First Friends (30 page)

Tom remembered that at the time he'd been getting at Mark II about the job at BRNC and remembered, too, Tony's sly expression when he said ‘Take no notice,' and felt confused. Seeing this, Cass went to him and slipped her arms around his waist.

‘I love you,' she said, looking up at him. ‘You know that. I thought we trusted each other.'

For one dreadful moment, Tom wondered what he'd do if she asked him if he'd always been faithful to her. Quickly he put his arms round her.

‘I do trust you,' he said. ‘I just wish you weren't so damned beautiful.'

Cass laughed huskily and pressed closely to him. ‘No you don't. You love it.'

He bent to kiss her, running his hands over her hips and around her buttocks. ‘I couldn't bear to lose you,' he muttered. ‘Oh, Cass . . . '

‘You're not going to, you daft old thing.'

‘Can we go to bed?'

Cass hesitated. She knew that Tom would only be finally reassured by the physical act and she wished very much to bind him back to her.

‘Go on then,' she said. ‘Go on up. I'll be as quick as I can. Shut the door or the children will wonder why you're going back to bed.'

She waited until she heard the bedroom door close and then went into the garden. Kate was wandering over the lawn and Cass waved to her.

‘Bloody hell, Kate,' she said as she approached. ‘That was a close one. No, no bullet,' as Kate raised her eyebrows. ‘Talk about quick thinking. No more Russian roulette. At least, not for a bit. Look, can you come in for a minute and stay with the kids . . . '

Alex made himself some coffee, took it along to his sitting room and put it on the gate leg table. He sat down and picked up his patience cards trying to remember what on earth he had done with his evenings before Kate. The Easter holidays were now upon them and Alex was once more living the life of a bachelor. He shuffled his cards and lit a cigarette. He'd started smoking again during the Christmas holidays, finding that it relieved the tension on those occasions when he had wanted to get into his car and drive round to the cottage. He wondered how they would deal with the ten weeks of the summer holidays. He quite understood Kate's rationale, agreed that it was quite likely that Mark might try to divorce her for adultery although he was by no means as sure as she was that the twins would be taken away from her. He had suggested that she divorce Mark for unreasonable behaviour or even mental cruelty but Kate was adamant that no boats should be rocked until the twins had left Mount House; everything was far too local and they started their last year in the autumn so the end wasn't too far ahead.

Alex sighed and drank some coffee. It seemed a very long time to him and he knew very well that Kate hadn't yet realised that the long summer months with their long light evenings would make a significant difference. They couldn't shut themselves away indoors for ever. Of course, one of the things that they did during their evenings together was to talk. Alex had asked her why she had put up with so
much for so long and once Kate had started explaining she seemed unable to stop. The floodgates were down and Alex had to ride the tide. He understood her preconceived ideas about marriage and it wasn't difficult to read between the lines. It must have been easy for a man of Mark's character to play on her ideals and her great sense of loyalty. He'd got it made! Alex felt the usual wave of anger. What a fool the man had been! Too idle to make efforts—too selfish to put himself out. Well, he'd lost her although Kate still felt guilty, still needed to be reassured that she had the right to leave him and that she wasn't damaging the twins in some way. Alex calmly talked her through it, evening after evening, as the pain and anger that had gathered over the years slowly washed away in the flood of words. It was exhausting but Alex knew that it was necessary. It must all be done, all got through, before their own life could truly start. There would be scars left, painful places, but time would heal and help as it had helped to heal hurts from his own failed marriage when his German-born wife had left him. Ingrid had got bored quite quickly with Tavistock and Alex's venture with his bookshop. Every penny he had after paying the deposit on the property was tied up in stock and Alex was working hard to make a success of his dream. Ingrid became tired of being short of money and at Alex's preoccupation with the business: Alex, who had seen them working happily together sharing little successes and disasters alike, was disappointed and hurt. When she saw an advertisement for a Personal Assistant who could speak German required by a London- and Hamburg-based company, she had shown it to Alex. He had pointed out that it was a long way from Tavistock. She had said that the salary would support them both until Alex found something. He told her that he already had something; his money and all his ambitions and hopes were wrapped up in the bookshop. He had no desire to live in London—or Hamburg.

In the end she had gone for the interview and got the job. She'd come down at weekends, she said. It was just for a bit. The extra money would be useful. It had worked for a while but then she'd had
to go to Hamburg and then there were conferences and finally she stopped coming back at all. Alex had thrown himself into his business which was just beginning to pay when, a few years later, she had written and asked for a divorce. By then he was quite happy to agree, glad that there had been no children. He had come to realise that part of her attraction had been her ‘foreignness'—her charming accent, the flaxen hair, her flair with clothes—and that the relationship was probably doomed from the start.

He'd been quite happy to have a succession of women in his life and had no real desire to tie himself down until now. Kate had got under his skin although he still had qualms when he thought of the twins. After all, they could hardly all squash into the flat and he couldn't quite see himself simply moving in at the cottage. There was a long way to go yet.

Alex stubbed out his cigarette, finished his coffee and started to deal the cards.

M
RS
H
AMPTON FINISHED POLISHING
Charlotte's chest of drawers and started to replace her collection of china animals, dusting each one carefully as she did so. Her mind was busy. In the Wivenhoe household the Great Education Debate—as Kate had dubbed it—was raging and Mrs Hampton was finding it difficult to hold her tongue.

She'd spoken to the General about it but he, knowing full well that the traditions and advantages of the boarding school system would be concepts of little value to her, had refused to commit himself. After all, he wasn't too sure himself that Charlotte should be sent away to boarding school in the autumn.

‘But you sent me,' Cass had cried, sure of his support.

