kissed him back, though she'd seemed adorably shy. But now he came to think about it, she'd been equally reticent when he'd kissed her that first night at the farm. Why? She'd spent most of her early twenties caring for her mother, but there must've been boyfriends, he reasoned. He definitely remembered Charlie telling him about some guy she'd dated during her last year at university--yes, Andrew, that was his name.

No, it couldn't be lack of experience. So what was it? Fear? Of him? He gave a snort, dismissing the idea out of hand. She was probably just confused. Well, he couldn't blame her for that. If poor Lissy was feeling even half the conflicting emotions he felt, she could be excused for running a mile...

But what had become of those letters? Why had they never arrived?

Forcing himself to sit up, Matt let out a sigh. What was the use in wondering? There was no point in torturing himself with thoughts of what might have been. It'd been half a lifetime ago, they'd been kids, for heaven's sake... Nope, it was time for some damage control. It was just as well he was good at it. 

He drained his now tepid mug of tea then wriggled forward, twisting around to plant both hands on the edge of the platform. Launching himself over the side in the effortlessly agile manner that had so infuriated Lissy when they were younger, he dangled by his fingertips for a moment before dropping the last couple of feet to the ground. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph. Not bad for a bloke pushing thirty-two.

Several minutes later, having searched the bungalow to no avail, Matt felt rather less triumphant. Upon opening the front door, he wasn't particularly reassured to see his car still parked on the driveway. He already had a sneaking suspicion Lissy couldn't drive, even though she'd claimed her car was being repaired the first time he'd picked her up from Barrington Heights. Not only did he doubt she owned a car, he seriously doubted she had the means to live at Barrington Heights though quite why she'd felt the need to pretend otherwise, he couldn't fathom.

But just as he was beginning to fear she'd started walking back to Ebberlea, he spied her sitting cross-legged beneath the towering copper beech tree that had given the farm its name. Relief flooded through him in a surprisingly violent wave. 

While she remained oblivious to his presence, he enjoyed the luxury of being able to gaze at her unchecked, smiling as he saw she was sketching, her head bowed over the page, those red gold curls falling across her face as she worked. When she lifted a hand to push back them back, he had an almost overwhelming desire to duck out of sight so he could carry on watching her. Managing to stand his ground, he grimaced as she spotted him at last, her expression abruptly growing wary. 

Matt made the snap decision to behave as though that kiss in the tree-house had never happened. "Hey there, you," he said, taking care to keep his tone light as he strode towards her. "What are you drawing?" 

Melissa clamped the sketchpad to her chest. "Nothing," she said, looking rather panic-stricken. "Just doodling, that's all."

"Doodling?" Amused by her reaction, he crouched beside her, holding out his hand. "It didn't look much like a doodle. Show me."

"No!" She clutched at the sketchpad even more tightly. "It's not good enough for anyone to see, let alone you."

"Let alone me?" He gave an uneasy laugh, stung by her words. "Liss, you let me look at all your pictures when we were kids. Did I ever--?"

"Yes, well we're not kids anymore, are we?" she cut in, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of rose pink. "It was different back then. It didn't matter what--" And then she stopped, growing pinker still.

Didn't matter what he thought? So it mattered now? Damage control, Matt reminded himself. He needed to let this go. If she didn't want to share her drawing, he had no right to insist.

Fuck damage control.

"Show me, or I'll tickle you."

"What?" 

Just being able to witness the look of abject horror in her eyes had been worth the risk, Matt thought, laughing as he held out his hand again and waggled his fingers. "Come on. Let me see."

"No!" Melissa was already edging out of reach. "It wasn't meant for anyone to see, okay? It was just for me, for my eyes only. It was just--"

"Let me see, Lissy." 

She'd found her feet now, those pale blue eyes widening as he took a step towards her. "Matt, please. Don't do this." Then another step. "Matt!"

She shrieked as he lunged forward, immediately darting behind the thick trunk of the copper beech. Abandoning all thoughts of behaving sensibly, he shot towards her, forcing her to leave her hiding place and run screaming along the driveway in the direction of the barn. Racing after her, Matt knew he'd catch up eventually. He couldn't remember ever losing a chase like this one but it had always taken a while; what she lacked in speed she'd always made up for in guile--and by the looks of things, she hadn't forgotten any of her tricks, weaving first left then right, bobbing out of the way just as she was within arm's reach.

Taking a glance over her shoulder as she drew up alongside the barn doors, Melissa gave another yelp and set off along the track for the orchard. Matt smelt victory. So she hadn't quite remembered everything then. Turning abruptly right, he vaulted over the fence and took a diagonal route across the meadow. While it was hard to run through the tangle of overgrown grass and wild flowers, he had the considerable advantage of having long legs and within moments, their paths intersected.

"No-o!" she cried as he hooked his right foot around her right knee. And laughing when she lost her balance, he threw his arms around her, dragged her tightly against his body and toppled with her to the ground, rolling until she landed on her back beneath him. "You pig! It's too hot for this!"

Matt gazed down at her, transfixed by the sight of her lying amidst the poppies and marguerites, her hair a golden halo in the late afternoon sunshine, her face flushed and glowing. Watching her chest rise and fall rapidly, he could feel the warmth emanating from her body, the slight dampness of her pale green blouse.... 

God help him, he wanted to kiss her again. But that way madness lay. "Then let me see," he said instead, his voice rather more unsteady than he would've liked. And using his knees to hold her firmly in place, he reached over to pluck up the sketchpad from where it had fallen into the long grass.

"Get off me!" she gulped, wriggling beneath him. "Matt!"

"You actually want me to tickle you?" he teased as he turned the pad the right way up, at the same time wondering what the hell he was saying. If he were to follow through with his threat there was only one place it could lead, her frantic writhing already close to being more than he could stand. No matter how much he wanted her right now, he couldn't allow things to go that far. 

"Well, well, well," he said loudly, making a show of examining her drawings. "What have we here?" But even before he finished the question, he knew exactly what he was looking at. She'd sketched the front aspect of the bungalow and a floor plan, but neither depicted the house in its current state. No, she'd drawn plans--and highly detailed plans at that--of how it could be. "Hey. These are good."

She shook her head. "No, they're not, they're rubbish. Matt, please. Let me go."

"Uh uh." Fascinated, he sat back on her thighs in order to study the page more closely. "I mean it, these are bloody brilliant." Trust Lissy. She'd always been her own worst critic, convinced the quality of her sketches fell far short of his own. "You still draw a lot then?"

"No." She'd stopped struggling, having apparently reconciled herself to being held captive. "What would be the point? I haven't done anything like that for years."

"Seriously?" He lowered the sketchpad to regard her with disbelief. "Why the hell are you a housing officer?"

"Well, technically, I'm not a housing officer," she said, rolling her eyes as if she'd explained a thousand times already. "I don't actually have the qualifications to call myself--"

"Lissy!" It was Matt's turn to shake his head. "You have no idea how good these are, do you? You knocked them off in, what--" he consulted his watch "--twenty minutes? Believe me when I tell you that there are a couple of juniors working at the practice who couldn't produce something as imaginative as this in twenty hours."

"Oh, stop it." She grimaced. "There's no need to butter me up. I forgive you for kissing me, okay? I'm well aware that the drawings are crap. There's no way any of it would work. Now for God's sake, let me get up."

I forgive you for kissing me? Repressing a grin, Matt released her at last, turning over to settle beside her in the grass. "Well that's where you're wrong," he said, stabbing his finger at the page. "Because those windows would work, definitely. And I absolutely agree that moving the front door is a good idea. It would make much better use of the space in the hall. And..." He frowned. "You've put a window in the roof."

She sat up and peered over his shoulder. "Loft conversion," she said, sounding sheepish. "I realise that's probably a really stupid idea. I daresay the loft isn't even big enough."

"Are you kidding? Of course it is."

"It is?"

"Yep." Matt smiled, amused by her childlike half-disbelieving, half-hopeful tone. "We can take a look later but I'm pretty sure... Oh, hell." He pulled a face, Melissa's sharp intake of breath confirming she'd had exactly the same thought. "The loft."

"I'd completely forgotten about it." She groaned. "It's going to be a total mess up there, isn't it?"

"I'd be very surprised if it wasn't. Damn." The chances of them clearing the bungalow within the week were beginning to appear rather slim. The last thing he'd wanted was for Lissy to deal with matters alone.

"Should we go and look now?"

"Well, you can, but I can't, I'm afraid." He winced again as she shot him an anxious glance. "I'm really sorry, Liss. I'm going to have to leave you to it for a bit. I've got to go into the office."

"Singapore?" she guessed, frowning when he nodded. "Things still aren't going well?"

"That could be the understatement of the decade. I've never known a project to get so fuck--" He stopped as she raised her eyebrows. "Screwed up," he corrected hastily. But when she smiled, he couldn't help smiling back. "I'm hoping I can sort some of it out from this end. There are a few favours I might be able to call in but I need to send some emails, a fax or two. I shouldn't be gone long, only a couple of hours. Although..." He paused, struck by a sudden thought. "Maybe you'd like to come with me?"

As her gaze narrowed, he experienced a jolt of disbelief. Why on earth had he invited her to tag along? "It isn't that far--it'll take us around half an hour to drive," he heard himself saying, even as he struggled to understand the inner workings of his own mind. "I can show you the plans for the new houses while we're there." When she continued to look uncertain, he added, "Plus, my car's got air-con. It might be nice to get out of the heat for a while."




Back to the Farm Ch. 06



Matt could see she was tempted. Lissy had never fared well in hot weather. Being pale skinned she'd always burned easily and even staying out of the sun, she tended to wilt like a flower in need of water. Knowing also that she wouldn't be keen on the idea of being alone at the farm, it came as no surprise when she nodded. "That would be really good," she admitted. 

He smiled, discomforted to realise how happy he was she'd agreed. "Okay." And deciding it might be best not to conduct any further self analysis on just why that might be, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand. "Let's lock up and get going then." 

Thanks for reading me. All votes and comments gratefully received.

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 07



"Oh, I think it will." Taken aback by the nearness of his voice, Melissa turned to find he'd followed her across the room. "Getting nervous?" he teased.

She made a sound of exasperation. "I'm fine," she muttered as he peered over her shoulder to take a look at the pink and gold remnants of what had been a stunning sunset, anxious not to reveal she was more unnerved by his proximity than the thought of an impending storm. And feeling very uncomfortable, she had an inexplicable desire to make him uncomfortable too. "That painting in your office," she began casually.

He gave a short groan. "What about it?"

"You do know how good that is, don't you? 'Course, it would've been better without me in it--"

"Lissy--" Breathing a sigh, he pulled back from the window. "It's nothing, okay? Whatever Paula says. Though--"

"Then why didn't you want me to see it?"

"--I don't agree it would've been better without you in it, okay? You had to be in it."

As Melissa witnessed the exact moment her words registered in his consciousness, his words registered in hers. "I had to be in it?"

"Yes, of course you did. It wouldn't have worked otherwise."

"Then why--?"

"Don't say I should paint more, okay?"

Melissa hadn't been going to say anything of the kind, being more interested in why he'd been reluctant to show her the picture in the first place. But on realising that determining the truth might make things even more awkward between them, she decided to run with his response. "Why not? You've clearly got a talent--but then, we always knew that. And it's becoming pretty obvious how much you hate your job."

"I don't hate it, exactly."

"Okay." Melissa rolled her eyes. "You're sick of it."

"Sick of all the globe-trotting, yes. But I can't make a career out of painting, Liss."

"Says who?"

Matt made a growling sound low in his throat. "I do. Anyway, never mind about me, what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're a fine one to talk, aren't you? Why the hell are you still a housing officer?"

"I'm not a housing--"

He held up his hand. "Fine, yep. You haven't got the qualifications to call yourself that. I was listening. So why haven't you got the qualifications?"

She blew out a breath. "Because getting them costs money, that's why."

"Well, now you've got the money--or at least, you soon will have. So are you going to go and get them? Or..." And suddenly, Matt's voice softened. "How about taking yourself back to university and doing what you actually wanted to do in the first place?" 

Melissa hesitated, turning back to the window. She couldn't deny the thought had crossed her mind. "I couldn't go back to university now. I'm too old," she muttered at last.

Matt rolled his eyes. "Lissy, you're twenty-nine."

"I'd be thirty by the beginning of term."

"So? More and more people aren't going straight to uni from school these days. You wouldn't be the only mature student, I promise. And I bet there'd be plenty of others older than you."

"It's not just that." She pulled a face. "I don't think anywhere would accept me, not now. Things have changed. These days you have to know about computer design."

"It's not that difficult to pick up, you know." Matt found her reluctance puzzling. This was the girl who, according to Charlie, would've received a first class honours degree in art had she not dropped out of college in her final year.

"But I'm not sure I want to pick it up. I don't even think I'd want to do that course again. It was okay, but I always felt a bit of a fraud."

"A fraud?"

She smiled. "Matt, I'm not you. I can draw a bit, enough to get by--"

"You're better than that. Those sketches you did this afternoon were fantastic."

Melissa raised a dismissive hand. "Oh, I'm not saying I can't capture an image. I can do a fair representation of a bowl of fruit. But there's nothing special about what I can do. There isn't that added depth, that special something that sets it apart--like there is in that painting in your office. Now that's amazing--it's the way you've captured the light. Me, well. All I can do is a pale imitation of a photograph. In fact, you'd be better off with a photograph."

"Lissy." Matt rolled his eyes.

"It's true." She shrugged. "I'm not going to delude myself. And to be honest, I hated doing all the history of art stuff. I tried to like it, but I didn't. In fact, the only thing I really enjoyed was ceramics."

He nodded, remembering she'd always liked pottery. "Then just do ceramics. I'm pretty sure you can do a degree in that on its own."

"You can," she agreed, almost sheepishly. "Mickleton College runs a course, actually."

"Well, there you are then." He shot her his most encouraging smile. "Get yourself on it."

She sighed. "Oh, I don't know. What would I do with a degree in ceramics, for heaven's sake?"

It was Matt's turn to shrug. "Anything you wanted. You use it as a stepping stone."

There was a long pause before she shook her head. "No. It would just be a waste of money. If I do anything, it ought to be something to do with housing." 

"What? No..." He experienced a pang of frustration. Why was she being so stubborn? "Don't sell yourself short. Not this time. I don't think Charlie would've minded you using your inheritance to do something you really wanted. God knows, you've made enough sacrifices already--"

"No," she interrupted, her tone oddly fierce. "I wasn't the one who made the sacrifices, okay?"

"But Lissy, you gave up university to look after your mother," he protested, though he took care to keep his tone gentle. "You spent years putting someone else first. Don't you think it's time you did something for you?"

"Something for me?" And suddenly, she made an odd half-sob, half-choking sound. "Oh God, Matt, I don't deserve to do anything for me."

"Hey!" Instinctively, he put a hand on her arm. "What on earth do you mean by that? Of course you deserve--"

"No, I don't. I really don't."

"What?" Shocked by the tension in her body, he had to fight the urge to scoop her into his arms, certain she'd resist. "Liss, you're not making any sense."

She released a shaky breath, staring resolutely at the window. "She gave up everything for me, okay?" she said, every word sounding tortured. "Mum. She wanted me to have it all. But she didn't tell me--she didn't tell me what it... If I'd known..."

"Known what?" Matt found himself at a loss to know how to comfort her. Her grief was so palpable it actually seemed to cause him pain. "Known what, sweetheart? Tell me."

When at last she turned to meet his gaze, he saw her eyes were brimming with tears. "Mum's car crash," she whispered.

He nodded slowly. "I know," he murmured, desperate to say the right thing. "Poor Aunt Jane, it must've been awful. And poor you..." It suddenly occurred to him he knew very little about what had actually happened, a surge of guilt flooding through him. "Lissy, I'm sorry. I should've been there. I should've been there for you after the accident--"

"That's just it." And to his astonishment, a hint of a smile flickered across her expression. A sad, rather twisted smile. "You see, I don't think it was an accident."

"What?"

"I think she was trying to commit suicide."

*

It felt good to have finally said those words aloud, Melissa decided, leaning forward to drain the last of her white wine before settling back on the settee beside Matt. She'd never previously given voice to her fears. In the years following the accident, it'd seemed wrong to discuss such dark thoughts with anyone, and to do so after her mother's death seemed disrespectful to her memory. When the police had first queried the delicate matter of Jane Barton's mental health shortly after the crash, Melissa had been adamant nothing was amiss.

"I probably should have told them about all the unpaid bills," she confessed as Matt reached for the bottle on the coffee table and topped up her glass. "But she'd have hated for anyone to think she'd gone nuts. Not that I think she went nuts. I just think she didn't know what to do for the best. She'd got herself into a mountain of debt--and all of a sudden she thought that maybe--well, who knows what she was thinking? Smashing your car on purpose isn't exactly a rational thing to do, is it? I guess she saw a way out." She let out a sigh. "Your mother was right, she really was useless with money."

"Liss." Matt's lips twisted slightly.

"It's true. Whenever she had any, she spent it. She just wasn't capable of saving. Not that I knew that before the accident." She shook her head slightly. "We never talked about it. But she really wanted me to go to university. Kept going on about how she wanted me to have the opportunities she never had. I guess if you get yourself knocked up aged seventeen, you do wonder what life might've been like if you hadn't. She never actually said she regretted having me, but..."

"No." Matt's hand landed over hers. "Of course she didn't regret having you. You were a wonderful daughter. The two of you were so close. I wish I could've had the relationship with my mother that you had with yours."

"Yes, but it was all based on a lie. She told me I could do whatever I wanted to do, be whoever I wanted to be."

"That wasn't a lie."

"Yes it was." Even Melissa could hear the note of barely repressed anger in her tone. "You see, being who you want to be takes money. Going to university takes money. Tuition fees, accommodation, food, books..." She bit her lower lip. "The list just goes on and on. But we didn't have any money--and instead of telling me that, instead of being honest, she made out she could afford it. Told me she'd taken on a second job. When it turns out that what she'd actually taken on was a second mortgage."

In the brief silence that followed, there came a distant rumble of thunder. Matt sent her a rueful smile as they exchanged glances, his fingers tightening around her own. "You shouldn't have dealt with all that by yourself," he said softly. "You should've told someone."

"Who?" she fired back. "The only person I could've told was Charlie. And you know Charlie, he'd have paid off the debt--even though he didn't have much money either. I couldn't have him do that. Not when it was all my fault."

"Your fault? Liss..." He gave an uneasy laugh. "It wasn't your fault."

The light fading fast now, Melissa stared at his hand, conscious of the unfamiliar warmth of those long slender fingers. Though part of her wanted to pull her own hand away, a larger part seemed to be demanding she leave it right there...

"Hell, is that why you did it?"

"Did what?" Jerking her head up to meet his gaze, she then rather wished she hadn't, the look of sudden comprehension in his eyes acutely unnerving.

"You dropped out of college to look after her. You thought you were to blame for her trying to kill herself?"

"Of course I was to blame!" She stared at him in disbelief. "She wouldn't have done it otherwise, would she? There wouldn't have been a problem. She wouldn't have had to borrow all that money."

"What?" Matt shot her an equally disbelieving glance. "How could you be to blame for that?"

"Because she did it for me!" Melissa groaned in exasperation. "Don't you see? She was trying to give me what she never had. What you've always had."

"Money?"

"No! A future, okay? A better life. A dream."

"A dream?" Matt's expression was curiously unreadable.

"O-o-oh." Frustrated, she wrenched her hand away and struggled to her feet again. "Whatever made me think you'd understand?"

"Oh, I do understand," he said, his voice so near she realised he too had risen from the settee. "But don't you see?"

"See--oh!" Facing the window, Melissa couldn't repress a gasp as a blinding flash rent the sky in two. Lightning... "See what?" she continued hastily, already counting in her head.

One thousand... two thousand... three thousand...

"That means it was all for nothing."

"What?" Startled, she swung around to face him. "What the hell are you trying to--?" But before she could finish, the thunder began, a low, reverberating boom which rapidly crescendoed into a floorboard-shaking roar.

"It's okay." Matt rested a hand on her shoulder. "It's all right. Don't panic. We're--"

"Nothing?" she spat, ducking away out of reach. "How dare you?"

"But it's true, Liss. Do you think that's what she would've wanted? Do you really think she'd have wanted you to give it all up for her?"

She gazed at him, aghast. How was he managing to make something so outrageous sound reasonable? "I couldn't have gone back to college. She needed me. She couldn't do anything for herself."

"Agreed, she needed someone," he said, nodding. "But it didn't have to be you."

"You don't understand. She needed twenty-four hour care. To start with, they said she'd never be able to come home." And maybe it would've been better if she hadn't, a little voice added, somewhere in the darkest recesses of her mind... "She'd have hated that," she went on quickly. "To be in a nursing home--at thirty-eight years old? How could I have let that happen to her?"

"But would she even have known?" For a moment Matt looked slightly nonplussed. "Charlie didn't say it in so many words, but I got the impression she didn't know where she was most of the time anyway. Surely--"

"What are you saying?" Melissa felt a renewed surge of anger. "That I should just have dumped her somewhere? Had her locked away for her own good?"

"No, of course that's not what I'm saying."

"Then wh-what?" She winced as the room was once again momentarily filled with light. "What are you saying? That I shouldn't have bothered? That I just should've given up hope? That I--" And then she gasped, the violent clap of thunder so loud, so immediate, she felt rather as though her heart had leapt out of her chest. "Shit!"

"Lissy! Calm down. It's all right."

"No, it's not all right, okay?" The note of sympathy she could hear in Matt's voice only served to heighten her agitation. "It's not. You're right, she didn't know where she was. God, she didn't even know who I was. Her own daughter."

"I'm sorry." But this time when Matt put an arm around her shoulders, she made no attempt to move away. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"No..." Closing her eyes for a moment, she forced herself to take a deep steadying breath. "I'm sorry. Look, I know how it sounds. I think everyone thought I was mad."

"Hey." Smiling, he lifted a hand to stroke a stray curl back from her face. "I didn't say that."

She returned the smile, her cheek still tingling from his touch. "You didn't have to."

"You thought she'd get better."

"I had to believe she'd get better. I thought if I spent enough time with her, she might start remembering more. So I told her about all the things we'd done, all the places we'd been..."

And sometimes she thought she'd succeeded in making a breakthrough. There would be brief, wonderful intervals where she'd manage to persuade herself she'd seen light in her mother's familiar blue eyes. Sometimes she was able to string enough words together for Melissa to feel sure something had triggered a memory. But each time it happened, each time she dared to hope, the moment would promptly vanish, that awful vacant expression returning to her mother's face. 

Yet as she tried to explain just why she'd kept trying, she realised she could remember less and less about that awful time. Mostly she recalled the constant cycle of feeding and bathing, the months of sleepless nights. She'd had help from various homecare assistants--she couldn't have managed without them--but the bulk of the responsibility had been hers and hers alone. And aside from the burden of caring, upon forcing herself to work through the pile of bills, she discovered the only way to clear her mother's debts would be to part with their small terraced house. 

"You sold it?" Matt looked aghast. "I had no idea things were that bad. Did Charlie know?"

"I didn't want anyone to know. No one needed to know. And actually, it worked out pretty well, in the end."

Selling the house to the housing association had proved to be her salvation. Not only had the manager of the Mickleton branch been willing to rent the house back, he'd also offered Melissa a part time job. It'd been very part time at first--just two hours every morning between ten and twelve, answering the phone and making tea.

"To be honest, it probably saved my sanity," she admitted. "And when the office manager retired, just after Mum died, Jonathan offered me her job. I owe him a lot. So it's all very well saying I should go back to college--" She stopped abruptly, sidetracked by yet another flash of lightning.

"But you should," Matt put in solemnly. "Come on, Lissy--you owe it to yourself."

"You're as bad as Gemma," she said with a frown, finding it tricky to count seconds at the same time as concentrating on her defence. "I can't just--God, that's getting close!" she gulped as the thunder began, glancing back towards the window. "I can't just leave them in the lurch, can I?"

He gave her a knowing look. "You mean you're too scared to try."

"What?"

"You heard me. You--" But still watching her as the low rumble developed into a deafening roar, Matt suddenly grimaced, seeming to think better of pursuing his argument. "Never mind," he said as the noise faded away at last. It's pretty dark now--let's put some lights on, shall we? Maybe some music too. See if we can drown all of this out a bit."

"Music?" Unnerved by the thunder, she stared after him in astonishment as he strode across the room to flick on the switch. And finding it difficult to adjust to the brightness, let alone the abrupt change in topic, she had to blink hard before turning to give her uncle's ancient radiogram a dubious look. "You have to be kidding."

He shot her a grin, kneeling in front of the huge wooden cabinet and opening one of the doors. "It's a good job Charlie's not here to hear you say that. Are you saying you're not interested in his vast collection of Elvis on vinyl? Or..." Pulling out a stack of albums, he began flicking through the sleeves. "Ooh, Englebert Humperdinck. Or how about some Cliff Richard?"

"Spare me," Melissa said faintly, nonetheless drawn to peer over his shoulder. "Those would've been Aunt Suzie's--do you remember?"

"Indeed I do," he murmured. "Wow, just look at all these. They'd probably be worth a fortune on eBay."

"I daresay." But distracted by the sound of the rain now hammering down on the roof, she glanced back towards the window just as a thick streak of blue-white light tore through the night sky. The storm clouds behind thrown into sharp definition, this time there was no time to even start counting. She squeezed her eyes closed as the world seemed to explode around them, the first almighty clap developing into a deep, sonorous boom. "Oh my God, Matt! It's right overhead!"

"Hey hey hey." She realised he'd almost had to shout the words to make himself heard. "I'm here--you're safe. It's all right." And not having dared to reopen her eyes, she was startled when she felt him pull her into his embrace, his arms folding securely around her. "Ssh, ssh," he murmured into her hair as the thunder finally faded away. "It's okay, sweetheart. I've got you."

"Matt..." Could he feel her trembling? Of course he could, he couldn't have failed to notice.

"Dance with me."

"What?" She tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her go, his arms tightening. "Dance with you? But there's no music."

"Isn't there?" He sounded amused. 

Barely audible above the drumming rain, she could hear a crackling hiss. It was only as the opening bars of a familiar tune rang out into the room that she was able to identify the noise, the half-forgotten, yet distinctive sound of a stylus on a record. 




Back to the Farm Ch. 07



I see trees of green... red roses too... 

"Are you crazy?" she gasped, nonetheless finding she was smiling, Matt already slowly rocking from side to side, forcing her to sway in rhythm.

I watch them bloom... for me and you...

"'And I think to myself'," he joined in softly, "'what a wonderful wo-o-rld...'"

"You're mad!"

She heard him laugh before he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Inspired choice of song, huh?"

Pulling back to look at him, she rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure Louis's not singing about the wonder of a thunderstorm."

"Of course he is." But even as he grinned down at her, they both heard the next line.

I see skies of blue...and clouds of white...

"Okay then." Matt's lips twisted. "Maybe not." And laughing again, he tucked her head back in against his shoulder and whirled her around.

Oh... It felt good, Melissa realised, much too good. To be held by those strong arms, to be pressed so intimately against him, the damp warmth of his body radiating through his T-shirt and straight through her thin camisole blouse. He even smelled wonderful, a heady blend that was only five percent aftershave, ninety-five percent pure Matt McKenzie...

Now he was singing in her ear again, the words of the old standard so familiar, his voice just as familiar, the affectionate gesture deeply comforting. And suddenly she knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the moment--this moment--would stay with her forever. "Matt," she whispered, raising her head to meet his gaze, not knowing what she wanted to say, only that something needed to be said. "I..." But before she could say another word, he lowered his head, his mouth closing softly over hers.

Even though he'd kissed her before, Melissa instantly knew this was different. He seemed in no hurry, his lips brushing lightly over her own, lingering over the movement as though he was trying to commit each touch to memory. Sweet and tender and agonisingly slow, it was several seconds before she realised what he was doing. He was letting her know he wasn't calling the shots--she was. He was waiting for her to make the next move, for her to need more, for her to take it to the next level.

Could she do that--and if she did, what then? She experienced a surge of panic. Was this a runaway train, or could she still slam on the brakes? Would she want to slam on the brakes? She didn't know, couldn't think straight, Matt's hands so wonderfully warm on her back, those butterfly-like kisses intoxicating. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wanted more. And aware of just how quickly her heart was beating, she slid one hand behind his neck, closed her eyes and shyly touched the very tip of her tongue to his lower lip.

She felt his smile, his mouth curving against her own as he welcomed her in at last, his tongue meeting then sliding over hers, languorous and gentle. Absurdly, the floor seemed to drop away from beneath them, her body oddly boneless, reliant on the strength of his arms. Yet still they danced, Louis Armstrong's gravelly voice all around them, the sound almost completely muffling the wind and rain. 

Although she'd been aware of Matt's hands all along, it wasn't until one rose to her neck and then to the back of her head that she became fully conscious of what he was doing, his fingers burrowing deliciously into her hair mere moments before he deepened the kiss. The pleasure intense, it was another few seconds before she noticed the progress of his other hand, slipping stealthily beneath her blouse, stroking the smooth bare skin just above her skirt. 

As her eyes flew open, she discovered him watching her, his own eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. "Liss," he murmured, a single fingertip still tracing tiny circles over that small, unexpectedly sensitive patch at her waist, his touch sending showers of sparks down her spine. "We can stop, you know. If this is--"

"No!" The word springing from her throat without permission, it surprised her almost as much as it seemed to delight him, and as his smile broadened she reached up to kiss him this time, looping both of her arms around his neck. But just as she rose on her toes, the lights flickered, the tempo of the song dipping before returning to normal, the enormous crack of thunder that followed leaving no doubt as to the cause of the power outage.

"S'okay," Matt soothed as she tensed. "It's all right. The storm's moving away now. There was a good couple of seconds between the lightning and the thunder that time. Ah--see that?" As if to prove his point, another two flashes had brightened the room in quick succession. "Now listen... One... two... "

She nodded in relief as the rumble began on the third second, giving him a rueful smile. "God, I'm sorry," she said as he gazed down at her, once again struck by the almost fierce tenderness in his expression. "I know it's stupid. I know I'm--"

"Ssh," he said softly, shaking his head. And before she could utter another word, he recaptured her lips.

This time the gentleness was gone. Not that he was rough, far from it, but now there was a sense of urgency that took her completely unawares. All at once, what had been simple kissing had escalated into something far more, and caught up by his desire, she was responding in kind, her own need that this should happen--and happen now--spiralling higher and higher. She could feel his hands exploring again, sweeping upwards beneath her camisole, his palms gloriously hot against her ribcage. Needing to touch him too, she burrowed beneath his T-shirt, revelling in the warm flesh she discovered there, the contours of his back, the musculature of his shoulders...

Was this real? Was she dreaming? She wasn't sure, couldn't tell, didn't care. It seemed real enough, Matt's mouth claiming hers with masterful precision, kissing her as she'd never been kissed before, leaving her giddy with pleasure, breathless with desire. But when he unhooked her bra, she knew she couldn't be dreaming, the abrupt release of tension startling as his fingers slipped beneath the band. And easing the fabric away from her aching breasts, he cupped them in his hands before slowly circling both nipples with his thumbs. 

Melissa cried out. She couldn't help it, the sensation so overwhelming, so exquisite, there was nothing she could've done to stop herself. Once again, she felt Matt's smile against her lips, his thumbs still relentlessly brushing those sensitive buds into taut peaks. "You're a screamer?" he murmured, sounded amused. "Now that's something I'd never have guessed." Then he tilted his head on one side, still smiling. "Though maybe I should've done. You always used to squeal like a pig when I tickled you."

But this wasn't tickling, she thought, suddenly appreciating just how far she was out of her depth. This was way beyond tickling...

I see friends shaking hands... saying how do you do? 

"Matt," she faltered, her heart thudding faster than she'd ever thought it could. "The thing is--" But before she could finish, the lights stuttered then went out, plunging the room into total darkness.

They're really say-ay-ing... I-I... lur-rv-ve... you-oo-oo-r-rr-rrr...

"Oh God!" she gasped as the loudspeakers died, the pitch of Louis' already bass vocals descending to a barrel-scraping growl. "Matt!"

"It's okay. I'm here, we're all right. It's--" But as she wrenched herself out of his arms and staggered backwards, the conciliatory note in his voice switched to one of astonishment. "Hey! Where are you going? It'll just be a line down, that's all. Or I guess the substation might've been struck. There's no need to panic."

But Melissa's panic had started before the electricity failed, the ensuing blackout having only served to bring her violently to her senses. What on earth had she been thinking? How could she have let things go that far? "Candles," she managed, trying to peer through the gloom but unable to make out a thing. Where was the door, for heaven's sake? "We--we need candles." And realising she needed to decide on a direction before Matt could reach out and grab her, she blindly lurched forward.

"Lissy!" His warning was a mixture of amusement and concern. "The kitchen's that way."

"What way?" How the hell could he see? But before he could respond, an obliging flash of lightning flooded the room, and in the split second before everything turned black again, she spotted the door. 

"Liss--wait." As she scurried towards it, she could feel him right behind her. "Come on," he cajoled, raising his voice to make himself heard above the thunder. "We don't need candles, okay? Maybe this is your chance to stop being scared. Maybe--"

"I'm not scared!" she snapped, at last reaching the hall, only to realise she had no idea as to the precise location of the kitchen. "I just think--oh--ow!" The shock of colliding with the doorframe brought tears to her eyes even before she felt the pain in her elbow. "For fuck's sake!"

"Melissa Barton." Matt caught her around the waist, his laughter soft in her ear. "Such language. I thought you never swore. Aw..." Gently, he rubbed at her arm, attempting to soothe the sting. "Listen, I'll tell you what. Let's--hey!" He sounded startled as she yanked herself away again, using the countertops to feel her way around to the kitchen sink. "Come on, sweetheart. This is crazy."

"No it isn't!" But Melissa knew she seemed hysterical now. "Matt, I can't see! I can't see--and I hate the dark, and I hate thunderstorms--"

"I know." Suddenly he was behind her again, tugging her against him, wrapping her up so tightly there was no way she could escape this time. "I know, okay? But I'm here and I've got you and you're safe."

"But the candles..."

Matt made a low growling sound. "We don't need the bloody candles." He kissed her throat, tender nibbling kisses that made the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end. "Scared of the dark," he mocked, though not unkindly, one arm continuing to hold her against him, his other hand setting off on another exploratory mission beneath her camisole. "You see, I think it's all about association. I think if you can associate the dark with something nice, you won't be scared anymore."

"Something nice?" Melissa squeaked, unnerved yet thrilled in equal measure to feel his fingers working their way across her abdomen.

