Working, Waiting, Wanting

Yorke Millen sat back, and viewed the letter on the desk in front of him. How, in the present circumstances, was he going to handle the next few months as temporary head teacher? Being deputy head was fair enough, the buck didn't stop with you. But now, he was standing in for Gordon Rafter, the actual head, who had suffered a heart attack just over a month earlier, and school problems were multiplying.

He wasn't too concerned about the general running of Barnside Middle School. All of the staff were well motivated, if a little apprehensive, at this time, but they were most supportive. As he picked up the letter that confirmed the big problem he had inherited, there was a gentle knock at the door, and school secretary, Tina Lorder, poked her steely grey coiffure around it.

"In the mood for a member of the Press? The Enquirer," she asked.

Yorke frowned. The Enquirer was the local area newspaper, which, like any newspaper, was eager to latch on to any hint of bother.

"What could they want?" he mused out loud."Did he give any clues?"

"It's a lady," Tina said, and her lips tightened. "Karen Marking."

That had him sitting up straight, his wife Carol's untimely death, three years earlier, instantly on his mind. "Oh, you said the Enquirer."

Tina shrugged, her eyes admitting her own surprise, "Apparently, that's who she's with now."

Discomforted, Yorke wondered what she could want. In no way did he fancy stirring up cruel memories. Karen Marking was the presenter of a television show doing a piece on drink driving, shortly after Carol's death. Without realising the trauma of that time was still with him, he had foolishly accepted an invitation to take part.

He recalled sitting uncomfortably in the studio, mindless of the cameras on him, while this round faced, slender, young woman, outlined the circumstances of his wife being struck by a car driven by a drunk driver..

Yorke, with emotion building inside him once more, was only vaguely aware of Karen Marking asking him quietly, "Mr Millen, do you think that seven years was an adequate sentence?"

On a shuddering breath, eyes down, he had replied, "Seven bullets in his sick brain wouldn't have been enough. Nothing would." That said he broke down completely, and was guided off air. What he did recall was Karen Marking's show of understanding and sensitive empathy.

But now, successful television presenter to local newspaper seemed a strange career move, but burying the apprehension that old wounds might be opened, he asked Tina to send the lady in.

The lady who appeared in his office was totally stunning. She, literally, took his breath away. His state of mind at the time of their last meeting had blunted any appreciation of looks.

In a tight black skirt, white blouse, and maroon waistcoat style jacket she was captivating. The loose jacket could not disguise the generous thrust of her breasts. But it was the face he might have passed without recognition. The roundness had gone. Now there almost a gauntness about the cheeks. A couple of little lines at the corners of the eyes indicated that something stressful had overtaken her since their last meeting. But the smile on her full lips was as genuine as ever. For the first time in a very long time, Yorke experienced a surge of desire.

"This is a surprise," he said, controlling his emotions, indicating a seat.

"I thought it might be," she replied, hitching at her skirt as she sat opposite him, enabling him to appreciate a flash of shapely thigh.

She asked how he was, and his reply was less enthusiastic than it might have been. As if detecting this she observed, "We don't seem to meet in the best of circumstances."

"And you? What happened to television?"

For the briefest moment her blue eyes clouded, "Can we just call it redundancy?"

"They can't have found anyone better?" he said with applied charm.

She shuffled before replying, "Well, let's say they thought so."

Yorke pressed just a little further. Her reluctance intrigued him. "Given your ability though---the Enquirer?"

She shrugged, "Jobs aren't all that easy to walk into." She was reluctant to talk about whatever had happened, and she changed the subject herself. "Anyway, it's a challenge. And that's why I'm here really."

"What's on your mind?" Yorke asked, while thinking please not the despair of three years ago.

Her blue eyes regarded him frankly, and her left hand stroked at the dark hair behind her ear, before she said, "Your school is in a testing situation at the moment. What with the closure rumours, and all."

Such expressive blue eyes, that were able to dispense sympathy. The eyes of a highly desirable young lady. As she half turned her body, a blouse covered breast pushed out of the waistcoat, and Yorke wondered if it was just a good bra or did her breasts really have that pointed boldness? God, he had almost forgotten how pleasant such observations could be, but hardly the situation for such thinking.

