Breach of Faith (8 page)

I needed to blow the cobwebs out of my brain…what was left of it. I’d been sitting in front of that damned computer, almost non-stop for the last two weeks and all I’d written was … nothing. Bloody great journalist I was going to make.

Frank.

Time to take control. I’ve got to get out of here.

Frank.

Walking down the hill fifteen minutes later, my handbag banging gently against my hip, I felt sane again. I could almost believe that the events of the past month had happened to someone else.

Almost.

They did happen to you, though
,
didn’t they?

“Yes,” I scowled.

They’re still happening,
aren’t they?

“Yes,” I was getting defensive, “shut up.”

The dreams –

“I dream about lots of stuff.”

—the sex—

“Hang on.”

—the lies and deceit –

  “Hey, steady on.” I was getting annoyed.

When are you going to tell him? When are you going to tell them?

“KATE! I thought it was you. How have you been?”

A red mass of curls was bearing down on me and a genuine grin of warmth lit up my face as I recalled the friendship offered to me by Paula and her husband, Stuart. And she’d managed to scare away the voice in my head. Bonus!

“Kate, you look wonderful. You’re positively blooming. What on earth have you been doing to yourself to glow so brightly? And could you
please
share your secret with me?”

I laughed, “Paula, it’s good to see you again. What brings you to Rowley?”

“An old friend’s sixtieth.” She looked at her watch. “Damn, I don’t have time now but I’d love to catch up for a coffee.”

I nodded and rummaged in my bag, “I’ll give you my number. Give me a call.”

Tucking the scribbled note in her pocket, Paula’s face fell. “I was sorry to hear about you and Frank.”

I stared at Paula, “what have you heard?”

“I’ve just come from Frank’s,” Paula explained, gesturing vaguely over her shoulder in the direction of the bakery. “He told us you two had broken up. Oh, Kate, I was sure you were a match made in heaven, you seemed so perfect together. He’s putting on a brave face but he’s pretty cut up about the whole thing.”

“He’ll survive!” I said savagely.

Paula gazed curiously at me, “of course he will. He’s survived tougher than this.”

I glanced around before my eyes found Paula’s once more, “you mean his … problem?”

“He told you about that, did he?” Paula replied glumly, “he doesn’t usually like to advertise it –”

“I wonder why?” I replied sarcastically.

“—but,” Paula pretended not to have heard my comment, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of –”

“Oh, of course!” my sarcasm had turned sour.

“—it’s a disease that can affect anyone. Anyone at all.”

“A disease … that’s right.”

Paula frowned and glared at me, “do you have a problem with Frank’s condition? Is that why you broke up?” She was furious. “I thought so much more of you, Kate. I never realised you could be such a … a bitch. Bloody hell, I can’t believe you’d dump him over this.”

I grabbed Paula on the arm, “it’s not like that. You know what happened to his wife and baby. You must know what he did to them? What if he’d hurt me too.”

“You? What’re you talking about?” Paula shook her arm hard, dislodging my grip, disregarding my comment. “He didn’t know what was going on, he’s not a doctor.”

“You’re telling me he didn’t notice himself drinking too much?” I was sceptical.

Paula blinked, suddenly confused, “drinking too much? Frank doesn’t drink too much.”

“What? But … he said –”

Paula rubbed her hand across her eyes, “did Frank tell you he had a drinking problem?”

“Yes,” I was adamant, “he said he was drinking a lot back then. Too much. And it was his condition that had made him hurt Cassie.”

“Did he say, specifically, that he was an alcoholic?” Paula was still glaring at me making me feel belligerent. Had Frank really kept this secret from his best friends?

“I told you what he said.”

“So, let me get this straight,” Paula looked thoughtful, “Frank told you he had a problem that had contributed towards the accident?”

I nodded impatiently.

“So you, in your wisdom, put two and two together and assumed he must be an alcoholic.”

“He didn’t deny it,” I was beginning to feel just a little bit stupid.

Just a little bit?

Paula sighed, “oh, Kate. You idiot.”

There was silence for a moment and I licked my lips, ‘so … Frank’s not an alcoholic?”

Dimwit!
Bonehead! Plonker!

Calmer now, Paula shook her head. “I’ve seen many alcoholics in my time as a nurse and they all tried to hide it from the people who wanted to help them. I’ve seen most of the tricks, heard all the excuses and if Frank is an alcoholic I’ll run down the main street of Rowley naked. That’s how positive I am.”

I closed my eyes breathing heavily, suddenly feeling rather faint. I put out my hand and grabbed the railing beside us.

“Kate? Are you all right?” Paula grasped my arm, steadying me.

Ignoring the question, I opened my eyes and looked wearily into Paula’s bright green gaze. “What’s Frank’s problem?” I asked finally. “What really happened that day?”

Paula checked her watch then led me to a nearby seat, urging me to rest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, “tell me, Paula, tell me what’s wrong with him.”

“You should ask him.”

I gritted my teeth, “Paula, I’ve just accused him of being an alcoholic when he’s not. Please, you have to tell me the truth.”

Paula hesitated then shrugged. “A few years ago Frank started to feel unwell. Headaches, fevers and fatigue were the main things to start with, then I noticed he was losing a lot of weight and Cassie mentioned the terrible night sweats. There were other symptoms as well and we all urged him to see a doctor.” She paused, “I think he realised that something was wrong and it wasn’t just the flu. He was scared and to tell the truth, I can’t blame him.”

I frowned, “but you’re a nurse. Couldn’t you have, I don’t know, diagnosed him or something?”