She felt him nodding, knew he was smiling. "Something nice," he repeated. With that, he began kissing her neck again, his hand drifting beneath her loosened bra.

It wasn't just nice, it was wonderful, she realised, gasping as he lightly pinched her nipple, her skin burning everywhere his mouth and fingers made contact. And all at once she was glad she couldn't see, knew full well she would never have let him do this in the light. There was something about the darkness that made everything unreal, as though none of it was happening, not to her. Yet at the same time, she knew it was real; there could be no mistaking the desire rippling down her spine, the mounting ache between her thighs.

But when she flinched at another flash of lightning, she felt his embrace tighten. "Lissy, Lissy, Lissy... It's all right," he said, his mouth right beside her ear. "Relax, close your eyes." 

And as she obeyed, she became aware he was working at the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one. "Oh..."

"Hmm." His fingers stilled. "You know, maybe I should stop--"

"No!" she interrupted, once again startled by the vehemence of her response. "But..." What was she supposed to be doing now? Should she be trying to undress him too? Uncertain, she reached backwards but only managed to grab a fistful of T-shirt. 

"Uh uh." She heard his relieved chuckle, his hand batting hers away before returning to the next button. "Later, sweetheart."

"I just thought--"

"Ssh." His mouth brushing against her neck, he planted another string of searing kisses across the delicate skin there before drawing her camisole back across her shoulders, his fingers skimming her upper arms, finding the straps of her bra, pulling that away too. "Don't think. Just feel."

Just feel? Melissa couldn't help but feel, Matt's hands seemingly everywhere, stroking the curve of her belly, blazing warmth across her ribcage, teasing, tantalising, touching her everywhere but where she most wanted to be touched. So when he finally captured her breasts in his palms, she cried out her pleasure, the continuing flashes of lightning, the almost constant rumbling of thunder around them all merging into a cacophony of sensation. 

Yet suddenly, even the way he was cupping, squeezing, moulding her tender flesh wasn't sufficient, the swirling of his fingertips over her highly-sensitised nipples no longer enough. All it was doing was making her conscious of the rising pressure low in her belly, a pleasurable heaviness, an ache that increased ten-fold as Matt's right hand drifted back to her tummy. But then that hand slid lower, moving over the fabric of her short skirt, sweeping downwards before catching the hem, his fingers trailing fire across her bare legs as he eased it upwards, one tormenting inch at a time. 

"Matt," she managed at last, barely able to breathe, his name coming out in a gasp. "Oh God, Matt..."

"Open," he murmured, his fingers flattening against her inner thigh.

"Oh..." Unaware she'd been impeding his progress, she allowed her trembling legs to part, gasping anew as his hand rose between them. "Oh God..."

"S'okay." Once again, she felt his mouth against her neck, his kiss soothing. "Aw, Lissy. It's been a long time since anyone did this for you, huh?"

A long time? "Er..." she began uncertainly but he was already shaking his head, his hair brushing against her cheek. 

"It's all right, sweetheart. I just want to make you feel--" and gently, his fingers made contact with her underwear, rubbing her intimately through the thin cotton "--good... Oh yeah." She heard his soft laughter in her ear when she shuddered, her back arching against him, his left hand warm on her breast. "Seems like that's working."

"Matt," she gulped, still struggling for breath, "Listen... I need to--there's something--" But before she could manage a coherent sentence, he'd hitched her skirt even higher, his hand rising over the front of her briefs before edging beneath the elastic, pulling them down, letting them fall to the floor. And when his fingers returned, dipping into the soft curls between her thighs, she uttered a sharp cry, the pleasure as intense as it was unexpected.

"Lissy." He sounded amused, holding her more firmly now as he continued to stroke her gently, making her whimper again as he slid a single finger between her soft folds. "God, you're wet," he murmured, even as she realised she could feel the hard evidence of his own arousal against her back. "Sopping wet. Soaking. You needed this, didn't you?" 

But Melissa could no longer respond, could barely stand, that uncomfortable yet pleasurable ache low in her belly building at an astonishing rate as he continued to caress her, adding another finger now, his whole hand becoming slick with her juices. How on earth did he know how to do this? Exactly how much pressure to use, where to touch her? Even she'd never touched herself like this... And bizarrely, she was suddenly aware of her own hands, acutely conscious there was nowhere to put them, nothing to grasp hold of, no way of bracing herself against the onslaught of this storm...

"Oh God!" she wailed as the first wave of her orgasm slammed through her, her knees buckling as she flailed helplessly. "Matt!"

"Lissy!" Laughing, he held her tightly until the worst of the tremors passed, planting delighted kisses against her throat. "Hell, you really did need that, didn't you? Just how long has it been?"

But before she could suck in enough breath to answer he propelled her still-trembling body forwards until she collided with the kitchen table. And turning her in his arms, he lifted her then sat her upon it, laughing again when she yelped at the cold wood beneath her bare bottom. "Sorry," he murmured with mock-solemnity, gazing into her face, for the first time wishing it wasn't quite so dark. 

He couldn't remember wanting to see any woman's expression quite as badly as he wanted to see Lissy's right now. To see her eyes widen as he eased himself inside her for the first time, to watch her spiralling desire as he pushed into her again and again. But then, he couldn't remember wanting to make love to any woman quite as badly as he wanted to make love to Lissy right now either. And leaning forward, he captured her lips once more and reached down to release the button on his shorts, shucking them away with his underwear, the relief at finally being able to free his straining erection incredible.

As he gently tipped her backwards, he followed her down, covering her in kisses, her face, her neck, her breasts. "You think that was good?" he murmured, smiling when he found she was still trembling beneath him, fighting for breath. That really must have been some orgasm... "You ain't seen nothing yet, gorgeous."

"No?"

He experienced a rush of tenderness as he gazed down at her, the note of almost scared disbelief in her tone causing something to clench in the pit of his stomach. "Oh no," he said, shaking his head before bending to nibble at one nipple and then the other. "That was just for starters. The main course is going to be even better." When she squirmed, he grinned, straightening up and taking a step backwards. And hooking her legs over his forearms, he slipped his hands beneath the small of her back and abruptly tugged, hearing her shriek as she slid towards him across the polished table. "As for dessert..."

But he didn't want to tease any longer, couldn't wait any longer, her soft skin pliant beneath his fingers, the musky aroma of her desire obvious, the memory of her rapturous sob still ringing in his ears. And edging forward, he moved into position, aligning himself perfectly before plunging deep.

It was heaven to hell in a single thrust.

Matt knew what he'd done long before she went rigid beneath him, long before he heard her anguished cry, her snug walls so hot, so wet, yet so impossibly tight, there was no question of what he'd done. Because it made sense--it made perfect sense. In fact, the only thing that didn't make sense was why he hadn't even considered it a possibility.

"Lissy," he ground out, the effort of holding himself motionless inside her taking everything he'd got, the primal urge to drive deeper still, to make her his and only his almost overpowering. "God..." But he couldn't let himself move, no matter what. Even to withdraw would only hurt her more. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"Because you'd have stopped!" She was shaking violently beneath him, around him, her voice quivering. "If you'd known, this wouldn't have happened--"

"Damned right this wouldn't have happened. Jesus, Lissy!"

"Matt..." Her eyes filled with tears at the anger in his tone. "Please. I wanted this. I wanted this to happen, okay?"

"What? You planned this?"

"No! You know I didn't. How could I have done? Neither of us knew this was going to happen, did we?"

"You just said you wanted this to happen!"

"I know." She bit her lip, though it was too late to stem the tears trickling into her hair. "But I didn't know--I didn't know th-that it would--that it ever c-could..."

"What? Liss--" When his tone softened, she knew he'd realised she was crying. "I don't understand."

She knew that too. How could he understand? Everything Matt McKenzie had ever wanted, he'd got, she thought bitterly. He'd passed every exam, won every job interview, dated every girl he'd ever fancied. Did he have the faintest idea how it felt to want something you could never have? "I wanted it to be you," she mumbled at last, overwhelmed by sensation, by the feel of his fingers digging into her back, the burning between her thighs, his hard length unyielding, stretching her to the limit. "I always wanted it to be you."




Back to the Farm Ch. 07



"Me?" Matt sounded incredulous. "You actually wanted me to take your virginity?"

"God, Matt!" The words poured out on a sob. "Of course I did. You were supposed to be the one, okay? It was always supposed to be you. I've never loved anyone the way I love you--" What? "Loved you," she corrected hastily. "But it d-doesn't matter, okay? It--it really doesn't m-matter. I--o-oh--ah!" She gasped as he leaned forwards, abruptly pulling his hands out from under her. "What--what are you--?"

"Hold on tight."

"Wh-what?" But he'd had already grasped her elbows, was already forcing her arms around his neck. And then she yelped, clinging to him as he straightened up. "What are you doing? Why--?" He was lifting her with him, slinging her legs around his waist, his deeply-embedded erection sliding deeper still as he began carrying her across the kitchen. "Where are we going?"

"Where do you think we're going? I'm taking you to bed." The tension in his voice clearly audible, she suddenly appreciated just how much it was costing him to remain in control. "Lissy, it's your first time. I can hardly make love to you on the kitchen table, can I?"

Make love? He hadn't changed his mind? "You're still going to--you're actually going to--?" But she couldn't bring herself to say the words, exhilaration and terror flooding through her in equal measure.

"Of course I bloody am."

How on earth could he see through the darkness? Melissa couldn't see a thing, her lack of vision only seeming to intensify her other senses, the feel of his strong arms around her, the discomfort of his erection jolting inside her with every step. But within moments, she heard the familiar squeal of Charlie's bedroom door as Matt shoved it open, heard the rain pelting against the window inside.

"Matt," she breathed as he bore her into the room, staggering slightly before he drew to a halt. "I'm too heavy. You can--you can put me down. You can--oh-argh!" She cried out as he lifted her, felt him almost leaving her body, then screamed as he let her fall back down, spearing her flesh, driving in to the hilt. "Oh--oh God. Matt... Matt--oh!" 

"Hell, Lissy!" He'd done it again, plunging even deeper the second time, Melissa wailing as she clutched at his shoulders, hanging on to him for dear life, helplessly impaled. "Oh God, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It's just you feel so... So good..."

"It's all right," she gasped, still clinging on tightly. "Really." And to her astonishment, it was. It'd hurt--it still hurt--but this wasn't like any pain she'd ever known. This was pain that she wanted to feel, needed to feel. This was the pain that could relieve that other pain, that impossible, incredible pressure that had already begun building again. This was pain tinged with the promise of pleasure. She'd never wanted anything more in her life.

It was a moment before she realised they were moving again, another moment before she felt Matt's hands shifting over her back, countering her weight as he tipped her backwards, his shoulder muscles rippling beneath her fingers and she had the oddest sensation of falling. Instead, she suddenly felt the softness of the bed beneath her, realised just how gently he'd laid her down, the strength it must have taken, the tenderness of the action a stark contrast to what had gone before. "Matt..."

"Ssh." As he kissed her, she felt him lift her again and again, his arms cradling her as he eased her up the bed. "Better," he murmured at last when her head finally hit the pillow. "Much better. Now I can make love to you."

She gripped his upper arms tightly as he withdrew at last, re-entering her much more slowly than he had before, the time it had taken to move over the bed seemingly having allowed him to regain control. But it had also given her a chance to adjust. Though he still felt huge, as though so very much more of him was buried inside her, the burning sensation was gone. All that remained was that wonderful fullness, that awareness of pressure. 

It was like breathing, she thought, already drowning in pleasure. In... and then out... Breathing Matt in, taking him into her body and letting him go--then needing to take him in all over again, as though her life depended on it. But soon she couldn't think at all. All she knew was him moving inside her, the pace of his thrusts steadily increasing, his mouth claiming hers, that dull ache deep in her womb intensifying with every thrust. 

Just as before, her orgasm seemed to take her by surprise, her startled cry filling the room as she came, her whole body trembling, those tiny inner muscles fluttering so wildly around him Matt too could resist no longer. And plunging deep, making one last erratic thrust, he emptied himself into her with a roar.

It was only when she stirred beneath him he realised he must be crushing her, and wrapping his arms around her, he rocked them to one side, still buried inside her, unready--unwilling--to leave her yet. "Liss?" He brushed his lips across her damp forehead, once again wishing he could see her face. "Are you okay?"

She tilted her chin, found his mouth. "I'm better than okay," she breathed, quivering slightly in his arms, the sweet note of elation in her voice more reassuring than anything she could've said. "Mmm. Mattie..."

"What?" He gave a snort of laughter, his embrace tightening. "Did you just call me Mattie?"

There was a pause. "Might have done"

He smiled as she pressed her face into his shoulder. "Mattie? Liss--you haven't called me that since you were four."

"So?" He could hear the faint embarrassment in her tone now. "You still call me Lissy. That's what I called you when we were kids."

"That's exactly my point--you're calling me Mattie now? After what we just did?"

And to his delight, she giggled, snuggling closer, her hand landing possessively on his chest. "Deal with it," she murmured contentedly, sounding drowsy.

"Oh I will," he said with a grin, making her moan weakly as he flexed inside her. "Give me a couple of minutes and I promise you I'll deal with it."

"A-again?" 

Matt's grin broadened. He knew she was exhausted, had no intention of following through with his threat--at least, not now. "It's all right," he murmured, reaching up to brush her hair away from her cheek. "I think maybe someone needs to get some sleep first."

"Yeah?" She yawned, her limbs already slackening, her body relaxing in his arms. "Okay. You get some sleep then. You get some sleep--and then--then later..."

He smiled at her deliberate misinterpretation of his words. "Later?" 

But there was no reply, Lissy's breathing deepening, her head growing heavier on his shoulder. And as Matt eased her into a more comfortable position and settled beside her, he was suddenly struck by the silence. The storm was over. Unable to hear even a distant rumble now, he wondered just when it had passed. 

Because now there was nothing to drown out that small voice in his head. Now there was nothing to quiet the words that had been repeating over and over in his mind all evening. That uneasy truth, that uncomfortable thought. The knowledge that Jason had been right all along.

He really should have told her everything...

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments gratefully received.

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 08



What a Wonderful World by Bob Thiele (using the pseudonym George Douglas) and George David Weiss, first recorded by Louis Armstrong in 1967

*

She wasn't alone. That was Melissa's waking thought, a realisation so startling her eyes immediately shot open. But there he was, there was Matt, his head beside hers on the pillow, his eyes still closed, his breathing soft and slow. Which could only mean that she hadn't been dreaming, that what she remembered happening last night really had happened. The storm, the power cut, dancing in the dark.

Dancing in the dark...

That was certainly one way of putting it. Melissa suddenly found herself smiling like a lunatic. But then her smile wavered, the unexpected surge of fear following in the wake of her euphoria so powerful her eyes filled with tears. Would he regret what they'd done? Would he claim to have been simply caught up in the moment, or worse still, apologise? 

Because although she'd been scared, no, make that terrified, she'd never experienced anything more wonderful. The feel of Matt's skin against her own, his hands on her, his body moving over hers, inside hers, making her his. But she'd always been his, she understood that now. Did he feel the same way? Probably not, she reasoned. To him, she'd just be another in what surely must have been a long line of conquests.

Attempting to persuade herself it didn't matter, she gazed at him while he slept, drinking in the sight of him, wanting to commit every detail to memory. That lightly-bronzed torso, the contours of his abdomen, the sprinkling of hair upon his chest. She was afraid to touch him for fear he'd awaken, for fear the spell might be broken. But finding herself unable to resist the urge, she stretched out a hand and placed it lightly on his belly and when he didn't stir, finally dared to allow her gaze to drop lower than his waist.

Oh dear God. Melissa barely managed to suck in her shocked gasp. That had been inside her? Even semi-erect, it looked huge resting there against his lower body, jutting proudly upwards from a dense patch of dark curls. But then she'd never seen a penis in the flesh before--well, not this close up, anyway. Fascinated, she allowed her hand to drift towards it, wanting to know what it felt like, wondering whether it was as heavy as it looked, and curiosity getting the better of her at last, she ran a single fingertip along the length of him. 

To her astonishment, the taut skin felt silky smooth, soft even, belying the rigidity of the flesh beneath. And unable to stop herself now she'd started, she slid her fingers around his thick shaft and tested the weight in the palm of her hand. Oh yes, it was heavy all right--and seemingly growing heavier by the moment...

"You're playing with fire."

Melissa let out a small shriek at the sound of Matt's drowsy voice, her gaze immediately lifting to his face, heat flooding her cheeks as she snatched her hand away. "You're--you're awake," she stammered, flustered.

"Mmm." He gave her a lazy grin, his brown eyes warm with just a hint of mischief. "I wonder why?"

"Oh God." Even more flustered now, she wasn't sure what to do next. "I'm so sorry. I just--"

"Lissy!" Laughing, he dragged her into his arms and claimed her mouth, effectively silencing her apology. "It was a wonderful way to wake up. Because, whew..." He grimaced, staring into her eyes. "I was scared you'd hate me this morning."

"Hate you?" Overwhelmed by the tenderness in his kiss, she stared back in surprise. "No. How could I hate you for--for...?" But to her embarrassment, she couldn't find the words to finish. What could she say that didn't sound as though she'd read too much into what they'd done?

"For taking your virginity?" he suggested, raising one eyebrow and shooting her a quizzical smile. "For ravishing your amazing body?"

Melissa felt her blush deepen as she cast a self-conscious glance down at herself. He couldn't mean that. If it hadn't been pitch dark last night he'd have known it wasn't true. "Well, I don't have an amazing body, but--" 

"What?" He slid one finger beneath her chin and tilted her head back up, forcing her to meet his gaze, shaking his head slightly as he did. "You have to be kidding me." But when she bit her lip, a puzzled furrow developed between his brows. "My God, you aren't."

"Matt--"

"Uh uh. Listen to me." He shook his head again, clearly wide awake now. "Sweetheart, I find you incredibly sexy. Have you any idea how hard it's been for me these last few days? How many times I've just wanted to grab you, kiss you, tear your clothes off--" And then he swore under his breath. "I guess I'll just have to show you."

"But I--oh!" She gave another shriek as he rolled her beneath him, pressing her into the bed, his burgeoning erection hard against her thigh. "You just--you just want to have your wicked way with me again," she gasped, gazing up into his laughing face.

"Damned right I do." Matt rolled his eyes. "'Wicked way'," he teased. "Hell, I love the way you say that. When you said it the first time--do you remember?"

Melissa did. It'd been when she'd had too much to drink the first night they'd spent at the farm before Charlie's funeral.

He grinned. "I thought you were just being cute. Just pretending to be all sweet and innocent. I never thought for a moment that you actually were." His grin faded a little. "So what's the story with that? You've had at least one boyfriend, I know you have. Charlie told me."

She frowned, confused. And then she experienced a vague, rather embarrassing recollection. "Oh. Oh no. You can't mean Andrew?"

He nodded, looking deeply curious. "Come on. Tell Mattie all about it."

"Oh God." Already hot, Melissa suddenly felt as though her face was on fire. "I--I might've... I might've stretched the truth a little there. See, the thing is, Charlie was always asking whether there was anyone at university, whether I'd met someone..."

Matt's gaze narrowed as she trailed off. "You made him up?"

"No-o. Well, not exactly." She grimaced as he began to laugh again. "He was real, and he was a friend, and we did do a lot of things together. And I had to pretend I was his girlfriend once. So I just thought--when Charlie asked me that question for what felt like the hundredth time--"

"Lissy!"

"I know." She chewed her lower lip. "But he was always telling me about you and all of your girlfriends--"

"Hey, there weren't that many," he interjected, suddenly appearing as uncomfortable as she felt. "Not really. Not serious ones, anyway. I mean--" It was Matt's turn to wince. "I might have exaggerated a bit too."

She shot him a disbelieving glance, part of her touched he was trying to play it down. Why would he want to do that? "Matthew McKenzie, even if you made up half of them, there'd still be an awful lot," she pointed out. "Though Charlie used to say they all looked the same. Blonde, skinny--"

"Bimbos, yeah, I know. But you know what? I never really found any of them particularly attractive--oh, stop it!" He frowned again as she gave a snort of derision. "I'm being serious. I know I was supposed to think they were hot. I think that's why I went out with them. And because for some reason, they wanted to go out with me, heaven only knows why. But the truth is--" Then he stopped, staring down at her as though he'd unexpectedly stumbled across a cure for the common cold.

"What?" Perplexed, Melissa stared back as his eyes roamed her face then dropped lower, to her neck, her shoulders, her breasts. And unused to being the subject of such blatant admiration, she found herself blushing all over again. "What?"

"God." The raw emotion in his tone made something clench low in her abdomen. "Lissy, you're beautiful."

"Matt--"

"Incredible." Smiling, he pressed a finger to her lips, still gazing at her intently, his pupils so dilated his eyes appeared almost black. "And what's even more incredible is that you have absolutely no idea, do you?"

She squirmed beneath him. "You want--just--way," she stammered, all at once finding it astonishingly difficult to frame a coherent sentence. "W-wicked way."

"God, yes." He laughed softly, sliding his hand into her hair, the mere brush of his fingers against her scalp sending sparks of electricity zinging down her spine. "I do. And I'm going to. But I'm just trying to decide what I love about you most. Whether it's this gorgeous red hair of yours..."

Love about you? Melissa's heart seemed to skip a beat. No, no, no. He couldn't have meant it that way. He just meant what he liked about her most...

"Or those amazing blue eyes. Or maybe," he let his hand drop to her shoulders, still smiling, "all these wonderful freckles."

"Oh, no," she protested, the shock of his words returning her to some semblance of sanity. "You can't mean that. No--no one likes freckles."

"I do. I love every one of them. See?" And as if to prove his contention, he bent to kiss her collarbone, trailing a line of kisses across to her arm. "Beautiful. Although..." He hoisted himself up on his elbows to give her breasts his full attention. "Hell, you see, now I don't know," he continued with a considering smile. "I never got to look at these last night. But now that I have..."

Rather to her embarrassment, she released a squeak as his mouth came down again, this time alighting just above her right nipple, and when he proceeded to plant a circle of kisses around the areola, she couldn't help but giggle. "Matt! Stop it! Don't do that."

He smiled again, lifting his head to meet her gaze. "Nah. I don't think you mean that. In fact, I think you mean--do this."

"Oh!" Melissa gasped as he drew her nipple into the heat of his mouth, a jolt of pleasure hurtling straight from her breast to her womb as he suckled gently. "Oh God!"

"So you don't want me to stop?" he murmured, pausing just long enough to send her a knowing grin before moving to her other breast.

"No," she breathed weakly, her eyes sliding closed as his lips fastened around her left nipple. How could it be she'd never realised her breasts were so sensitive? "No. Never."

She heard him laugh. "Ah, Lissy," he murmured between kisses. "You're much too easy to please."

"Matt..." But when he raised his head once more she gave a yelp of disappointment, only to breathe a shuddering sigh as his hand slid between them, the flat of his hand warm across the curve of her belly. "Oh." And as his palm slipped lower, her eyes opened in startled wonder. "Oh."

He laughed again, lifting his body away from hers as he caressed her, alternately watching her face and then the progress of his fingers as she writhed beneath him. "Good?"

"Re-really good," she gasped, finding that she too was watching his hand, watching his fingers dip back and forth into the red curls between her thighs, astonished at just how quickly the pleasure was building. "Oh no. Too good. Sl-slow down!" She moved restlessly, unable to keep still. "Matt--please! I'm going to--oh God! I want you. I want you in me!" 

Even as she heard herself say the words, she marvelled at them. A mere twenty-four hours ago--less than twenty-four hours ago--she couldn't have imagined herself saying anything like that. That Matt would make love to her once, let alone for a second time. That she'd be begging him to surge into her, to fill her full to overflowing. "Matt--please!"

"Uh uh." She saw his smile, the slight shake of his head. "This one's all yours, sweetheart. "You see, I never got to see you last night. And I really, really want to watch you this time."

"What?" But already so close to hurtling over the edge, Melissa knew she wasn't going to be able to put up much of a fight. "You have--you have to be kidding!"

His smile broadened, his tormenting fingers not letting up for a second. "Come for me, Liss."

And unable to hold out any longer, she did just that, sobbing his name as she bucked beneath him, her eyes crashing closed as the rush of ecstasy flooded through her, spiralling outwards from the centre of her body to the very tips of her fingers and toes. It was several seconds before the world righted on its axis again, a couple more before she opened her eyes to discover a very smug-looking Matt gazing down at her. "Wow," he murmured with a grin. "That has to be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

"Oh God." Melissa managed a weak smile. "I can't believe you just did that."

"That's not all I'm going to do."

She gave a soft moan, hearing the promise in his words. "Matt, we've got to clear this place out, remember? We can't spend all day--" She moaned again when he kissed her, swallowing her protest. "O-oh. You don't play fair."

He laughed, straightening up. "It's still pretty early, you know. There's plenty of time."

"How early?" She hadn't given a thought to the hour. 

"Well..." He glanced at his watch. "Believe it or not, it's not quite six."

"Six?" Melissa was mortified. "Matt, I'm so sorry I woke you."

"Why? I'm not." 

But she was aware he sounded distracted now, could see he was glancing around them. "What's wrong? What are you looking for?"

"Nothing's wrong." He shrugged, frowning a little as he peered over the side of the bed. "I'm looking for my shorts, that's all. I need my wallet."

"Oh." Melissa gave a giggle. "In the kitchen, remember? With all the rest of our clothes. But it's okay," she went on, secure enough of his continuing desire to try a little teasing, "you don't need to pay me for my services. I'll let you--" And then she froze, realising why he wanted his wallet at exactly the same moment she witnessed the dawning horror in his expression. "Oh..."

"It's all right." But something in his demeanour told her he was attempting to reassure himself more than he was trying to reassure her. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't!" She regarded him in consternation. "Last night--we didn't use anything."

"I know."

"But--" As much panic-stricken by the look on his face as by the thought they hadn't used protection, she was even more alarmed when he wouldn't meet her gaze. "Oh God."

"Fuck." 

He muttered the expletive so quietly that had she not been watching him, she wouldn't have known he'd spoken. And when he rolled away and slid off the bed, her dismay grew. How could they have forgotten? How could she have forgotten? "Matt!" By the time she struggled upright, he'd already reached the door. "Where are you going?"

He halted, planting one hand on the doorframe as he turned. "I don't suppose," he said in a voice that held just the tiniest vestige of hope, "there's any chance you're on the pill?"

Heart sinking, she shook her head. "There's never been any need for me to be on the pill," she said flatly, aware he still wasn't making eye-contact. "Why would there be?"

There was a pause before he gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. "Right." And without another word, he left the room.

"Hey!" Melissa scrambled out of bed. "Wait!" Acutely aware of her nudity, she dragged the white camberwick bedspread off the bed and draped it around her before staggering after him, finding he'd already reached the end of the hall. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just that everything happened so fast. It was all so--overwhelming. And it was dark, and there was that bloody thunderstorm--and then there was the power cut. Please? I wasn't thinking straight. There wasn't time to think..." But when he entered the kitchen without so much as a backward glance, her agitation grew. "Matt!" She followed him in, clutching the top of the bedspread so tightly her knuckles were white. "For God's sake! Don't do this to me. Say something!"

"What would you like me to say, Melissa?"

She stared at him when he turned at last, stung both by the use of her full name and the coolness of his tone. "I--" she faltered, not sure how to reply, a part of her observing that everything seemed too surreal to be true, Matt standing before her completely naked in their uncle's kitchen at six o'clock in the morning, their discarded clothes littering the linoleum floor.

"You want me to say that everything will be okay? That it doesn't matter that we didn't use a condom? That the odds are good that I didn't just get you pregnant?"

"But the odds are good!" Suddenly understanding the reason for Matt's reaction, her agitation soared into anger. "That's what this is all about? You're petrified you've got me pregnant? Heaven forbid! 'Cause you don't want children, do you? How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so stupid as to let you take the risk? Newsflash, Matthew, it takes two to tango, okay? You forgot too. We both forgot to use protection."

"Oh really?" His eyes flashed dangerously as he reached for his shorts and began to step into them. "You sure about that?"

"What?" She glared at him in disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I'm saying." And with an icy air of calm, Matt shrugged on his T-shirt and reached for the kettle. "Cup of tea?"

For a moment, she found herself so taken aback she couldn't speak. But only for a moment. "You think I knew? You think that at some point, I realised we weren't using a condom but decided not to say so? Why would I do that?"

"You tell me."

"Matt!" Melissa was aware the pitch of her voice was rising higher and higher, but there didn't seem to be a thing she could do about it. Did he seriously think she'd deliberately taken the chance of getting pregnant? That she was trying to trap him? "I can't believe you think I'd do something like that. I can't believe--oh!" She gave a startled gasp as music blared out behind her, the sound of Louis Armstrong's voice flooding the bungalow.

I hear babies cry... I watch them grow... They'll learn much more... than I'll ever know...

Thumping the kettle down on the stove, Matt moved towards Melissa, almost sending her flying as he pushed past her into the hall. It was only when she turned to gaze after him she realised the sound represented the electricity coming back on. The power lines must've been down all night. "Matt!" she called, chasing after him into the living room, finding she had to shout to be heard over the song. "I didn't even think about it, I swear. It didn't even occur to me. You have to believe me." But when Matt, already bending over the radiogram, made no attempt to acknowledge her, she found herself perilously close to tears. "Please? I know that makes me sound really naïve. I realise that none of the other girls you've been with would ever have been so stupid--" 

As the word 'stupid' rang out into the suddenly silent room, she watched him straighten up, aware her heart was pounding. "Probably not," he agreed grimly, reaching across to turn off the lamp as well. "But then neither would I." 

She bit her lip, wounded. Was he saying he'd made a huge mistake? That if he'd been thinking clearly, he wouldn't have dreamed of making love to her in a million years? It certainly sounded that way. "Right," she said unsteadily. "Then I guess that means we both know where we stand."

"Lissy--oh, hell." Closing his eyes briefly, he blew out a long breath. "Listen. I--"

"No," she interrupted, holding up a hand. "I've got it, okay? Loud and clear. You were thinking, 'like mother, like daughter', right? My mother was stupid enough to let herself get knocked up by the first man she let near her, so it stands to reason I'd be that stupid too, doesn't it? Of course it does. Except--" To Melissa's dismay tears were already escaping down her cheeks. "I tried so hard not to be that stupid. All these years, I've been terrified of having sex. Mum warned me so many times not to do what she did, told me not to even think about getting into that kind of relationship until I was sure I was ready. So I didn't. Why the hell do you think I was still a virgin? But, oh look, here I am. Twenty-nine years old--and I still managed to be that stupid."




Back to the Farm Ch. 08



"Liss..."

But this time, it was Melissa who couldn't meet his gaze, couldn't deal with the barely-restrained anger in his tone. "I need--I need to get cleaned up," she whispered, conscious of the copious amounts of ooze now pooling between her thighs, of the tell-tale tenderness there. And tightly wrapping her arms around herself in order to keep the bedspread from slipping, she turned and fled for the bathroom, only just managing to slam the door closed before collapsing into silent sobs, falling to her knees beside the bath.

How could she have been that stupid? she wondered, gathering herself enough to spin on the hot tap at last and dangling her trembling fingers in the flow while she waited for the water to run warm. Whatever had possessed her to succumb to his seduction? For seduce her he had, there was no doubt about that. But she'd actually believed he wanted her. Not just any woman, not just because she happened to be there, the only woman available at the time--but because he'd wanted her, Melissa Barton. The same way she'd always wanted him.

"Fool," she whispered, swiping at her cheeks with her dry hand before frowning at the steady stream of water. Why wasn't it getting hot? "You bloody fool." And then she understood why it wasn't getting hot. The electricity had been off for hours; the immersion heater wouldn't have been working. Just as had happened before on that first momentous trip to the farm, she was going to have to bathe in cold water.

Melissa gazed miserably at the rapidly filling tub. Was it even possible for things to get any worse?

*

Matt's fingers flew over the page of the sketchpad, the familiar feel of the pencil in his hand reassuring, calming. The moment Lissy had disappeared into the bathroom, he'd found himself moving towards his briefcase as though on auto-pilot and had pulled out the most fundamental tools of his profession--a pencil, paper and a tape measure. He knew from experience that when he was working he didn't have to think, at least, not on an emotional level anyway. 

So he'd opened the trap door in the ceiling of the hallway, pulled down the ladder and climbed up to take a look. Lissy had been right about the potential for a loft conversion. After he'd forced himself to ignore the boxes and abandoned furniture piled all around, it'd become obvious that the roof space would lend itself well. Not only was there room for a sizeable bedroom, there'd be room for an en suite bathroom as well. The only problem he could foresee would be access, but that would easily be solved by the use of a spiral staircase. And perhaps a balcony and steps to the rear...

But when at last he'd filled the page with lines and scribbled measurements, he could hold back the tide of unsettling thoughts no longer. Leaning back in Aunt Suzie's dust-covered rocking chair, he gave a groan of self-loathing, the pad falling to his lap as he tilted his gaze towards the rafters. He'd been such a bastard. How could he have tried to make Lissy take the blame for what he'd done? Because he'd instigated it all. He'd been the one to kiss her, to hold her, to touch her. In hindsight, her inexperience had been obvious but he knew he'd decided not to see it, chosen not to consider what it might mean. 

But she'd been amazing. Incredible. So sweet, so trusting, so responsive. She'd given herself freely to him, though he knew damned well he hadn't been easy on her. Even now, in his head, he could hear her sobbing his name, her almost tortured gasps of pleasure as he'd poured himself into her, body and soul. And maybe that was the most astonishing thing of all. He couldn't remember desiring a woman more than he'd desired her, wanting to please a woman more than he'd wanted to please her. And when she'd flown apart in his arms, God... He'd thought his heart would melt.

So what the hell was wrong with him? Why on earth couldn't he have told her that, instead of making her wretched, instead of letting her believe he thought she was responsible for them not using protection? But he already knew the answer to his own question. Guilt. He'd taken the risk of getting her pregnant when he hadn't taken the risk of telling her the one thing he really should've told her before things had gone that far. Worse still, he didn't have a clue how he was going to tell her now.

Discerning a series of clicks, then a shuffling noise from below, Matt strained to listen. It sounded like Lissy was out of the bathroom. Now what should he do? Go down, pull her into his arms, tell her he was sorry, tell her everything? Hold her so tightly she couldn't run from him? No, he was almost certain that wouldn't work. Besides, he knew he wasn't ready to see the look on her face, to witness her sense of betrayal. Coward, he castigated himself, burying his face in his hands with a sigh. But how could he make her understand why he hadn't told her before, why the timing had never seemed right? 