"Oh, yes, definitely testing." He forced his mind back on track.

"It must be a nightmare for you. All the rumours. I was wondering—" " And here her eyes lowered briefly, "I'm surprised to find you so composed. I was expecting more grey hair—or even less hair."

They laughed together, while an inner hand preened Yorke's ego, "Well, thanks for that much," he said. "By the same token, I may not have recognised you."

"Maybe I don't handle stress that well," she sighed, and before he could initiate a follow up, she went on. "What I was after, Mr Millen, is your permission to write some in-depth articles about the school."

"In depth?"

"A few good human interest pieces— Parents, children affected . Concerns of the staff.

Yorke wasn't too sure, and shook his head, "I don't know---what you must understand is that the school must maintain a certain image---I can't see—"

" All very newsworthy." She broke in, holding up a hand of apology, before stroking the hair behind her left ear again. "This could help that image. After all, it's only rumours"

Yorke sighed, and held up the letter that had remained in his hand, "More than just rumours now."

"May I?"she asked, holding out a hand.

Yorke shrugged. What harm it would do now? He handed her the letter. Watching her face for reaction as she read, he realised that he was watching because it was a good face to look at.

Karen Marking's brow creased as she read, occasionally certain key phrases out loud, " –-closure is being considered----pupil numbers---" The wide eyes looked up at him, "What are your pupil numbers?"

"At present two hundred and fifty five—but if parents take fright—" Again, he shrugged.

She nodded, handed the letter back, "They now admit considering closure, but the earlier rumours must have stemmed from somewhere."

Yorke's eyes widened. That's what he had been thinking. There was more to this young lady than just a pretty face.

"Don't you think sympathetic articles in the local press might help?" Her voice was hopeful.

Yorke was so aware of those vivid eyes on his face, "You think so?"

She licked her lips, and why should that small gesture give him a buzz? "I have to admit that my first impulses were, career-wise, selfish considerations. I'm single, pushing thirty five. "

"You don't look it," he said gallantly, but also truthfully.

Was that a slight colouring of the cheeks, before she went on? "Rather old to be a cub reporter. I need a good project." She stopped and smiled, "Now I'm making it sound as though I'm begging."

"Not at all. I quite understand how you would need that kind of lever."

"Thank you. I was going to add that you'd see anything I wrote before publication. Does that sound reasonable?"

It sounded most reasonable, and there could be some benefits for the school. It would be a reason to see more of this delectable lady. God, he hadn't felt like this since Carol. "You might provide the input the school needs," he said. "Would you like to make a start next week?"

"Ideal," she said, "Thank you. You won't be disappointed. Can we shake on it?" And she stood up and held out a slender hand, which Yorke took, enjoying the delicate warmth emanating from it.

"I won't take any more of your time," she said, and added, " I have some contacts. I can probe into Council matters without raising too many suspicions."

The smile that accompanied that statement was bright, and lit up her face. Standing there she gave him another opportunity to admire that trim, slender figure. Already, Yorke was looking forward to seeing her again..

He told the staff about the letter, and there were some mumbles of concern. Then he mentioned Karen Marking wanting to talk to them and the general consensus was, ' Anything that helps the school.'

Lying in bed that night, Yorke found his mind straying to Karen Marking's appearance, and the long lost effect it had on him. There was a sensuousness there that had not been applied, but appeared quite natural. Instantly, as he lay on his back his thoughts switched to Carol. So often he ducked away from such thoughts, because they were so painful. On this night they poured in, fuelled by what Karen Marking had roused in him.

Carol had been a virgin when they met, and had only succumbed to his attempts at love-making when they got engaged. Her sexuality had been slow to develop. Deep kisses, and gentle caresses were the early precursors to intercourse. Yorke had to be very patient. In his mind she had come to life on that evening, several months into their marriage, when he had dared touch his tongue to her already stimulated clitoris. Her hot reaction had started a gradual fire inside her. After that she became more passionate, more demanding, more daring.

