GHOST LOVE

Joan realized that if she didn't hurry, she was going to be late again picking up the twins, and she cast a resigned glance at the heavy-duty watch that hung on her wrist, which looked so out of place in comparison to the delicate nature of her wrist. This morning, Smith has been a challenge unlike any other. Both times, he brought the model to tears, and it was only thanks to her skillful calming that they were able to continue. Even though she was appalled by the brutal and uncaring way in which he treated his models, Joan still found it possible to admire his skill, and the driving desire for perfection his unyielding determination evidenced. Smith's rise to the top of the fashion photography industry was not due solely to luck or to knowing the right people. Joan was aware of the motivation behind why he had been particularly brutal today, and it had nothing to do with the model. Since she began working for him as his personal assistant, he had made it very clear how much he desired her. His desire for her was very obvious. In a way, she knew that she ought to be flattered that he wanted her when so many beautiful girls were only too ready to share his bed, but then again, Smith was cynical and hardbitten enough to know that his models were only too happy to sleep with him if it meant that it would further their career, whereas she... As he gave her terse instructions regarding the development of some of the photographs he had taken, she stifled an impatient sigh as she listened to him speak. Photography had been one of her interests for as long as she could remember, and when she was left alone after the birth of the twins, she decided to use it as a way to make a living for herself. Eventually she hoped to have a studio of her own, and this she had made plain to Smith when she first went to work with him. As far as work went she couldn’t fault him. He was marvellously patient in showing her all the tricks of the trade and helping her with her own photography; unstinting with both genuine praise and genuine criticism, and was now allowing her to take on some of their more routine work entirely unsupervised. An ad they had done for stockings several weeks ago had brought a positive paean of praise from the client, and Chas had given her full credit for her work. No, it was not where work was concerned that Smith was becoming impossible. In a way it was almost ludicrous that he should find her desirable; at twenty-four and the mother of six-year-old twins she had long ago ceased thinking of herself as the object of any man’s desire. ‘And don’t forget, we’ve got that weekend assignment coming up,’ were Smith ’s final words as she hurried to where her car was parked. It was an assignment joan was privately dreading. They had received a commission to take some fashion shots at Leeds Castle which would take up an entire weekend. Joan had protested that she couldn’t possibly leave the twins, but Smith had overruled her, saying that his housekeeper would be delighted to look after them for her. The real reason she didn’t want to go was that she sensed that Smith would use the weekend to force her into an affair with him—an affair she didn’t want, but offending him might ultimately mean losing her job, which she enjoyed very much and which was extremely well paid. Sighing, she eased herself into her ancient Mini, adjusting the driving mirror as she did so, pausing as she caught sight of her own reflection. Twenty-four; she grimaced wryly. She didn’t look it, which was ridiculous when she remembered that at eighteen she had looked older. Eighteen… She grimaced, tossing the thick length of her brown-blonde hair off her shoulders. Normally she wore it in one single plait for work but this morning they had overslept and there hadn’t been time. Her face free of make-up belied her years, freckles standing out plainly across the bridge of her nose. Her hair had a natural tendency to curl, tiny tendrils feathering across her forehead. Her eyes were an unusual mixture of hazel-green; hazel one moment, jade green the next, in accordance with her mood. As a child she had been volatile, given to impulsive gestures, but age and experience had cured her of that. She switched on her engine, swearing mildly as she glanced again at her watch. Her skin was faintly tanned still from a trip she had made to Italy with Smith earlier in the year. Her mother had looked after the twins for her, but grudgingly. She had never really got over the fact that they had been born illegitimate. Tara grimaced as she pulled out into the main stream of traffic. It had not been purely for the twins’ sake that she had invented a ‘deceased husband’ for herself when she moved to Germany shortly after their birth. As she had quickly discovered in the months following their arrival, while some areas of ‘sophisticated’ society now quite happily condoned the birth of children outside marriage, in male eyes there was still an element of the ‘fallen woman’ attached to girls who admitted to fatherless children, and Joan had grown sick of the men who had offered friendship and affection merely because they assumed her unmarried mother status meant they would quickly gain access to her bed. They had instantly realized their error, just as she had done the same thing with hers and quickly moved on. She had left the small town in which she had gone to stay with her aunt and uncle in order to await the birth of the twins, and she had begun a new life in the secure anonymity of Germany, where no one cared enough to question her youthfully widowed status. She had been pregnant with twins when she had gone to stay with her aunt and uncle. It turned out to be a fortunate decision. She was able to get the children enrolled in a reputable nursery school, and she returned to school herself to finish the education that was abruptly derailed when she learned she was pregnant with twins. It