"Matt?"

Astonished, he dropped his hands to find she'd climbed the ladder, just her head and upper body visible above the hatchway. "Lissy. Hey--"

She shook her head to cut him off, making no attempt to meet his eyes. "I was wondering if I could borrow your mobile. I just tried to call a taxi, but it looks like Charlie's phone's finally been disconnected. There's not even a dialling tone."

"What?" Startled into action, Matt sprang forward, the rocking chair lurching backwards and colliding noisily with the tower of crates behind it. "God, Lissy--no! You don't need to go."

"I think I should. It's probably for the best," she said, her voice becoming unsteady as he wove around the boxes towards her. "I don't know h-how we're supposed to move on from th-this. Maybe we should just pretend--pretend nothing ever hap-penned--" She uttered a yelp as he reached down for her, his hands sliding beneath her shoulders, hauling her up into the loft and into his arms. "Matt!"

And then he was kissing her, kissing her as though he never wanted to stop, drawing her in against him, his body so wonderfully warm. Within seconds, Melissa gave up all thought of resistance. Gave up all thought. She was dimly aware of him lifting her, of him slinging her legs around his waist, of him staggering backwards. But it was only when they sat, when he released her lips at last, that she became conscious of anything else. His hands stroking her back, her laboured breathing, the realisation that tears were coursing down her cheeks. And that somehow they were rocking, to and fro, Matt whispering endearments into her ear, sounding almost as choked as she.

"God. You're freezing," she heard now, his hands rubbing more vigorously. "How the hell did you get so cold?"

To her surprise, she found herself managing a smile. Hadn't they had this conversation before? "No hot water," she answered now as she had then, her smile broadening into a tearful grin as he pushed her away to look into her face, the same light of remembrance in his own eyes. "You might want to wait a while before you have a shave," she added, tentatively touching the stubble on his chin.

"Liss." He stroked back her damp hair, his lips twisting slightly. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I tried to make you take the blame. It was all me. I--"

"No. I should've thought. I should've--"

Matt put a finger to her mouth. "I should've looked after you."

"I don't need looking after!" she fired back, knocking his hand away before picking at his T-shirt and drying her eyes on the hem. "I'm a grown woman, for God's sake. Like I said, it takes two to tango. We both should've thought about what we were doing. But maybe if we had, we wouldn't have done what we did. And I for one--I'm really glad that--that..." Melissa trailed off, suddenly unsure Matt felt the same way.

"I'm really glad that we did too."

Relieved, she allowed him to tug her back into his arms, letting her head drop to his shoulder as they continued to rock. Of course, they were sitting in Suzie's chair, she realised. She hadn't seen it in years, not since her aunt had died. "I think--I think we'll be okay, anyway," she said, wanting to reassure him lest he change his mind. She'd done her calculations in the bath. "It's completely the wrong time of the month. It's a lot harder to get pregnant than most people think. There's only one week in your cycle when it's really possible, right in the middle. And I'm at the end of mine. My period's due. Well, actually, it's already a couple of days late--"

"Liss--"

"--so I'm sure it'll be all right," she gabbled on, keen to persuade him she knew what she was talking about. "Gemma's been trying to get pregnant for months. She's getting kind of obsessed about it, actually, got all these books and mother and baby magazines. But maybe, just to be on the safe side, I could take the morning after pill. Though I'm not really sure if they'll have it in the pharmacy in Ebberlea--"

"Melissa!" Startled once again by his use of her full name, she raised her head to find him looking at her rather oddly. "Right now, I'm not worried about that, okay? There are things..." He hesitated, glancing off to one side. "Other things we need to talk about."

Baffled, Melissa followed his gaze, seeing he was staring at the boxes beside them, piled almost to the rafters. "Oh," she murmured nodding, guessing he probably wanted to change the subject. Well, she couldn't blame him for that. Who wanted to dwell on the thought of an unplanned pregnancy? "You're right. God, it's even more of a mess up here than I thought it would be. How the hell are we going to clear all this out by Friday?"

"Same way as we'll clear the rest," she heard him say as she wriggled backwards off his lap and reached up to pull the highest box down. "We'll get there, don't worry. But actually, that wasn't--"

"Whoa!" She giggled, staggering beneath the weight of the enormous crate, Matt leaping to his feet to help her manoeuvre it down to the floorboards. "This had better be good. What the hell's in here? Don't tell me, Charlie collected rocks along with everything else?" 

But it wasn't a collection of rocks, it was a collection of books, she realised, hearing Matt sigh as she dropped to her knees to rummage through them; a colourful selection of Aunt Suzie's category romance novels. She'd had them delivered every month or so, Melissa remembered now. The remainder of the box was filled with envelopes. Dozens of them. "Good grief."

"More old bills?" Matt gave a groan as he knelt beside her. "I thought we'd finished with those. After all those I found in the cabinet in the dining room?"

"Ah, but those were the bills he got in the last five years," she said, plucking out a yellowing envelope and retrieving its contents. "Yep--look." She showed him the date. "Water rates for 1993."

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Matt sounded more exasperated than she'd heard him all week. "Charlie, for God's sake, why?"

"It's not just bills. There are letters here too." Melissa gazed at the franking mark on the next envelope she'd pulled out. "This one's from Mickleton Hospital." And morbid curiosity getting the better of her, she slid out the single sheet of paper contained within. "'Dear Mrs McKenzie. Chemotherapy appointment'." Her frown deepened. "For Wednesday, the first of September. But..."

She felt Matt's arm slide around her shoulders, felt his mouth brushing against her temple. "Ah, Liss," he murmured in sympathy. "I know."

"No--it's not that. Look." She stabbed a finger at the letter. "Look at the year. Look when it was." Stricken, she watched his face as he gazed at the page, saw his eyes narrow. "Am I going mad? Suzie wasn't even diagnosed as having cancer then, was she? They told us they didn't find out until--what was it--February? The same year she died. So why was she having chemo the year before?"

Matt was still frowning. "Looks like they found out a bit sooner than they let on."

"What?" She stared at him, appalled. "I don't understand. Why didn't they tell us sooner then?"

He shrugged. "Maybe they needed some time to get used to the idea. Maybe they hoped she'd get better, so that they wouldn't actually need to tell us."

"You knew?" she accused, a flash of heat rising into her face. "Matt, tell me the truth--did you know?"

"Hey, I swear I had no idea." He put his hand to his chest, dipping his head to force her to look into his eyes. "I didn't know that, okay? The first I knew of Suzie having cancer was when they sat us down to tell us about it that summer, remember?"

Melissa didn't think she'd ever be able to forget. It had already been the worst six weeks of her life, what with Matt barely speaking to her and Jason's constant taunts. So Charlie's typically upbeat but frank disclosure of Suzie's illness had been the bitter icing on an already arsenic-laden cake. Even now, she could feel the same pain she'd felt then, the sickening sensation of being stabbed through the heart. "Right," she murmured, biting her lip to fight back fresh tears.

"Hey." Matt's fingers gently intertwined with her own. "Maybe we should get out of here for a bit. How about a walk? Get some fresh--"

"Oh no." She shook her head hastily, already leaning back over the box, picking through the papers with her free hand. "I'm fine, really. In fact, it's kind of reassuring to know I'm not always the last to find out about everything."

"Right." There was a pause before he spoke again. "About that. You see, there's something--"

"Ooh--what's this?" Her fingers alighting upon a large padded envelope, Melissa was only half-conscious of that odd note in his voice again. "Looks interesting."

"Lissy!"

But she wasn't really listening, already pulling out what was actually a small packet. And as she saw the return address scribbled on the back panel, her eyes widened. "God, it's from your mother. Addressed to Charlie."

Sighing heavily, Matt peered over her shoulder. "Oh, it'll just be school stuff. I found some other envelopes like that in the dining room. Because she and Dad were out in South Africa, I think she sent most of the correspondence from my school to Charlie for him to deal with. It was easier that way, rather than her having to do everything long distance. You know how she..." But as Melissa shook out the contents of the envelope into her lap, he trailed off, it becoming only too obvious that they weren't looking at 'school stuff' at all, but two bundles of folded letters, each secured with a single rubber band. "What the hell...?"

Melissa picked up the smaller of the bundles with shaking fingers, unable to tear her gaze from the uppermost letter, from the sight of the familiar sloping handwriting scrawled across the page. Matt's handwriting...

Missing you so much. Starting to hate it here now. Sometimes, it feels like being in prison. Although to be honest, if we were in prison, I think we'd get more freedom...

"Liss..."

Shocked beyond speech, she lifted her gaze to discover Matt looked equally stunned. And swallowing hard, she fumbled for the other bundle of letters, pressing them into his hands.

"I don't get it." He stared at the pile and then at Melissa, shaking his head slightly. "You really did write?"

"What?" Startled, she gazed back at him. "You know I did. I told you that yesterday. Did you think I'd lied?"

"No." He brushed a distracted hand through his hair, looking more bewildered than she'd ever seen him. "Well, okay, yes. Maybe."

"Matt!"

"I wasn't sure what to think. I thought that maybe you'd just said it to make me feel better. After I'd told you I'd written to you."

"Well--" She motioned rather helplessly towards the letters in his hands. "Clearly, I didn't lie."

"And neither did I." Matt gave an agitated shrug. "Liss--I'm sorry. Really I am. But God..." Wrenching away the rubber band, he began flicking through the numerous sheets covered in her own neat hand. "You wrote me all these?"

"Of course I did! I wrote to you every day. Just like I promised I would..." But watching him read, seeing him mouth the words she'd written what felt like a lifetime ago, Melissa suddenly found herself too choked to carry on. Why hadn't he seen them before? Why hadn't the letters reached him when they were supposed to? How could it be that they'd only discovered them now? In Charlie's loft, of all places, nearly fifteen years after she'd first posted them? Desperate for answers, she snatched up the padded envelope from where it had fallen between them, noticing that a single typewritten sheet of paper remained inside. And after extracting it between finger and thumb, she slowly unfolded the page.

Charlie

You can imagine my horror at receiving these from school today. The Headmaster, quite rightly in my opinion, has expressed concern at the nature of the correspondence between Matthew and Melissa. So much for your assurances that their relationship is innocent. Even a cursory glance through these letters has demonstrated to me that it clearly isn't.

You already know my feelings on this matter. As you are aware, Matthew is at a highly vulnerable stage of his education and cannot afford to be distracted by this silly young girl. Therefore, I insist that you deal with this as a matter of urgency. It must be made crystal clear to both Matthew and Melissa that their little romance cannot continue under any circumstances. I'm sure I don't need to point out the possible consequences of non-action.

Ruth

"What's that?"

Melissa looked up, swallowing hard as she met Matt's questioning gaze. "The reason neither of us got our letters."

He frowned. "What?"

Having handed him the page, she hauled herself to her feet, unable to watch while he read. Maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, she mused, returning to the rocking chair and closing her eyes as her hand closed around the arm rest, the wood cool beneath her fingers. Though it made little sense that Matt's mother had assumed Charlie would help her in her mission to keep them apart. To her recollection, he'd never discouraged their friendship. Even when it had all gone horribly wrong, he'd been the one to constantly suggest reconciliation.

"Liss." She jumped as Matt's arms slid around her, tugging her tightly against him. "Oh God, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," she murmured, turning in his embrace and burying her head into his shoulder. "At least we know what happened now, right? At least we can move on. Though there is one thing I really would like to know." And lifting her head at last, she gazed up at him, biting her lip when she saw her own distress mirrored in his expression.

"Oh Matt. Why the hell does your mother hate me so much?"

*

Thank you so much for reading. All votes and comments are gratefully received.

Lily

-x- 



Back to the Farm Ch. 09



I thought I wasn't going to be able to finish this chapter until after my next exam but happily my muse turned up again, LOL. There won't be another chapter for a few weeks now though--for definite this time. I'm sorry, but I really need to get stuck into my studies for now. Don't worry--I will finish this story, I promise! But in the meantime, thanks for being patient with me!

Lily

-x-

*

'What a difference a day makes'--Words & Music by Maria Grever & Stanley Adams (recorded by Dinah Washington, 1959)

*

Melissa could still hear Matt's voice even though she was now in Charlie's bedroom and he was pacing up and down the hall. He'd been on his mobile for the whole time she'd been in the bath and although she'd tried not to eavesdrop, it had been only too clear things in Singapore weren't going well. Not that he'd ever lost his temper, she noticed, secretly impressed by the way he was handling the call, the third of that evening. Though as he'd explained earlier, there wouldn't have been any point. There was no longer any doubt he'd have to fly out there sooner than he'd hoped, but she knew he was doing everything in his power to ensure that it wouldn't have to be within the next couple of days.

Pulling her towelling robe more securely around her, she crossed to the window and peered out at the darkening sky. Never before had she been so conscious of the words of the song, 'What a difference a day makes'. Those twenty-four 'little' hours had certainly turned her world upside down, she thought, picking up the clay pot she'd made Aunt Suzie all those years ago and twisting it around in her fingers. Though until now she hadn't had much of a chance to dwell on them. Just as they had every other day that week, they'd spent hours working on the house, systematically trawling through each room, emptying cupboards and boxes, checking the contents lest they miss hidden treasures before ultimately, as happened more often that not, dumping their uncle's long held possessions in the skip outside. 

But unlike those other days, they'd worked together. Somehow, they'd made an unspoken agreement not to leave the other's side, as if they'd both realised they'd already spent far too long apart. So it had been a day of fun and laughter, a day of recalling almost forgotten memories and a day of long, lingering, meaningful glances. Yet that was all there'd been. Even though she knew very well that Matt had bought condoms when they'd called into the village that morning, it wasn't as though he'd thrown her on the bed on their return and made love to her all afternoon. Though she'd half-expected he would. Scrub that. She'd hoped he would. But Matt had seemingly had other ideas.

Maybe the unexpected arrival of the vicar in the pharmacy had had something to do with that, she mused, wincing at the memory. There she'd been, standing by the counter, surreptitiously reading a leaflet about the morning after pill and trying to decide whether she really needed to take it when Reverend Michael Wright had appeared. She was fairly certain he couldn't have had any idea what she'd been reading, having managed to shove it into the back pocket of her jeans the moment she'd spotted him, but he surely must have wondered why she'd promptly turned as red as a beetroot. It hadn't helped that Matt, who'd already made his purchase, had then proceeded to watch their encounter from a safe distance just outside Michael's line of sight but very much within Melissa's, grinning hugely throughout their entire conversation.

She felt her lips curve into a rueful smile. The rotten sod. But she'd virtually decided not to buy the emergency contraception anyway. Not only was she unsure she needed it--as she'd told Matt earlier, her period was already overdue--but the cost had taken her breath away. Twenty-six pounds for one little pill. Doubtless Matt would have given her the money but the blurb on the leaflet had stated it could be taken for up to seventy-two hours from the time of unprotected sex. Which gave her until Saturday evening to either get it from the doctor or the family planning clinic in Mickleton if necessary and both would apparently prescribe it for free. The wait and see approach seemed logical enough, especially as she'd be going home tomorrow. 

Tomorrow. That meant they only had one more night and one more day together. Against what had at first appeared almost insurmountable odds, they'd managed to clear the bungalow in four days. The only thing left to do was to sort through the jumble in the loft. They'd already arranged for the local branch of the Salvation Army to collect the more serviceable items of Charlie's furniture tomorrow afternoon. And then...

Melissa blew out a breath. Then what?

"Ooh." The sound of Matt's voice behind her made her jump. "Big sigh." He grinned as he she half-turned to face him, sliding his arm around her as he drew level. "What were you thinking about?"

"Oh..." Acutely conscious she was naked beneath her dressing gown--should she have got dressed again, despite the lateness of the hour?--she pretended to think, buying herself time. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell him she'd been trying to decide where their relationship was going for most of the day. If it was going anywhere. "This and that. Nothing much. Who was that on the phone?"

Matt gave her a disbelieving look. "Mike. He's arranged to have a formal meeting at the site later--well, tomorrow for us. Depending on the outcome, I'll either get to stay here for another week or two or I'll be on the next plane out."

"Mike? But--" Melissa lifted his forearm to inspect his watch. "It must be the middle of the night in Singapore."

"Actually, it's around five in the morning. He's always been an early riser. And you're trying to change the subject." Putting his other hand on her upper arm, he twisted her around to face him before peering down at her, his eyes warm. "You okay?"

She gazed back, experiencing the rather uncanny sensation he could see straight into her soul. Could he read her thoughts? "Yes, of course," she answered as lightly as she could manage. "It's just been a long day, that's all."

Matt nodded, not breaking eye contact for a moment. "You know," he began, his tone equally light, "if you like, I can sleep on the settee--"

"Oh, no!" she interrupted before blushing furiously, the broadness of his sudden grin alerting her that her protestation had been rather too vehement. "I mean--oh God." She swallowed hard. "I mean--"

"Ah, right." He nodded again, laughing now. "You mean you'll sleep on the settee? Well, that'd be great, thanks."

"Hey!" He wasn't serious, was he? Or was he?

"Lissy." His voice softening, he raised a hand to brush back her hair, his knuckles grazing against her cheek. "I just didn't want you thinking I'd made any assumptions. Or that I had any unrealistic expectations."

Relieved, Melissa released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. "Even though you bought a packet of twelve condoms?"

"Oh hell, you saw that?" He rolled his eyes, his grin returning. "Just so you don't have any unrealistic expectations, that doesn't mean we're going to do it twelve times, okay?" 

Oh boy. The mere thought of doing it once made something contract low in her belly. 

And clearly aware of the impact of his words, his gaze turned mischievous. "I bought another twelve to be on the safe side."

"Matt!"

He laughed anew at the outrage in her tone, dipping his head to kiss her. "I'm kidding. Even if I was capable of that--and believe me, I'm not sure any man is--there's no way I'd be so rough on you. In fact, I'm not so sure we should even do it once. You're still pretty sore from last night, aren't you?"

Oh God... How the hell did he know? Had she been walking bow-legged or something? Conscious of the heat flooding into her face yet again, she stared at him in alarm. "I'm fine," she hastened to assure him. "Not that sore at all, really." Not so sore that she wasn't longing to feel him inside her again, to experience that exquisite stretching, that bittersweet friction that was pleasure bordering pain. That overwhelming sense of completion she'd felt as he'd driven into her again and again... "That bath was great," she went on quickly in case he really could read her thoughts. "I left you the water, actually, in case you wanted it. I didn't think there'd be enough hot water left for you otherwise. You know what that immersion heater's like. I pressed the boost button, but..." She trailed off, aware she was babbling. What had made her think he'd even want to share her bath water? There was something much too intimate about the notion, even if it had been something they'd done frequently as children.

But he was smiling, his face once more descending towards hers. "That sounds good, thanks," he murmured, kissing her again before reaching across to put down his mobile phone on the bedside cabinet and beginning to unbutton his shirt. "Care to join me?"

"Um." Even more flustered now, she looked at him helplessly for a few seconds. "I--er--"

"It's okay." Matt grinned. "It'll probably be quicker if I go by myself. Besides, the water's probably not hot enough any more. But I can dream." And kissing her one last time, he released her with a wistful sigh. "I see you've been reading."

"What?" Still picturing herself in the bath with him, and now rather wishing she'd agreed, Melissa was caught off balance. "Oh." Her gaze followed his to the letters strewn across the bed. "Not really. Not properly. Just bits and pieces. God, some of the stuff I wrote... It's pretty embarrassing."

He smiled at her across his shoulder, already halfway to the door. "You were fourteen when you wrote me those letters, Liss. Cut yourself some slack. Believe me, yours aren't that bad. Try mine if you really want to read something cringeworthy."

He'd read them? As he headed out into the hall, she stared after him in surprise. When had he found time to do that? And oh, what must he have thought? She moved towards the bed and scooped up the pages of one of her own letters, grimacing at the oh-so-neat handwriting. But every one had been a labour of love, each declaring her love in embarrassingly flowery prose. At least, the first few had. Having sorted through them and put them into order, she saw that as time moved on, those earlier letters remaining unanswered, the tone of her later missives had adopted an increasingly frantic note.

Did I say something wrong? The words sprang at her from the page as she perched on the edge of the bed to read. Because if I did, please tell me what it was. I'd hate to think I'd done anything to upset you. Or am I just being silly? Maybe you haven't had time to write. I know how busy you must be this term. But I don't need you to write me a great long letter, really. Just a couple of lines, so that I know you're okay? 

Melissa winced anew. She'd only written once more after that before giving up, convinced that he must've changed his mind, that he hadn't really been in love with her at all. And she'd blamed herself, decided she must have come across as too needy, too clingy, when all along, he had sent her letters too. Admittedly, not as many; she'd written twenty-one to his twelve, and where hers often ran to four sides of notepaper, his had barely covered two. Though she knew that if she'd received them, she wouldn't have cared a jot. She would have treasured every word. 

His early letters were mostly filled with details of rugby matches and his increasing frustration at being subject to the school's somewhat draconian attitude to discipline and personal freedom. But in later letters, he too had begun to express concern at not hearing from her, and in the last, had actually accused her of having met someone else.

That's why you haven't written, isn't it? It's okay, Liss, I understand. Disappointed, of course, but I can't force you to wait for me, to wait until I get out of this place. I'm guessing someone as beautiful as you can't be short of admirers. But don't let whoever it is take advantage of you, please. Don't let anyone make you do anything you're not ready to do. Promise me that?

And just know that I love you, Liss, okay? I love you--and I always will. 

"Huh," she muttered as she re-read the words, her vision misting slightly. "Someone as beautiful as me? Yeah, right."

"You really don't see it, do you?"

"Shit!" Heart pounding, Melissa swung around to find Matt right behind her, her mouth immediately going dry as she realised he was wearing nothing but the white towel slung around his hips, his muscular body still glistening with moisture. "Why--why d-do you always have to make me jump?"

"Why are you always so jumpy around me?" he countered simply. She watched as he deposited the clothes slung over his arm on to the stool in front of Aunt Suzie's dressing table then swallowed as he knelt before her, taking the letter from her hands. "And why the hell don't you believe you're beautiful?"

"Because I'm not!" Unnerved, Melissa found she couldn't meet his gaze. "It's lovely of you to keep saying that I am, but I know that I'm not, okay? How could I be? I'm the short, dumpy red-head who's never even had a proper boyfriend, for God's sake. Who until last night hadn't even had sex--and the only reason it happened then was because it was dark and you couldn't see me--hey!" To her annoyance, she saw that he was laughing. "It's true! If we hadn't had a power cut, last night would never have happened. And if there'd been any other woman here, you wouldn't have touched me with a barge pole."

"What?" Matt sounded startled.

"Well, no one else has ever told me I'm beautiful--well, no one other than Charlie and he doesn't count. No one else has ever seemed all that interested in me. No one else has ever wanted to make love to me."

"Lissy!"

"Well they haven't! So I'm sorry, but I just don't buy it, okay? I didn't fall from the very top of the ugly tree, I s'pose, but I know I'm nothing special. I know I'm not--"

"Lissy."

Melissa fell silent, aware he was no longer laughing. Oh God, why had she said all that? It was one thing to think it, quite another to say it and make a complete fool of herself. But all day, she'd felt as though she'd been living in a dream. A magical, wonderful dream where she'd been the star of the show, a new all-singing, all-dancing, confident Melissa, unexpectedly cast as the leading lady instead of the leading lady's best friend. And all day, she'd known it couldn't last. How could it? This time tomorrow she'd be back home in her tiny flat and in a few days Matt would be back in Singapore. Doubtless, he'd soon move on to the next woman and she'd... 

She'd be alone again.

"Sweetheart, look at me."

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "I can't."

"Yes you can." Suddenly she felt his fingers in her hair, his palms sliding down over her cheeks until he cupped her chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. "You," he began, then shook his head with a smile. "Oh hell, Lissy." And leaning forward, he kissed her, his mouth so gentle, the contact so sweet, she felt her eyes fill with tears. "You're beautiful," he said softly, drawing back just enough to look at her. "You, Melissa Susannah Barton. You're beautiful."

"Matt--"

He shook his head again, slipping a finger over her lips. "Beautiful, Liss. You look in the mirror and see short, dumpy redhead. I look at you and I see petite, curvy, Titian goddess."

"Pur-lease." Despite herself, Melissa felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Goddess?"

"Hell, yeah." Matt mirrored her smile before kissing her again. "Slayer of the gods. One look at you and all men are lost."

"Bullshit. Men never look at me."

"Oh yes they do, believe me." He gave her a wicked grin. "All the time."

She grimaced at him, disbelieving. "Then how come I've never noticed? How come I'm still single? Explain that."

"Ah, that's an easy one. You never look back at them."

"What?"

He caressed her cheek. "You never look back, sweetheart. You don't see them looking at you. I don't know what the hell happened, but somewhere down the line, you stopped believing that anything good could ever happen to you."

Stunned into silence, Melissa stared at him for several seconds, the continuing restriction of his hands making it impossible to avert her gaze. "The thing is," she said at last, her voice rather croaky, her eyes filling with fresh tears, "it's been a long time since anything good did happen to me. Until--until now, that is." And even this isn't going to last, she added silently.

"Until now?" Rather to her surprise, he suddenly looked as uncertain as she felt. "You mean, this is a good thing? Us, here together, right now?"

Us... Oh, how she wished she could believe there was any future in that 'us'. But she knew she'd be a fool to start chasing that dream. And also that she'd be a fool to tell him that without doubt, the events of the last twenty-four hours had been the best things to happen in her entire life. "Really good," she whispered, nonetheless finding it impossible not to smile. "Really, really good."

Matt's face cleared. "Thank God," he breathed, releasing her abruptly and rising to his feet. "Well, in that case..." When he bent to scoop her off the bed, Melissa gave a yelp, finding herself unexpectedly airborne. "I think we should make things even better." 

"Matt!"

He laughed, sweeping the letters to the floor with one hand before depositing her full length in the middle of the bed and following her down. "Much better," he murmured, gathering her into his arms and finding her lips once again.

And it was. As he teased her robe open, slowly revealing her body to his admiring gaze, Melissa couldn't help but wonder why she'd been anxious about this moment all day. But then, last night, their lovemaking had been as tumultuous as the storm raging all about them. Wild, reckless, impulsive. In the cold light of day, she hadn't been able to stop worrying that Matt would be turned off by her inexperience, that he'd find her naivety more frustrating than endearing. More than anything, she'd found herself wishing she'd paid more attention to the articles in those glossy magazines Gemma had thoughtfully donated to the housing association's waiting room. Articles with such pithy titles as 'How to drive your man wild in bed'.

But if the look in his eyes right now was anything to go by, it appeared that might not matter. "Wow," he murmured, at last tugging the robe out from beneath her. "If I didn't want to make love to you so much right now, I'd have to paint you."

Melissa gave a nervous giggle. "In chocolate sauce?"

"In oils." Matt shot her a mock-reproving glance. "On canvas." But then he grinned. "Though actually, chocolate sauce could be one hell of a lot of fun. Hmm..." He surveyed her breasts thoughtfully. "Chocolate sauce would go well with these."

"Yeah? Oh God!" She gulped with laughter as he kissed them, each gentle brush of his mouth sending ripples of pleasure straight to her groin. "That--that tickles!"

He smiled at her across the rise of her breasts. "Ah yes," he said consideringly, as though struck by a new revelation. "My Lissy's ticklish, isn't she?"

"Oh no." Melissa had seen that look in his eyes before. Far too many times... "Matt--no. No. Please? No-oh!" 

He laughed as she shrieked, his fingers already attacking her mercilessly, moving from her waist to her underarms and back again, pinning her to the bed with his lower body as she writhed beneath him. And as her squeals turned to giggles, he tormented her with his mouth as well as his hands, interspersing kisses with playful bites everywhere he could reach until she was a breathless, quivering mess of desire. "Stop!" she pleaded as he raised his head at last, seeing that at some point his towel had fallen away, leaving him magnificently bare to her gaze. "Oh God, Matt--please!"




Back to the Farm Ch. 09



He grinned. "Stop?" he teased before dipping to drop a kiss just above her navel. "You really want me to stop? Stop--" he planted another kiss an inch below the first "--this?"

"Oh." As he shifted lower, parting her thighs with his knees, Melissa felt a fresh shower of sparks zinging straight to her womb. "Well--maybe not," she gasped as he kissed her again, mere millimetres from the silky red curls between her legs. "Maybe not--that."

As her eyes fluttered closed, she heard him give a low chuckle. "Well, that's what I thought." And suddenly Matt's mouth landed somewhere she'd never expected it to land.

"Oh God!" Eyes flying open, head and shoulders rising off the bed, Melissa gave a horrified gasp. "Matt--no! You--you can't!"

"It's all right." As he met her gaze, she felt his strong hands splaying over her thighs, denying her attempts to close them. "Relax, sweetheart. I promise I won't hurt you. In fact--" he grinned boyishly "--I think you might even get to like this."

"Matt--no! Please? Not--not there!" But as his mouth descended on her again, her anguished cry turned to a low moan, his tongue seeking out a deliciously sensitive spot. "O-o-oh!" Dear God... How could something that ought to be so wrong feel so good? "Matt!"

Pausing to shoot her another knowing grin, he lowered his head once more, this time commencing his assault in earnest and within seconds, Melissa realised further resistance was futile. Not only was it futile, frankly it would have been absurd. And slumping back on to the bed, she surrendered to his will, gazing helplessly at the ceiling, unwilling to witness the obscene sight of Matt's head between her legs yet already breathless with pleasure, her thready cries growing increasingly desperate, her need for release escalating with every swipe of his talented tongue. 

"Oh God," she begged at last, unable to bear it any longer. "Oh Matt--please. Please. Please? Ple-ea-se!" And as her orgasm finally broke over her in a wave, a wash of heat and sensation surging through her entire body, she uttered a wail of completion, her eyes crashing closed.

"Oh yeah," she heard Matt murmur as she slowly drifted back down to earth, his words suffused with praise. "That's my girl. God, you're amazing. So, so beautiful."

"I'm amazing?" Still trembling, Melissa opened her eyes to find him propped up on his elbows above her, gazing down into her face, his smile tender, his own eyes dark with desire. "But you--you did that." She shook her head weakly. "I can't believe I just let you do that!"

"I know." His smile broadening, he dipped his head to kiss her before reaching across to the cabinet beside the bed and pulling open the drawer. "Maybe we should find out what else you'll let me do."

Following his gaze, she saw he was retrieving one of the boxes of condoms and as she watched him open them she felt a renewed tug of longing low in her abdomen. Oh boy... "What--what exactly have you got in mind?"

Matt grinned, extracting a square packet between finger and thumb. "Tell you what," he said, already tearing the foil. "Why don't I just show you instead?"

*

Morning? No, it couldn't be. Not yet...

But upon turning her head to check, only to be blinded by the sunshine flooding in through the un-curtained window--they'd never got around to closing them last night--Melissa had to reluctantly concede a new day had dawned. Though 'dawned' had to be the operative word. Judging by the amber quality of the light, she decided it must be early. So why oh why had she awoken? It was hardly as though she'd had a good night's sleep. Far from it.

And glancing at Matt, apparently lost in dreamland at her side, she nuzzled nearer, her sense of well-being intensifying ten-fold as his arms swept around her, drawing her into the cradle of his warm muscular frame. Heaven help her if he woke now, she thought, nonetheless half-hoping that he might. How on earth could she crave something--crave him--so much when every muscle in her body was begging for mercy? How on earth could she even be considering round--what round would it be? Six? Seven? She didn't know, she'd lost count hours ago, cast adrift on fast-flowing river of pleasure.

Matt had clearly made it his mission to show her everything a twenty-nine year old woman should know about making love. Just thinking about what they'd done--oh God, some of the positions he'd coaxed her to try!--left her feeling hot and bothered. But the truth was, she'd loved every second, relished every touch, every caress, every thrust, delighted in discovering how to bring him pleasure too. He'd sent her hurtling over the edge again and again, even after she'd been convinced her body was capable of no more and when at last he'd allowed her to fall into a deep and utterly sated sleep, it was only to awaken her two hours later and start all over again. Though she'd got her own back. She'd woken him the next time... 

Melissa couldn't help smiling at the memory. Had she really done that? Her--Melissa Barton? What a difference a day made.

"Mmm," Matt murmured as though agreeing with her thoughts, his strong hands sweeping up and over her back. "Hey, beautiful."

"Hey." She shifted her head to look at him, her smile broadening to match his. "Sleep well?"

He raised his eyebrows at the mischief in her tone. "No, not at all," he said good-humouredly. "You?"

She giggled, resting her head upon his chest as he folded his arms around her once more. "I can quite honestly say that was one of the worst night's sleep I've ever had."

Matt's grunt of laughter rumbled against her ear. "Fantastic. Let's just stay here in bed all day then."

"We can't. We've got to clear the loft."

"Details," he muttered dismissively. "Besides, who says we have to do it today? Stay here with me another night. You don't have to go home do you? We'll do it tomorrow. Or-r-r," he yawned hugely, "we could stay in bed all day today and do it tonight. In the dark."

Melissa rolled her eyes. "I don't think so."

"Ooh." Matt grinned. "Lissy's a scaredy-cat, Lissy's a scaredy-cat."

"Too damn right I am," she retorted before running a gentle hand over his ribs, hearing him groan at the contact. "So sue me."

"I'd rather do something else to you," he countered, laughing when she too uttered a groan. "Though on second thoughts, maybe I'd better not. Ah sweetheart," he murmured sympathetically, kissing her shoulder. "My poor baby. What have I done to you?"

"Huh. You know yesterday you were worried I might be sore?" She paused for effect, unable to repress a smile when he winced. "Put it this way, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to walk today."

"Hell, in that case, we're definitely staying in bed."

"Matt!" And shrieking as he rolled her beneath him once more, she found her protest smothered by a long and tender kiss. "Yum," she murmured contentedly, when he finally let her up for air. "Well, maybe we could stay here a little bit longer."

He grinned, nodding. "It's still pretty early, right?"

Stretching out a hand to the bedside cabinet, Melissa fumbled for Matt's mobile phone. "Yep," she said, checking the display and putting it back. "Five past seven."

"Excellent. Oi!" He uttered a low growl as she rolled out of bed. "Where are you going? Get back here, woman. Now!"

She laughed, gingerly moving towards the window before flinging her hands out to the sides to grasp both curtains at once. "I'm coming, I'm coming. I just thought I'd close these. We'll never get back to sleep with the sun shining in on us like--"

And then she froze, arms still outstretched, the sight of the face pressed up against the glass so unexpected, there was nothing she could do but scream.

