Joely didn’t normally consider herself a prude, but she simply didn’t want to write sex that left nothing to the imagination, which was what Freda had requested. All she felt comfortable with was capturing the essence of it, laying down the structure, and if graphic was what Freda wanted she must fill in the bold detail herself, or the innuendo, or the artful metaphors. It would be her choice.
Sighing, Joely pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as though to push out the tiredness. It was the weekend and she needed a break, although she had no idea what she was going to do, given that Andee wasn’t free and Freda hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to be social.
She glanced at her phone in the vain hope it might have a suggestion, but as usual there was no signal.
So, Callum and Martha had no doubt already taken off for their romantic break while she was here in this ivory tower feeling unsettled by the shenanigans of a precocious fifteen-year-old girl and the older man who’d submitted himself to her so readily.
Submitted wasn’t the right word, she knew that as surely as she knew that he’d orchestrated the entire seduction. And yet it wasn’t him she was feeling so bothered by, she realized, it was the older Freda who seemed to want her to feel more tenderness and understanding for Sir than he surely deserved. Her client’s manipulation hadn’t succeeded, exactly, but there was no doubt that Freda’s dislike of her younger self struck an odd contrast to the affection, even love that she still seemed to feel for her old music teacher. And wasn’t it interesting that she’d gone on to marry someone who shared Sir’s passion for music – unless, of course, Sir and Mr D were one and the same person.
Now that was a twist to the tale she wouldn’t have predicted, nor would she dare to suggest it, given her client’s aversion to second-guessing.
‘I’d rather not talk this evening,’ Freda announced as Joely emerged from the tower staircase into the kitchen. ‘You probably consider that rude, but there it is. If you wish to go out to find more entertaining company, be assured I shall not feel offended.’
Since Joely had no one to go out with, and certainly didn’t want to sit in a bar or restaurant alone thinking of Callum and Martha somewhere together, she accepted the silent rule as they ate the spicy pasta dish prepared by Brenda and cooked by Freda.
‘Why don’t you join me in the den to watch a film?’ Freda offered when it came time to clear away their plates.
So Joely did, and was neither surprised nor put out to discover that Freda had already decided on their viewing. It was only when she realized what the film was that she wished she’d said she’d go to her room and read.
And God Created Woman, the erotic story of a young girl with abundant sexual energy who causes havoc in three men’s lives. An old favourite of the parents’ if Joely remembered correctly.
So were there more men to come after Sir? Or was this Freda’s attempt to get her ghostwriter to visualize her young self as a nymphet not unlike Brigitte Bardot?
Who knew what went on in that woman’s head?
The film wasn’t particularly engaging; really nothing more than a vehicle for Vadim to show off his sex-kitten wife, Joely thought, and by the end, though she’d enjoyed the cinematography, she was struggling to stay awake.
Clicking off the TV, Freda got up to pour herself a whisky from the decanters arranged in front of the shuttered windows.
‘Would you like one?’ she offered.
Stifling a yawn Joely shook her head. She’d never liked whisky and besides she really wasn’t up for some sort of head-spinning discussion about the film’s morals and purpose, which was what she feared Freda might be about to embark on.
‘Good night then,’ Freda said abruptly, and turning her back she downed the single measure in one and poured another.
Almost laughing at the summary dismissal, Joely picked up her phone and shoes and started for the door.
‘How far have you got with it?’ Freda suddenly asked.
Knowing she meant the memoir, Joely tensed slightly as she said, ‘To the picnic in his uncle’s garden.’ She’s now going to ask how much detail I’ve gone into and I will have to tell her that I’m finding it difficult to write about the private parts and orgasmic achievements of my employer even if it did happen over fifty years ago. They’re still her private parts and her molto orgasmic stringendos.
Freda’s pale eyes drifted to the dying fire as she presumably recalled, maybe even relived the occasion that she’d described so vividly during their talk. In the end she said, ‘You’re going to think this slightly mad, but while you’ve been writing about him I’ve been feeling jealous that you’re in his company.’
She was right, Joely did think that was mad, but also sad that Freda was so deeply affected by revisiting her past. She apparently did still love him, and missed him, or that was Joely’s reading of it so far, but she wasn’t going to ask who he really was.
‘Do you like him?’ Freda asked.
Joely admitted that she did, ‘But I think,’ she continued, ‘it’s what you want, and I can’t help wondering if you’re setting me – or the reader – up for a twist in the tale that might change …’
Freda’s smile was thin. ‘This isn’t a novel,’ she interrupted sharply, ‘and you’re aware of how I feel about jumping to conclusions,’ and with a dismissive wave of her hand she helped herself to a third small measure of Scotch.
‘God, you don’t know how glad I am to see you.’
It was the following day and Joely was at the Rising Sun greeting Andee after receiving a text during a short burst of connection first thing to let her know that her old friend was free today if that was of any interest. ‘I feel I’m going off my head for so many reasons that I don’t even know where to start.’
Laughing, Andee asked the waiter for a glass of whatever Joely already had – a chilled Chenin Blanc – and shrugging off her coat she sat down at the window table. ‘If I’d known you were so desperate to see someone,’ she remarked drolly, ‘I’d have made sure to come sooner. So what’s been happening?’
‘No, no, tell me about you first …’
‘Really not interesting, so?’
Joely threw out her hands. ‘I’ve signed an NDA so I can’t tell you anything, but I swear it’s not that big a deal. So many years later? I mean, really? Unless “Sir” turns out to be someone famous.’
‘The music teacher? You don’t know his name yet?’
‘David Michaels, but she doesn’t use it much and I’m pretty sure it’s made up anyway, which could support the possibility of him being recognizable.’ She twinkled mischievously and drew in a little closer. ‘So, here I go breaking my agreement,’ she whispered, ‘but I know I can trust you.’
Andee glanced up as her wine arrived, thanked the waiter and turned back to hear more.
‘Last night,’ Joely continued, ‘she got me to sit through the movie And God Created Woman. Have you seen it?’
‘With Brigitte Bardot? No. Is it any good?’
‘Not unless you’re a Bardot fan, or into gorgeous shots of the French Riviera. The point is, I think she wants me to portray the young her in the same way as Vadim portrayed Juliette, the film’s main character. High-octane sex appeal, no inhibitions, too beautiful for her own good, basically someone who doesn’t have much of a relationship with everyday morals.’