A Regimental Affair (22 page)

Sarah looked at the taut expression on Alice’s face and realised that things were far from well with her neighbour. She made a stab at conversation, as a silence would be too awkward. ‘I was just out posting the kids’ thank-you letters. I needed to blow the cobwebs away after last night,’ said Sarah.

‘Oh.’

Sarah glanced at her neighbour again. Her voice was toneless and flat and she didn’t sound a bit like her normal self, but Sarah was too tactful to mention anything. She knew that, unlike herself, Alice couldn’t be suffering from a hangover, but something was definitely wrong.

They turned into Sarah’s garden. ‘Here we are,’ she said brightly, putting the key in the lock. She led the way indoors. ‘Sorry about this,’ she said. The curtains downstairs were still drawn and Sarah whizzed through the sitting room and the dining room pulling them back and letting in the daylight. ‘You must think me a dreadful slut.’ But judging by Alice’s expressionless face, she wasn’t thinking anything, let alone that. ‘Right,’ she breezed on and led the way into the kitchen. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Oh, um, coffee please.’ Alice sat down on a kitchen chair and stared blankly out of the window at the dreary day.

‘I’m afraid it’s instant,’ she admitted hesitantly. She knew for a fact Alice hated instant.

‘Oh, fine.’

That definitely showed something was wrong. Alice, when offered instant, would normally make some excuse and ask for tea instead. She filled the kettle under the tap, plugged it in and went to the fridge to get the milk.

‘I’ve forgotten, do you take sugar?’

‘No.’

Sarah began to wonder if Alice was going to get beyond monosyllabic words. She would never have called Alice chatty – in fact, Sarah had once heard Alice comment that she abhorred gossip in any shape or form – but she was always assiduously polite, very conscious of social niceties, and that included proper replies to questions. Sarah made banal small talk while she waited for the kettle to boil and put her curiosity on hold.

‘There you go,’ she said, putting two steaming mugs on the table. ‘Last night was good fun, wasn’t it?’

‘It was kind of Taz to invite so many people,’ Alice replied, not looking anywhere in particular but certainly not at Sarah.

‘Bob enjoyed himself, didn’t he?’

Alice looked at her and Sarah saw her bite her lip, her eyes dull with misery. Suddenly Sarah knew what had happened. Alice’s views on alcohol were no secret and Bob’s overindulgence the night before had been the cause of some ghastly row. That was why she had rushed out of the house like that. Sarah reached her hand across the kitchen table and rested it on Alice’s.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked gently.

‘No … I …’ Alice shook her head.

‘You and Bob had a row?’

Alice nodded.

‘It’s not the end of the world. Alisdair and I have had our moments too, and look at us. We haven’t ended up in the divorce courts.’ Though she didn’t add that it had come a bit too close for comfort on at least two occasions.

‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what is it?’ Sarah was no longer asking out of nosiness, but from genuine concern. Alice was obviously distraught. Something had been said which had gone beyond the normal hurtful words of a marital bust-up.

Alice shook her head again and the tears hovering on the edge spilled over and ran down her face. Sarah got up and put her arm round her.

‘Alice,’ she said. ‘You can’t bottle everything up inside you. You need to let it out, otherwise it’ll poison you. It’s like lancing a boil.’ Sarah didn’t know if Alice had taken in what she’d said or not because she continued to cry silently. Sarah stood beside her, patted her shoulder and stroked her hand and hoped that her family would keep to their normal holiday routine of not emerging until nearly lunchtime. Eventually Alice began to quieten down. Sarah went across the kitchen and returned with a roll of kitchen towel.

‘Here,’ she said, proffering it. ‘Have a jolly good blow and dry your eyes.’

‘Thanks,’ mumbled Alice and did as she was told.

‘Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.’

Alice dutifully obeyed.

‘So, you had a go at Bob for having one over the eight last night?’ Alice nodded over the brim of her mug. ‘Well, he wasn’t the only one. I think everyone was a bit merry.’

‘Yes, but he should have set an example,’ said Alice and blew her nose again. ‘That’s all I said.’

‘Well, it doesn’t sound too bad as rows go. You ought to hear what Alisdair and I have been known to say to each other.’