"Liss!" She heard a thump as Matt leapt out of bed, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he rushed to join her. "Liss? What? What the--?" And following her gaze, he groaned. "Oh hell... Jason!" His voice rose several decibels. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Jason?" Appalled, Melissa suddenly realised where she was, how she was standing, and worst of all, recalled she was stark naked. "Oh God, no!" She stumbled backwards to hide behind Matt, diving frantically for the bedspread which had long since fallen to the floor. "What's he doing here?"

"Hey!" Jason shouted, muffled by the glass. "I'm sorry, okay?" Out of the corner of her eye, Melissa could see he was grinning from ear to ear. As well he might, she thought bitterly. "I've been knocking on the door for ten minutes, what was I supposed to do?" he added, raising his palms. "You two could've been murdered for all I knew."

Melissa turned to discover Matt already reaching for his clothes. "But it's seven in the morning," she said weakly. "Did you know he was coming?"

"I'm gonna kill him, don't worry." He pulled a face, staggering slightly as he stepped into his jeans. "I spoke to him yesterday--he said he'd call in before he started work today. I had no idea he meant he'd pitch up this early." Whirling around again, he flapped an irritated hand towards the window. "Would you just piss off and let me get dressed?" he bellowed, even as Jason in turn held up a hand and began backing away. "I'll meet you out the front in a minute!" And twisting back around to Melissa, he met her gaze, his tone softening abruptly. "Liss, I'm so sorry. This won't take long, I promise."

"But..." In a daze, she watched him shrug on his shirt, still clutching at the bedspread as though it was Matt she was hiding her body from. "He saw me. He saw me..."

"With no clothes on?" he finished helpfully when she trailed off, sending her a grin as he bent down to slip on his shoes. "So?"

"So?" she repeated, aghast. Was he for real? "Matt, it's not funny!"

Straightening up again, Matt made a not entirely successful effort to cover his amusement. "Of course not," he said in a placating tone. "Oh, come on, sweetheart. It's okay."

"What?" Melissa couldn't believe her ears. "No, it's not okay! Don't you even care he's just seen me naked?"

"No, I don't. And neither should you. Look..." Fully dressed at last, Matt planted his hands on her upper arms and gazed down into her face. "Liss, you're beautiful, okay? Drop dead gorgeous. Haven't you been listening to me at all? You haven't got anything to be ashamed about, all right? Nothing."

Surely he knew it wasn't as simple as that? "But--"

"Lissy!" Rolling his eyes, Matt lowered his head to kiss her. "Nothing to be ashamed about," he reiterated, smiling. "Now let me go and get rid of him. Get back into bed and keep it warm for me. I'll be back in twenty minutes, tops." And before she could say another word, he released her and bounded out of the room.

Hearing the front door slam behind him, Melissa sank down on to the bed, aware her cheeks were still burning. Typical that it'd had to be Jason who'd seen her that way. Why couldn't it have been someone else-- anybody else? She gave a low moan. Talk about giving him an eyeful. Just exactly how bad had she looked? Curious, she heaved herself upright again and set off for the bathroom, grimacing with every step--ouch, she'd been right about being barely able to walk. Right now she felt rather like a human wishbone. 

The sight that met her in the mirror was far from reassuring. "Oh dear God," she muttered, raking her fingers through the unruly mass of curls that seemed to be sticking out at right angles to her head. "Beautiful? He's got to be kidding!" And giving up the fight, she surveyed her reflection with a sigh. Her blue eyes seemed almost too large for her face, her cheeks flushed pink and her lips... Good grief. Her lips appeared twice their normal size. Plump, swollen, red. Who needed collagen implants?

"Well." Secure in the knowledge she was all alone in the bungalow, she felt free to address the wild-looking woman looking back at her from the mirror. "You look..." She paused to grope for the right words, smiling at herself as exactly the right expression came to mind. "Thoroughly shagged."

Before she could revel in the thought, she heard the now-familiar melody that was Matt's mobile ringing. So much for staying in bed, she thought, hobbling back up the hall as fast as she could. Matt was clearly going to be in demand today. But by the time she reached the bedside cabinet, the phone had already stopped ringing. Picking it up, she sighed as she read the display. Mike. Damn it. Matt would be probably be annoyed he'd missed the call. 

Just as she was deliberating whether to get dressed so that she could take the phone out to him it rang again. Startled, she checked the little screen again to discover it was Paula this time. This early? Oh God, the news from Singapore couldn't be good...

For a moment, Melissa seriously considered not taking the call. Hiding the mobile. Accidentally switching it off and 'losing' it in the skip outside. Then she came to her senses. All that would do was delay the inevitable; Matt would still have to return to Singapore eventually. And with a heavy heart, she picked up the phone, stabbed at the accept button and held it up to her ear. "Hi," she said, barely repressing a sigh. "Matt McKenzie's phone."

*

"Well."

Pretending not to have heard, Matt made a show of concentrating on the path to the orchard, absently noting that the orchard itself was another issue to which they were going to have to give serious thought. Within months the trees would be laden with fruit. For years, Charlie had donated the entire crop to the local Women's Institute. Would they be lynched for arranging to have the trees felled to make way for new housing?

"Well."

He breathed a heavy sigh. He'd known full well Jason wouldn't give up that easily. "You know, when you said you'd call in on your way to work to discuss the build, I really didn't think you meant the crack of dawn."

Jason snorted. "It's hardly the crack of dawn. And I told you I had to be in Warwick by nine. What time did you think I'd turn up, for fuck's sake?" He hesitated, casting Matt a sideways glance. "So? What's going on?"

"So..." He raised his eyes heavenward. "What's going on is none of your damned business." 

"Whoa." Jason lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I'm just asking, that's all. Because you and Lissy--well... Clearly things have--er--developed." He grinned. "Well, she certainly has, anyway."

Matt scowled. "Leave it."

"Oh, come on. Lighten up." Jason slapped him on the back. "I had a feeling this would happen. And believe me, I'm happy for you both, okay?" There was a pause. "I take it this means you told her, then?"

"Jason!" Even though he'd known the question was coming, he felt a flash of guilt-induced irritation. "I thought you were here to talk about the project. Though to be honest, we still haven't quite decided what we're going to do here yet. I need to discuss it with--"

"Stuff the project. Tell me you told her?"

"Oh for..." Matt bit back his first rude response, realising he was on the verge of losing his temper. "I'm not talking about this, okay?"

"What?" Holding out an arm to prevent him from taking another step, Jason spun around to face him. "Fuck, you didn't," he accused quietly, fixing him with a glare. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"Look." Matt found it almost impossible to hold his gaze. "I'm going to tell her, okay? I've been trying to tell her. I've been trying to tell her for days--"

"Jesus Christ." His friend looked even more aghast than he'd anticipated. "Are you crazy? Are you fucking insane?"

Truth be told, he'd been wondering the same thing. But the more he'd thought about how best to break the news to Lissy, the more difficult the task at hand had started to seem. And with every passing hour, hell, with every passing minute, he'd become increasingly aware of what he stood to lose. "It's not that simple," he said, sweeping an agitated hand through his hair before moving forward again. "I know I've been a bloody fool. I know I should've told her--"

"Yep, before you slept with her would've been a damned good idea."

"I know!" Matt shot back. "I know, okay? But there's never been a good time. I was going to tell her the night before last, but she was upset enough as it was." He sighed, kicking at the gravel. "It's been pretty tough clearing this place out, you know? It's stirred up all sorts of feelings, all sorts of memories. Especially for Lissy." 

Jason blew out a breath. "I guess it would."

"And I was all set to tell her yesterday but then we found the bloody letters--"

"What letters?"

"Huh." Matt managed a wry smile. "Funny story. You remember when we were still at school and I got all heartbroken cos she didn't write and you said she must've found another bloke? Well guess what, she didn't get my letters either. We found both sets in the loft yesterday."

"What?" Jason looked rather taken aback. "Here? But how the hell did they get here?"

"Mum sent them. She must've asked the school to keep an eye on my mail, God knows why. Anyway, she forwarded the lot to Charlie telling him he'd got to put a stop to things--you know how she's always felt about Lissy and me. But it looks like she sent them about the same time Suzie was diagnosed with cancer." He shrugged. "I guess he had other things to think about. Probably forgot he'd even got them. I can't think why else he never said anything."

"Right." There was a considerable pause before Jason spoke again. "Mate--"

"I know," Matt cut in, pre-empting the lecture he fully expected to hear--fully deserved to hear. "I know I should've told her days ago. I know I should've told her before the funeral. You were right. I should've told her everything. But I didn't." He released an unsteady sigh. "And now I don't know how the fuck I'm going to tell her."

Having arrived at the orchard, they stood together in silence for a moment and surveyed the mature trees before them, listening to the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. "Maybe she won't take it that badly," Jason said at last, turning back towards the farm.

"You think? Yeah, right." Matt rolled his eyes then groaned, burying his face in his hands. "This is Lissy we're talking about," he said with a sigh. "Right from being a kid, she used to tell me that she wished Charlie was her Dad--see, her mother never told her who her real father was. She thought the world of him, thought he could do no wrong. She thought he and Suzie were the perfect couple. So tell me, Jason. How the hell am I going to tell her?"

"Er... Matt...?"

"And how the hell am I going to tell her that I've known for years? How do I tell her that Charlie told me on the day of Suzie's funeral, for fuck's sake? How do I tell her that Suzie didn't even--"

"Matt."

Hearing the warning note in Jason's voice at last, Matt looked up. And realising there could be only one explanation for the dismay he witnessed in his friend's expression, he turned, his heart leaping into his throat. "Oh no. Lissy."

Melissa gazed at him, eyes wide, arms hanging stiffly at her sides, one hand clutching his mobile phone. "Charlie," she faltered, the colour already draining from her cheeks. "Charlie was my father?"

"Oh God." Appalled, Matt shook his head and took a step towards her, only for her to abruptly take a step back. "Sweetheart--"

She held up a trembling hand. "He was my father--and you never told me?"

"Oh, Lissy." And suddenly Matt knew he was going to break her heart. He was going to break her heart, and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it. "No, sweetheart. I'm so sorry--" 

"No?" She stared at him, clearly bewildered, her voice little more than a whisper.




Back to the Farm Ch. 09



"No." Watching the single tear trickle slowly down her cheek, he felt rather as though his own heart might break. He closed his eyes briefly, wishing beyond reason that it'd had never come to this, that he could somehow turn back time, that by some miracle, he wouldn't have to say the words. But no miracle appeared to be forthcoming. 

"Charlie wasn't your father," he said at last, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "He was mine."

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments gratefully received!

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 10



Sorry about the long wait. It took me a little while to get going again after passing my exam (yay!) and this was a tough chapter to write. I think there's only going to be one more though... :)

Thanks for all of your emails and comments—and for being so patient!

Lily

-x-

*

"Lissy? Lissy!" 

Hearing the accelerating pace of Matt's feet crunching through the gravel, Melissa broke into a run. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. This was all part of some weird and wonderful dream and any second now she'd wake up, thrashing against the bedclothes.

"Lissy, please!"

"Let her go, mate," Jason called. "For God's sake, give her some space."

Jason, the voice of reason, she marvelled, aware of Matt's footsteps slowing even as she sped up. Who'd have thought? If her head hadn't already been reeling, she might have found the notion amusing. But this wasn't funny. Not even close. No, this was a cruel, cosmic joke. After all they'd been through, after everything they'd shared, Matt had kept a secret like that from her? But Jason had known. Clearly he'd known all along.

Charlie told me on the day of Suzie's funeral.

The words slammed into her chest like knives, the wall of pressure building in her lungs at last forcing her to stagger to a halt on the driveway outside the bungalow. Suzie's funeral? Melissa closed her eyes, gasping for breath. He'd known for fourteen years?

A familiar pain rose from the pit of her stomach. It was happening again. Just as always, she'd been the last to know. Matt had known Charlie had cancer, he'd had months to prepare for his death, but she'd been left in the dark. He'd been actively involved in the preparation of Charlie's Will but she'd known nothing...

"Oh God," she whispered, opening her eyes to find herself staring at the front door through a haze of tears. Though she'd been aware Matt had attended the signing of the Will, his presence on that occasion now took on a whole new significance. Despite her surprise at being a beneficiary to half of Charlie's assets, she'd accepted Archie's explanation, that as she was Suzie's niece, Charlie had felt she should receive an equal share. 

But Matt was Charlie's son.

Suddenly conscious of the weight in her hand, Melissa looked down to discover she was still clasping Matt's mobile phone. And almost before she realised she'd made a decision, she flicked it open and punched in a long ago memorised number. 

*

"What are you doing?" 

Though she'd heard him charging in through the front door, the sound of Matt's voice still made her jump. As usual. Biting her lip hard, she bent to haul out her suitcase from behind the ottoman and threw it on to the bed. Actions spoke louder than words. 

"You're leaving?"

Melissa winced, steeling herself to ignore the dismay in his tone. "It's for the best," she muttered, flinging the lid open and beginning to stuff in the clothes she'd piled upon the bed. No time for careful folding, she reasoned. No need either. After days spent working with dust and grime, the whole lot would need washing when she got home.

"For the best?" he echoed incredulously. "Lissy!"

Though it was pointless to pretend she hadn't heard him, she tried anyway. The last thing she needed now was a fight. Just hold it together for another five minutes, she urged herself, staring at the already half-full case. Think Melissa, think... What else do you need to pack? "Toothbrush," she remembered aloud and turned to find Matt standing in the doorway, blocking her exit. "Do you mind?"

Instead of moving aside, Matt took a step backwards, planting a hand on either side of the doorframe. "This is crazy. You can't go. Not like this."

"I can't go?" For the first time, she lifted her gaze to his, a fresh surge of anger infusing her words with venom. "Why? Thought of something else you should've told me? Come on then, out with it. Get it off your chest."

"Lissy, please." Matt looked pained. "Give me a chance to explain. You don't understand..."

"Oh no, I get it," she fired back, holding up a hand. "Believe me, I get it. Now get out of my way."

In the silent stand-off that followed, Melissa feared he might actually refuse to budge. But when he sighed, his arms falling to his sides in resignation, her relief at being able to edge past him was short-lived when he followed her out into the hall.  

"Do you have any idea how many times I've wanted to tell you?"

"And yet you didn't." She shook her head as she headed into the bathroom. "It must've been so tough on you."

"Yeah, it was." The immediacy of Matt's retort caught her off guard. "He told me about ten minutes before Suzie's funeral kicked off. Can you imagine what that was like? Sitting there, in a church full of people, knowing something that no one else knew—knowing something that even Suzie didn't know? Because she never knew, Liss. He never told her."

Melissa found she couldn't turn around. The very idea of Charlie having an affair was unthinkable. That he'd had an affair with Ruth, of all people. His brother's wife. Suddenly she couldn't decide which was worse, Matt keeping the secret all these years, or Charlie not being the man she thought he was. "Well there's a surprise," she murmured, voicing the ironic thought that promptly dropped into her head. "Like father, like son." 

But the moment she spoke the words, she realised their bitter truth and as the shock of understanding rippled through her anew, she swept up her toiletries and hurried back to the bedroom, ignoring Matt's pleas for her to wait. Better not to stop and think. Better to keep moving, keep packing. Not much longer now.

"We're going to have to talk about this sooner or later."

"Matt!" He'd followed her again? "For God's sake..." She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Don't you get it? I don't want to talk about it, okay? There's nothing to talk about."

"Look." Matt's tone was softer now, conciliatory. "I know you're angry. I don't blame you, I'd be angry too."

"Angry?" Inexplicably, Melissa wanted to laugh. "I'm angry, is that what I'm feeling? Well hey, thanks for pointing that out. I'd never have figured that out on my own."

"Lissy..."

"No!" Lowering her hands, she leaned across the bed to pick up her hairbrush and tucked it into the side of the case before slamming down the lid and zipping it closed. "I don't want to hear it, okay? I just want to get out of here. Away from here." Away from you, she added silently.

"But there are still things we need to do. Things we need to decide." 

"Wrong." She straightened up again, swinging the suitcase off the bed and down to the floor. "There are things you need to decide, that's all." And once again, the reality of those words cut deep as she took one last glance around the bedroom, at the wardrobe, the dressing table, the faded navy blue curtains. At the rumpled bed they'd shared...

"I need to decide?"

"Oh come on, Matt." At the note of bewilderment in his voice Melissa finally managed to laugh, but it sounded harsh even to her own ears. "Let's stop pretending that any of this was ever really mine."

"What?"

But before she could elaborate, a car horn tooted loudly. Maybe it was better not to elaborate. "That'll be for me," she said with forced brightness as Matt crossed the room to peer out of the window. "Sorry to leave you in the lurch and all that, but there's only really the loft to clear now. Shouldn't take too long. Maybe Jason could help you."

"You called a taxi?" 

"Yes." When he turned back to look at her, Melissa felt an unexpectedly sharp tug in her chest at the shock in his expression. "I—I hope you don't mind, I used your phone. I thought it'd be best to—to just go. Actually—that's why—why I came out to find you. I almost forgot." With trembling fingers, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out his mobile. "Mike called, then Paula. You need to call them back. I don't think things went too well at that meeting."

Despite herself, she flinched in sympathy when Matt swore under his breath. "I'm sorry. I know you were really hoping that—that—" She trailed off, unsure what to say. And not trusting herself to reach towards him, reluctant to risk any contact, she placed the mobile on the bed. "I'd better go."

His hand fell on her shoulder before she managed to take a single step towards the door. "Please? Don't do this."

She swallowed, new tears perilously near. "I have to. I've been stupid enough already."

"You weren't stupid. All of this is my fault, okay? All of it. I should've told you a long time ago. But does it really have to change anything? This place." He made a sweeping gesture around the room with his other hand. "He left it to us both, Liss. It's half yours."

"But it isn't, is it?" Tugging free, she rounded on him, another layer of realisation dawning. "That's what your mother meant, isn't it? At the funeral. That's why she wanted you to contest the Will."

"Liss—"

"Oh my God." She stared at him open-mouthed, the knot in her stomach tightening as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. "No wonder she... Oh God." 

"You know that would never have happened. Charlie wanted you to inherit this place."

"Why?" she spat, temper re-flaring. "So that he could stop feeling guilty? So that he could somehow make it up to Suzie?"

"No!" He blew out an agitated sigh. "That's not why we did it."

"We?" 

Too late, Matt seemed to realise what he'd said. "Fuck," he muttered, brushing a hand through his hair. "That didn't come out right. Look, Charlie was worried about you, okay? What with your mother's accident, you having to leave college before you finished your degree, not being able to land yourself the greatest of jobs..."

"So you told him it'd be okay if he left half of everything to me." Melissa had been thinking aloud but one glance at Matt's face was enough to confirm her guess was spot on. "Oh God." Her heart plummeted. "That's exactly how it was, isn't it? He actually asked you if it was okay first, didn't he?"

He hesitated. "He hated to see you struggling, Liss. He just thought—"

"Well that's great." She raised her eyes to the ceiling, mortification washing through her in a white hot wave. "I don't believe this. You saw me as a charity case."

"No! For heaven's sake." Matt reached out to take her arm but Melissa immediately ducked away. "That's not how it was, I swear. Lissy, come on. Don't be an idiot!"

"But I am an idiot." She shook her head, swiping at her face before the first tear could fall. "Such an idiot. God." And swallowing hard, she reached for her suitcase. "I've got to go."

"Lissy, please. It wasn't like that."

"Doesn't matter. Do me a favour?" she interrupted, finding herself quite unable to look at him. She couldn't bear to witness his guilt-stricken expression any longer. "Tell Archie I don't want any of it, okay?"

"What?" Matt sounded startled.

Melissa could hardly believe she'd said it either. The words had tumbled out of her mouth unbidden, without prior warning. Was this really what she wanted to do? "It's yours," she heard herself go on, feeling peculiarly as though she'd split into two people, her rational self capable only of observing in silence as her irrational self ploughed on. "All yours." She shrugged. "Just like your mother always wanted it to be." 

"Lissy!" He took a step towards her, shaking his head. "Wait a minute."

"No." She held up a hand, in turn taking a step away. It was too late to backtrack now, too late to stop the runaway train carrying her further and further away from any chance of reconciliation. "I don't want it, okay? I don't want anything to do with it—anything to do with Charlie. Anything to do with you, okay? You got that?"

"Liss..."

But before he could move any nearer, before he could utter another word, Melissa grabbed her handbag from the bed, snatched up her suitcase and fled.

*

"How much?"

"Twenty-seven pounds twenty, love."

Feeling guiltier by the second, Melissa watched as Gemma peeled off three ten pound notes and handed them to the waiting taxi driver. "God, I'm so sorry," she mumbled for the third time. "I can't believe you're having to do this. I can't believe I didn't even think about how much it would cost."

"Will you stop it? Oh, keep the change," Gemma added for the benefit of the driver before slipping an arm around Melissa's shoulders. "Come on, that's what friends are for, isn't it? It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Melissa insisted as the car roared off, leaving them standing alone in the car park. "I'm so glad you were still here. I don't know what I would've done if you weren't."

That's what happened when you didn't give yourself time to think, she thought bitterly. She'd raced outside the bungalow, almost colliding with Jason who'd been lingering by the open front door, observing the proceedings with blatant curiosity. And ignoring Matt's desperate entreaties for her to stay, she'd all but thrown herself in the taxi. It was only as the car reached the bottom of the driveway she'd remembered she had no money, her purse empty but for a handful of coins.

Horrified, she'd leaned forward and asked the cabbie if he'd mind taking her to Barrington Heights instead of the address she'd originally given. She'd watched the clock all the way to Mickleton, praying that Gemma wouldn't have left for work early and would still be at home. Only now that Gemma had paid on her behalf did it occur to Melissa she could have asked they stop off at a cash machine. "Oh God, I'm stupid," she breathed as her friend led the way to the entrance of the flats. "I'm so stupid. I'll pay you back, I swear."

"Will you just ssh? I know you will," Gemma soothed, giving her an awkward one-armed hug as they walked. "God, you're in a state. I don't think I've ever seen you like this. What the hell happened?"

She swallowed, unsure where to begin. "It's a mess," she said at last, her eyes already filling at the sympathy in Gemma's tone. "It's all such a mess."

"But I wasn't even expecting you back until tomorrow." Releasing her to unlock the front door, Gemma shot her a probing look. "Is this something to do with Matt?" When Melissa didn't reply, she frowned anxiously. "What did he do?"

Melissa gave her head another helpless shake, aware there wasn't a chance she'd be able to get through the tale without dissolving into tears. 

"Okay." Clearly sensing the last thing her friend wanted to do was to break down in public, Gemma pushed her inside. "Let's get you upstairs. I haven't got any tissues but I can get you a nice cup of tea and a bog roll. And then I think you'd better tell me all about it. I'll ring Jonathan and tell him I'm going to be late in this morning. Not that he'll be surprised. I've been late in all week."

Melissa attempted a weak smile. How did Gemma get away with it? She wouldn't dream of taking such liberties. Wouldn't dare. That was the difference between working because you wanted to and working because you had to, she supposed. 

But as she started towards the stairs she suddenly became conscious that Gemma had stopped dead behind her.

"You're limping," she accused.

Oh God... Was it that obvious? Melissa experienced a surge of embarrassment. "I'm—I'm fine," she muttered, trying hard to move normally. "Really."

"No, you're not." 

She heard the moment the penny dropped, the slight change of inflection in Gemma's tone. 

"You're walking as though you spent the entire night..." And then her voice altered again, the note of amusement vanishing to be replaced with raw concern. "Oh no. Oh God, no. That's not what—? He—he didn't...?"

"What? No!" Shocked that Gemma could even think Matt had hurt her, Melissa stared back in disbelief. "No!"

Relief flooded into Gemma's face. "Thank God for that. I'm sorry. It's just... Oh come on, what was I supposed to think? You've turned up here out of the blue—like this? Of course I was going to think the worst." 

But as Melissa's eyes once again filled with tears, Gemma's gaze softened. 

"Oh hon, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She stretched out an arm as she hurried forwards, once again wrapping it around Melissa's shoulders and turning her back towards the stairs. "Let's go and put that kettle on, eh?"

*

After Melissa had finally run out of steam, Gemma regarded her in silence for several moments. Then she pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. "Poor Matt," she said quietly, reaching for her mug of tea.

"What?" Still sniffing a little, Melissa gazed at her in astonishment. Gemma siding with Matt was the last thing she'd expected. "You've got to be kidding."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not kidding. What the hell was the poor sod supposed to do? He knew damn well you'd go ballistic when you found out about Charlie being his father. And he wasn't wrong, was he? You did exactly what he was afraid you'd do."

Stung by Gemma's words, Melissa felt her swollen eyes widening. "Of course I went ballistic! Are you actually saying you think he did the right thing in not telling me?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what are you saying?" she demanded. "Bad enough that he didn't tell me in fourteen years, but he had all of this week to tell me—and I still only found out by accident!"

"I'm not saying that was right," Gemma interjected hastily. "I'm just saying I understand why he didn't, that's all. He knew how upset you'd be."

"Yeah, and he knew that if he told me there'd be no chance of getting his end away, right?" Melissa looked down at her fingers, twisting them together in agitation. "That'll be why he didn't tell me."

"For heaven's sake..." Gemma uttered a groan. "You honestly believe it was all about sex? Get a grip. Think about it. Think about everything you've just told me." She paused then leaned forward to peer up into her friend's face. "Hon, I think he's in love with you."

Melissa stared. "What?"

"He knew that telling you would bugger everything up. And it did, didn't it? He didn't stand a chance."

"No." She gave her head a vehement shake. "He's not in love with me. Matt McKenzie doesn't do falling in love."

To her frustration, Gemma rolled her eyes. "Oh really?

"Yes, really." Melissa blew out a sigh. "He told me himself, that night we got stuck at the farm when his car broke down. He said he didn't even think love existed. That it was just a myth, the stuff of fairy tales. And that he wasn't ever going to get married or have kids. Stop looking at me like that. He doesn't love me."

"He does," Gemma persisted. "And you love him."

Melissa felt an odd stabbing pain in the middle of her chest. She sighed. "Doesn't matter whether I do or whether I don't, does it?" she said wretchedly. "He didn't tell me, Gemma. What else did he forget to tell me? I'll probably find out next he's got a girlfriend out in Singapore—no, wait. Not a girlfriend." She managed a bitter laugh. "A wife. That he's married with four kids."

"I don't think so, somehow."

"I wouldn't put it past him. He's lied about everything else."

Gemma's lips twisted a little. "He wasn't lying, exactly. He just didn't tell you a couple of things. Come on, you daft cow. You're seriously going to throw it all away because he made one mistake?"

"One mistake?" Melissa shot her an incredulous glance. "Gemma, everything's been a lie. Charlie and his mother had an affair, for crying out loud. All those years, I thought Charlie was rock solid, straight as a die, someone to look up to. And all that time... " She trailed off, lost for words. None of it made any sense. The world hadn't merely spun off its axis, it had hurtled out of the solar system. "How could he have done that to Suzie?" she wailed at last. "She was so lovely. But Ruth—Ruth's a complete bitch. How could he? How could he do that?"




Back to the Farm Ch. 10



Gemma was silent for a moment. "You need to talk to Matt," she said eventually. "You need to hear the other side of the story."

"No." Melissa shook her head once more. "I don't want anything to do with him. I don't ever want to see him again.

"You don't mean that." Gemma's tone became brisk. "Besides, you're going to have to see him, whether you like it or not. What about the farm? I thought you still needed to decide whether or not you were going to build those houses?"

"Weren't you listening?" Melissa gave her another disbelieving look. "I told you, I don't want any part of it."

"You feel like that now, I know," Gemma said gently. "But—"

"I'm not going to change my mind!"

She frowned. "You can't avoid him for ever. He's going to come looking for you."

"Yeah well, I wish him luck with that." Melissa suddenly felt a rush of vicious satisfaction. "I never did tell him where I really live."

"What?" Gemma's frown deepened. "Oh, that's great. So he's going to come here, is he? Wonderful. What the hell am I supposed to tell him when he shows up?"

Right on cue, a loud buzzing came from the hall, the sound making both women start. Recognising the noise, Melissa gazed at Gemma in consternation. "Oh God, that's the door. You don't think...?"

Gemma groaned, already pushing herself up from her armchair. "Who else could it be? Of course it's him. Where else would he—?"

"Don't let him in!" Panic-stricken, Melissa leapt to her feet, flinging out her arms to block her friend's path. "Please?"

"Melissa!"

"We can pretend no one's here. He'll never know."

Gemma shook her head. "Come on," she cajoled. "I really don't think you should put this off. The sooner you get this sorted out, the better."

"But there's nothing to sort out," she protested as the buzzer sounded again. "It's simple, okay? I don't want to see him. Ever."

"Liss—" Gemma flinched as their would-be visitor began beating out an impatient tattoo on the call button downstairs. "I really don't think he's going to give up that easily."

"He'll have to," Melissa retorted, edging behind the settee as though she half-expected Matt to burst in at any moment. "Please, Gem? Don't let him—"

"For fuck's sake!" someone bellowed from the room next door. "Couldn't one of you girls open the bloody door?"

Melissa uttered a gasp, recognising the voice of Gemma's husband. "Steve's here?" she exclaimed, glaring at her friend. "You never said!"

"I didn't think I needed to," Gemma said, hastening towards the doorway. "I thought you knew he was home on leave this week. Oh shit—Steve! Wait!"

But it was too late. Having emerged from the bedroom, Steve was already striding down the hall to the entry phone by the door. "So much for having a lie-in," he grumbled as he snatched up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Steve!" Catching up with him at last, Gemma gave his elbow a sharp tug. "No," she hissed, shaking her head, eyes wide. "Don't!"

"What?" Steve frowned, flapping a hand to silence her as he tried to listen to the phone. "Who?" His frown deepened. "Lissy? Oh... You mean Melissa?"

"No!" Gemma mouthed, frantically criss-crossing her arms in front of her chest. "No!"

But to Melissa's dismay, Steve took no heed. "Well, I guess you'd better come up then," he said gruffly. And before Gemma could do anything to stop him, he pressed the switch that released the door.

*

Astounded that gaining access had been that simple, Matt took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing. He still didn't have a clue what he was going to say, didn't know if she'd even give him a chance to explain. But he was going to try. He had to try.

He'd watched in silence as the taxi pulled away, remaining rooted to the spot long after it disappeared around the bend in the drive, long after the engine died away and the sound of birdsong returned, the wind rustling through the leaves of the huge copper beech. And for a few moments, it was though it hadn't happened. Lissy wasn't gone. Nothing had changed. He could turn around, walk back into the bungalow and find her waiting for him in the bedroom.

"So that's it?"

The utter incredulity in Jason's voice had been enough to shake him back to his senses. He hadn't even realised his friend had been standing behind him.

"You're just going to let her go?"

Matt swallowed, numbness finally giving way to a dull, nagging pain low in his stomach. "I don't think I have much choice. You heard her."

There was a pause before Jason spoke again. "I heard her, yes. I also heard what she didn't say."

Matt uttered a snort, swivelling to face him. "What she didn't say?"

"You really think she wanted to go?" Jason looked grim. "You really think she didn't want you to stop her?"

"Stop her?" Matt sent him a despairing glance. "How the fuck was I supposed to stop her? Jason—I screwed up. I screwed up big time."

"Yeah, you did," Jason shot back. "You're damned right you did. And if you don't go after her right now, you're gonna make the biggest mistake of your life."

Matt glared at him. "She doesn't want me to go after her!"

"You honestly believe that?" Jason shook his head in frank disbelief. "Matt, if you believe that, you're an even bigger fool than I thought you were. For fuck's sake, she loves you."

"No." Matt shook his head. "Not any more. And I don't blame her."

"What, you think you can fall out of love? Just like that?"

"She did before."

"You are a bloody fool." Jason gave a groan of frustration. "She never stopped loving you. You never stopped loving her."

"Jason!"

"All right, tell me it isn't true. Give me the real reason why you've never settled down. Tell me why you've moved from one blonde bimbo to the next, deliberately picking women who look nothing at all like Lissy, never letting yourself get too attached, never staying with any of them for more than a few months."

"For God's sake!" Matt was beginning to feel uncomfortable, his friend unwittingly giving voice to the revelation he'd had himself the previous morning.

"No, tell me, Matt." Jason remained undeterred. "Go on. Tell me that you didn't give your heart to that girl twenty years ago. Maybe even longer ago than that."

Matt couldn't. He already knew it was true. It beggared belief it'd taken him so long to figure out. Or maybe it didn't. Maybe he'd always known, just never allowed himself to think about it. "It's too late," he'd said at last, with an air of resignation

"It will be, if you don't do something right now."

"I can't!" Matt had held up his phone. "I need to call Mike back. The fucking project's a disaster, the shit's hit the fan. My career's on the line—"

"Tough call," Jason had cut in, giving him a withering look. "The woman you've always loved or the job you've always hated. Hmm, which way to jump?" 

It had, in the end, been a no-brainer. So he'd driven like a lunatic back to Mickleton, spent the whole journey on the phone, to Paula, Mike then Paula again. But there wasn't much time. He had four hours, tops, to persuade Lissy to listen to him. He could only pray it'd be enough.

Having bounded along the corridor, he drew to a halt outside flat number nine, and just as had happened the first time he'd visited, the door opened before he could lift a hand to knock. Only this time, it wasn't Gemma who greeted him.

As the words built like a brick shit house swam through his head, he vaguely remembered Lissy using them to describe Gemma's husband. She hadn't been exaggerating. 

"Hi," he said, doing his best not to be intimidated by the sheer bulk of the man facing him. "I need to talk to Lissy."

"She's not here," he heard Gemma say. And as the man obligingly shifted his right shoulder, he saw her standing behind him. "Hi Matt. Look, I'm really sorry. She was here, but she just left."

Her husband twisted round to shoot her a bewildered glance. "She did?" 

"Yes." She fixed him with an icy glare. "You just missed her. But I'm sure she'll be back later—"

"Oh leave it out, Gemma," Matt interrupted irritably, realising there couldn't have been time for the couple to discuss Lissy's alibi. "I know she doesn't live here, okay? I've known all along. I drew up the plans for this bloody place, I know exactly how much these flats went for, for fuck's sake. Just cut the crap and tell me where she is."

"Excuse me?" Her husband gave Matt a menacing stare. "That's my wife you're talking to!"

"Steve!" she burst in, placing a placating hand on his muscular arm and throwing Matt an apologetic look. "It's okay, all right? I can handle this. Go and make some coffee or something."

Steve frowned, taking one last suspicious glance at Matt before he turned, muttering under his breath as he walked away. 

"Sorry about that," Gemma said, grimacing slightly.

