flowed freely about her shoulders. She became the most popular girl in her class, and, although Laura worried that she might make the same mistakes she had made, Julie was much shrewder than she had ever been.
Laura hated to admit it, but when Julie left school before she was eighteen, and took herself off to London to work, she was almost relieved. The effort of sharing an apartment with someone who was totally self-absorbed and totally selfish had been quite a strain, and for months after Julie had gone Laura revelled in her new-found freedom.
And then, not wholly unexpectedly, Julie became famous. The secretarial job she had taken had been in a photographic agency, and not unnaturally someone had noticed how photogenic Julie was. Within months, her face began appearing on the covers of catalogues and magazines, and all the bitterness of the past was buried beneath the mask of her new sophistication.
Of course, Laura had been delighted for her. The guilt she had always felt at being the unwitting cause of Julie’s illegitimacy was in some part relieved by her daughter’s success, and it meant she could stop worrying about her finances, and buy herself the cottage in Northumberland she had always wanted. These days she lived in a small village about fifteen miles from the city, and only commuted to Newcastle to work.
Now, pushing the memories away, and ignoring her daughter’s bitterness, Laura addressed herself to the present situation. ‘Do I take it you plan to come up here tomorrow evening?’ she asked, mentally assessing the contents of the freezer and finding them wanting. If Julie and this man, whoever he was, were coming to stay, she would have to do some shopping tomorrow lunchtime.
‘If that won’t put you out,’ Julie agreed offhandedly, and Laura hoped she hadn’t offended her by reminding her of the differences in their current lifestyles. Julie now owned a luxurious apartment in Knightsbridge, and her visits to Burnfoot were few and far between.
‘Well, of course you won’t be putting me out,’ Laura assured her quickly, not wanting to get the weekend off to an uncertain start. ‘Um—so who is this man? What’s his name? Other than Jake, that is?’
‘I’ve told you!’ exclaimed Julie irritably. ‘He’s an Italian businessman. His family name is Lombardi. Jake’s the eldest son.’
‘I see.’ So—Jake Lombardi, then, thought Laura nervously. Would that be short for Giovanni? Would Julie be living in Italy, after they were married?
‘Anyway, you’ll be able to meet him for yourself tomorrow,’ declared Julie at last. ‘We’ll probably drive up in his Lamborghini. Personally I’d prefer to fly, but Jake says he wants to see something of the countryside. He’s interested in history—old buildings; that sort of thing.’
‘Is he?’
Laura was surprised. What little she had learned about her daughter’s previous boyfriends had not led her to believe that Julie would be attracted to a man who cared about anything other than material possessions. But perhaps she was maturing after all, Laura thought hopefully. Was it too much to wish that Julie had learned there was more to life than the accumulation of wealth?
‘So—we’ll see you some time after five,’ Julie finished swiftly. ‘I can’t stop now, Mum. We’re on our way to a party. ‘Bye!’
‘G’bye.’
Laura made the automatic response, and she was still holding the phone when the line went dead. Shaking her head, she replaced the receiver, and then sat looking at the instrument for a few blank moments, before getting up to pour herself the long-awaited glass of sherry.
Then, after taking a few experimental sips of the wine, she pulled herself together and walked through to the tiny kitchen at the back of the cottage. As she had expected, the casserole Mrs Forrest had left for her was a trifle overcooked. But, although the vegetables were soggy, the chicken was still edible, and, putting it down on the pine table, she went to get herself a plate. But all her actions were instinctive, and she had the sense of doing things at arm’s length. The prospect of Julie’s actually getting married, of settling down at last, had left her feeling somewhat off guard, and she knew it would take some getting used to.
Nevertheless, she was not displeased at the news. On the contrary, she hoped her daughter would find real happiness. And maybe Julie would learn to forgive her mother’s mistakes, now that she loved someone herself. Or at least try to understand the ideals of an impressionable girl.
Friday was always a busy day for Laura. She had no free periods, and she usually spent her lunch-hour doing some of the paperwork that being assistant head of the English department demanded. It meant she could spend Saturday relaxing, before tackling the preparation she did on Sundays.
Consequently, when she went out to the car park to get into her small Ford, Mark Leith, her opposite number in the maths department, raised surprised eyebrows at this evident break with routine.
‘Got a date?’ he enquired, slamming the boot of his car, and tucking the box he had taken from it under his arm. ‘Don’t tell me you’re two-timing me!’
Laura pulled a face at him. She and Mark had an on-off relationship that never progressed beyond the occasional date for dinner or the theatre. It was Laura’s decision that their friendship should never become anything more than that, and Mark, who was in his early forties, and still lived with his mother, seemed to accept the situation. Laura guessed he preferred bachelorhood really, but now and then he attempted to assert his authority.
‘I’m going shopping,’ she replied now, opening the door of the car, and folding herself behind the wheel. ‘Julie’s coming for the weekend, and bringing a friend.’
‘I see.’ Mark walked across the tarmac to stand beside her window, and, suppressing a quite unwarranted sense of impatience, Laura wound it down. ‘A girlfriend?’
‘What?’
Laura wasn’t really paying attention, and Mark’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘The friend,’ he reminded her pointedly. ‘Is it a girlfriend?’
‘Oh…’ Laura put the key into the ignition, and looked up at him resignedly. ‘No. No, as a matter of fact, it’s a boyfriend. Well, a man, I suppose. She rang me last night, after I got home.’
‘Really?’ Mark arched his sandy brows again, and Laura felt her irritation return. ‘Bit sudden, isn’t it?’
Laura sighed, gripping the wheel with both hands. It was nothing to do with him really, and she found she resented his assumption that he could make remarks of that sort. It was probably her own fault, she thought wearily. Although she hadn’t encouraged Mark’s advances, she supposed she had let him think he had some influence in her life.
Now she forced a polite smile, and shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘Oh—you know what young people are like!’ she exclaimed dismissively. ‘They don’t need weeks to plan a trip. They just do it.’
‘It’s a bit hard on you though, isn’t it?’ Mark persisted, his chin jutting indignantly. ‘I mean—you might have had other plans.’
Laura nearly said, ‘Who? Me?’ but she didn’t think Mark would appreciate the irony. His sense of humour tended towards the unsubtle, and any effort on Laura’s part to parody her own position would only meet with reproval. In consequence, she only shook her head, and leaned forward to start the engine.
‘I was going to suggest we might try and get tickets for that revue at the