‘Yes, but that’s the point. It didn’t end there.’ Sarah waited for Alice to go on. She didn’t want to pry. If Alice wanted to tell her, she would. ‘He said some dreadful things to me and Megan heard.’

‘Oh.’ That was different. It was one thing to have a row; it was another matter entirely to have it in front of the kids. ‘But what could he find about you to cause him to say dreadful things? You never do anything wrong.’

‘Well, apparently, compared to the sainted Ginny, I do.’ Alice’s voice was sour with bitterness.

‘Ah, Ginny.’ There was a pause as Sarah digested this. Ginny seemed to crop up a deal too often in connection with Bob. Part of Sarah wondered if she only noticed because Ginny was a woman. She didn’t suppose she would read anything into it if, say, Richard’s name kept getting linked with Bob’s. There was no way it would cross her mind for an instant that Richard and Bob would be having a ‘liaison’. Although, and Sarah had to suppress a smile at the thought, it wasn’t beyond the bounds of possibility in this day and age, however unlikely a scenario it was.

‘Apparently, compared to Ginny, I’m riddled with hang-ups and I don’t know how to enjoy myself.’

Bob has a point there
, thought Sarah, although she said, ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’

Alice looked dangerously close to tears again. She blew her nose and sipped her coffee and then said, ‘But he’s right. I don’t.’

It was such a bald, true statement that Sarah wasn’t sure how to respond. ‘Well …’ she started, and then stopped. She couldn’t refute it. They both knew that. ‘Well, we all enjoy ourselves in different ways.’

‘No, we don’t. I see you and the other wives on the patch. You laugh and joke together and go to each other’s houses and go on shopping trips together. But not me. No one wants me to tag along. I don’t find the jokes funny and I always seem to put a damper on things. Besides, you all know I’m too busy making sure everything is perfect at Montgomery House.’ There was more than a touch of self-pity in Alice’s voice. Her exclusion obviously hurt more than she had let on in the past.

‘But Montgomery House is a showpiece. Your house is always exquisite and you cook beautifully and …’

‘And I don’t have fun.’

‘Perhaps “fun” isn’t your cup of tea.’

‘Perhaps if I told you why, you’d understand.’

‘Try me.’

‘My father was in the army.’

‘I didn’t know that.’
Ah
, thought Sarah,
Alice was scarred by a dodgy boarding school with puritan values
. That would explain a lot. But, as she listened, she discovered she was wrong.

‘I haven’t gone around bragging about it. He was a staff sergeant, and I spent my life watching the kids from the officers’ patch and longing to be like them – to go to boarding school not the local secondary mod, to drive around in an estate car, to talk with a posh accent, to have a Labrador for a pet and learn to ride for a hobby.’

Sarah didn’t know what to say. She had no idea. A staff sergeant! Good God. Everything about Alice seemed so right, so authentic. If she had heard that Alice’s father had been in the army she would have assumed he had been a general at the very least, but a staff sergeant. ‘So how come …?’

‘You mean, how come I made it?’

‘No. Yes, I suppose so.’ Sarah wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to know, but the option offered by Alice seemed as good as any.

‘As I got older, I worked out that there were ways of joining the officer classes. You didn’t have to be born or bred for it. I discovered I could go into the army myself as an officer or I could train to be a nurse or I could become a teacher. Whichever I chose I’d end up living in the officers’ mess. I’d always liked kids and I knew I’d make a good primary school teacher so I went down that path. Once I got out to Germany I made friends with the female officers and copied them – the way they dressed, their hobbies, what they read, how they behaved. I read books on etiquette, I made sure I always said and did the right things, I had private elocution lessons to lose my accent, I bought a cashmere sweater and a string of pearls. And then I asked for a transfer to another school in Germany, in a different garrison miles away, where no one knew me and I could start again – only this time everyone thought that I came from a pukka background. I fitted in right away, never put a foot wrong but that was because I have always been careful to watch my step. I decided that I couldn’t do that and drink, so I stopped drinking.’

‘So that explains it.’

‘And no one guessed it was all a facade.’

‘Even Bob?’