He waved a dismissive hand. "Where is she? I need to talk to her."

"Matt." She hesitated, looking decidedly uncomfortable. "I can't tell you that."

"Gemma, please? I haven't got much time here. I've got to go back to Singapore—today. I've got to be at the airport by two."

She winced, picking at a strand of her long blonde hair. "The thing is, she doesn't want to talk to you. I tried to tell her she should," she carried on in a much softer voice, almost a conspiratorial whisper. "I swear I did. But you know what she's like. Once she's made up her mind about something..."

Matt knew only too well. But just as his heart began to sink, some sixth sense suddenly kicked in. There was something about the words Gemma had chosen, the way she'd lowered her voice as though half-afraid she'd be overheard. "Right," he said slowly, deliberately lifting his own voice. "Then maybe you do me a favour? Could you give her a message for me?"

No, he wasn't wrong, he thought as he peered down the hall towards the partly closed living room door, only half-listening as Gemma acquiesced. Wasn't that Lissy's handbag beside the chair? 

"Could you tell her that I'm truly sorry?" he began, still in that over-raised tone. "That I'm the idiot, not her? That I know I should've told her, that I should've told her years ago? That I was stupid to listen to Charlie, that I knew how upset she'd be when she found out. But he told me he loved her so much, he wouldn't have been able to bear seeing the look on her face when she found out."

Matt swallowed, closing his eyes as he remembered how many times he'd tried to persuade Charlie to change his mind. The stubborn old fool...

"I tried to tell him that you needed to know everything, Lissy," he went on, oblivious now to Gemma's presence. "But he was so ashamed. He knew how much you loved him, was sure it would change how you felt about him. I told him you were bound to be angry but that I was sure you'd get over it in time, once you knew the truth about what happened. But he wouldn't have it. Because he loved you, Lissy, okay? He might not have been your father, but he loved you just as much as he would a daughter. To have lost you would've broken his heart."

Behind Gemma's white leather sofa, Melissa hugged her knees to her chest, silent tears coursing down her cheeks. Matt knew she was there.

"So I kept the secrets. It was the wrong thing to do, but at the time it didn't feel as though I had much choice." He released a sigh. "Lissy, please. We need to talk. I haven't got much time. Paula's booked me on the next flight to Singapore and it looks like I'm going to be stuck out there for quite a while. So please? We need to do this now. Please talk to me?"

"Matt?"

He jumped when Gemma's tentative voice broke into the lengthy silence that greeted his plea. When he opened his eyes, he found her gazing at him in compassion.

"I'll tell her."

Maybe he'd been mistaken. Maybe that wasn't Lissy's bag after all. Disappointment weighing heavy in his chest, he glanced at his wristwatch and groaned. "Damn it, I've got to go." And heaving another sigh, he turned towards the still open door. "She's already got my phone number. Please?" He gave Gemma an imploring look across his shoulder. "Get her to call me?"

She nodded. "I'll try," she said softly. "I promise I'll try."

Shooting her a half-smile of gratitude, he took three steps forward before stopping abruptly. "Wait," he began awkwardly, twisting back around. "One last thing. Would you tell her—just tell her—?" 

Then his self-consciousness evaporated. What the hell. He had nothing to lose...

"I love you, Lissy Barton!" he called, leaning forward so that his voice would carry down the hallway. "Do you hear me? I've always loved you. So please—just phone me, okay?" 

And ignoring Gemma's startled expression, Matt turned on his heel and slowly began walking towards the stairs.

*

"Right, I see. So do you have any idea when she's likely to be back?"

He grimaced into the phone as he listened to the reply. "Okay. Thanks a lot. I'll call back another time." And with a sigh, he ended the call and threw his mobile on to the passenger seat, swearing under his breath. 

It had seemed a foolproof idea. There were, after all, only a handful of housing associations in the Mickleton area. Having looked up the numbers of all of them, he'd struck lucky at the third attempt, only to be told that Lissy was off sick. So much for hoping he'd be able to make an appointment to see her. Though she'd have probably refused to meet with him anyway. It might be better to use a fake name the next time he called.

Toying with the idea of going to buy a newspaper, he looked across at the shops on the other side of the road, doing a double take when he saw the name of the office he'd just called emblazoned above the last unit in the row. Nope, no mistake, there it was. Abbey Thorn Housing. How strange he'd parked opposite without even noticing.

Oh well, useful knowledge for the future, he thought, deciding against the newspaper and reaching forward to turn on the ignition. But just as his fingers met the keys, he froze. The red-headed woman emerging from the pharmacy next door to the housing association looked an awful lot like Lissy. 

Because it was Lissy. God... He blew out a low whistle. She certainly didn't look well. Head lowered and clutching a white paper bag in her left hand, her progress along the pavement seemed rather less than steady. Had she literally just been sent home when he called? Must've been, he reasoned, continuing to watch as she crossed the road in front of him and headed towards the bus stop. 

Frowning, he glanced at the buff envelope beside his phone on the seat. He'd assured Archie he'd try to persuade her to change her mind, but to jump out of the car and confront her right here and now seemed inappropriate. Briefly, he considered offering her a ride before dismissing the idea out of hand. There wasn't a chance in hell she'd accept, even if this was to be the only opportunity he had. Then again, if this really was to be his only opportunity, shouldn't he grab it with both hands?

Before he had a chance to start deliberating his next move, a double-decker bus roared past then squealed to a halt alongside the bus stop. "Damn," he muttered, watching as she edged forward in anticipation of the doors opening. He was already out of time.

Unless...

Struck by a brainwave, he started the car. And as the bus moved away from the stop with Lissy aboard, he flipped on the indicator and pulled out into the traffic.

*

Having counted them many times, Melissa knew that between the communal entrance to the converted Victorian house she lived in and her studio flat on the top floor there were two flights of thirteen steps. But never before had it seemed so many, the physical effort required to haul herself up each one almost beyond her. As if feeling horribly sick wasn't enough to deal with in itself... 

Reaching the top at last, she pressed her forehead against the coolness of the gloss-painted door, the loud thumping in her ears almost drowning out the sound of her laboured breathing. "Not good," she whispered, releasing a tiny moan. "Not good at all."

At first, she'd put the persistent sick feeling down to eating a sandwich made with ham one day past its 'use by' date. Too tired to face a trip to the supermarket on Saturday—though it felt as though she'd done nothing but sleep in her spare time lately—she'd persuaded herself it'd be fine. And it probably had been. 

Three days later, the nausea unrelenting, it was beginning to seem unlikely a single slice of ham could be the cause. She'd made it into work only for Jonathan to take one look and turn her straight back out of the door. Forced to concede it was time to address the niggling doubt at the back of her mind, Melissa had refused his offer of a lift home. The thought of having her boss in tow when she popped into the pharmacy hadn't appealed. 

But the bus ride home had been torture. What was usually a pleasant twenty-minute meander through the centre of Mickleton became an endurance test, one where she'd quite seriously feared she might throw up into the hood of the coat worn by the woman sitting in front of her. Somehow, she'd managed to hold off until the bus reached her stop. She wasn't too sure that Mr Andrews, the rather sweet elderly gentleman who lived three doors down, would appreciate her fertilising his rose bed in such an inventive manner, but it couldn't be helped.

The dizziness abating at last, she reached into her handbag and fumbled for her keys. At least she was home now, she thought gratefully, opening the door and practically falling into the hall. At least she could go to bed. Close her eyes. Sleep... 

Shrugging off her jacket, she tried not to look at the watercolour hanging above the coat pegs, as usual failing miserably. She'd taken it down for a while in the vain hope that not being greeted by Matt's painting of the tree-house every time she came in the door would be less painful. Instead, the sight of the empty wall had only served to double her sense of loss and she'd put it back within hours. Somehow, it seemed better that it was there than not there; she couldn't even begin to fathom why.

"Lissy?"

"Oh God." The words leaving her throat in a breathy rush, she spun around to the open doorway, the sight of the tall man standing there sending a cold ripple of shock down her spine. "You?"

Jason looked apologetic. "I'm sorry," he began. "I know I'm the last person in the world you wanted to turn up at your door."

"What are you doing here?" She stared at him in agitation, a fresh wave of nausea compounding her discomfort. "How did you find out where I lived? And how the hell did you get up here? "

"I saw you in town, watched you get on the bus," he said simply. "Followed it. And let me tell you, it wasn't easy. I had no idea how many times those bloody things stop, it was a nightmare pulling in and out behind it every two minutes..." He trailed off beneath the open hostility of her glare, adding hastily, "Look, I wasn't going to bother you today, I know you're not well. I just wanted to know where you lived so that I could come back another time. But when I saw you being so ill, I got a bit worried. One of your neighbours was kind enough to let me in."

Wonderful. He'd seen her being sick? "I'm fine," she said, hearing the brittleness in her own tone. "So you can go now, okay?"

"Lissy—"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Her surroundings were beginning to spin again. Why wouldn't he just leave so that she could go and lie down? "You've no right. You hear me? No right. My name's Melissa."

"All right." He grimaced, holding up a hand. "Forgive me, I probably shouldn't have come—"

"Dead right you shouldn't!"

"—but seeing as I did, could we please talk for a few minutes? Not long, I promise. It's just I said I'd—" And then he stopped, his brow furrowing. "Lissy? Fuck, I mean, Melissa? Are you—are you okay?"




Back to the Farm Ch. 10



She wasn't. She suddenly felt about as far from okay as it was possible to feel, Jason's voice seeming to fade into the distance, her vision abruptly darkening. The next thing she knew, his arms were around her, holding her firm, steering her into the flat and straight towards the sofa.

"Huh," she groaned weakly as he eased her down, experiencing an unpalatable mixture of gratitude and humiliation. "Why did it have to be you? It's always you. Seen me naked, seen me sick..."

Jason crouched in front of her, his brown eyes solemn. "What can I do? Glass of water? Bowl?"

"Water would be good," she admitted grudgingly.

He nodded, springing upright again and crossing her small living room in three long strides. "Wow," she heard him exclaim as he disappeared into the kitchen. "This place is amazing. It's tiny but..."

She closed her eyes, allowing her head to drop against the back of the sofa. Over the years she'd tried hard to make best use of the space but at the end of the day, it was what it was, a glorified attic with a galley kitchen in the eaves and an even smaller bathroom. It'd been all she could afford after her mother died, though at least she'd managed to get it at a knock down price, thanks to the contacts she'd made through her job. But even then it'd needed a vast amount of work. For months on end, she'd spent every evening and weekend doing it up, stripping the walls, ripping out cupboards, painting. It'd been exhausting, but she'd been grateful for that. After years of worrying about her mother, it'd been a relief to have had no trouble sleeping for a while.

Not that she was having trouble sleeping at the moment either. 

"Oh no." Sitting up with a jerk, she scoured the room for the bag she'd brought home from the pharmacy. Where the hell was it? Had she dropped it?

"What's up?" Jason asked, returning with a glass of water and the bowl she hadn't asked for. "Oh, that?" He gestured towards the coffee table where, much to her relief, she saw her purchase. "I expect there's something in there you want to take?"

He knew what was in there?

"Want me to pass it to—?"

"No!" Melissa shook her head violently as he reached forwards.

He looked taken aback. "Okay, okay. You're probably right—if you're still being sick, it might be better to wait. No point in taking anything if you're going to bring it straight back up."

Too late, she realised he'd assumed it was medicine. Accepting the glass he pressed into her chilly fingers, she took a cautious sip. "God," she murmured, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry. I just hate being ill."

"No, it's me that should be sorry. I shouldn't have come."

She managed a small smile. "But here you are anyway."

He looked sheepish, placing the bowl on the table before motioning at the sofa. When she raised no objection, he perched on the edge of the cushion, twisting to face her. "It's just I promised Archie I'd try to talk some sense into you."

"Archie?" Her heart sank at mention of the solicitor. So he hadn't come at Matt's behest? Not that she'd really wanted that to be the case, had she? Or had she?

He retrieved an envelope from his pocket. "He sent you a cheque, and you sent it straight back."

She frowned, feeling uneasy. "I told him I didn't want anything from Charlie's estate. It's not mine. Not rightfully mine, anyway."

"But it is," Jason responded, leaning forward to put the envelope on the table. "Look, I know how you must be feeling."

"You do?"

He winced. "Okay, maybe I don't. But I do know that Charlie wanted you to have your share."

"Don't tell me," she sighed, her tone laced with sarcasm. "You were there?"

"Actually..."

Melissa stared, a familiar pain stabbing her solar plexis. "Well, of course you were," she mumbled at last. "Everyone was there, right? Except me."

"Lissy—"

She shook her head. "S'okay. I'm getting used to it."

There was a silence before Jason spoke again, and when he did, she knew he'd spent the time choosing the right words. "It was a pretty tough time for Matt. He really did try to tell Charlie that you needed to know. About him being his Dad, that he was dying. But the old boy wouldn't have it, no matter what he said, no matter how hard he tried. Just got upset every time. So in the end, he always had to drop it. Charlie was dying—what else could he do?"

Melissa bit her lip. "How is he?" 

"Matt?" Once again, Jason's gaze was solemn. "He's a fucking mess. You didn't call him. And you never answer your phone either, do you? Not even to Archie—why do you think I had to track you down?" 

She felt another pang. "I—"

"Where is your phone, anyway?" he carried on, looking around the room with a frown. "Archie says all he's getting now is a number unobtainable tone. Came to the conclusion there must be something wrong with it, asked me to check."

Melissa squirmed. She'd unplugged it weeks ago. Four weeks ago, to be precise, the day after Matt had left for Singapore. It'd started ringing that evening and she'd known instinctively it was him. By ten o'clock, unwilling to answer and unable to bear it any longer, she'd yanked the cord from the socket and shoved the phone in the bottom of her wardrobe. The following day, she'd unearthed a mobile phone Gemma had given her a couple of months earlier after upgrading to a newer model. Having previously never bothered with having a mobile, she'd been astonished to discover it was much cheaper to have a 'pay as you go' account than she'd thought. So much so, she'd asked the telephone company to disconnect her land line. 

Jason's eyes settled on her face. "You've got a new number."

It wasn't a question, and near enough the truth for her to give him a reluctant nod.

He sighed, brushing a hand through his sandy hair. "Liss—Melissa, this is silly. He's miserable, for God's sake. He loves you."

Melissa knew he wasn't talking about Archie. "It's too late," she muttered.

"It isn't too late. How the fuck could it be too late? You just need to talk to him, okay? You just need to—"

"What?" Deep down, she knew it was guilt spiking her anger, but the need to lash out had become overwhelming. "That's all I need to do? Who the hell are you to tell me what I need to do? Since when did you become an expert on relationships, Jason? I need to take advice from you? You're divorced, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." But rather to her surprise, Jason showed no intention of rising to the bait. "I should never have got married in the first place though, should I? I did it for all the wrong reasons, I know that now. I can't believe I hurt Karen the way I did—but what's done is done. I guess I just thought that it might solve the problem, make it all go away, but boy, how wrong can you be?" He smiled then, shrugging slightly. "It never goes away. But I didn't know that then. Young, stupid. You live and learn."

Melissa gazed at him in bewilderment. "Never goes away?"

"What?" Jason's smile faded. And then his eyes widened. "You're kidding me? He never told you?"

Melissa felt an unexpected bubble of laughter welling into her throat. "Imagine that," she gulped, seeing the same flash of resigned amusement light Jason's face. "Matt not telling me something."

Lips twitching, Jason closed his eyes briefly, once again dragging his fingers through his hair. "Lissy, I'm gay."

She stared at him open-mouthed, only remembering to take a breath as he started to smile.

"You really had no idea?"

She shook her head, racking her brain, casting her mind back over the years, trying to decide whether she'd ever seen any signs. "You're a builder."

To her chagrin, he laughed. "I know. Not exactly stereotypical. Like I said, I tried to be straight. I tried really hard."

"But..." She swallowed, shaking her head again as she recalled that horrible last summer at the farm before Suzie died, remembered his constant teasing, his cruel jibes about her red hair. "When—when did you realise you weren't?"

He hesitated, sobering rapidly. "When I fell in love with Matt."

"What?"

Melissa realised the shock in her tone sounded comical when Jason's smile returned, albeit more rueful this time. "He never knew. At least, I don't think he ever knew. Then again, maybe he did figure it out—but he's never mentioned it." 

He paused again, staring at the glass of water she twisted between her fingers. "I was fifteen when my parents sent me to boarding school. I think maybe they thought they'd get on better without me being around. Didn't work of course, but I can see why they did it. I wasn't the easiest of teenagers to deal with. I guess I was pretty screwed up. Knew I was different, just didn't know why. But that school..." He grimaced and Melissa sympathised. Matt had hated it there too. "It was tough to fit in. Took almost a term to make a friend."

"No prizes for guessing who that friend was?"

"None at all, no." They exchanged smiles. "But I made the mistake of reading a lot more into it than friendship. Realised pretty quickly too that I didn't stand a chance in hell, and not just because he was fairly obviously straight."

She took another sip of water, relieved when it slid down more easily this time. "Not just because?"

Jason gave her a searching look. "Lissy, come off it. He's always loved you. He loved you then. And when he came back after that summer, raving about you, how he'd finally told you, and you'd told him, and you'd had that bloody kiss in the tree-house—"

"He told you that?"

"Of course he bloody did. And I didn't take it too well, to be honest. In fact... Fuck." Once again, Jason hesitated, glancing towards the ceiling. "Look, Archie—the cheque. That's not the only reason I came to see you today."

Melissa had already suspected as much but said nothing, drawing in a slow breath while she waited for him to continue.

"I took them."

"Sorry?" She hadn't been expecting that. "Took what?"

He grimaced. "The letters."

"The letters?" And then she understood, her heart giving a sickening lurch. 

"Matt doesn't know. I couldn't bring myself to tell him. He told me you'd found them in the loft, told me that you'd decided his mother had something to do with it. But she didn't." He swallowed, meeting her gaze at last. "Not until I sent them to her."

"No." She shook her head, confused. "The school sent them. They wrote a letter to Ruth..."

He gave a short, bitter laugh. "I typed that letter. Used the school letterhead and everything, thought I'd been really clever. Lissy, I'm so sorry."

For a moment, Melissa couldn't speak. Having given it much thought since she left the farm—God only knew there'd been plenty of time to think—she'd come to realise that the letters going missing shouldn't have caused a total communication breakdown. In all those years, she'd never had the sense to ask Matt whether he'd written, having merely assumed he hadn't. But then he'd never asked her either.

"The thing is, when you didn't write—" Jason winced again. "I mean, when I let him think you hadn't written—I told him you must've found someone else. Laid it on pretty thick, hoping he'd just give up. And of course, he did in the end. But it took him a while." 

She already knew that. She'd read the letters now, could almost recall them word for word. 

"I think if you'd seen him sooner, you might've had a chance. But you didn't see him until the next summer—and I was there then," he added apologetically.

Melissa had worked that out too. "Suzie was diagnosed with cancer," she said, hearing the wobble in her voice. "That's why we weren't invited to the farm at Christmas. She was having chemotherapy. They didn't want us to know."

"I'm so sorry." Jason's tone was low but sincere. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" she said wearily. "It's all water under the bridge."

"But it isn't." He gave her a look of astonishment. "Don't you get it? It's all my fault. You two were always supposed to be together." 

"But we're not together," she rejoined, matter of fact. "And surely if it was meant to be, we'd already be together. We'd have sorted all of this out a long time ago." She closed her eyes, releasing a shaky sigh. "No, this is the way it's meant to be. It's better this way."

"What?" Jason's disbelief was obvious. He'd thought his confession would make all the difference, she realised, rather touched to discover how much he cared. "You need to call him, okay? He's going crazy out there—he's not going to be able to get back here for months."

She shook her head. "It's too late."

"For heaven's sake." He uttered a low groan. "You're both as fucking stubborn as each other. I told him not to go, but would he listen? He said you'd have called if you didn't want him to go."

She'd almost called. She'd started to dial the number half a dozen times, only to chicken out at the last moment. "He had to go," she mumbled, using the excuse she'd given herself at the time. "It's his job."

When Jason sighed, she knew he was close to conceding defeat. "At least take the bloody cheque," he said, reaching for the envelope and holding it under her chin. "It's not the biggest sum of money in the world, just half of what Charlie had in the bank. You don't have to spend it. Put it away in another savings account, forget you've got it. Don't make me have to go back to Archie and tell him I failed. Please? You've no idea how upset that little guy got when you sent it back. They were close friends, you know. He promised Charlie he'd take care of the Will, take care of his family—and Charlie wanted you to have this."

Melissa swallowed, eyes cutting to the pharmacy bag on the coffee table. "All right," she said at last, taking the envelope. "But I don't want any more. That's it, okay?"

"Well, by the time there's any more, Matt'll back and he can do the arguing. Look..." Clearly relieved he'd achieved one of his goals, Jason stood up. "I think maybe I should go now. Let you get some rest." But then he hesitated, glancing at the bowl then back at Melissa. "Or maybe I shouldn't leave you like this. Will you be all right?"

"I'll be fine." She tried a smile. "I'm sure it's nothing. Just something I've eaten, I think."

He sent her another uncertain look before nodding slowly. "Okay." To her utter astonishment, he stooped to kiss the top of her head. "Stay put. I can see myself out. But please, think about what I said? Think about calling him?"

Still startled by his display of affection, she could only nod in reply. 

As the door closed behind him, she stared down at the envelope in her hand, biting her lip hard. Though sending back the cheque had felt good, even at the time she'd known it was a rash thing to do. Too rash. Once again, she found herself looking at the white paper bag. It was time to face the truth, she decided at last, releasing a long, shaky breath. 

Whatever that truth turned out to be... 

And hauling herself to her feet, her aching body protesting all the way, she plucked up the bag and staggered to the bathroom.

*

Thank you for reading me. All votes and comments gratefully received!

Lily

-x-



Back to the Farm Ch. 11



Yep, I know. It's been a long wait and I wish I had a better excuse than 'I've found it hard to write lately'. If I say there are 3 more chapters to follow this one, will you all forgive me? I thought I'd be able to wrap this thing up much more quickly, but as usual, the story knew better. So here's Chapter 11, and Chapter 12 should be up next week. Thanks so much for bearing with me.

Lily

-x-

*

"Happy Birthday!"

"Oh!" Melissa gasped as a fairy cake, replete with single lit candle was deposited on to the table in front of her. "Thank you! But I thought I said not to make a fuss?"

Gemma gave the hovering waiter a thumb's up sign. "And I told you that we should make a fuss. It's not every day you turn thirty, girl."

"Should we sing?" the waiter suggested mischievously.

"Oh God, no!" Melissa exclaimed, waving her hands in horror. "Please, no!"

Laughing, Gemma shook her head. "She'd never speak to me again," she explained as he began clearing their discarded dishes. "Oh wait—could you leave this one?" She motioned to her own plate, upon which a small mountain of French fries remained. "Thanks."

"You're actually going to eat those?" Melissa asked when he'd gone, sending her friend a dubious look. There was a reason Gemma managed to maintain her tiny sylph-like figure—she hardly ever ate large meals.

"Nope." Gemma gave her a cherubic smile, pushing the plate across the table. "You are. I know you want to."

"Gemma!"

"A-ah. Don't." She held up a reproving finger. "Don't even think about saying, "Oh but Gemma, I mustn't", okay? You only had a sandwich.  Just look at you. Where've all your curves gone?" Melissa could feel herself colouring beneath the intensity of Gemma's scrutiny. "Are you ever going to start gaining weight again?"

"I am gaining weight," she protested, self-consciously tugging her baggy shirt down over the front of her trousers.

Gemma narrowed her gaze. "Doesn't look much like it. You're still all skin and bone.  I can't tell you how good it is to see you eating again. Have you any idea how worried I've been?"

"Okay, okay." Grimacing, Melissa reached for one of the French fries and bit it in half. "Happy now?"

"Getting there." She gave a curt nod. "Now blow out your candle and make a wish."

"God, you're bossy today." But Melissa was smiling as she looked down at the tiny flame. "What should I wish for?"

"A more considerate boss?" Gemma suggested promptly. "I can't believe Jonathan didn't come out with us this lunchtime. He could've closed the office for an hour, surely?"

"Oh..." Melissa frowned. "You know what he's like. Stickler for the rules and all that. Abbey Thorn doesn't close for lunch—"

"Never has, never will," Gemma finished with her in chorus. "I know all that. But it's not like the Regional Manager's ever likely to find out. He could bend the rules just this once."

"He'd only be sat here worrying," Melissa tried to reason. "Besides, he told us we could take as long as we wanted. That's pretty considerate. And he's been great about all the time I've had to have off."

She gave a soft snort. "So he ought to be. Before this summer, you hadn't had a sick day in seven years."

"Yeah, well. I've more than made up for that now, haven't I?" 

Gemma groaned. "Talk about loyalty. What is it with you two? You won't hear a word said against him, will you?"

With good reason, Melissa thought. But then her friend knew nothing of that fateful evening back in July. She didn't know that Jonathan had found her in her office, doubled-up on the floor. She didn't know that he'd been the one to take her to the hospital, that he'd been the one to stay by her side for the whole of that first horrendous night. And she still had no clue that while she and Steve had been holidaying in the Caribbean, it'd been Jonathan and his wife Joanna who'd been there for her during the dark days that followed, providing Melissa with virtually her only contact with the outside world.  

So no, as far as she was concerned, she couldn't ask for a more considerate boss. Besides, there were other things she needed. Better things. And after closing her eyes briefly, she blew out the candle.

"Yay!" Gemma cheered softly. "I don't suppose I can ask you what you actually wished for, can I?"

"Absolutely not." She tapped her nose. "Can't come true if I tell you, can it?"

"Hmm." Gemma pretended to look offended before her gaze turned quizzical. "So did he send you a birthday card?"

"Who?"

"You know damn well who."

Melissa did. She shook her head with a sigh. "No. But I wasn't really expecting him to. He hasn't sent me a card in years, why would he start now?" She tried hard to sound breezy, but to be truthful, she'd been disappointed.

"So you've heard nothing from Matt at all then?"

"No." Did she have to rub it in?

"Is he still in Singapore?"

Melissa pulled a face. "What's with the twenty questions? I don't know. How the hell would I know?"

Gemma shrugged. "Just wondered whether you'd seen Jason again, that's all."

"No, just that once." But much to her surprise, Jason had sent a card. And surely he wouldn't have had a clue when her birthday was unless he'd spoken to Matt. The idea of them discussing the date suddenly made her feel queasy. "Can we talk about something else?"

She nodded, her eyes softening. "Sorry. How about dessert? Sticky toffee pudding?"

"What?" Startled into laughter, Melissa looked from Gemma to the pile of fries then back to her friend. "You have to be kidding. I'm not even going to manage these. Besides." She nudged at the plate holding her mini birthday cake. "I've got this. Not that I could eat it right now. I'll wrap it up and take it back to the office."

"You're a bloody workaholic," Gemma grumbled as Melissa reached for an unused paper napkin and began unfolding it. "You didn't even take a day off for your birthday."

"Oh, because taking a day off would've been so much fun," she retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Sitting at home in my flat staring at the four walls. Funnily enough, it didn't appeal. I've done enough of that just lately as it is."

"I'd have taken a day off too. We could've gone shopping."

"With what?"

"With the money you inherited from Charlie, of course." As Melissa scowled, Gemma fixed her with a knowing look. "You're never going to spend any of it, are you?"

She sighed but said nothing, wrapping her fairy cake into a neat parcel. There might come a time when she'd have no choice but to spend it, but for now, she'd done as Jason suggested and put it all in the bank.

"Want another drink before we go back?"

Much to Melissa's relief, it didn't seem that Gemma was going to pursue what had become one of her favourite arguments. She eyed her empty glass. "Actually, yes. What the hell. I'll have another lemonade."

"Lemonade?" Gemma feigned disgust. "Liss, you're thirty years old. Live a little!"

Laughing, she shook her head. "I've got to work this afternoon, remember? I'll need a clear head."

An evil grin split her friend's face as she pushed back her chair. "Come to think of it, you will. Got Tracey Peters booked in for you at three o'clock. Apparently, not only is she expecting again, but her second eldest daughter's expecting too. She's hoping we'll be able to find them all a bigger house."

"What?" Melissa gave an involuntary groan. "But it's my birthday!"

"Told you. Should've taken the day off," was Gemma's cheery parting shot as she headed towards the bar.

Melissa sighed, absently selecting another chip and taking a bite before realising it really wouldn't be a good idea to eat any more. Despite being much better, she couldn't afford to push her luck. She looked at the fries and then across at Gemma, who, blonde hair to the fore, had easily managed to infiltrate the throng of male customers waiting at the bar. Just as she was deliberating whether to dispose of the evidence in her handbag, the same waiter who'd brought the fairy cake passed the table. After making an unspoken acknowledgement of Melissa's desperate hand gesture, he swept the plate away with a smile.

When Gemma returned bearing two half-pint glasses, she laughed in surprise. "What? I don't believe it. You're drinking lemonade too?"

Sliding back into her seat, Gemma grimaced. "So?"

"So—" Melissa sent her a suspicious glance "—it's Friday lunchtime, we're out at the pub, and you haven't had so much as a glass of wine."

Gemma looked all-innocence. "I can hardly have a drink if the birthday girl's not drinking, now can I?"

"Never stopped you before."

Gemma stuck out her tongue. "My husband's coming home, remember?"

That made sense, Melissa thought, amused. Of course, Gemma's night would probably end in drunken debauchery anyway, if her tales about what usually happened on Steve's first night back from the rigs were to be believed. And Melissa had no reason to disbelieve her, though to be honest, she couldn't help being a tiny bit envious now that her libido had recovered along with her appetite. "So you won't be getting into work on time for quite a while then?" she teased. "Say, three weeks maybe?"

"Actually..." Gemma hesitated. "He's not going back in three weeks."

"What?"

Extending a manicured finger, she drew a line through the condensation on her glass. "He's not going back at all."

"Gemma!" Melissa regarded her with consternation. "Why not? Has something happened? Did he lose his job? Or did he just decide—?"

"Whoa!" Gemma began to laugh. "Now who's playing twenty questions?"

Confident her friend wouldn't be able to resist spilling the beans, Melissa made a show of putting a finger to her lips and waited. Her patience was rewarded almost immediately.

"We always said he wouldn't work on the rigs for ever. Just long enough to get some money behind us, enough to buy a house, get settled—"

"You're going to buy a house?"

Gemma smiled. "Yes, we've started looking, okay?"

"So what's he going to do for a job?"

"What he was always going to do. Go into partnership with his Dad. It's just he didn't want to do that straightaway—he wanted to be able to buy a share of the business, get some engineering experience outside the family firm first. And now, well." She shrugged. "It just seems to be the right time, that's all."

Melissa nodded, aware of Gemma's eyes on her face, as though she'd somehow expected more of a reaction. "Wow," she said hastily, trying to load the word with an appropriate amount of enthusiasm. "That's such good news. It'll be great to have him around all the time again."

"Yes, it will." 

Once again, Melissa couldn't help but feel Gemma was trying to infer a greater significance to her husband's career move. But it wasn't like her to hold back, to not just come out and say whatever it was that was on her mind. Unless, of course, she feared the imminent change in circumstances. After all, her routine had been fixed for years. Three weeks with Steve, three weeks without. The thought of being together twenty-four seven might be a bittersweet prospect. She sent her friend what she hoped was a reassuring glance. "So you're never going to come into work on time again then?"

"Ha ha." But she was at least smiling now. "Maybe I'll become a lady of leisure. Maybe I'll just jack it all in."

"You can't!" Melissa stared, uncomfortably aware she was only half-joking. "What about Jonathan?"

"What about Jonathan?" Gemma's tone remained calm and measured, though her gaze was again slightly quizzical. "He'd still have you, right? The pair of you would soon lick another receptionist into shape. Just think, you could get someone who'd actually pull her weight around the place. Or his weight," she added as an afterthought, an amused flicker crossing her expression. "Ooh, now there's an idea..."

"Not interested." Melissa pulled a face. "Sworn off men, remember?"

"Oh yes, sorry. How could I forget?" She stuck out her tongue. "Tried one once, didn't like it."

"Stop it." Melissa struggled to repress a smile. "Be serious. Do you really mean it? Are you actually going to give up work?"

Gemma's own smile faded. "Not sure yet. And it wouldn't be straightway, anyway. But maybe. You know it's never been about the money, just about having something to do."

Having had this particular discussion many times, Melissa was only too aware that was true.  Gemma's rate of pay was even more pitiful than her own but despite having qualifications that could've secured her a job paying four times as much, she'd chosen to stay on at the association regardless. She'd always maintained that Jonathan's laissez-faire attitude to her attendance patterns and working with her best friend was more than enough compensation for low pay. But in the circumstances, she couldn't blame her for wanting to leave."

"Well." Melissa chewed her lip. "Just promise me you'll give me plenty of notice, okay?"

"Oh." Gemma gave an adamant nod, that almost-amused glint returning to her eyes. "I promise you'll get plenty of notice. Now then." She waved at Melissa's still-full lemonade glass. "Drink up, woman, you need the sugar. You're seeing Tracey Peters in just over an hour."

Melissa sighed, reaching for her glass. "Anyone else booked in?"

"Er, a couple more, I think," she replied airily, dashing Melissa's hopes of leaving early. "Mr Smith at two and some other bloke at four."

"Some other bloke?"

Gemma grinned. "Hey, I've just admitted I'm a rotten receptionist."

Melissa couldn't help smiling. "Terrible," she agreed, raising her lemonade and indicating to Gemma she should do the same. "Here's to you," she said, clinking glasses, "the worst receptionist in the world."

"And to you, the most dedicated, underpaid housing officer in the world," Gemma said with equal solemnity. "Happy birthday, hon. Here's to your fourth decade being one hell of a lot better than the third."

"God, I hope so," Melissa muttered fervently. "I'd hate to think it could be any worse."

Better or worse, she mused, it was certainly going to be different...

*

"And you promise you'll call?" Tracey Peters' beady black eyes fastened upon Melissa's face like limpets to a rock. "The moment you find anything suitable—or even something that might be suitable—"

"Absolutely," Melissa interrupted, holding her office door open as wide as possible in the hope her client might finally take the hint and leave. Mindful of her four o'clock appointment, she'd made three attempts to draw discussions to a close but Tracey, who could always be relied upon to gossip for Britain, seemed hell-bent on elongating her allotted thirty minutes to a full hour. "Hope everything goes well with the ultrasound scan."

"What? Oh..." Tracey glanced down at her burgeoning stomach as though she'd forgotten all about it. "'Course it will," she said airily, patting the bulge as though it were a dog. "Not like I haven't been there, done it all before. Just glad it 'ent bloody twins again this time. One more when you've already got ten is quite enough, know what I mean?"