He had loved her so much. She had even got to the stage where she would be the instigator of their passion. Standing at the bathroom sink one evening, cleaning his teeth, Carol, completely naked, had come to stand behind him. Then her warm hands had reached around his waist, plunged inside his pyjama pants and clutched his softness, while, chuckling, as she nuzzled the side of his neck. The softness never remained that way for long

His eyes moistening, he rolled over in bed, and wondered whether he could dream that Karen Marking might free him from this lingering grief.

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Within days Karen Marking started on her interviews, and was pleased to find the staff welcoming and cooperative. She had already produced one general article on the school situation, and had been lifted by Yorke Millen's appreciation of, as he put it, "an article that was skillful and uplifting.". Seeing him on her first visit, had reminded her what a good looking man he was, and it was to good find that he now looked even better. Although she might not have admitted it, meeting him in his office, had produced a long withheld fluttering in her lower body.

Surprising how often she unexpectedly met him as she moved around the school. Was that accidental? Less surprising was how good she felt when it happened. She had arranged an interview time with him on the Wednesday, and she had dressed coolly in white blouse and blue cotton skirt. His look had been appreciative, and she warned herself not to read too much into it.

At that meeting they came to an early agreement, for as she sat down across from him, he had said, "May I start by saying Ms Marking, how pleased I am with the way you've handled this. " It sounded terribly pompous and formal.

"Could you call me Karen? Everyone else does. And thank you, I'm enjoying the task"

"Then you must call me Yorke," he responded , and any formality disappeared.

"An unusual name."

"My parent's nod at the place of my conception. In view of the Minster."

Delighted at this relaxation, Karen had laughed easily. Then listened keenly as he told her how her own paper had published two separate articles on the subject of bullying in the school. Neither of them true.

"Of course you did protest?"

""Yes, and to be fair the guy was sacked for not checking the story more thoroughly. But the damage was done. The school undermined."

Karen pursed her lips, "And the irony is, I probably got his job." Then her face hardened, "But retractions attract less attention than juicy stories. No wonder you were cagey about me."

She wallowed in Yorke's reassuring smile, "But what you are doing is more than welcome. I'm not cagey about you anymore" And she found herself almost wishing that he would add, 'Quite the opposite." But she was nevertheless aware of how their eyes held contact for longer than they might have. Could there really be some promise behind those brown eyes?

"What you probably don't know is that we acquired a new editor in April. That's probably why there's been no reaction to me doing this story."

She held up a set of papers clipped together, "I've brought this draft for you to read. It's the article giving the staff reactions."

"No problem. Is there anything else?"

"Well yes, I've been to talk to a Mr Raymond, in the finance department at the council." Karen was rather proud of having pushed this far.

"Oh, yes, why him?"

She shrugged, "I knew him from other assignments."

"Any use?"

" Nothing but the cash-strapped business for Councils. But then he mentioned that Midsdale school, closed just last year."

"They did."

"And they're building a factory right on that spot already."

"Is that right?"

"Yes, so the income from the land could have been considerable. Imagine how the Council could score if this school was to close."

Yorke turned in his chair. "See out there," he said, pointing to the view out of the window.

Karen saw the open school playing fields and then a wide stretch of cultivated fields up to the nearby Stanning village."It is a lot of land."

"A gentleman named Scaley owns it. Applied for planning permission to build houses, and was turned down twice. Insufficient road access given as the reason."

"Intriguing "

"Not new ground, but worth following up on, Karen."

Karen had a satisfied glow inside her as she was able to tell him, "Great, I'm glad you think so too. I have an appointment with somebody in the land office for Friday morning."

She was sure his look at her was one of admiration. She had hoped he'd be impressed with this show of enthusiasm. "You really are true to your word, aren't you?" he said.

She smiled briefly before admitting soberly, "I enjoy doing it."

Later that afternoon before she left she decided to call in to see if he'd read her latest article. Entering the office she searched his face with hopeful eyes.

Her heart leapt at his reaction, "Another superb article, Karen. I'm so pleased you are around." If that gave her a lift what came next really thrilled her. "Look, I'm keen to know what you find out on Friday."