‘Even Bob. We dated, we fell in love and I always managed to find excuses why we couldn’t go back to England to meet my parents, so we didn’t. Then we got engaged and I said I wanted a regimental wedding, so it was arranged out in Germany and I lied at the last minute and said my father was too ill to come and my mother was staying in England to look after him. Of course, the truth was, I never told them. I think Bob was smelling a rat by this time, but whether he was too much in love to care, or too much of a gentleman to make the accusation, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know? Haven’t you discussed it since?’ Sarah was aghast. Besides which, surely Bob must now know about Alice’s father.

‘Not discussed it, no. What was there to discuss? He had the perfect army wife who would do everything just so, and no one else knew, so Bob just accepted it.’

‘But your dad?’

‘Of course I had to tell Bob eventually. I did it after the honeymoon. Bob’s always said he doesn’t care. And. do you know, I don’t think he does. He’s always been great with my dad. They talk like old friends. If he comes to visit they go off down the pub together. Dad won’t go into the officers’ mess. Bob says it doesn’t matter but Dad won’t, all the same. Says it’s wrong, that he’s not entitled and that’s that. In his way, he’s just as much of a snob as me.’

‘I never realised your background was anything but the best.’

Alice managed to raise a wan smile. ‘I suppose that’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever had. Because I’ve always felt as though I was playing a part, I couldn’t ever let my guard down.’

‘So no fun.’

‘I thought it best not. I thought fun might be as dangerous as drink.’

‘And Bob raked this up again this morning?’

‘Not as such. It was mentioned in the course of the row. He told me that no one would give a monkey about Dad. Actually his words were “no one would give a flying fuck”.’

Sarah had to keep her teeth clenched to stop her mouth dropping open. She’d never heard Alice swear before, and certainly not like that.

Alice continued. ‘So is he right? Now you know the truth, what do you think?’

Sarah drew in a slow breath to give herself time to think. ‘Well …’

‘You
do
think he’s right.’

‘I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t think any the less of you because of what you’ve told me. In fact, I probably think more of you. I can’t think of many people who would have been that single-minded to go for an ambition like that. It’s real Eliza Doolittle stuff. And it’s even more admirable that you got away with it.’

‘But?’

‘But if people find out, there will be talk. There’s bound to be. You know what a regiment is like for gossip; it’s worse than the village post office, and this would be the best story they’ll have heard in ages. But it’ll blow over in a few days. Five minute wonder,’ Sarah added hurriedly, seeing the look of utter horror on Alice’s face.

‘You’re not going to tell anyone are you?’

‘Of course not.’

Alice gave a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God for that.’

‘But if you want to loosen up a bit then you’ve got to stop worrying about anyone finding out. It isn’t as if anyone’s going to pry into your background. After all this time, everyone just accepts you for what you are. I reckon, now I’ve had time to think about it, Bob is probably right. I don’t think anyone will care …’

‘Or give a flying fuck,’ said Alice, dryly.

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself.’ Sarah saw a trace of a smile appear around Alice’s mouth. ‘How about another coffee?’ she offered.

‘I don’t wish to be rude, but could I have tea this time, rather than coffee?’ Sarah turned away to hide her smile. Alice must be feeling better.

Chapter Fourteen

Ginny tottered out of her bed and over to the washbasin in the corner of her room. When she reached it she hung on to the sides while she slowly raised her head to look at the reflection in the mirror above it. Her skin had a greasy, unhealthy sheen, her hair was lank and matted and her eyes were bloodshot.

‘Ugh,’ she shuddered. She felt slightly nauseous but she didn’t think she was actually going to be sick. That was something to be thankful for, she supposed. But all the same her mouth tasted disgusting. She vaguely remembered a line from a book about some small animal of the night dying and making someone’s mouth its mausoleum. Frankly, the way her mouth tasted it had gone beyond that. She wouldn’t have minded if the animal had just laid down and breathed its last, but this one seemed to have shat itself to death. She lowered her gaze again and concentrated on the co-ordination required to put toothpaste on to her toothbrush. She noticed that her hand was shaking slightly as she tried to get the white goo on to the bristles and gave up the task. She squirted a gob of paste directly into her mouth and then moved it around in a desultory fashion with her brush until she had eradicated the worst of the repellent reminder of the previous night’s excesses. She rinsed and spat some but it made her head feel worse, so she filled a glass with water, grabbed a bottle of aspirin and took herself back to bed.