Unable to even begin to imagine, Melissa wisely said nothing, instead plastering a broad smile to her lips. "Well, nice to see you again, Tracey. I'll give you a call just as soon as something becomes available."

To her enormous relief, the other woman nodded, gave a brief wave of farewell and waddled out of the room. And that was Tracey all over, Melissa thought, leaning against the door with a sigh. The woman always came in like a whirlwind, demanded one hundred percent attention, and then, as though someone had flipped a switch, left as abruptly as she'd arrived.

Eleven children, she mused, lowering her head and allowing herself to close her eyes, just for a moment. Not for the first time, she found herself wondering whether Tracey had heard of birth control and, supposing she had, whether there was a reason why she chose not to use it. Because surely everyone knew having unprotected sex was asking for trouble?

She smiled at the folly of her own thoughts. Okay, to have unprotected sex on a regular basis was asking for trouble. But to have unprotected sex once... That could still be classified as an accident, right? 

"Lissy."

For a split second, Melissa wondered whether she'd simply fallen asleep. It wasn't as though she hadn't heard his voice a thousand times in her dreams. He was always in her dreams.

But when a soft, sweet fragrance flooded her nostrils, a scent she immediately recognised as roses, she opened her eyes to a sea of scarlet. At first, it was all she could see, all she could smell, as though her brain wouldn't allow her to process any other information. Only after several more seconds could she distinguish between the numerous velvety blooms, see the interspersed wisps of white gypsophylia, the layers of lilac tissue paper encasing the enormous bouquet—and the hands holding the bouquet.

Matt's hands.

"Happy Birthday."

Funny it was possible to identify someone by their hands, Melissa thought, feeling curiously as though she really was dreaming. "Thank you."

Thank you? He'd been away for eighteen weeks—not that she'd been counting or anything—and in the whole of that time she hadn't spoken to him, had avoided having any contact with him at all, and the best she could manage was thank you?

"What are you doing here?"

Better. Not great, but better—and a question for which several layers of answers were required. Even if she couldn't wrench her gaze from the roses.

"I came to see you, of course." She could hear the pain in his voice, but it was resigned pain, as though he'd expected a fight. "Are you going to take these bloody flowers or not?"

And just like that, no doubt assisted by the brilliant hue of the blossoms beneath her nose, Melissa saw red. "Sure," she said frostily, snatching them from him. "Because you bringing me flowers makes everything better, doesn't it?"

"Lissy—"

But before he could get out another word, she swept past him, unceremoniously dropping the bouquet into the waste paper basket beside her desk. "They're lovely, thanks. Now if you don't mind, you need to go."

Oh no... Had she really just done that? Pulse racing, Melissa could feel a sickening wave of regret rising from the pit of her stomach. Even in her distress, she knew how badly she was behaving, and even more bizarrely, that she didn't want to be behaving so badly.

"I've got a four o'clock appointment. So I can't talk to you now," she carried on hastily, despite her words being in immediate conflict with her heart. "I need to—"

"Oh my God."

She heard the shock in his voice before she saw it in his posture, and as she straightened up, yanking at her shirt, finally saw it in his face, his dark eyes widening.

"Hell, Lissy. What the hell...?"

"You need to—you need to go," she muttered helplessly. "My four o'clock—"

"I'm your four o'clock. Liss..."

She recognised that look—as well she might. She'd seen it on everyone's faces just lately, that expression of stunned disbelief. "Matt—"

He shook his head, crossing the room in two strides. "Gemma told me you'd... She said you'd been ill, but—"

"You're my four o'clock?" Melissa ducked away from his outstretched arms. She couldn't let him reach her, couldn't let him hold her, even if it was what she wanted, what she longed for more than anything else in the world. "You and Gemma arranged all this?"

"Somebody had to do something."

Startled, Melissa peered around Matt to discover Gemma standing in the doorway, her arms folded.

"If we'd left it to you two, well." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling briefly. "We'd all be drawing our pensions by the time you got things sorted out for yourselves."

Melissa swallowed, painfully aware of both the intensity of Matt's dismayed gaze, and the defensive look Gemma was shooting in her direction. And not knowing what to do, what to say, it was almost a relief when the swirling sensation in her stomach developed into full blown nausea, water flooding her mouth. "I can't—I can't do this," she got out, already in motion, already half-way across the office. "I've got to—I'm going to be..."




Back to the Farm Ch. 11



"Lissy!"

She heard Matt's shout as she stumbled past Gemma but took no heed, her sights on the bathroom door across the corridor. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jonathan hovering in the reception area, the thunderous expression on his face enough for her to be certain he'd played no part in Gemma's plan. And suddenly, they were all converging on her at once, Matt and Gemma in hot pursuit, Jonathan charging down the corridor towards her.

If she hadn't felt so ill, it might've been comical.

"Please!" she wailed, reaching the bathroom at last and scrabbling for the door handle. "Just let me..." And then to her relief, she was in, the effort required to slam the door closed behind her taking nearly all of her remaining energy. "Oh God, no," she whimpered, slumping against the wall and sliding down the tiles to a squatting position. "Don't be sick, don't be sick, don't be sick..."

She repeated the phrase like a mantra, aware of the furious low voices outside the door but unable to discern any meaning, her eyes closing as she broke into a cold sweat. Sometimes talking to herself worked, sometimes it didn't, but to her relief, this time it seemed to be helping, the churning gradually easing, the coolness of the tiles leaching through her shirt, providing a new focus for her attention.

But when the door opened, she knew immediately who it would be. There was only one person capable of winning the battle of wills that surely must have ensued out in the corridor. She didn't move, didn't look up, instead feeling a weak smile curve her lips as a hand gently stroked a damp curl away from her cheek.

"I promise you, I had no idea she was going to do this.  Want me to fire her? Lord knows she's given me enough reason over the years."

Melissa opened her eyes to find Jonathan crouching in front of her, his expression softer than his words. "No," she said, finding her voice unexpectedly croaky. "I think she meant well."

"You know she did." His appraising gaze swept over her face. "And you can't say I didn't warn you something like this would happen. See what happens when you don't tell people the whole truth? I would've thought you knew that better than anyone. You, of all people."

"I know, I know." She uttered a sound that was half-sob, half-whimper as she took his proffered hands and allowed him to ease her upright. "But you know why—ooh."

He steadied her as she swayed. "Yes, I know you had your reasons," he finished dryly, folding her into his arms for a much-needed hug. "But things never stay the same for long and those reasons just aren't good enough any more. Things are changing." 

"What things?"

"Well, you are, for a start." She grimaced into his shoulder as his embrace tightened slightly, providing a reminder. "But not just you."

"What?" She lifted her head, puzzled by the odd note in his voice. Through many years of working together she'd come to know Jonathan very well, but in the last few months their relationship had deepened into something altogether different, more father-daughter than boss-employee, though he was by no means old enough to be her father. Funny that in all those years she'd felt so alone. She hadn't been. She'd just spent the whole time pushing everyone away.

"Hey, I'm not saying any more than that. You can figure out the rest for yourself. And I think you should probably make a start on that by talking to that poor chap out there. You owe him that much." He pulled back to look into her eyes. "You owe it to yourself."

"I know." She bit her lip. "I just didn't know where to start. I still don't know where to start."

He grinned then, squeezing her shoulders. "At the beginning, kiddo. I've heard it's a very good place to start." Then sobering, he studied her more intently for a moment. "Gonna be okay? Take five minutes. Get yourself together, throw some water on your face, take some big deep breaths and think of England." 

She drew in her first deep breath before smiling wanly. "All right."

"Good girl." He released her then but turned back when he reached the door. "Oh, almost forgot. Joanna said to invite you to Sunday lunch at our place. The kids are dying to see you again." His grin returned. "Come alone, or bring a friend," he added, leaving Melissa in no doubt as to who he suspected that friend might be. "Doesn't matter either way. You know Jo, always cooks enough to feed an army."

"Okay. And Jonathan?" She hesitated, unwilling to let him go. "Thanks."

He flapped a hand, shot her one last smile and was gone.

When she emerged, the office seemed unnaturally quiet. With Gemma nowhere to be seen and Jonathan hiding in his office, the reception area at first appeared deserted. It was only as she rounded the pillar that she discovered Matt, sitting on a chair beside the boxes of children's toys, his head in his hands.

"Hi."

The greeting came out as a whisper, but Matt still heard, straightening up immediately. "Hi," he responded, attempting a smile.

"Sorry about all that. I thought—I mean, I was sure—at least, I hoped I was—over all that. Oh..." Melissa could hear the words tumbling out of her mouth and knew she was making little sense. "I mean—what I'm trying to say..." She bit her lip. "It was just such a shock to see you there. That's all."

His smile faltered, one hand travelling to the arm of the chair. "I could go. The last thing in the world I want to do is to upset you."

"No." She shook her head adamantly. "Don't. Please don't. You see, the thing is, I've—" God, why was her mouth so dry? "I've missed you. I've missed you so much."

"Lissy." He was on his feet now, moving towards her. "Sweetheart..."

But once again, just as he came within reach, she bobbed away. "How long have you been back?" she asked, experiencing a sharp pang in her chest as his face fell. But it had to be this way. She wasn't ready, not yet.

To his credit, he tried to cover the hurt. "A week. I would've come to see you straightaway but I didn't think that's what you wanted. It was Gemma who told me I should at least give it a go. Though when she told me what she had in mind, I nearly didn't go through with it." His lips twisted slightly. "You've never been big on secrets."

Despite herself, Melissa couldn't repress a smile.

"But she might've warned me."

Uh oh. Not again. "I'm fine. Really."

"How can you be fine?" Matt stared at her, his gaze slowly travelling from her face to her shoulders. "Jesus, Lissy.  How much weight have you lost?"

"I—I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter. It's going back on now, that's the main thing. Besides, it's not as though—"

"Did I do this to you?"

Melissa couldn't look at him. How in the world was she supposed to answer that? "It's just one of those things," she settled upon at last. "Nobody's fault."

"Lissy!" He was clearly appalled. "God, I swear, if I'd known you were ill, I'd have flown straight back. I can't believe—"

"Why are you here?" she interrupted, flinching inwardly at the sharpness of her words. She hadn't meant them to come out quite like that. But now that they had, something inside her seemed to snap. "Why now?" she went on, raising her gaze to his. "Were you really stuck out there in Singapore all this time? Could you not make it home, even for a weekend?"

"Hey." There was a dangerous glint in Matt's eyes. "I wasn't the one who didn't phone, okay? I wasn't the one who never picked up any of my messages. I wasn't the one who had the phone disconnected, for crying out loud. Disconnected? Come on, Liss, wasn't that taking things just a little far?"

She swallowed hard. He was right, of course. But at the time... "I didn't know what else to do," she faltered. "You kept calling, and I was so angry." She drew in a shaky breath. "And once I'd done it, I couldn't exactly undo it. And I knew that you'd find out, I knew that you'd know. It was stupid. I was stupid. Just for a change." She turned away with a bitter laugh. "God, why did you come back?"

In the silence that followed, Melissa found herself forced to study the ficus plant on the front desk. Judging by the way the soil had shrunk away from the sides of the pot, it badly needed watering. Gemma truly was the worst receptionist in the world.

"Because I had to see you. And because I want to take you back to the farm."

A cold wave seemed to wash over her head, causing her skin to break out in goose pimples. "Oh." Suddenly her mouth was drier than ever, as dry as the soil in the plant pot. "Matt, I can't go back. I—"

"Lissy—would you please just look at me?"

More than a little afraid she wouldn't, Matt waited, a guilty lump in his throat. Had it really come to this? Had he blown all chances of reconciliation? Jason had been blunt enough on the subject. "Mate, I think she might've forgiven you," he'd said whilst they were driving back from the airport the week before. "But it's been four bloody months. I've got a horrible feeling you may have left it too late."

Was it too late? He gazed at her, feeling another pang as he reappraised her appearance. Seeing Lissy distressed was bad enough, but to find her a shadow of her former self... 

Though something about the picture she made didn't quite add up.

Despite having lost a significant amount of weight, maybe twenty pounds or more, she'd chosen to wear a loose-fitting bottle green shirt that only seemed to exaggerate the slenderness of her face and upper body. Given she'd always perceived herself to be chubby—though to his mind, she'd just been perfectly curvy—it seemed odd she wasn't wearing clothes to flatter her smaller frame. But even more curiously, in stark conflict with her apparent fragility, her flame red hair appeared glossier than ever, her cheeks unusually flushed. 

"Lissy, please?" His heart contracted with relief when she finally managed to look at him. "Come with me. Come and see what we've done."

"I can't." She shook her head. "I said my goodbyes to the place already. I can't go back, not now."

"For heaven's sake..."

The interruption made them both jump.

Holding Melissa's handbag aloft, Gemma fixed Melissa with a frosty glare. "You think we went to all the trouble of getting you two together in the same room just so you could carry on being the stubborn cow you always are? And you..." She turned to Matt, her gaze even more disparaging. "What are you doing? Don't give her a choice, don't ask her to come with you. Tell her! Kidnap her if you have to!"

"Gemma!" Melissa's voice was shrill with indignation. "You can't just—"

"Oh yes I can." She thrust the bag into Melissa's hands. "And so can you. I don't want to hear any more of that claptrap about you having said your last goodbyes, all right? You're going with him—and that's final."

"But—"

"Where are you parked?" Gemma rounded on Matt, ignoring Melissa. When he made a vague gesture towards the street, she nodded. "Good. Let's go." And before either could utter another word, she shepherded both to the door and marched them outside.

With her heart beating rather more rapidly that she would've liked, Melissa searched the cars lining the road before sending a puzzled glance in Matt's direction. "I can't see—"

But she was talking to empty air, Matt already moving towards the silver Land Rover Discovery parked outside the pharmacy. She watched in astonishment as he pulled keys from his pocket and zapped open the doors.

"What?" She frowned, pivoting around to Gemma who was watching the proceedings with obvious amusement. "I don't understand. Where's the other car?"

Gemma rolled her eyes. "Why are you asking me?" she demanded, seizing her friend's upper arms and giving her a gentle push towards Matt. "Ask him."

Thus propelled, Melissa found herself right beside the Discovery, Matt opening the passenger door. "This is an architect's car," he said solemnly, mischief in his expression. "Designed to get mud-splashed and filthy."

As she stared at him and then at the car, those very words came back to her as though she'd spoken them yesterday. "You got rid of the other one?"

He shrugged. "You were right. It wasn't really me, it turned out to be bloody unreliable, and quite frankly, I hated it. This is much better." But then he hesitated, looking uncharacteristically nervous. "Come with me?"

She glared at Gemma one last time before peering into the car and casting a dubious glance at the elevated passenger seat. "Doesn't look as though I have a choice, does it?" But as she watched her friend shake her head, the beginnings of a reluctant smile tugged at the corners of her lips. 

"Here." Matt sprang forward to proffer an arm. "Let me help. It's quite a step."

"Do you mind?" she retorted with dignity, once again dodging his grasp. "I think I can manage." But when he hovered to make sure, she sent him a murderous look. "Matt!"

"Okay, okay!" He held up his hands. "I get it." 

To Melissa's relief, he left her to scramble up alone and by the time he'd climbed in the other side, she'd managed to fasten her seatbelt and was nervously clasping her handbag in her lap. Gemma closed the door and pressed her nose against the glass. "About time too," she said, grinning as Matt obligingly pressed the button to lower the window. "Now for God's sake, don't come back until you've shagged it out of each other."

"Gemma!" Melissa gasped even as she heard Matt's hastily muffled snort. But before she could think of a suitably scathing reply, he'd already started the car and they were pulling away from the kerb.

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments gratefully received! 



Back to the Farm Ch. 12



I know, no one's more surprised than me that you didn't have to wait longer for this... :) Chapter 13 should be up next week. Thank you so much for all your comments and emails. You guys are great!

Lily-x-

*

As they drove along in silence, Melissa found herself uncomfortably reminded of their first outing to the farm back in April. Had it only been months? Because it felt more like years, she thought, for once allowing the buried memories to flood her consciousness and realising with a jolt she was no longer the naïve girl she'd been back then.

Only as they left the streets of Mickleton behind did she dare to risk a sidelong glance at Matt, deciding he too seemed different. Not older, exactly, but that boyish demeanour had all but disappeared, the contours of his face harder somehow. And he was thinner as well, she noticed with a rush of consternation. Thinner and tired-looking, the dark circles beneath his eyes apparent now she was looking more closely.

"How are things in Singapore?" she ventured at last, hating the unsteadiness in her voice. "Do you have to go back?"

"Nope." Matt flexed his fingers on the steering wheel before flashing her a quick smile. "We're done, thank God. I'm done. And that's the last time I'll ever have to do anything like that too. From here on in, I'm staying local. I told Greg and Kate I'd want out of the partnership if I carried on having to spend months abroad."

Melissa's breath seemed to catch in her throat. "How did they take that?"

"Much better than I was expecting. In fact, it turns out they've been waiting for me to say it for a while. So we're going to invite a couple of the juniors to step into the breach, dangle the promise of becoming a partner if they're up to scratch. Everyone seems happy about it." He sent her a rather more rueful smile. "Now I'm starting to wish I'd said something months ago."

She couldn't help wondering what might've happened if he had. Would things have turned out differently if they hadn't been seven thousand miles apart? "There's enough work for you to do locally?"

"More than enough. Mostly smaller projects, it's true, but to be honest, I like smaller projects. I've proved I can play with the big boys. Now I feel like taking it easier for a while. Have some more time for me. Who knows, I might even start doing a bit of painting again."

"You should," she insisted, grateful for the neutral topic. "You're good. People would buy your pictures, I know they would."

He shot her another amused look. "Nice of you to say so. But I think I'll just do it for me for now. Get back into practice."

Melissa nodded, gazing down into her lap, painfully aware it was only a matter of time before their conversation moved into more difficult areas. She watched her fingers lacing and unlacing around her handbag, the rhythmical movement oddly soothing. "I enrolled in a pottery class," she admitted. "Nothing major," she rushed on as he greeted her words with approval, "just at an intermediate level. Like you, I'm pretty out of practice. But maybe one day, I could think about doing that ceramics degree..." She trailed off, biting her lip. 

Maybe one day? Who was she kidding?

She felt rather than saw the warmth of Matt's gaze. "I think you should," he said simply. "And sooner rather than later. Next year even."

"Maybe." She tried to sound as positive as possible. "I guess I'll have to see how it goes."

"Liss—if it's a question of money..."

Here we go, she thought, watching her knuckles turn white. "It's not about the money."

"Are you sure? Because however you feel about it, Charlie meant for you to have your share of the farm. He didn't leave it to you out of guilt, or whatever else you've told yourself. It was because he loved you, because you were Suzie's niece, because—"

"It's not about the money, okay?" she cut in, lifting her head to glare at him. "That's not the only reason. There are other reasons. Not everything in this world comes down to money."

"No, but it bloody helps," Matt flashed back. "And I'm willing to bet that you not having enough money is the biggest reason you won't do something that'd change your life."

"Oh you are, are you?" Heat seared her cheeks. "Tell you what then, why don't you bet my share on that being the biggest reason? Winner takes all, Matt. That should settle it once and for all."

He shot her an exasperated look. "Liss—will you just get it into your thick head—I'm never going to take your share, okay? Not in a million years. You can kick up as big a fuss as you like, but I'm never going to give up. Oh—for fuck's sake!" Matt gave a growl of frustration, slamming his foot on the brakes as the car ahead of them lurched to an unexpected halt. "Make up your mind where you're going, will you?" he muttered, hitting the horn as the errant driver eventually began indicating left and pulled into a partially hidden side lane.

Thrown forward by the inertia, Melissa carefully readjusted the seatbelt across her lap and wriggled back into her seat, aware she was trembling, her heart thumping more wildly than ever. Matt drove on as though nothing had happened, eyes fixed firmly on the road now, the silence that had fallen between them becoming deafening.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled at last.

"Really?" Matt's response was a challenge, the edge of sarcasm clearly audible.

She swallowed, wishing she hadn't spoken. "I should've called you."

"Damn right you should." But as they pulled up at a set of traffic lights, the look he gave her was much gentler. "Then again, I should've just hoicked you out of Gemma's living room that day." 

"You knew I was there?"

His eyes grew warmer. "You know I knew you were there." 

There was no use in denying it. "Why didn't you hoick me out?" she asked, her voice rather small.

"Why didn't you call?" he countered.

"I was too fucking mad with you."

Matt's lips twitched. "Well, there you go, there's your answer," he said, heaving a sigh. "I was fucking mad with you too. Even more so when you didn't call. I was so sure you would. I really didn't think you'd let me go without knowing more about Charlie being my father."

"What's to know?" She shrugged. "I didn't particularly want to hear all the lurid details, thank you very much. It's simple enough, surely? Your mother and Charlie had an affair and conceived a child, end of story."

"Yeah, pretty straightforward, you're right," he said lightly, switching his attention back to the road as the lights turned green. "Except it was nothing like that at all."

"Oh really? How could it be anything different?"

"Well, for a start, it wasn't an affair."

"It was a one-night stand?" She regarded him with cynicism. "That's all right then, that's completely different."

He said nothing, instead putting his foot to the floor as they approached a stretch of dual carriageway and allowing the roar of the engine to express his obvious frustration. Only after they'd overtaken three lorries and a tractor did he drop back into the nearside lane. "It wasn't a one-night stand either," he said at last. "At least, I don't think you could call it that."

"So what would you call it?" Unnerved by the demonstration of speed, Melissa's voice wobbled.

"Oh Liss..." Matt shot her an apologetic glance, reaching for her hand. "I'm sorry, I'm being a jerk." And when his warm fingers closed over her much chillier ones, much more than heat travelled up her arm. It was the contact she'd craved for months, the connection between them beyond physical, almost electric. 

"Let me have another stab at this, okay? Hear me out? Because I really think you need to know what happened. The thing is..." He exhaled noisily. "Well, there are a few things I don't think you know."

"So what else is new?" she muttered, cringing when he grunted in mock exasperation. "Sorry," she added hurriedly.

He released another sigh. "You know that Charlie and Suzie couldn't have children, right?"

"Oh God. Did your mother offer to be a surrogate or something? Is that it? And it all went wrong. Once you were born, she couldn't bring herself to give you—"

"Lissy!"

She subsided immediately, clapping her free hand to her mouth.

"The bit I don't think you know is that Suzie did actually manage to get pregnant."

He was right, she hadn't known that. An icy tingle rippled down her spine, her hand falling away from her face and sliding instinctively beneath her handbag. "She lost the baby?"

"She lost six in three years."

Melissa gazed at the road ahead, the thought alone almost too much to bear. All these years she'd had no clue, having merely assumed that one or the other—and latterly she'd assumed it must've been Suzie—was infertile, when the whole time her aunt had endured heartbreak after heartbreak. "Why didn't I know?" she whispered at last. "Why did no one tell me?"

"They gave up trying long before you were born." Matt's fingers tightened around hers. "It was just something they decided not to talk about. I don't think many people knew. I didn't know until Charlie told me."

She blinked back tears. "And he told you all that when he told you—when he told you everything else, at Suzie's funeral?"

"Yep." There was a harsher note to his voice now. "It was quite a day."

For the first time, Melissa appreciated how hard a day it must've been. The memory of Charlie's funeral still fresh in her mind, it was difficult to imagine how Matt, eighteen years old at the time of Suzie's death, had coped with the enormity of Charlie's confession in the midst of his own considerable grief. Suzie had been more of a mother to him than Ruth had ever been.

"I'd never seen Charlie in such a mess," Matt continued, sounding calmer now. "I think the guilt might've killed him there and then if he hadn't confessed to someone. You see, he never told Suzie. He said she had no idea. Although..." He hesitated, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "Looking back, I'm not so sure she didn't have an inkling, the way she looked at me sometimes."

"She loved you," Melissa put in gently.

He nodded. "She loved us both. And she loved Charlie too. The irony is, I'm certain she'd have forgiven him if he'd only told her the truth. I know you probably think there's no excuse for what happened, but in the circumstances..." Once again, he left the sentence unfinished. "Charlie was a good man, Liss," he said eventually. "He made one mistake in twenty-five years of marriage."

She bit her lip, aware of how many black thoughts she'd harboured over the summer. But deep down, she'd always recognised the reality of the situation. Somehow it'd seemed easier to stay mad at Charlie than deal with her true feelings. "And that mistake...?" she prompted.

He drew in another deep breath. "My mother was there when Suzie had that last miscarriage. Apparently, she used to stay with Charlie and Suzie quite often in those days. She didn't particularly like being stranded out in South Africa when my father went away on business and as you know, he used to be away a lot. The first few times she went with him, but I don't think it was all that much fun for her, endless meetings in endless hotels. So after a bit, she'd fly back to the UK instead and spend a couple of weeks here."

"She actually chose to stay at the farm?" She gave him a dubious look. "This is Aunt Ruth we're talking about?"

Matt managed a smile. "You have to remember that back then, it would've felt more like home to her. Dad grew up there after all, even if I do find that hard to believe sometimes."

It certainly was hard to believe they'd both been farmer's sons. The two brothers couldn't have been more dissimilar. Roger, the eldest, was a money-hungry, go-getting entrepreneur, and Charlie—well, Charlie's idea of wealth was to have all his family together under the same roof. So long as he had enough to get by, Charlie rarely gave fiscal matters a thought.

"But as you know, my parents didn't have the most harmonious marriage in the world. I actually got my mother to admit once that she knew she should never have married my father. She settled for second best."

"Second best?" Melissa echoed. "Why, who did she really want to...? Oh." The penny dropped. "She wanted Charlie?"

He nodded. "Right from the moment she met him. Apparently, when she and her family moved to Ebberlea when she was fifteen, Charlie was one of the few people who made an effort to make her feel welcome, make her feel part of things. You know what it's like at that age, it can be pretty tough to fit in when you're the new kid in town. But Charlie being Charlie, he took her under his wing, introduced her to everyone. Unfortunately for my mother though, he was already going out with Suzie. He never had eyes for anyone else."

"So she decided to go for Uncle Roger instead?" She pulled a face. "Not being funny Matt, but he must've been a pretty poor substitute. Did that man ever smile?"

He sent her an amused look. "Not often, no. But he was extremely good at making money and that was important to my mother. Having come from a family where money was tight, I think she fell in love with the idea of never having to struggle again."

"All very well," Melissa pondered, "but even if I had all the money in the world, I don't think I'd be happy if I didn't actually love the man I was with."

"No. I don't think she was happy." Matt paused. "Especially seeing as he told her right from the start he never wanted to have any children."

His words resonated through Melissa like a bell. "I see," she said slowly, once again transported back in time to a candlelit kitchen on a very chilly night in April, a night where she'd been party to a very similar conversation. "Don't tell me. She thought she might be the woman who changed his mind?"

Matt's lips twisted. It was obvious he remembered too. "I guess she did. But after five years of marriage, I think she finally realised she wasn't going to manage that. So if she wanted a baby, her getting pregnant would have to look like an accident."

"What are you saying?" She gave him a sceptical look. "She persuaded Charlie to be a sperm donor?"

"Not exactly—no, not at all," he corrected. "Truth is, I'm just the result of a drunken fumble." He hesitated. "Which happened the night Suzie lost that last baby."

It took a moment for his words to penetrate. "You mean," she faltered, "while Suzie was in hospital...?"

"They came home, cracked open a bottle of Scotch and woke up in bed together the next morning, yep."

"Right."

Matt sent her a sympathetic glance. He knew only too well how it sounded. It'd taken him some time to come to terms with the idea that Charlie could be capable of such a thing. But there had been extenuating circumstances. "The thing is," he said gently, "Aunt Suzie'd actually got through the first three months for once. They dared to hope everything would be all right. But obviously..." He shrugged. "Charlie said he decided there and then that that was the last time they'd even try to get pregnant. It was just too horrendous, too much of a nightmare to watch her going through that over and over again."

"So he eased the pain by sleeping with his brother's wife?" 

"It wasn't like that. It wasn't planned."

"Then how was it?"

Matt repressed a sigh, reminding himself she wasn't really trying to hold him accountable for Charlie's actions. "Look, she just happened to be staying there at the time—"

"How handy."

He ignored her. "Things weren't going so well with my father. She was sick of him being away so much, and by all accounts, even when he was around, he didn't spend much time with her. So she was spending more and more time at the farm."

"With Charlie. The brother she really wanted."

"With Suzie and Charlie. Liss, I really don't think it was like that. I don't think she ever had any intention of trying to steal him away."

Melissa gave a snort. "Just have his baby, then."

"She swears the thought never crossed her mind." Matt met her disbelieving glance with a wry smile. "But she wanted a baby, that's for sure. I think she got into her head that if she could only get herself pregnant, it would fix her marriage. My father would change his mind about how he felt about having children and having a baby would bring them closer together."

"Or if it didn't, at least it would give her something to love."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him cast a curious glance in her direction. "Yes. Only of course, he'd said he didn't want any babies. And he meant it."

His unexpected emphasis on the word sent a prickle of awareness down Melissa's spine. Was Matt saying that he himself hadn't meant it?

"Anyway, long story short, they left Suzie at the hospital that night, spent the evening drowning their sorrows..." 

He trailed off, leaving Melissa to finish the sentence. "And the rest, as they say, is history."

"Yep." He nodded. "It's hard to say whether one or the other started it. It's funny actually—I've talked to them both about it at different times, and both blamed themselves, not the other. 

"I guess it doesn't matter." She gave a slight shrug. "They both finished it."

"But it was a one time only thing, Liss. It'd never happened before and it never happened again. And as I told you, Charlie carried the guilt for ever. My mother..." Once again he hesitated and she immediately guessed why.

"Did Uncle Roger know you weren't his son?" 

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "She never told him, that much I know. He wouldn't have got over hearing that. Not the proud man he was. But although they stayed together, I've often wondered if he, well... Wondered. He and I weren't exactly what you'd call close, after all. I've always supposed that's because he didn't want kids and he didn't quite know what to do with me. But it is just possible he guessed and that's why he was always so bloody distant." He sighed. "I guess we'll never know."

"No." Melissa gazed out at the road as they descended the hill into Ebberlea, not for the first time struck by the beauty of the surrounding hedgerows, the autumn leaves a riot of colour, russet reds and ochre yellows. As a child, she'd loved going to the farm at this time of year. 

"I've got to have a go at painting the village from this angle," Matt said, as if he'd read her mind. "I've always meant to but somehow, I've never been here at the right time."

"It would make a great picture," she agreed, grateful for the diversion.

"A little bird tells me you've still got one of my first ever commissions hanging in your hallway."

She could feel herself blushing. "Gemma told you?"

"Nope." His smile widened.

"Oh—Jason." Melissa lifted her eyes heavenwards as realisation dawned.

"He said your place was quite..." Matt paused for effect. "Something."

"Huh." She found it impossible to repress a laugh. "Quite small is what it is."

"He was impressed actually. Reckoned you could have a career in interior design."

"Oh right. Well, who knows? Maybe one day." Unwilling to enter into another discussion about her long term job prospects, she stared out of the window as they travelled through the village, looking up at the church with its sturdy Norman tower, at the pub where landlady Jean was busy tending fading hanging baskets and at the War Memorial where she remembered standing with Matt to read the names after Charlie's funeral. But as they left Ebberlea behind, signs for roadworks appeared and temporary traffic lights soon forced them to stop. Peering out of Matt's window, she spotted the cause. "They've started developing Roper's Field already?"

"Yep." Matt also turned to look as he pulled on the handbrake. "And as you can see, the builders aren't messing about."

The cluster of houses were at various stages of completion, some half-built, others already sporting roof trusses, still others barely past the foundation phase. "They're not building as many as I thought," she confessed, surprised.




Back to the Farm Ch. 12



"Ah, that's just phase one. They're releasing twenty five homes before Christmas. Phase two is due to start in the New Year. But it's good, because it means there's been a lot of interest in what we're doing too."

Melissa wanted to ask how far they'd progressed at the farm but didn't dare, fearful of his reply. The plan had been to build eight houses but in order to build four of them the existing buildings had to be demolished. Had that happened yet? Would the farm even be recognisable? 

"On the upside," Matt continued as the traffic started moving again, "the reason this road's in a mess is because they're putting in mains gas. Which luckily for us means we can have it at the farm. Unexpected bonus."

"Yes," she heard herself say faintly. And of course, it would be good for the people who'd eventually live in the new houses. Using calor gas hadn't been so bad, but the idea of supplies being on tap and never having to change the bottles certainly had appeal. It would be a very different way of life for the new inhabitants of Beech Tree Farm. Speaking of which...

"You haven't chopped down the copper beech have you?" The question spilled out before she could stop it, the mere thought heartbreaking. "And the tree-house...?" She couldn't even bring herself to finish.

Matt shook his head, flipping on the indicator to pull into the small lay-by preceding the entrance to the farm. "No," he said in a tone she couldn't quite define. "We saved them both. Though I'm pretty sure we'd have been hung, drawn and quartered by the conservationists if we hadn't. These days, there's no way we'd be allowed to put a tree-house in that old oak, let alone chop it down."

"Then—"

"Hey!" As she turned to him, she saw his eyes were bright with mischief. "I take it you're not going to open the gate for me this time then?"

"Oh!" Melissa scrabbled at her seatbelt.. "Sorry. I—"

"It's all right." Matt was already unfastening his own. ""I'll do it. Huh, the things a man has to do for himself these days."

The first thing she noticed after he'd manoeuvred the car inside was the track—only it was no longer a track, more of a dusty cement road. There wasn't a pothole in sight. "Doesn't look like you needed to change your car," she joked as he climbed back in after closing the gate. 

He gave her another teasing look. "We could go off-road if you like."

"Thanks but no thanks," she responded, eyes glued straight ahead, determined to put off the moment when she witnessed the replacement of the ramshackle farm buildings with the half-built shells of luxury houses. But as they reached the top of the driveway, it was impossible not to spot the development on the fork to the right. Already the house furthest away was half-built, the remaining three plots already obvious, their footprints marked out in concrete. 

She had to concede the setting couldn't be more perfect, the acres of open farmland to the rear forming a magnificent backdrop. "Wow," she said, aware of Matt's gaze as he halted the car. "They're going to look amazing. I didn't think you'd have got this far so quickly." 

Given they'd made such rapid progress, she was now petrified of turning her head to the left.

"Actually, they're a lot further on than I thought they'd be too," Matt said. "And believe it or not, that house on the end's already sold. Jason's had teams of builders working up here around the clock. Seems there was something he was feeling rather guilty about."