‘You had no mother, my darling, and I was away so much.'

‘I had a Nanny.'

The General, who knew that Nanny had been as putty in Cass's deft and manipulating hands, had remained silent.

Mrs Hampton put the last china ornament in place and started on
the bookshelves. Out came all the old favourites: Beatrix Potter, Richard Scarry, A. A. Milne, Enid Blyton . . .

Why should she have to go? Mrs Hampton shook her head. The child didn't want to and there was no need of it. Her mother didn't have to go out to work, they had a lovely home and Charlotte loved the little ones. She was such a help with them. Mrs Hampton couldn't understand how Cass could bear to part with her. She could tell that her father wasn't too keen for her to go. He'd said as much when he'd been home on leave. She'd heard him when she'd been polishing the stair rods.

‘Well, if she hates the idea that much let her stay at home. I thought that you liked the idea of having a girl at home when the boys have to go.'

‘I still have Gemma, not to mention Saul for another year or two. Of course I like having her around but I'm thinking of her future.'

‘Are you?'

Mrs Hampton had felt a funny little thrill when he'd said that. His voice was cold, like. As if he didn't believe her.

‘But of course I am. Charlotte's got a good brain. She can't stay at Meavy for ever, you know. She's got to go somewhere this autumn. '

‘I appreciate that. But it doesn't mean she has to go away.'

‘Have you any other suggestions? You know how shy and easily hurt she is. d'you think she'd be happy at Tavistock Comprehensive?'

‘Surely there are other options?'

‘Well, if you're going to encourage her . . .

‘I just can't see why you're so set on her going when she's so unhappy about it. Unless, of course, you've got some other reason for wanting her out of the way?'

‘Oh, don't be silly! What possible reason could there be?'

‘You tell me.'

There was the sound of chair legs scraping on the slate-flagged kitchen floor and Mrs Hampton, picking up her Brasso and her polishing
rags, had scurried up the stairs. Peering down, she saw Tom cross the hall and go out. The front door banged.

Now, a few weeks on, Mrs Hampton replaced Charlotte's books, pulled her Peter Rabbit quilt straight and went on to the landing.

‘Hammy?'

She went to the top of the stairs and looked down at Cass. ‘I've just finished,' she said. ‘Anythin' else special you want done?'

‘No. That's lovely. Would you like some more coffee?'

‘No, thank you.' Mrs Hampton descended the stairs and followed Cass into the kitchen. ‘I'm ‘avin' me dinner with Jane today. Jane Maxwell, she is now. 'Er Alan's in they submarines, too. It seems that ‘e's been made up to a proper officer. I don't rightly understand the ins an' outs of it to tell the truth.'

‘In simple terms,' explained Cass as she took Mrs Hampton's coat from the peg behind the door, ‘if a sailor comes up through the ranks and is very promising he can be recommended to be promoted to officer rank. It can be a mixed blessing. They are much older than their brother officers of the same rank and it often means a drop in pay. Still, it's wonderful for Alan. I wonder if Tom knows him. Do I know Jane?'

‘Shouldn't think so. She's only just moved back to the village. They've bought one o' they new ‘ouses up the Paddocks. She seems a bit nervous about this promotion. She's not sure she's cut out for an officer's wife, like.'

‘That can be one of the problems,' said Cass. ‘Perhaps I'll pop in and see her. Or ask her up for coffee or something. Tell her I'd love to meet her.'

‘I'll do that. ‘Ow's my lover, then?' Mrs Hampton paused in the act of putting on her coat to bend down and tickle Gemma's cheek. Gemma held up the doll she was playing with and Mrs Hampton made clucking admiring noises. ‘Quiet now, with 'em all gone back to school,' she observed. ‘You must be real glad to ‘ave this little maid to keep you company.' With this Parthian shot, she kissed Gemma and opened the door. ‘See you Thursday.'

Cass made a rude face at her departing back and went to the pantry to pour herself a glass of wine. She knew that she was fighting a losing battle and that she was going to have to give in gracefully. She took a sip, pushed the saucepan of soup on to the hotplate for lunch and took some bread from the crock. Funny how old Tom had made up his mind about it. It had become quite a battlefield with each of them emerging for a light skirmish and then withdrawing to plan the next move.

Cass took another sip. She'd made the fatal mistake of being too serious about it. She should have kept it light and majored on the facts that would have weighed with Tom: that boarding school would have helped Charlotte to become more self-sufficient and that she had a very good brain that deserved a first-class education.

Cass stirred the soup and switched on the toaster. The trouble was that it was impossible to imagine Charlotte as a career girl. She was so obviously wife and mother material that Cass had found herself arguing from a standpoint of weakness and her insistence had made Tom suspicious. The Stephen Mortlake business was too recent and he'd remembered Charlotte's part in it. Cass had managed to allay his fears but he'd begun to feel that her determination that Charlotte should go away to school had something more to it than concern for her future education. Gemma was still very young and Saul would be off to prep school in two years just when he himself, if all went well, would be promoted to Commander and given a Nuclear or Polaris submarine to drive. He was fast coming to the conclusion that while he was at sea Charlotte would make a very good chaperone. Very little would slip past her, especially as she got older.

Cass, who could read Tom like a book, was well aware of these thought processes and decided that for the sake of peace and her marriage, she must give in gracefully. Since there was no local school that Charlotte could go to it would at least mean that there could be no more unexpected arrivals home. She cut some bread, put it in the toaster and took another sip. Gemma had crawled into the puppy's
basket and woken him up. He yawned mightily and licked her face enthusiastically. Cass laughed as Gemma squeaked and tried to push him away.