WHILE she waited for her new furniture she put on her old jeans and a well washed blue sweater and scrubbed out the flat; that reminded her of earlier years, too, when she had to do all her own housework. As soon as they could afford it, Darius had insisted that she must have help in the house.
He had wanted her to have a nanny for Paris, too, but she had fought him over that. She loved looking after her baby, for one thing, and for another it was really her only occupation by then. Darius wouldn't let her go on working for the company, and he wouldn't let her do the housework either. No wonder she had made Paris her full time work!
She worked in a hurry, to be ready by the time the furniture arrived, and was soon flushed and a little grubby, her hair escaping from its usual perfect bun, long blonde tendrils curling down her hot cheeks. But for once it didn't bother her how she looked.
Jude wouldn't even notice... he never really seemed to see anything much, he was so absorbed in his own thoughts; and it didn't matter what the man from the antique shop thought.
The doorbell went and she ran to answer it, wiping her wet hands on a towel, expecting the shopkeeper, although it wasn't yet quite four o'clock, then smiled in surprise at the sight of Jude. "Oh, hello, Jude, you're early! I thought you were the man with the furniture. Come in."
But he didn't move, just stood transfixed, staring as if he didn't believe his eyes, and Samantha realised she had been wrong in supposing he wouldn't notice the way she looked. She smiled an apology at him.
"Sorry if I look a sight, but I've been doing some cleaning. Would you like a cup of tea? I would, I've just finished and was thinking of putting the kettle on. I can't ask you to sit down until the furniture arrives, but at least the stove is working."
"You look fine," he said gruffly, looking down while his hand came from behind his back and was thrust out at her. It held a large bunch of amber-coloured chrysanthemums, their scent over-powering and melancholy with their familiar, unforgettable reminders of autumn smoke and falling leaves.
"Oh, thank you. How thoughtful you are, Jude. Flowers do make a place feel more like home, don't they? And I love chrysanthemums, especially this colour!" She lifted the great golden flowers to her face and inhaled their scent, sighing with involuntary nostalgia. "Gorgeous smell, too. I'll put them in water right away. I haven't got a vase yet, but I bought an earthenware milk jug this afternoon in Covent Garden which will be the perfect home for these." She grinned at Jude as she led the way into the flat. "We'll have to have our milk out of the carton!"
Jude followed her into the sitting room and stared around, his face appalled, while she was filling the green jug with water and arranging the flowers in it. "Sam! This is worse than I expected. You can't live here! There isn't room to swing a cat."
"I haven't got a cat, and if I had I wouldn't swing it. It sounds a cruel thing to do." She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Don't the flowers look great in this jug?" She placed it on the windowsill where the dying sun lit the sky behind the great, glowing blooms. Jude and Samantha stared, then she turned away. "Well, how about that tea? Do you mind having it in a mug? I'm still in the process of getting my home together, and one of the things I bought in Covent Garden today was a mug tree with six mugs on it. I thought I'd make do with mugs instead of cups and saucers for the moment. I also bought six second hand earthenware plates in a junk shop. They let me have half a dozen for five pounds, practically gave them to me because several of them had hairline cracks, but they're terribly pretty, and I was delighted to get them." She was talking too fast and too much, because this was a tremendous step she had taken and she was feeling nervous, even though she was sure she was doing the right thing.
"I don't like this, Sam," Jude burst out. "You don't belong in a place like this. Lambourne is the right setting for you, that's where you belong."
An angry flush crept up her face, her dark blue eyes flashing at him. She had been feeling unsure of herself a second ago; now her resolve stiffened and her chin went up. "I'm a human being, not an object. I belong to myself, and I no longer want to live at Lambourne, any more than I want to live with Darius."
"Look, Sam," Jude said jerkily, "I realise it's none of my business..."
"No, it isn't!" she snapped. This is my life, not yours, Jude, so please don't say anything else." He looked even more unhappy.
"I have to say something Sam!" Jude shot back at her. "Darius is my oldest friend and I care very much about you, too, Samantha. I can't help thinking you're making a terrible mistake, leaving Darius. You won't be happy being alone, living in town; you're a country girl, that's how I always picture you, in the garden at Lambourne, among the flowers.
On a hot summer's day when I'm working and the city's humid and sticky. I've often thought of you cutting roses and wandering across those marvellous lawns in a big straw hat with a trug over your arm. I don't suppose I've seen you gardening more than a couple of times, but it stuck in my mind, that picture of you, and I'd hate to think of you living in a little box of a London flat."
Samantha's eyes opened wide in astonishment. That outburst was so unlike Jude! He was always a calculated speech kind of person not one to say things so quickly without really thinking into what he was about to say. And of course it was a confession that she have never in her wildest dream expected from this uprightly, so calculated, almost seemed perfect in her eyes friend of her husband's.
She couldn't believe he had really said it, and, from his flush and lowered eyes, neither could Jude! But he was still talking huskily, even if he wasn't looking at her. Which she assumed he was too invested in his word he didn't want to look at her. "The city would be all wrong for you. You're just not used to this sort of life; you'll be miserable living alone in this poky little flat."