She turned, at last daring to meet his eyes. "He told you about the letters?"

"He told me. And after I'd knocked seven bells out of him—"

"You didn't!"

"I told him he'd have to find a way to make it up to us." Matt continued, laughing openly at her horrified expression. "No, of course I bloody didn't. He told me over the phone when I was in Singapore, for heaven's sake. The coward," he added, without malice.

She chewed her lip. "And he told you why...?"

Matt was still grinning. "I can promise you faithfully, the feeling was never reciprocated," he said with dignity, as though she might've been in doubt. "You see, my whole life, there's only been one person in the world I wanted. Only one person I've ever loved. And Jason knew that all along."

Her heart stuttered. "Yourself?" she quipped, her gaze instantly dropping to her lap. 

"Ha ha." He sounded calm enough. "Look out of your window, Lissy."

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. "I don't think I can." 

"Yes, you can. Come on, look." 

Maybe if she forced herself to take a quick peek along the lane to where Charlie's bungalow had formerly stood, it'd be like ripping off a Band-Aid, Melissa reasoned. It'd still hurt like hell, but the sting would soon pass and all she'd have to deal with then would be the ugly scar that remained. Inhaling sharply, she jerked up her head and opened her eyes, only for the breath to leave her body in a noisy rush.

She heard Matt's deep chuckle. "What do you think?"

"Oh my God." Tears welled in Melissa's eyes, a large lump arriving in her throat. "Matt."

Almost unrecognisable as the same house, the bungalow stood proud and defiant, its newly white-washed walls dazzling in the late afternoon sunshine. The ivy that for years had climbed the walls unrestrained had vanished, the crumbling window frames had been replaced and, when Matt shifted the car into gear and drove onwards, she saw that the roof had been completely re-tiled, the moss-coated slates removed and replaced with pristine grey ones. 

Beyond the bungalow, the scaffolding surrounding the old barn was just visible, adding further testimony that the plans to demolish the original farm buildings had been abandoned. She turned to Matt at last, aware that the heaviness in her chest had lifted—a heaviness she hadn't even realised she was carrying. "But what about the new houses? You changed your mind?"

He parked the car in front of the house before meeting her gaze, his brown eyes soft, his pleasure at her reaction obvious. "No, it wasn't my idea to build them. It was what Charlie wanted us to do—I never wanted to tear this place down, remember? And I don't know..." He trailed off for a moment, looking out at the bungalow. "Maybe he always knew we wouldn't. Maybe he always knew you wouldn't let that happen."

"Me?" She shot him a mystified look. "What did I do to stop it?"

"You mean you haven't noticed? Come on." He beckoned to her with a tilt of his head. "Out of the car."

Melissa joined him on the freshly laid tarmac, her heart thudding in her ears as she stared in bewilderment at the building, comprehension finally flooding through her in a violent wave. "Oh," she faltered, slamming the passenger door closed. "You've moved the front door. And the window..." She sent him an accusing look across the bonnet. "You used my drawing?"

He laughed. "I told you it was good."

"I didn't think you meant it. I thought you were just trying to make me feel better." Tearing her gaze back to the house, she scanned the walls, half-embarrassed, half-delighted. "I never thought you'd use it. Not in a million—no way!" She uttered a disbelieving gasp as she spotted the window in the eaves. "You didn't..."

Matt grinned. "Why don't I take you inside?"

Melissa followed him to the front door, feeling ridiculously like a child in a sweetshop, her eyes darting back and forth as though she was afraid she'd never be able to take everything in. He hadn't demolished the house. Here it remained, in better condition than ever before. Charlie would've been thrilled. Suzie would've loved it.

"Come on in," he said cheerfully, unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. "Now I want your honest opinion, okay? Don't hold back about anything. I want to know exactly what you're thinking.

Melissa stared, open-mouthed. The entrance hall seemed twice as wide, the moving of the door and window providing more space than she'd expected, a space that easily accommodated a beautiful spiral staircase, an engineering masterpiece comprised from beech and steel. For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes off it, her gaze following the curvature of the rail as it climbed to a small landing. "I can't—I can't believe you've done this." 

"Good, isn't it?" Matt spoke with the confidence of a man certain of an affirmative answer. "They only finished putting it in yesterday. Because it was bespoke, it was a close run thing it'd be ready in time. Glad it was, because I can't wait to show you upstairs—and it just wouldn't have been the same if I'd had to make you climb a ladder."

Taking a step towards it, she allowed her fingers to brush across one of the lower treads. "Can I go up?"

She heard him chuckle. "All in good time. Downstairs first. This way."

As she followed him towards what had been Charlie's bedroom, she became aware of the polished wooden boards beneath her feet, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the hall. A hint of varnish was just detectable above the smell of fresh paint, the walls cream, lightening what had previously seemed a dark corridor. 

They hovered in the doorway, Melissa suspecting that Matt was also recalling the last time they'd both been in Charlie's room. Not that it was recognisable as such. Emptied of furniture and newly-painted, her gaze was immediately drawn to the window. "You replaced the frames?"

"And put in new cupboards," he prompted, waving at a row of fitted wardrobes. "Plenty of storage space now. There needed to be, of course, if this is going to be a family home."

Melissa's heart sank like a stone, her smile slipping at the unwelcome reminder. Yes, the house had been saved from demolition, but it was also no longer Charlie's. Soon, a brand new family would be living there. A family who knew nothing of the farm's history, of the people who'd resided within its walls.

"Obviously, there's no furniture," Matt rattled on. "But you like the floors? Beech, of course."

"I love them," she replied honestly as he led her back out and continued down the hall. Accustomed to the black and white linoleum, she'd had no idea how much a change in floor coverings would transform the bungalow's appearance.

But it wasn't only the floors that had changed.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as they entered the lounge. "Is this even the same house?"

She glanced around in wonder, the room again empty but for, rather curiously, a couple of brown velvet-covered beanbags. Without Charlie's jumble of armchairs, it appeared three times the size. It was another moment before she realised it wasn't simply the lack of furniture that made it bigger. "You've extended the room," she said, rushing to the new French doors and gazing out at the garden, experiencing a jolt of relief as she spotted the old tree house. "Then—" she spun around to face him "—the dining room...?"

"Extension on that too," Matt confimed with a grin. "Looks twice the size. Come and see." And looking rather like an excited schoolboy, he caught her hand and dragged her out of the room and across the hall. "Much better, right?"

It was. Again, Melissa decided it was far more suitable for a family. There was no question that a sizeable table would fit in there now. A table that could seat twelve. 

"You like?"

She felt herself nodding. "It's perfect," she agreed, seeing the installation of more French doors in this room and picturing lazy evenings on the patio in summer.

"Good. Kitchen next.

And again they were off, this room also much bigger than she remembered, the old cabinets replaced by sleek wall units topped with gleaming granite, the chrome taps highly polished, glittering in the late afternoon sunshine. She listened as Matt explained how the old lean-to had been taken down, the wall knocked through, which had, as luck would have it, provided additional space for the newly-refurbished bathroom. He took her there next, and Melissa, beginning to feel rather overwhelmed, found herself facing a chic white bathroom suite, compete with roll top bath and double shower. It was something of a relief then, when he showed her the last of the original bedrooms. Other than redecoration and new windows, they looked reassuringly the same.

"You've done an incredible job," she said as they returned to the front door. "I can't believe you did all this in just a few months."

"Well, I didn't, of course." Matt smiled. "I've done a bit of painting this week, but Jason's building company did the building work. In fact, Jason's done an awful lot of it himself. He's been here every evening, every weekend."

"But you designed it all, didn't you?" She turned around to take another look before her gaze returned to the spiral staircase. 

"Not quite all of it." 

She grimaced at the emphasis. "Matt, I drew a quick sketch. I moved a window!"

"Don't sell yourself short. You did a lot more than that. You made me look at this place in a whole new light. Best of all," he nodded towards the top of the staircase, "the whole reason that's up there is because of you." He paused, raising an eyebrow. "Ready to take a peek?"

"Thought you'd never ask." But as he shepherded her towards the first step, Melissa's nerve wavered. Conscious he was right on her heels, she drew herself up to her full height and took one last surreptitious tug at her shirt before starting to climb. "It's all right," she said, suddenly appreciating the reason for his proximity. "I'm not that scared of heights."

"Better safe than sorry. Though as spiral staircases go, this feels pretty solid, I think."

It did. More elliptical than the corkscrew she'd imagined when he first explained his plans, it didn't seem at all steep, the vertical bars linking the stairs to the rail close enough together to allay any fear of falling through the gaps. Family friendly, she thought, experiencing another pang of envy-inspired regret. But as she reached the top, all such thoughts vanished from her head.

Gone was the cluttered loft she remembered, the boxes of half-forgotten possessions, the low rafters which had made the whole area feel cramped. In its place was a room bigger than she could've imagined possible. The sloping ceilings, set with enormous Velux windows, loomed high above her head, mirrored wardrobes lined the whole of the left wall and, through an open doorway to the right, she even spied an en suite bathroom. But most striking of all, the opposite wall was comprised almost entirely of glass, French doors leading out to a huge balcony.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, her eyes inexplicably filling with tears. "I never thought—I never realised it was going to look like this. And the view..." As though drawn by the light, she moved towards the window, another lump rising in her throat as she peered out across the tops of the trees, drinking in mile upon mile of uninterrupted countryside. "I had no idea you'd be able to see so far."

"I had in mind that it'd be fantastic to wake up and see that every morning." The proximity of Matt's voice made her start. She'd been unaware he'd followed her across the room. "Amazing way to start the day, don't you think?"

Melissa's subconscious kicked into gear. Turning, she saw what she hadn't taken in at first glance. 

"Ah," Matt said, following her gaze. "You wouldn't believe what a tough time we had getting that thing up here."

It was a bed. Not just any bed, but a vast, king-sized affair, complete with an ornately-carved wooden bed head which perfectly matching the floorboards upon which it stood. The pristine cream covers looked as though they'd been ironed in place and coffee-coloured scatter cushions had been artfully positioned on the slope between duvet and pillows.

"In the end, we hauled it up over the balcony and brought it in through the French doors," he continued. There was a slight pause. "Fell in love with it. Had to have it."

She swung around to look at him. "Who had to have it?"

To her confusion, although he was smiling, he suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Er—the chap who's moving in here."

"Someone's moving in?" Though Melissa tried hard to cover her dismay, the words came out more shrilly than she would've liked. As he'd shown her around the house, she'd reminded herself at regular intervals that the house would soon be up for sale. At no point had it occurred to her it might already be sold. When he inclined his head, it took considerable effort to keep her voice steady. "When?"

"Well." Matt hesitated. "That rather depends. You see, I think he's hoping he'll be able to persuade someone to move in with him. In fact, I rather think he's planning on asking her to marry him."

"Right." She turned away to look out across the fields once more, digging her fingernails into her palms. "Well that's—that's nice."

Someone else was moving in. 

"I'm sure they'll be happy here," she gabbled on, forcing herself to sound cheery. Was that why he'd taken her there? To let her have one last look around the farm before it changed hands? "It's fantastic. You've done—you've done great things with the place."

"Thank you," Matt responded, his voice unusually gruff. "But like I said—it all rather depends." 

Oh God. She was going to be sick...

"You see, the thing is—"

"Matt," she burst out. "Could we go outside? Out on to the balcony?"

"Of course." Looking startled, he reached around her to turn the key in the lock. "No problem, there you go. Whoops—mind the step!" He caught her hand as she stumbled out of the door. "Lissy, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically, tearing from his grasp to stagger forwards, her relief upon reaching the rail absolute, her eyes almost closing as her fingers curled around the gloss-painted wood. Breathe. 

"Hey." Matt's left hand covered her right. "You're not okay. You've gone green. Sweetheart, come on. You need to sit down."

"No." Melissa pulled away just as he reached for her, her heart thumping in her ears. "Oh God," she whispered, tilting her face to the sky in a desperate attempt to hold back tears. "Matt, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?" He sounded bewildered. "Liss, what the hell's going on? Sorry for what? You haven't done anything. If anyone should apologise, it's me. I'm the one who messed up." There was another pause. "Still messing up by the look of things. But I just thought that if I could show you this, show you what we'd done—"

"It's not that," she cut in, unable to bear it any longer.

"Then what? What do I need to do to make things right, Liss? You won't even let me come near you!"

She swallowed, her fingers clenching on the rail. Time to face the music. "You're going to hate me," she got out at last.

"Hate you? Lissy, I love you. I want to marry you." And then he groaned. "For heaven's sake... Weren't you listening?"

"What?" A warm, fizzing sensation started in her chest, radiating rapidly until it seemed as though her entire body was flushed with heat. "You...? What?"

"That's it." Matt sounded oddly far away, as though he were standing at the end of a long tunnel. "Make me say it again, why don't you?"

"Matt..." Uh oh, never mind about being sick. Was she was going to pass out?

"All right. You win, I'll say it again." He sighed, then cleared his throat. "Lissy Barton," he proclaimed dramatically. "I love you. I want to marry you. I want to live with you, right here at the farm. I even want us to have children. Lots of them. Ten, if you want—"

"Matt, please!"

"Now what? Oh, hell..." His tone softened abruptly.

He caught her just as her knees buckled, scooping her against him, fitting her body to his, his hands warm on her back as he murmured words she couldn't comprehend. Not that she cared. She drew shamelessly upon his strength, losing herself in his embrace, allowing the world to drift away on a sea of grey. She was in Matt's arms, in the place she'd longed to be, where she'd hardly dared to imagine she could be again, and for several glorious moments, nothing else mattered. No one else existed. 




Back to the Farm Ch. 12



So it was only when she felt the sudden tension in Matt's upper torso she remembered that wasn't quite true.

"Lissy."

And as he drew back to stare at her, his eyes wide with shock, her heart rate skittered out of control...

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments very much appreciated.



Back to the Farm Ch. 13



The penultimate chapter... 

Sorry to have made you wait a week between each of the last chapters, but be fair, that's pretty good going for me. :) And it was the only way I could be sure I'd have this thing finished...

Pretty please don't vote me down for making you wait. If you really don't like cliff-hangers, you might want to wait until I've posted the last chapter. :) It should be up next week.

Thanks so much for all your comments and emails. You're the best!

Lily -x-

*

"Oh God," she faltered, unable to control the tremor in her voice. "Matt, I'm sorry. I should've told you..."

She fell silent when he raised his hand, bit her lip as he dropped to his knees in front of her, and when he caught the hem of her shirt, she couldn't breathe. Inch by tortuous inch, he eased the fabric upwards, his fingers making her quiver as they brushed against her exposed skin, his palms at last sliding into place, framing the distinctive, tell-tale swell of her abdomen.

"This is why you wouldn't let me touch you?"

Melissa couldn't speak. Was any of this even real? Was she really there at the farm with Matt, standing on the balcony she'd helped him design? Staring down at the top of his head as he in turn stared at her tummy? 

He tucked his fingers inside her trousers, worn so much lower than their designer intended, his frown deepening as he slid his thumb over the straining safety-pin holding them in place. "But surely—?"

"I know," she interrupted, finding her voice at last. "I know what this looks like. I know it's not much of a bump for five months. But Matt, I promise—"

"What?" Lifting his head, he made a sound that was half snort, half choke. "Sweetheart, did you seriously think I'd think...?"

A tear rolled down her cheek. "I wasn't sure what you'd think. But I promise you, she's yours. I'm just small because the morning sickness made me so ill. I couldn't eat, I couldn't—"

"Lissy!" He bounded upright to seize her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? What in God's name were you thinking?"

"Matt, I knew you didn't want this," she choked out, wanting to yank herself out of his grasp but held in place by the pain in his expression. "You said, remember? No getting married. No falling in love. No having children."

"Yes." His gaze seemed to darken. "I know I said that. And I swear, I thought I meant it. But what I didn't know then—what I hadn't realised then was that..." When he trailed off, she watched in astonishment as a smile began curving his lips. "The thing is, I didn't want that with anyone but you, Liss. I've never wanted anyone else, full stop. I love you. I've always loved you. I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

Dumbstruck, Melissa could only stare back, the air on her wet face bitingly chill. "You bastard," she whispered at last, grimacing as his smile broadened to a grin. "How the hell was I supposed to—? Uh!"

He captured her mouth in a bruising kiss, a kiss which gentled the moment she stopped resisting and surrendered completely, her limbs growing slack as he gathered her up, pulling her so close it was almost as though he were trying to merge her body with his. And suddenly she was airborne, slung high in his arms as he headed for the French doors. Once inside, he kicked them closed before striding across the room to place her full length in the middle of the bed.

"This is your bed," she accused as he sank beside her. "But you let me think..."

Matt reached up to smooth back her hair. "No," he corrected. "This is our bed. At least, I was hoping it would be, if I could persuade you to forgive me for not telling you everything. Although..." His gaze narrowed, his amusement vanishing. "How come you're allowed to be mad at me for not telling you stuff, but you're allowed to keep a secret like this?"

When he dipped his head to kiss her tummy, she shuddered with guilty pleasure. "Double standards," she conceded meekly. "Matt, I'm so sorry. I just didn't know h-how—" Her voice disappeared into a squeak as once again, he grasped the bottom of her shirt and yanked it upwards, staring down at her distended abdomen with a mixture of awe and blatant curiosity. 

Catching her gaze, he shook his head then planted another kiss below her navel. "You said 'she'."

Melissa nodded. "Ultrasound scans. I've had to have a few. They wanted to make sure that she was doing okay. Because—"

"We're going to have a baby girl?"

We're going to have...

Horribly self-conscious of the tears prickling her eyes, she nodded again.

"And you honestly thought I wouldn't want to know?"

She flinched. "Matt..."

"You really thought I wouldn't want to know I was going to be a Daddy? You actually believed I'd want you to do this all by yourself?"

"I just didn't want you to feel that you had to be there for me."

"What? For heaven's sake, why?"

"I knew I'd manage somehow, that's all. I knew I'd get through it, one way or another—"

Matt swore. "I don't believe I'm hearing this." 

"It's true!" she hurried on. "Because it's not as though it's the first time I've had to get on with things by myself, is it? It's not as though—"  

"No," he fired back, eyes blazing now. "But only because you've always been too pig-headed to let anyone help. Newsflash, Lissy." He leaned over her, planting a hand either side of her shoulders. "Not this time, okay? I'm going to be here, for you and for the baby.  Because I love you. I'm gonna love you both. And I don't give a flying fuck whether you love me back, I'm not going anywhere."

She stared up at him, aghast. "But I do love you, you idiot," she whispered, tears at last escaping and trickling into her hair. "Didn't you know that? I've n-never wanted anyone but you. Of course I love you!"

Matt's features softened into the broadest of smiles. "Hell, woman. You're hard work," he murmured. "Have you any idea how much I needed to hear you say that?" And as she beamed back, he reclaimed her mouth, toppling into her outstretched arms with a contented groan. 

Later, Melissa would wonder exactly when those languorous kisses became teasing and playful, precisely when Matt's fingers started to venture beneath her shirt and she began unbuttoning his, and in which moment he somehow managed to release the safety pin securing her trousers. For when Matt finally lifted his head, it came as rather a shock to find herself wearing nothing but her underwear, an equally naked Matt propped up on his elbows alongside. 

He grinned at her startled expression, leaning over to trail another string of kisses across her slender shoulders. "Look at you," he said with a rueful sigh. "You've gone all bony. I had no bloody idea morning sickness could be so bad."

"It was HG. Hyperemesis gravidarum," she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed as his mouth slid downwards, grazing the slope of her breast.

"Hyper what?" he responded, his breath tickling her tender skin. "I love it when you talk dirty."

Her giggle turned into a moan as he worked lower, easing the cups of her bra away from her newly-enlarged and ridiculously over-sensitive breasts. "It's the medical term for it," she said unsteadily, arching away from the bed as his hands slipped underneath her to locate the clasp. "It just means 'over-sickness in pregnancy' You see, instead of feeling a little bit queasy like most pregnant women, I couldn't... Oh God!" She wailed as he caught her left nipple in his mouth and suckled gently, a thousand bliss-filled darts arcing towards her groin. 

He watched her with amusement, causing her to yelp again as he swirled his tongue around the rapidly hardening bud. "You couldn't...?" he prompted, pulling her bra away and dropping it over the side of the bed, where it slithered to the floor in a series of tiny clicks.

This probably wasn't the right time to finish that sentence, she decided, watching as he manoeuvred himself into a kneeling position between her thighs. Reaching up to slide her hands down his rippling ribcage, she decided he was even more toned than before. Had he spent all his spare time in Singapore at the gym? "Doesn't matter," she breathed, hooking her fingers into the elastic of his boxer shorts and drawing them down as he obligingly raised his hips. "I can tell you all about it—" But then she stopped, her mouth going dry as her gaze dropped beneath his waist.

Oh dear God... How could she have forgotten?

"—later," she finished feebly. And realising she was still staring, she tore her attention back to Matt's face to discover he was grinning broadly.

"You're blushing," he said happily, causing the fire in her cheeks to burn even more fiercely. "I love it when you blush, too." As if to prove it, he leaned forward to kiss her other breast, laughter rippling through his shoulders as his washboard-flat abdomen brushed against the swell of her belly. "Ah," he murmured, eyes alight with mischief as they met hers. "Looks like classic missionary position's out then."

Melissa sent him a horrified glance. Desperate though she was to feel him inside her, she hadn't even considered the logistics of pregnancy sex. "Then how—?"

Before she could finish the question, Matt reached up for a pillow and in one swift movement, lifted her from the bed and wedged it beneath her hips. "I think this'll work for now," he said, laughing as she gaped up at him. "And just think the fun we're going to have, figuring out all the other ways."

"Really?" she gulped as he lowered his mouth to hers. "You reckon you're going to get lucky more than once?"

"Oh, I have a feeling I might get to do this a few more times." And making her giggle again, he slowly worked downwards, brushing his lips across her the line of her jaw, her throat, her breasts. Circling her nipples but neglecting those taut peaks, even though they yearned for his attention. Moving lower, across her rounded belly, pausing to caress his unborn daughter with his hands as well as his mouth. Then lower still, until Melissa was no longer giggling but gasping, his fingers easing her knickers away, leaving her helpless with pleasure.

"Matt..." she breathed, guilty that in this position, there was little she could do to reciprocate. She could reach his shoulders but no more, her fingers digging into his flesh with every pass of his mouth. Each swipe of his tongue... "Matt!"

"Sh-sh-sh," he soothed, watching her as she watched him through half-lidded eyes. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't! You—what about...? Oh..."

He chuckled as she trembled beneath him. "Liss, I know I'm going to get my turn. This is yours."

"But I want—oh—oh God! I want you inside me."

"Oh you do, do you?" He sent her a considering look before returning to his self-assigned task, grinning when she released a moan. "Then you'll have to answer a question."

"Wh-what?"

"It's an easy one." Straightening up, he reared over her, allowing his heavy erection to brush against her slick, aching centre. "A really easy one."

"Matt!"

He laughed as he ground against her again, pressing oh-so-close to but not quite where she needed him to be. "You see, I sort of asked you earlier, but I didn't do it properly."

Suddenly, the realisation of what he was going to say filtered through the heady heights of her arousal. And when the shimmering glow of comprehension coupled with that rapidly coiling inner pressure, she feared she might actually explode before he could touch her again. "Matt..."

He smiled, moving almost imperceptibly, enough to make her yelp with frustration. "Melissa Barton," he said, cupping her face in his hands, his dark eyes appearing almost black as she stared up at him. "Will you marry me?"

She nodded, gasping when he promptly slid into position but didn't enter her, his gaze turning quizzical.

"Say it," he urged, still smiling, as though he knew just how close she was to flying off into the wide blue yonder. 

Maybe he did... 

"Will you marry me, Liss?"

She nodded again, steeling herself against the soaring wall of pleasure, holding it back with everything she had, just so she could utter one word.

"Yes," she managed, her gaze locking on to his as he surged into her, her body rising to meet him. 

"Yes... Yes... Ye- e-ess..."

*

"Please tell me you're kidding." 

Darkness had fallen by the time they emerged from the bedroom and ventured downstairs to the only other room that had 'furniture'. With no groceries in the house, it'd been Melissa's suggestion to order a takeaway. But when the pizza arrived and she insisted a single slice was all she wanted, Matt had demanded an explanation.

He regarded the last two pieces in the box with sudden revulsion. "You seriously started to look at food in terms of what it'd taste like coming back up, rather than what it tasted like going down?"

Melissa grimaced, wriggling into a more comfortable position on her brown velvet beanbag and gazing up at the tiny spotlights glittering from the living-room ceiling. Dimmed to a soft, amber glow, she decided they resembled stars. "Believe me, you have to think about these things," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "But we really don't have to talk about this now."

Matt certainly looked as though he wished he hadn't asked. "So when did it stop? How long did you have to go through all that?"

She bit her lip. "Well, it hasn't stopped, exactly. It's better," she put in hastily as his eyes narrowed, "a lot better. But without the medication I'm taking, I think I'd still be in trouble. I got lucky, you see. Thanks to Jonathan's wife, it got diagnosed early. Otherwise..." She lifted her shoulders in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but in truth, it had been three months she'd rather forget.

"Liss..." Sending the pizza box skimming across the polished floor, Matt scooted his beanbag beside hers and tugged her into his arms. "God," he muttered into her hair. "I'm sorry."

She forced a laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Hardly your fault."

"But I should've been there. I should've—"

"Matt, you weren't there because I didn't tell you. How could that be your fault?"

"I was the one who got you pregnant."

She lifted her head and smiled. "I think you'll find everyone knows it takes two to tango."

Matt wasn't convinced. She'd trusted him with her virginity that dark night in the kitchen and what had he done? He'd taken all she had to give, paying no heed to the consequences, his desire to make her his, to bury himself deep inside her outweighing all other considerations. 

Not that he regretted the conception of their child. As he looked down at her now, he felt another overwhelming rush of love. "I still wish I'd been there for you," he murmured, shunting his beanbag behind hers now, and tipping her backwards into his arms.

"Yeah, well. I'm kind of glad you weren't," she retorted, relaxing as he traced lazy circles over her tummy. "It wasn't a pretty sight—ooh!" She caught his hand. "Feel that?"

Matt did, the fluttering sensation beneath his fingertips like the flapping wings of a large butterfly. "Wow. That's some kick. Are you sure she's a girl?"

"Yep, I've seen the pictures. Well, all right," she confessed. "I couldn't really tell. But that's what all the people who've done scans have said."

"How many have you had?"

"Three?" She frowned, counting on her fingers. "Or is it four? Let's see, they did one the first time I was admitted to hospital but she wasn't big enough that time. Then the second time they made me stay in—"

"The second time?"

Melissa winced. She knew she'd have to tell him everything eventually, but she'd hoped to be able to release the details in bite-size pieces. "I got a bit dehydrated, that's all. I thought I'd be all right 'cos I was on the new medication by then, but the stupid midwife insisted—"

"Wait." Leaning forward, Matt peered down into her face. "The first time was after Jonathan found you in your office, flaked out on the floor?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Stupid," she muttered. "But I thought it was ordinary morning sickness. I thought I was being a wimp. Everyone says you should try ginger and eat dry crackers." She shuddered at the memory. "Dry crackers—not good."

They really hurt on the way back up...

"Lissy!"

Melissa immediately resolved to spare him the worst of it.  The last thing she wanted was to make him feel guiltier. "Hey, it could've been so much worse," she said lightly. "Jonathan guessed what was going on, thank God. I think he might even have known I was pregnant before I did. And because Joanna—his wife—had HG when she was pregnant, they knew what to do. She insisted I saw her obstetrician. They were even willing to pay for me to see him privately, can you believe that? But they didn't need to. He came to see me when I was in hospital that first time, got me on to some medication and when that didn't work, got me on to some really expensive stuff which did, all on the good old NHS. Still felt sick, but I didn't actually throw up so at least I could eat something."

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"Will you stop apologising? It's all right. I'm mostly okay now." She smiled. "I even get hungry now and again. And look on the bright side. I actually got to wear Gemma's skinny jeans for a while."

"Huh." Matt made a growling sound under his breath. "I can't believe she didn't tell me any of this. I can't believe—"

"She didn't know." It was Melissa's turn to feel guilty. "She still doesn't know."

"What?"

"She thinks I had some kind of bug. She doesn't know I'm pregnant."

"I don't believe I'm hearing this." Matt grasped the sides of the beanbag and swivelled it around until she faced him. "Why?"

After taking one look at his grim expression, she told him.

"Nah," he said when she finished, shaking his head. "I don't get it. Just because she's been trying so hard to get pregnant and hasn't managed it yet, you couldn't tell her that you had?"

"Matt, I got pregnant the first time I had sex. The very first time!"

"You really think she'd have cared about that? How's she going to feel when you tell her now?"

Melissa gnawed her lower lip. Now that the baby bump was growing noticeably bigger, it was a thought she'd started to have with disconcerting frequency. "I could say I didn't want to tell her before I told you," she suggested, knowing how lame an excuse it sounded even as the words left her lips.

Matt shot her a sceptical glance. "I think you're going to have to come up with something better than—" Then he stopped, his brow furrowing. "What's that?"

She strained to listen, recognising the distant jaunty tune moments later. "It's my phone," she said, attempting to struggle upright. "It's in my bag upstairs. I'd better go and—"

"Uh uh," Matt pushed her back down again. "Run that by me again. You've got a phone?"

"Matt—I should get that!"

"A mobile phone? Lissy Barton's entered the twenty-first century?"

"Matt!"

Laughing, he sprang to his feet. "I'll get it." 

But on his return, her handbag dangling from his fingers, he looked suspicious. "Wait a minute. Is that why you had your land line disconnected?"

Ignoring him, she snatched the bag and rummaged inside, pulling out her phone with a flourish. "Oh," she said, checking the caller display. "Speak of the devil. It's Gemma."

"Tell her," Matt said as she flipped it open.

"Tell me what?" Gemma demanded.

It was Melissa's turn to glare at Matt. "Nothing," she told her hastily. "Is everything okay?"

"I was just about to ask you the same thing. Please tell me I left it long enough. Please tell me I didn't call just at the wrong time. Because if I did, tell me to get lost. Tell me to—"

"Gemma, it's been—" she grabbed Matt's wrist and consulted his watch "—four hours!"




Back to the Farm Ch. 13



"And was that long enough? Have you two made up?" The note of excitement in her best friend's voice was strangely contagious. "Did you have time to—?"

"Do you mind?" Melissa couldn't help smiling. "I'm fine. We're fine."

"That means yes," she said triumphantly. "Thank God for that."

"Tell her."

"Tell me what?" she asked as Melissa batted Matt away. "What does he think I should know? More to the point, what does he know? Have you told him?"

"Huh?" Watching Matt drop to his knees right in front of her, Melissa frowned.

"About the baby, of course. Your baby. His baby."

She blinked, his slowly spreading smile alerting her to the fact he could hear every word. "You knew I was pregnant?"

"Well, no thanks to you. I can't believe you didn't tell me."

"Oh God. I'm sorry." Melissa stuck out her tongue at Matt's 'I told you so' look. "It's just you were away on holiday when I first found out, and then... Well, everything got a bit out of hand."

"So I've heard." But Gemma didn't sound aggrieved. "Anyway, listen. I know this might sound like a really odd question but—"

"Hang on," Melissa cut in, cogs whirring. "How did you find out?"

"Oh, Jonathan's face turned a really funny colour when I told him that I'd need to take some maternity leave. It didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Now look, are you two—?"

"What?"

"—decent? Because—"

"You're pregnant too?" 

"Three months gone, thanks for asking. Mother and baby doing well. A lot better than you, by the sound of things. You poor old thing—I can't imagine what it must've been like. But anyway," she added quickly, seeming to remember her mission, "we can talk about that later. Liss, there's something else I need to explain. We knew that we needed to get you and Matt together, but there was another thing that Jason wanted to do. He—"

"Jason?"

"For God's sake, will you let me finish?" The note of irritation in her voice was tempered with amusement. "Yes, Jason. He—"

"What's he got to do with all this?" This time it was a bewildered Matt who interrupted. "I didn't even know they knew each other."

Melissa shook her head. "They don't."

"Well, we didn't," Gemma said, clearly grasping for patience, "until Steve decided he'd like us to go and do some house-hunting. I had no idea where he had in mind, so imagine my surprise when we ended up just outside Ebberlea at a place called Beech Tree Farm. And imagine my greater surprise when I found out my dear husband had also arranged for us to have a look at one of the new houses being built there—with none other that the site manager himself, Mr Jason Armitage."

"Wait a minute." Having leaned forward to listen more closely, Matt was frowning. "Your husband's name's Steve? As in, Steve Pinkerton?"

Melissa stared. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Hmm, well let's see." Smiling now, he prised the phone from her fingers and spoke into the receiver. "Gemma, maybe you'd like to tell Lissy how I knew that?" 

"How?" Melissa demanded as he clamped the phone back to her ear.

"We're buying Plot One."

"What?"

"We fell in love with the place. Loved the exterior, loved the room sizes, loved the layout, loved the views." Gemma certainly sounded like a woman in love. "Your Matt knows how to design a house, that's for sure. So if it's okay with you, we'll be living next door. It is okay with you, isn't it?"

A suddenly blurry-eyed Melissa allowed Matt to seize the phone. "Oh, I think she'll come round to the idea in the end," he said cheerfully, bending to drop a kiss in her hair. "I think it's great. Does this mean you can take her to work until we've got her through her driving test?"

"Matt!"

But she could hear Gemma laughing. "Absolutely. Knock ten grand off the asking price and we'll call it a deal," she teased. "Now Matt, you'll listen to me, won't you? Are you two dressed? Because—"

"Oh!" Distracted by the flash of light she saw at the window, Melissa straightened up to investigate. "Someone's just pulled up outside. Whose car is that?"

"For heaven's sake," Gemma groaned as Matt rose to his feet. "I've been trying to tell you."

"It's Jason's," Matt said, having crossed the room to peer through the glass. "What's he doing here?"

"Matt, please!" Gemma sounded rather desperate now. "Just tell me you're both wearing clothes!"

Bemused, he glanced back at Melissa, clad in his white shirt but very little else, then down at the jeans he wore, his own chest bare. "Er, I s'pose you could say all the vital bits are covered."

"Oh well. That'll do," she said, almost disconsolately. And before he could ask her what on earth she meant, there was a click and the line went dead.

Melissa sent him a puzzled look. "What?"

A loud hammering at the front door saved Matt from having to hazard a guess. "Stay right there."