had been impossible for her to go to college, but she had gained a solid grounding in secretarial work, which meant that she had been able to earn enough to at least keep a roof over their heads. Although it had been impossible for her to go to college, it had been possible for her to keep a roof over their heads. The money for the deposit on the small terraced house she had bought in what had been a very unfashionable part of Germany, but which was now rapidly moving up-market as more and more young couples made it their home, and there had been sufficient money left over for her to afford the fees at the small private kindergarten the twins were attending was provided by a Premium Bond win that had come as a complete surprise. The most recent expenditure was Joan and her mother's source of friction in their relationship. After the birth of the twins, her mother had moved to the same town as Joan's aunt and uncle. She bitterly complained that she could no longer stand the shame of living in the same place that had witnessed her daughter's disgrace, so she moved to the town where Joan's aunt and uncle lived. Joan's mother, along with her aunt and uncle, were the only members of Joan's family that she had ever known because Joan's father had been killed in a car accident when Joan was only five years old, and Joan could hardly remember him. Suddenly, the three of them felt awkward. she acknowledged that they were comfortable with her, but she did not see them very much because of it. The idea of sending her children to a private school was repugnant to her mother, but Joan had tried to explain to her in the most diplomatic way possible that she was looking out for their best interests. When she had found out that she was pregnant for the first time, her mother had strongly encouraged her to place the kid for adoption; nevertheless, Joan had been adamant that she would not do so. Naturally, there was never any consideration given to the idea of marrying their father. Her eyes became more dark, and the whites of her fingers turned white as they gripped the driving wheel. Even after all these years, when she should have long since put it in the past, Alex's absolute rejection of her still had the capacity to wound; Oh God, how that still hurt after all these years when surely she ought to have put it behind her for good. It wasn't even as if he could use his youth and inexperience as an excuse, like she did when she was in her own position. If he had been a boy of eighteen years old, she might have been able to understand and accept his unwillingness to face up to his responsibilities. However, if he had been a man of twenty-seven years old... As was the case every time she thought about Alex, a feeling of resentment rose up within her. When they had their first encounter together, she was unaware of what was to come. Simply put, he was the father of a younger student who was a friend of his. She quickly dammed up the flood of memories that threatened to return to her by focusing on the task at hand, which was driving, as well as the evening that lay ahead. One of the factors that played into her decision to purchase the property was the proximity of the studio to the kindergarten. When she arrived, to her relief, there were still other cars parked outside; mothers waiting to collect their offspring, and she smiled wryly in amusement, acknowledging the incongruity of her shabby Mini amongst so many luxuriously expensive boxes on wheels. She was relieved that there were still other cars parked outside when she arrived. As she eased herself out of the Mini, an elegant blonde woman looked over and smiled at her. Joan gave him a half-hearted smile in return while her eyes searched the playground for the twins' recognizable dark heads. A small sigh that had been pent up for a while escaped the full warmth of Joan's lips when she saw the twins playing on the slide. Both twins had inherited their father's darkly attractive looks, which had been softened by baby chubbiness in the case of Vanessa, and an undeniably coquettish femininity in the case of Vanessa. On the surface, neither twin bore the slightest resemblance to her. When Joan thought about her pretty but headstrong little girl, she couldn't help but let out a small groan. Already, the little girl appeared to take a perverse delight in sabotaging her mother's efforts, and Joan recognized, much to her chagrin, that the little girl's behavior indicated a need for the strong and loving hand of a father. Identical to her mother in every way, Vanessa had always been a girl right from the moment she was born, just as Frank was a stoutly built little version of his father. In the same way that Vanessa did, he too had to deal with the absence of a father, although in Frank it manifested itself more in the reflective gravity of his eyes and in his propensity to cling a little too tightly to the protection that Joan provided. Frank as always saw her first and came running over to her, flinging his arms round her jean-clad knees, while Vanessa followed in his wake, dark curls flying. ‘You’re late,’ Frank accused when she had kissed them both. Tara sighed. ‘I know, darling.’ ‘Is Uncle Smith coming round tonight?’ Vanessa demanded. Smith occasionally popped round in the evening to discuss work, and Vanessa tended to disapprove of his visits. As Joan was explaining to them that it was unlikely, the blonde woman who had smiled so tentatively at her before suddenly approached with a toddler, her smile deepening to recognition as she came closer. ‘Joan!’ she exclaimed in pleased accents. ‘I thought it was you.’ She mustn’t have looked at her properly the first time, Tara decided, suddenly feeling ill, otherwise she would have recognised her instantly, despite the sophistication that seven years and the apparent addition of a wealthy husband had given. ‘Lisa.’ Did her voice sound as weak as she felt?