Paula shook her head, “it’s not that easy. The symptoms he was displaying are non-specific, it could have been any number of medical problems. I had my suspicions, of course, but only hospital tests could confirm a diagnosis. It was the incident with Cassie and the loss of his baby that finally made him realise he had to do something about it.”

I scraped my lips with a dry tongue. Suddenly I was feeling nauseous myself. “What was wrong?”

With tears in her eyes, Paula took a deep breath, “leukaemia, Kate. Frank has leukaemia.”

1 November

Taking a deep breath, I shoved open the door, dreading what I was about to do but knowing I had no choice; this was going to be the most difficult meeting of my life. Stepping inside I peered around and slowly let out the breath I had been holding. So far, so good.

“Hello?” my voice sounded insignificant in the immense space; I didn’t remember the bakery being quite so big. Funny what tricks your mind can play on you.

“Can I help you? We’re closed.”

I glanced wildly at the door. The blinds were pulled down and the window displays empty. Not a pastry or croissant in sight. Confused, I swung back to find Frank standing behind me. Close enough to touch.

“The door’s locked. How did you get in?”

“I’m sorry, I … I thought you were open. I need to speak to you.”

Frank stared unblinking; I drowned, of course, in those eyes.

How original.

His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips, hypnotising me. “You want me?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yes,” I croaked, “I need you.” I reached out and touched his hand. “I’m so sorry, Frank. Paula told me –”

Frank placed his finger gently on my lips, silencing me with a touch. His finger left my lips, travelling lightly, slowly, following the line of my neck towards my breast, his other hand sliding down my back until it reached my bare buttocks.

Bare buttocks? You hussy.

I gasped as my nipple rose against his palm, goose bumps bubbling up my arms making me shiver. We were naked as he lay me down softly on the rug at our feet, our naked bodies entwined, his knowing hands caressing and seducing my eager skin. His touch delicate but firm.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” Frank murmured

I groaned in pleasure as his tongue caressed my nipple, the warm moistness making my hips thrust gently upwards, begging for him to enter me. Abandoning my breast, his mouth moved lower, kissing and caressing with tongue and lips. I could feel his hands, gently massaging my stomach.

“You should have told me, Kate.”

Opening my eyes, I peered past the softly rounded flesh of my breasts, to where Frank’s hands were lovingly fondling my belly. I sucked in a sharp breath of air as I studied my body, massively pregnant, writhing with life of its own.

Giving a cry of shocked repulsion, I desperately pushed myself backwards along the floor with my feet. Escape. Escape. Putting my hands firmly on the floor, I gave one almighty push …

“Ouch.”

… and opened my eyes, as my head smashed into the wrought iron bed head, images of the recent “Frank dream” still engulfing my mind.

“Bloody hell that hurt,” My eyes watering, I rubbed the bump on my skull and tasted blood from a bitten tongue. Will snorted softly in his sleep and shifted position, but I stilled my rubbing as the ultimate message of the dream finally hit me.

“I have to talk to him. I have to see Frank.”

*

“What are you going to say to him? Martha glanced sympathetically towards where I was perched on the armchair, my head in my hands. Tom was on the other side of the room, playing crashing games with his toy cars, and I kept my voice low.

“I don’t know,” I admitted sighing deeply and finally raising my head. “I still can’t believe I jumped to the conclusion he’s an alcoholic and it was the drinking that killed his poor baby. I have a lot of apologising to do.”

Martha smiled, “well, that’s a good place to start.”

“I think it’ll take a little more effort than just a quick ‘sorry, Frank, and by the way can I have a loaf of raison bread please?’,” I groaned. “I’ll have to work out what to wear.”

Martha looked puzzled, “why do you have to work out what to wear? Isn’t it more important to be honest and sincere?”

I felt my face get hot, “well, yes, but it’s for confidence, isn’t it. I’ll feel stronger in clothes I feel … good in. This is really difficult, you know?”

Martha shrugged, “okay. So what are you going to wear?”

Flashes of last night’s dream pounded my mind, “I thought I’d go the whole hog. Black silky bra and those little knickers that only cover half my bum. They’re nice.”

Martha raised an eyebrow, “were you planning on covering any more skin or are you just trying to get yourself arrested?”

“Of course I’ll cover up,” I replied defensively, not catching Martha’s eye, “probably my … blue dress.”

“The short one? Hmm, yeah, that’ll be great with bare buttocks.”

I glared at Martha, “okay, smart arse, what do you suggest?”

“Smart arse? That’s what they’ll be calling you and your bare backside,” retorted Martha, ignoring my withering stare. “What I really want to know is why does it matter what sort of undies you have on? It’s not like Baker-Boy will see them?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why, Kate? You know I’d support you even if, heaven forbid, you decide to walk there in a gorilla costume, but I don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”

I stared at my friend in consternation, “Martha,” I said slowly, as if speaking to a backward child, “I accused a man with cancer of being a selfish alcoholic and told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was a child killer. Do you really have to ask why it bothers me.”

Martha patted my knee, “I’m sorry. I
do
appreciate that you’re upset and embarrassed about what happened but, Kate, why are black, sexy knickers so damned important? What the hell is wrong with white cotton? You’re apologising, not seducing. I truly think you’re blowing this whole situation out of all proportion. Say you’re sorry, he’ll probably be a bit pissed off but, if he’s a true friend he’ll forgive you. You’re not his girlfriend, just a casual friend and a relatively new one at that.”

I sighed heavily and glanced towards Tom who was making a serious effort to poke a toy car up his nose. Grimacing, I turned back to Martha and smiled tiredly, “you’re right, as always. What would I do without you?” I paused, “I guess I’m just tired.”

Martha shrewdly studied my weary face, “you always seem to be tired recently?”

I shrugged and looked away, “don’t worry about me.”