Melissa had no intention of doing any such thing. Already heaving herself up from the bean-bag as he jogged out of the room, she found her feet just as she heard Jason's voice. "Hi," he said, a note of apology in his tone. "Did Gemma let you know we were coming?"

We?

Smoothing the shirt down—even if Jason had seen her completely naked before, she was determined he wouldn't see anything this time—she slipped out into the hall.

"Not exactly," Matt responded, his own tone rather cool. "What are you doing here?"

"Matt..." Jason sounded wary. "Look, this was my idea, okay? It was something I needed to do, needed to set straight. And the thing is, I really think you ought to hear—"

"It's all right, Jason. There isn't any need for you to explain."

Hearing another familiar voice, Melissa smothered a gasp, horror washing over her in an icy wave. "Aunt Ruth?" she exclaimed, darting forward. "But..."

Too late, she remembered how little she was wearing and how Matt's shirt, less voluminous than the bottle green tunic she'd worn earlier, clung to the small, but well-defined bump beneath. Almost in the same moment, she watched Ruth's gaze sweep over her from top to bottom, her lips compressing into a thin line.

"You're pregnant?" Jason was first to break the silence. 

"I would have said that was patently obvious," Ruth said, seeming to recover almost immediately. "With my grandchild, I presume?"

"Mother." Matt slid a protective arm around Melissa. "If you've come here to—"

His mother held up a hand. "No, I'm not here to make trouble. Far from it. It's only too clear you two were made for each other. It was always meant to be. Good heavens, Matthew, I'm not blind!"

"Wh-what? I mean—" Melissa stumbled over the words, convinced she must have misheard. "I'm sorry?"

"No, my dear. I'm the one who should apologise." To her astonishment, Ruth appeared genuinely contrite. "The moment I saw you with my son again at Charlie's funeral, I knew it would simply be a matter of time before you both came to your senses. My only regret," she went on, casting an even guiltier glance at Matt, "is that I wasn't gracious enough to encourage things along then." 

Matt looked thunderstruck. "Encourage things? You told me to contest Charlie's Will!"

"I know." Ruth seemed uncomfortable. "And I'm not proud of that. But there were..." She hesitated, looking to Jason for reassurance. "Reasons," she finished at last as he nodded his encouragement.

This was surreal, Melissa decided. Had she ever seen a more unlikely pair of allies?

"There are things I should have told you, that I realise I should have told you a long time ago. But of course..." She sighed then and looked down at her shoes. "The longer you keep secrets, the harder they can be to tell."

More secrets?

"What secrets?" Matt demanded. "What the hell could you possibly know that we don't? Charlie told me everything—and I swear," he turned to Melissa, his expression solemn, "I've told you everything he told me."

"But you see, he didn't tell you everything." Again, there was that note of contrition in Ruth's voice. "There was one thing he couldn't tell you. Because it wasn't his secret to tell."

"Really?" As Matt's attention returned to his mother, Melissa watched his brow furrow in disbelief. "Then whose secret was it?"

Ruth hesitated, but only for a second. "It was mine. Mine and..." She took one last glance back at Jason before her eyes met Melissa's. "Your mother's."

"Auntie Jane?"

But as Melissa heard the utter bewilderment in Matt's tone, she knew instinctively what the secret had to be. It was, after all, the only thing she didn't know. Something she thought she'd never know.

"You know who my father is."

Ruth nodded.

Melissa suddenly felt as though she'd somehow split into two. And even as the second version of herself marvelled at how calmly the first version of herself was reacting to such a bombshell, she dropped her hand into Matt's and gently tugged him to the side of the door. 

"Well then," she heard her calmer self say brightly. "In that case, I suppose you'd better come in..." 

*

Thank you so much for reading. All votes and comments much appreciated.  



Back to the Farm Ch. 14



Well... :)

Here it is, the final chapter. There were definitely times when I thought I wasn't going to finish this one (I have a feeling many of you reading this were thinking the same!). The fact that I made it to the end is due in no small part to all those of you who cared to leave me comments and send emails - thank you so much for them all.

But extra special thanks have to go to my good friend Tory del Ricoh for putting up with my incessant ranting, and to my girl Katie, without whom none of this would be written. Rwy'n dy garu di... :)

*

It was getting colder now, Melissa decided, rubbing her hands together before attempting to stack up the plates discarded by the coffee shop's most recent customers. Still, that was to be expected, given they were nearing the end of November. Not that the change in the weather appeared to have deterred anyone from visiting the gallery—far from it. With discerning shoppers seeking out unusual Christmas presents, it'd been one of their busiest Saturdays yet.

Taking a moment to ensure the crockery she'd piled on to the tray was secure, she straightened up, blowing the hair from her forehead. Then, with a deftness born from long experience, she balanced the tray on one arm, used her free hand to scoop up four empty milkshake glasses and headed for the kitchen.

"Hey!" Gemma gave her a severe look as she shouldered open the swing door. "What do you think you're doing? You know you shouldn't be doing that. Come on, give it here." And hurrying to intercept her path, she took the tray and slid it on to the countertop. "I'm cooking scones," she added accusingly. "You said you'd stay in the gallery."

Melissa groaned, ducking out of Gemma's reach before she could take the glasses and headed for the dishwasher. "Will you stop fussing? Besides, I could smell the scones out there—" she nodded her head back towards the door "—and I'm absolutely fine with it, okay? You really think I'd be here if I wasn't?"

She could feel Gemma's reproachful gaze boring into her back as she bent over the machine. "Great, and what am I supposed to tell your husband when he asks me if you're doing too much? We had a deal, Melissa McKenzie. Me, kitchen and coffee shop. You, gallery and gift shop."

"You tell him—" Whoops, maybe opening the door hadn't been a good idea. She paused to hold her breath as a cloud of steam, vaguely smelling of chlorine, cleared away from her face "Tell him that I'm allowed to decide what I can and what I can't do. I'm pregnant, Gem. I'm not sick."

"Not yet, you're not," Gemma said grimly. "And that thing's halfway through a cycle, by the way."

She rolled her eyes, closed the dishwasher door and planted the glasses on the draining board. "But it's different this time," she said, turning around. "Honestly. When I was ten weeks pregnant with Grace, I couldn't even get up. I used to lie in bed all day holding a bucket under my chin."

"Ooh." Gemma's disapproval evaporated. "Maybe you're having a boy."

"Maybe." She smoothed a hand over her tummy. "I've been wondering about that. Though it could just be because I started taking the medication earlier this time. Anyway." She looked around the kitchen. "Anything I can do to help in here?"

"No," Gemma retorted without missing a beat. "As you can see—" she gestured towards the clear countertops "—it's pretty much all done. And even if it wasn't, I wouldn't be letting you do it."

Melissa sighed. "Fine," she conceded. "Well, it's all quiet out there. I've got a feeling we might be done for the day."

"Good." 

As they exchanged glances, she watched the tension leaving her friend's shoulders. Though neither of them were afraid of hard work, days like the one they'd just had could be tough. It was rapidly reaching the point where they'd be forced to take on another pair of hands, if only to cover the lunchtime rush.

"How's it going with you-know-who?"

"It's okay, you don't need to speak in code. They haven't come back from that walk yet." Melissa smiled. "Yeah, things are going well. But then they always do these days. It's all a lot different now. When I think back to how things used to be..."

"Personality bypass, huh?" Gemma leaned against the countertop, brushing flour from her apron. "Just think, you never used to be able to do anything right. And now look at you, Golden Girl."

"Ah, it's not so much me but Grace who's the Golden Girl," Melissa corrected, amused. "Grace does everything right."

"They dote on each other, don't they? You know, my son's nose is really out of joint. He's missing his girlfriend. He's used to being the centre of your daughter's universe."

Melissa grinned. It was true that Grace and Jack were generally inseparable. "I know. She's not even four years old and she knows how to keep a boy dangling. I swear she doesn't get that from me."

"I know she doesn't." Gemma crossed the kitchen as the cooker timer started to beep. "She's got your looks and Matt's personality. Something tells me neither of you'll get much sleep once she hits her teens. "

"Hey!" Melissa protested, laughing. But as Gemma opened the oven door and the smell of baking intensified tenfold, it became clear it might be better to retreat to the gallery after all. "I'm going to make a start on cashing up," she said hastily, already backing towards the door. "See you in a bit."

Was it weird to feel relief at being nauseous? Probably. Melissa pulled a face as she walked across to the sales counter. But after being horribly ill for much of her last pregnancy, it didn't seem right to be let off so lightly. Back then, she'd told herself that feeling sick was a good sign, that the baby was fine, even if she wasn't.

Hesitating before she opened the till, she pressed her fingers to her lower abdomen and dipped her chin to her chest. "Hey you," she murmured. "You are all right in there, aren't you?"

Of course he was. Grinning, she cast a quick glance around, grateful there was no one to witness her folly. "Just checking," she added. "'Cos I want you to know how much Daddy and Mummy—"

She froze mid-sentence as she heard the latch lifting, her head jerking up in time to see a face peering around the huge barn door.

"Hi. Is it too late for Dad and I to come in and take a look around?"

"Oh!" Melissa bit back a self-conscious giggle. "No, not at all. Please," she beckoned to them, "do come on in."

"Great! We thought maybe you were closed already." Detecting an accent—Australian maybe?—Melissa watched as the young woman came in, closely followed by her father. "I bet you'll be closing soon though, won't you?"

"Not quite yet." Had she seen this couple before? There was something strangely familiar about them. "We're open until five but if you need a bit longer, do say. It's not a problem." And it wasn't really. In the past, some of the gallery's biggest sales had taken place in the five minutes before closing time. Melissa knew there was no guarantee this pair would turn out to be purchasers, but you never could tell.

"You know, we really weren't expecting to find a gallery here," the woman called conversationally, her father already wandering off to examine the paintings lining the far wall. "How long have you been open?" 

Yep, definitely Australian, Melissa decided, sending her a friendly glance. "Oh, a couple of years now."

"Really? Oh..." She tilted her head back to look up at the ceiling. "Wow. Would you just look at all those exposed beams? Whoever did this barn conversion did a fantastic job."

Used to this reaction, Melissa nonetheless experienced an inner glow of pride. And a chatty customer, her favourite kind. She'd learned to live with visitors who looked around in stony silence but it was lovely when someone appeared genuinely enthusiastic. "That would be my husband."

"You did the conversion yourselves?" She looked impressed.

"Well, I didn't do very much." Melissa grinned. "My husband's an architect—and his best friend's a builder. They did pretty much all of it between them."

"Fabulous venue for a gallery."

"Thanks." Melissa's grin widened. "But actually, we never had any intention of having one here. We only finished the conversion because my husband's friend was getting married—" okay, it hadn't been a wedding, it'd been Jason and Martin's Civil Partnership Ceremony, but there was no need to get into the nitty gritty with a stranger "—and he joked that maybe he could have the service here."

"Really?" Pushing down the hood of her anorak, she loosened long blonde curls with her fingers before moving towards the racks of pottery and shelves laden with handmade wooden children's toys, decorative knick-knacks and jewellery. "Then how did all this come about?"

"Mums and Tots."

"I'm sorry?"

Melissa laughed, enjoying the confusion on the woman's face. "A few years ago, there was huge influx of newcomers into the village. They built a lot of new houses just up the road, you see, The Mums and Tots group used to meet at the village hall, but what with all the new babies, the place just wasn't big enough. So we volunteered to have it here."

In fact, she and Gemma had ended up running the group and everything had evolved from there. It had been Jason's suggestion to display a few of Matt's paintings. Dubious at first, Matt had been astonished when they all sold to local mothers within days. As word spread, Melissa joked there probably wasn't a home in the village that didn't have an original Matt McKenzie hanging on the wall. Keeping up with demand proved to be a huge challenge though, and as Matt was still spending a large proportion of his time working as an architect, offering to exhibit the work of other local artists seemed a natural progression.

By the end of the following year, the gallery had become something of a minor tourist attraction. So when Abbey Thorn Housing Association finally followed through with its oft repeated threat to close the Mickleton branch, Melissa and Gemma opened a coffee shop. It had been an instant hit with visitors and locals, the residents of Ebberlea delighted to have somewhere other than the pub to go for lunch. 

"Ah, right." The woman nodded when Melissa finished her explanation. "Dad said Ebberlea had grown a fair bit. He lived here for a while, you know. Before he moved Down Under."

"Really?" Glancing across at the woman's father, Melissa saw he'd turned to listen.

"Years and years ago. But that's one of the reasons we came in here," she said cheerfully. "Isn't it Dad?" she added, lifting her voice. "You've actually been here before, haven't you?"

"A very long time ago," he called back, strolling back towards them. "When this place was still a farm."

Melissa felt as though someone had prodded her awake. "That was a while ago." 

"More than thirty years. Funny to come back, after all this time. Actually..." 

Oh God, yet another person who didn't know. Why did she always have to be the one to break the bad news? 

"I don't suppose you know what happened to the old boy that used to live here, do you? Charlie, his name was."

Repressing a sigh, she pushed the till drawer closed. "I'm afraid he died a few years ago," she said, moving out from behind the counter.

"You're kidding?"

"No, I wish I was." But Melissa found the glance which passed between father and daughter rather unsettling. Was something else going on here? "Lung cancer," she continued, monitoring their reactions. "It was all very sudden."

"Well, stone me." The man blew out a noisy breath. "I told him that bloody pipe'd kill him. Suzie must've been devastated."

Oh, great. Just great...

Melissa chewed her lower lip then shook her head. "Actually, I'm afraid that erm... Suzie—"

"No way." To her relief, he guessed without her having to spell it out. "Suzie passed away too?"

"Several years before Charlie, I'm afraid." She paused, more curious than ever when the pair exchanged another look. "Did you know them well?"

"Oh..." The woman's father swept a hand through his hair. "I hadn't seen him for years, of course. But yes, back then, I knew them both really well. I did some work here, you see. Well, a lot of work, actually. Over at the bungalow. Re-wiring, mostly."

"Re-wiring?" Melissa echoed. 

Because that couldn't be what he'd said. She must've misheard. Misunderstood...

"Yeah," the woman said, putting a hand on her father's arm. "Dad used to be an electrician. Re-wired the whole farmhouse, didn't you?"

"Right." There seemed little else Melissa could say, an odd burning sensation rising through her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"But I expect it's all been done again since then," he said, clearly making an attempt to lighten the mood. "I noticed someone'd done up the place as we came in. I daresay they had to strip things right back to basics."

"Yes." Melissa realised she was trembling. "Er—actually," she put in quickly, "would you excuse me, just for a second? Feel free to carry on looking round. I just need to..." Oh God, what could she say? "Check on something. In the kitchen." And swivelling on her heel, she took off at something approaching a run.

"Oh!" Up to her wrists in flour now, Gemma looked understandably startled as she crashed through the swing doors. "You okay?"

Melissa lurched to a halt beside her and planted both hands on the countertop, the granite cool beneath her palms. "Fine." 

"Really?" Casting her a dubious look, her friend continued to knead the batch of dough in the huge mixing bowl in front of her. "Are you going to be sick?"

"No. I'm—I'm all right." She lowered her head, attempting to focus all her attention on what ought to be the simple matter of inhaling and exhaling. 

"Sure? Because if you're going to be sick—" Gemma nodded towards the rack of cooling scones in front of Melissa "—I really ought to move those."

"Gemma!" Still panting slightly, she straightened up. "I'm fine, okay? It's just..." She trailed off, glancing back towards the gallery.

"What? Hey." Gemma's gaze narrowed, her voice softening. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Huh." Melissa rubbed at her forehead, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Maybe I have."

"What?"

But already she found herself in motion again, drawn like a ball on the end of a piece of elastic. "It's okay," she called as she reached the door. "Don't worry."

The air noticeably cooler outside, Melissa simply stood still for a moment, allowing the vast open space to work its magic. Even on the busiest of days, something about the church-like interior of the old hay barn never failed to calm and soothe. During its conversion, Matt had insisted on maintaining what he called 'the integrity of the building'. Back then, she hadn't really understood what he meant, but now it was obvious, the character and charm of the original structure continuing to shine, an accrual of thousands upon thousands of minute details, from the grain of the timber to the texture of the exposed brickwork. 

At first, one large hall with a kitchen, it had now been subdivided into two, this section home to the gallery, the other a fully enclosed meeting area. The coffee shop nestled beneath the most recent addition of a mezzanine level, the concave balcony luring almost all visitors upstairs at some point.

And as her gaze automatically drifted upwards, that was where she found them, father and daughter standing before the huge portrait which had once graced Matt's office at GKM Associates, now displayed on the most prominent part of the curved wall.

"How strange," she heard the woman say, a note of laughter in her voice. "It could be Amy at that age, don't you think? I mean, obviously, the hair's a bit different, but still..." 

She watched as they leaned forward to take a closer look, aware now of a dull thudding in her ears as she in turn attempted to drink in their every detail. The woman, she decided now, was several younger than she, maybe slightly taller but not much. Her hair naturally blonde, the long tresses rippled across her shoulder in unruly curls, reminiscent of three-year-old Grace's golden ringlets. Inevitably though, Melissa's attention soon turned to the man at her side.

"Shelley, look." There was an urgency to his tone as he stooped slightly, pointing to the bottom right hand corner of the picture. "See that? Tell me what you think it says."

Melissa's breath caught in her throat. Show time.

And when both turned to peer down at her over the balcony rail, she forced a smile. "Everything okay?"

"These paintings," the man said after a pause. "This one of the girl in the tree-house." He waved back at the portrait they'd just been studying and the pictures either side of it. "They're all by M. McKenzie?"

She nodded, holding tightly to her smile. "That's right, yes. My husband."

"Your husband?" His arms straightened on the rail, his expression lightening. "He wouldn't happen to be related...?" 

"To Charlie? Yes, of course." Melissa marvelled at her display of outward calm. But having deliberately omitted to say exactly how Matt was related, she felt a thrill of anticipation when he immediately crossed the landing to take the stairs. 

"Let me get this straight," he said carefully upon reaching the bottom step. "Charlie and Suzie had a son?"

"No." Melissa understood his need for clarification, watching as his daughter followed him down. "Unfortunately, Suzie couldn't have any children. Matt's—"

"My God," he interrupted, brightening again. "Then you must mean Matthew. Ruth's little lad? But he was only a year old the last time I saw him!"

She already knew that. Ruth had told them as much that evening she'd arrived at the farm four years ago. In an attempt to salve his conscience, Jason had contacted Matt's mother to admit he'd been the one to send her Matt and Melissa's letters all those years ago. When she in turn confessed her own motivation for keeping the pair apart, Jason persuaded her it was time to tell all. Quite how he'd managed the feat, Melissa wasn't sure. But she was certain that the last time this man had seen baby Matthew had been the day after his first birthday.

"But this is great!" the woman burst out, her eyes shining as she joined them. "When you told us Charlie and Suzie had passed away, I thought we'd never be able to find—"

"Shelley!" He turned to Melissa, his benign smile betraying the fact he had no idea she knew who he was. "I'm sorry. You see, I used to know Ruth—Matthew's mother. A long time ago now." 

Melissa resisted the urge to nod. "I see," she said instead.

"Not that I expect she's ever mentioned me. But the thing is, we used to be friends." He hesitated. "Good friends."

That was the understatement of the decade. They'd been more than friends; they'd been lovers. Ruth had been on the verge of leaving Roger.

"We weren't expecting we'd be able to track her down at all," Shelley put in, seemingly concerned her father was never going to get to the point. "We'd always planned to visit Ebberlea as part of this trip, but of course, after thirty odd years—thirty-five years, right Dad?" When he nodded, an icy tingle trickled down Melissa's spine. "Well, things were bound to have changed. But we were hoping we'd be able to find someone who had an address for her. And you must have, right? If you're married to her son, of course you have. Unless... Oh God."

Wondering just how much Shelley knew, Melissa still had to repress a smile when the woman stopped mid-flow, her dismayed expression almost comical. "It's all right. I'm not about to tell you that Ruth's dead too."

"She's okay?"

"Oh yes. Hale and hearty. And living right here in the village now."

"Really?" As the man looked up again, his gaze landing fully on hers for the first time, Melissa felt as though she'd been thumped in the stomach. 




Back to the Farm Ch. 14



It wasn't at all difficult to roll back the years and see the young man Matt's mother had fallen in love with. Slightly taller than Matt, he had the square jaw and light brown wavy hair Ruth described, hair that decades later only had a sprinkling of grey at the temples. 

But meeting those pale blue eyes gave Melissa the biggest jolt of all... 

"You see, I'd heard she decided to stay in South Africa after Roger died."

How on earth had he managed to find that out? Ruth had spent years trying to trace him, all to no avail. And yet here he was, right in front of her. Solid. Real. 

"She moved back a few weeks ago," Melissa explained. "She wanted to be nearer her family." 

Well, to be nearer Grace, they'd decided. The bond between grandmother and granddaughter was touchingly close. Matt had joked the other day that if he'd been born a girl, his relationship with his mother might've been different from the start.

"Wait a minute." The sound of Shelley's voice made her jump. "That's you in the picture up there?" She gestured to the mezzanine

Full marks to Shelley. Melissa forced a laugh. "I'm afraid so. Matt painted it when I was fourteen."

"But that's just so weird. You looked just like my sister when she was younger. Same hair colour and everything. Did a double take when I saw it."

My sister...

Taking another glance at the man, Melissa found herself unable to discern a reaction. Ruth had been right all along. He really didn't have a clue.

She swallowed, the burning sensation in her chest intensifying by the second. "Is she here with you?" she got out at last, having struggled to frame the question. How could she ask what she wanted to ask? How could she address even one of the thoughts whizzing through her mind? "Your sister, I mean?"

"No, not this time. Just me and Dad on this trip. We've been planning it for a couple of years now, ever since he told us all about Ruth after Mum died. So..." Her expression turned hopeful. "Is there any chance you could give us her address? It would mean the world to Dad."

"Shelley." Her father shook his head. "Maybe not now, eh?"

"Why not now?" She stared at him in bewilderment. "We've come all this way, sat in a plane for twenty-two hours, spent another three hours driving here this afternoon—"

"Because I'm not sure that now's the time, okay? This poor girl—" he motioned to Melissa "—wants to shut up shop for the day. We can come back tomorrow."

Shelley shrugged. "Why come back when we can do this today? When we're this—" she squeezed her thumb and forefinger together "—close?" She swung back around to Melissa. "You don't really mind us asking, do you? All we need is her address, that's all."

"That's all, is it?" a familiar voice chimed in. "But what makes you so sure that she'd want to see you?"

Matt.

Whirling around, Melissa wondered whether she'd ever been more relieved to see him. He was standing beside Gemma at the back of the coffee shop, the half-eaten scone in his hand explaining why she hadn't heard him enter. No doubt enticed by the smell of Gemma's cooking, he must have come in via the back door to the kitchen.

"You see, I don't know if your father told you everything," he said, giving the scone to an agitated-looking Gemma before heading towards them, "but your father and my mother didn't exactly part on the best of terms."

To her credit, Melissa thought, Shelley didn't flinch. So she did know the full story. "He made a mistake," she said, her father wincing visibly at the word. "But your mother—" She frowned as Matt drew level. "You're Matthew?"

He nodded, moving behind Melissa and folding his arms around her. Over in the coffee shop, Gemma promptly produced a cloth and started wiping tables.

"Your mother told my father it was over, you see. That even though they'd been together for six months, she'd changed her mind. That—"

"Shelley." Her father sent her a warning glance. "That's enough."

She looked startled. "What? No, it isn't. Isn't this why we came back here? Look—" She turned back to Matt and Melissa, holding her hands palm upwards. "That all happened years ago. All water under the bridge, right? So why not have a bash at putting things straight?"

"Shelley."

"Because, you see, they were in love. Really in love. But when it came to the crunch, when it came to making a commitment, she couldn't do it." It was obvious Shelley was enraptured by the romance of it all. "That even though she'd promised she would, she told him she couldn't leave her husband."

"Shell..." Her father covered his face with his hands.

"And after that, she wouldn't let him anywhere near her. He was devastated."

"Devastated?" Melissa felt a hugely inappropriate bubble of laughter welling up inside her. "Was that what he was?" 

"Liss." It was Matt's turn to sound a warning, his arms tightening. "Sweetheart—"

"You see, I don't get it," Melissa carried on, shaking her head. "That last time he tried to see her—" She looked up, but the man was still covering his face. As well he might... "When he went round to beg her to change her mind that night, she wasn't there." She shrugged. "Nobody home—well, except Matt and, conveniently enough, his seventeen-year-old babysitter."

"Lissy."

Melissa ignored her husband, glaring at Shelley now. "You just told me he loved her? That he was devastated?"

"Ah, but—" Shelley began, clearly uncomfortable now. "The thing is—"

"No, I'll tell you what the thing is."

"Lissy!" 

"Your father was so devastated, he slept with my mother!"

It was like hearing a firework zoom high into the sky and knowing it had to explode. Waiting in mortified silence, Melissa couldn't believe what she'd done, that she'd been the one to voice those words. Worse still, she couldn't look away, forced to witness the dawning realisation on their faces as though it were happening in slow motion.

"Jane's your mother?" Straightening up at last, his hands falling away, the man's pale blue eyes locked on her own. "Suzie's sister Jane?"

Feeling the warmth of Matt's sigh across her crown, Melissa realised he too had been holding his breath. She nodded, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. And out of the corner of her eye, she saw Shelley's gaze suddenly narrow, then switch to the portrait on the balcony above.

Ruth had sworn that falling in love with another man had been the last thing on her mind when she came to stay at the farm with six-month-old Matthew that June. Exhausted from a constant stream of sleepless nights, no assistance having been provided by her increasingly distant husband Roger, she'd only accepted Suzie's invitation out of sheer desperation. 

But then she'd met the young electrician Charlie hired to re-wire the ageing bungalow. Twenty-seven years old, happy-go-lucky and unfailingly optimistic about all that life had to offer, he'd been the antithesis of career-driven Roger. Within days they'd become fast friends, within a month they'd become lovers and by the third month, she was contemplating leaving her husband. To add to the thrill, their entire relationship was conducted in secret, a series of snatched moments and covert assignations, Ruth adamant Charlie and Suzie should remain oblivious to it all until she made her final decision.

It was when he shared his biggest dream she began to have doubts. He wanted to travel the world, a working holiday, moving from country to country as and when he earned enough money to do so. And it was a wonderful dream for a man in his twenties. It might have been a wonderful dream for a young couple too, a couple with no ties or commitments.

But not, Ruth decided, for a young couple with a baby. She'd grown accustomed to having Roger's money, to having a good standard of living, a comfortable home. True love was all very well, but the idea of never knowing where the next pay check was coming from, where they were going to stay or how they were going to live terrified her. It'd been almost Christmas by the time she plucked up the courage to tell him she couldn't do it.

He'd seemed heartbroken. He'd turned up at the farm again and again, begging her to change her mind. Afraid her family would guess they'd been more than friends, she implored him not to visit, but on discovering Charlie and Suzie were away for the weekend, he phoned to tell her he was coming round one last time on the pretext of bringing Matt a belated first birthday present. With flight tickets back to South Africa already booked, Ruth's reaction was to pay Suzie's younger sister Jane to babysit and flee into town. 

Having left it three hours before she dared to return, she thought he'd be long gone. The last thing she'd expected was to find him in bed with Jane... 

Shelley looked shaken. "So the reason you look like my sister is because..." She trailed off, staring up at her father. "Dad?"

He shook his head, seemingly unable to take his eyes off Melissa. "I swear I didn't know she was only seventeen. I'd met her a few times before, but she'd always seemed so much older. I didn't realise there was a ten year gap between Suzie and her sister."

Melissa believed him. She'd seen the photos of her mother at that age, heard Suzie say how much of rush she'd been in to grow up.

"And I swear I didn't know—oh God..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I swear I didn't know—"

"It's okay," Melissa interrupted, supremely grateful for the continuing support of Matt's embrace. "I know you didn't know about me. I didn't know anything about you, either. Not until Ruth told us a few years ago."

"And your mother... Jane?"

She swallowed. Why did it feel as though she'd had to tell him everyone was dead? 

"I'm afraid she passed away a couple of years before Charlie," Matt answered on her behalf, dropping a kiss in her hair. "We had a rough old time of it for a while, Lissy especially."

"Lissy?" Shelley looked at Melissa curiously.

Matt's hastily-stifled laughter rumbled against her back. "Yes," she said resignedly. "My proper name's Melissa, but everybody calls me Lissy these days. Even my mother—and I never thought that Ruth—"

But as the sound of the latch lifting reverberated through the gallery, she stopped, turning just in time to see the barn door opening, a miniature whirlwind flying across the floor. "Mummy!"

Scooping her up before she could launch herself into her mother's arms, Matt hoisted his giggling daughter on to his hip. "Well, hello," he said with a grin, ducking to enable the little girl to throw her arms around Melissa's neck. "Good walk?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded adamantly, smacking a kiss on to Melissa's cheek before straightening up to plant another on her father's chin. "'Lo Daddy."

"So what have you done with Grammy?"

"Matthew, do you mind?" Ruth's frosty retort cut through the air like a knife. "You know very well how much I hate that. It's Grandma." But as she followed her grand-daughter inside the gallery it became clear she was smiling. "Lissy, it's quarter past five, dear. Well past closing time, isn't it?" she went on helpfully, tilting her head towards the visitors. "Unless of course, these people are wanting to make a purchase?"

"Ruth."

Mesmerised, Melissa watched Ruth's expression as she heard her name, saw her slowly turn around, her gaze settling upon Shelley before it shifted inches to the left. From beneath the mezzanine, Gemma also watched, having abandoned all pretence of cleaning tables, the damp cloth dangling limply from her fingertips.

"Alex," she said at last. "So you came back."

He stared at her as though he couldn't believe she was real. "I never wanted to go. Not without you."

Ruth didn't respond. Though she'd sounded deathly calm, Melissa could see her hands shaking. In the end, it fell to Grace to break the silence, squirming in her father's arms. The moment he set her down, she ran to her grandmother's side and tugged at her sleeve. "Are you aw-right, Grandma?" she asked, gazing at her with enormous blue eyes. "Who are these people?"

"Oh." Taking Grace's hand, Ruth crouched down and pulled her close. "Darling..." She paused. "This is a man who I used to know a long time ago. And this..." She frowned at the young woman standing at his side.

"I'm Shelley," she supplied helpfully. "In fact..." Melissa saw the sudden light of realisation in her eyes. "I think I might be your auntie."

Grace nodded, seemingly unperturbed to have acquired a new relative. She turned to give Alex a long look. "What's your name?"

"Well..." Ruth twisted around to look at her son and his wife, the question in her eyes obvious. 

And as Matt's fingers closed over her hand, Melissa slowly inclined her head. 

Ruth held her gaze for a moment, the two women exchanging half-smiles. "I think maybe a proper introduction is in order," she said at last, straightening up and resting her hands on the little girl's shoulders. "Grace, this is your grandfather, Alex Parker. Alex..." She paused, lifting her head to look at him. "This is your granddaughter, Grace McKenzie."

Clearly bemused, Alex held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Grace," he said. But when she gravely curled her fingers around his palm, his face crumpled into an incredulous smile. "I have a granddaughter?"

"Ironic, isn't it?" Ruth said drily. "After everything that's happened, we still get to share a grandchild."

Alex's attention shifting from Grace to Ruth, the achingly poignant look that passed between them caused a lump to rise in Melissa's throat. If Ruth had only thrown caution to the wind and gone travelling with him, her life would've been completely different. Matt would have considered Alex to be his father. She and Matt wouldn't have spent every summer together at the farm with Charlie and Suzie. 

But then, of course, Alex would never have slept with Jane, either...

"Hey," Matt murmured when Melissa shivered, turning her in his arms. "You all right?"

She smiled, deciding not to explain she'd just imagined herself out of existence. "Just a bit cold, that's all."

"It is getting pretty chilly in here," he agreed. "I vote we head back home and make some tea. 'Cos something tells me—" he nodded towards his mother and Alex who were still gazing at each other in speechless silence "—there's a fair bit of talking to be done." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys. "Grace?" He smiled when she trotted over to them. "Give these to Grammy—"

"Grandma."

Matt smirked "—and ask her to put the kettle on. We'll be along in a moment, when we've locked up."

"It's okay," Gemma called from the kitchen doorway as Grace carried the keys back to her grandmother. "I can finish here. I've got to wait for the last lot of scones anyway."

"You sure?" Melissa saw that Ruth and Grace were already ushering Alex and Shelley towards the door. "Because I never got around to cashing up. If you like, I can—"

"Just go." Gemma grinned, backing into the kitchen with a stack of trays. "See you both in the morning."

But as Melissa made to follow her family, Matt caught her hand, forcing her to wait until the barn door crashed closed.

"Well," he murmured, when the echoes had faded to perfect silence. "This is a turn-up for the books." He lifted her fingers to his lips. "You okay?"

Was she okay? Melissa took a moment to consider. "Actually, yes," she said, smiling up into his solemn dark eyes as he kissed her fingertips. "I know I probably shouldn't be. But right now I feel fine."

"And...?"

She grinned as he nodded down towards her belly. "Will you stop it? We're fine. I promise you'll be the first to know if we're not."

"I'd better be," he said, still grave. But then he shook his head, his expression softening into an incredulous grin. "Did you see the look on his face when he realised Grace was his granddaughter?"

She laughed, nodding. "What about the look on your mother's face when he said her name?"

"Oh, I've seen that look before." He gave her a knowing smile. "You looked at me exactly the same way, that day in Archie's office when I turned up out of the blue."

"I did not!" she protested, groaning as he tugged her closer.

"Yes, you did. Like you didn't know whether you wanted to kiss me or kill me." Laughing at her attempt to look aggrieved, he smoothed back her hair then cupped her cheek in his hand. "God, it was beautiful."

"I should've killed you," she murmured a second before his lips landed on hers, his kiss slow and tender.

"But you couldn't." Matt looked amused. "You've always loved me."

Melissa closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. "It's true," she conceded with a contented sigh, burrowing her nose into his jumper and breathing in deeply. "I'm clinically insane."

"Madly in love."

"Huh." But she was laughing again. "Do you think your mother's always loved Alex? Kiss or kill?"

Matt seemed to ponder her words for a few seconds. "I don't know," he admitted at last. "I think we're about to find out, though. Ready to play happy families?"

"Are you kidding?" Melissa drew back to shoot him a disbelieving look. "I've been ready my whole life."

He nodded, lowering his head to give her one last kiss. "Guess we'd better go, then," he said with a smile.

And sliding an arm around her shoulders, he steered her towards the door.

*

Thanks for reading. All votes and comments very much appreciated. :) 

Lily

-x-