Karen gave a waft of her hand and a rueful smile, "It will have to be next week sometime. I've got a hectic few days coming up." Her blue eyes gave him an apologetic glance as she quipped, "Busy. Busy. So next Wednesday would be the earliest."

Yorke thought about that for a moment, "I can wait a week. How about a pub meal next Wednesday? Early evening?"

It felt like a flare had gone off inside her. Did she actually blush? She wasn't sure, but she was thrilled by the prospect. He could have met her here in school. Would her smiled acceptance be too obvious? It was as if he had awarded her Journalist of the Year.

"The Blue Dragon convenient? Say six thirty? Just to talk it through."

She could accept that last 'talk it through'. "I know it well." She told him, and left the building on a real high. Beware of over-reaction, madam.

After Karen had left Yorke sat and pondered the significance of their meeting. School-wise her efforts were totally commendable. From a personal point of view being with her had been quite enchanting. The bright sunshine filtering through the blinds painted a tiger effect on the far wall, as well as across Karen's crisp white blouse. Disconcertingly Yorke found himself wondering how much of a tiger was locked inside her. Control yourself, Millen. She had a highly efficient look about her, yet she still looked most desirable.

While looking at her as she had sat there, Yorke noted that his earlier observation about her 'gauntness' had been unfair. Now his impressions were of an attractive, high cheek-boned face, open and alert. With a pang it struck him that it was not unlike Carol's facial structure. Not the same delicate skin, but smooth and slightly freckled, and lit by the lightest blue eyes he had ever seen.

He would look forward to the following Wednesday to see if she came up with any more information. And only that? Admit it, Millen, you want this connection to develop, don't you? This lady has touched you in a way that no woman has since-- since--then. He hastily got on with some paper work.

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On the evening of the following Wednesday, Karen Marking, locked her car. Her folder tucked under her arm, she was just a little excited, and looking forward to the evening on two fronts. First, she was hoping that Yorke would be pleased with the information she had. But she was looking forward to being with him in this less formal situation. She had spruced up with a little more thoroughness this evening. A long warm shower, a bit more fussing with her hair, and careful, yet minimal, make-up. All topped with a favourite lemon blouse, dark green cotton skirt, overlaid with a pale green cotton short sleeved jacket.

The only annoyance was that she had been given a function to cover at eight thirty that evening. Some literary presentation in Tynemouth. She had cursed that it would cut into what might have turned out to be a more than interesting evening.

She had been to the Blue Dragon with a couple of girl friends fairly recently, and liked it. She chose a table in the corner of the large room, recalling lessons learned about being too attracted to any man. Thank you, Mr Patrick Webber, lesson learned. She brushed that thought from her mind, reminding herself that this meeting was not a date, just a review of an agreed situation. So why was she wishing it was a date?

Yet, as soon as Yorke Summers entered, smart in a navy blazer and blue open necked shirt, she felt that familiar shakiness in the pit of her stomach. Time with him recently, had added other suppressed quivers inside her.

A wide, genuine smile of greeting, and he apologised for being late, as he sat down across the table from her.

"You said six thirty, it isn't that yet. I was early," she reminded him. They talked briefly about the weather, as he slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, an action which she enjoyed watching. She wondered what he looked like with the shirt off, and quickly scolded herself..

"Should we order straight away?" he asked.

"I'm as hungry as a bear," she admitted. "And it will take time."

"Right, let's choose. What's good?" Yorke asked, picking up the menu.

"I was here not long ago. The steak and kidney pie in ale, I can recommend."

"I'll settle for that, then."

"Make it two." Delighted that he had accepted her opinion so readily.

Getting to his feet, he declared, " Two it is, and I'm buying."

"Oh, I can't let ---"

He held up a hand, "No argument. This was my idea."

Just a little embarrassed at accepting so readily, she looked up at him gratefully. Once again enjoying what she saw. God, his eyes were so deep, yet so wide and honest. Stick to the business in hand, Karen.

"Care for a glass of wine with it?"

Plying me with drink, is it? "That would be ideal." And enjoyed the private double meaning in that. "I'm driving, but one medium white, please."