First Friends (41 page)

‘Out.' Charlotte indicated the note indifferently. ‘Doesn't know how long she'll be and can I get Gemma some tea? She's with some man, I expect.'

‘Honestly! Must you be so dramatic? What man?'

‘Dunno. But I bet she is. Somewhere.'

T
OM ARRIVED BACK JUST
as it was getting dark. Harriet had been waiting for him, all on edge, for at least an hour. The question was, how did one behave to the husband of one's best friend when, overnight, literally, said husband had become one's lover? Would he refer to it directly, pretend it hadn't happened at all or carry on where he'd left off? He'd had all day to think about it, regret it, perhaps. He might not even turn up. She would probably get a polite little letter in a few days' time, carefully worded . . . The door handle turned quietly and he was standing there smiling at her.

‘Hi.'

She leaped up and stood rooted to the spot. ‘Hello. I—I didn't hear you arrive. The taxi . . . '

‘Oh, he dropped me on the front. I walked the rest.'

‘How did you go this morning?'

‘Same thing. Phoned from here for the taxi, met him on the front. Don't want to advertise the fact that I'm here.'

‘No. No, I suppose not. I hadn't thought of that . . . ' (It's rather sordid somehow, oh dear . . . )

‘Well, I'm thinking of you, love.' (Have been all day. Who'd have thought that cool, calm Harriet would be such a hot one. Couldn't wait to get back . . . ) ‘I don't want to ruin your reputation.' (Or mine, come to that. After all I know plenty of naval families in Lee.)

‘Yes, of course. I just wasn't thinking.' (Well, not about that anyway. I hope he's got some time off.) ‘Had a good day?' (God! I sound just like a boring wife. But what on earth would a mistress say?)

‘Blow all that! Come and say hello properly. Aah! That's better.' (She's gone all shy and nervous again, soon take care of that.) I've been looking forward to this all day, no concentration whatever. Mmm.'

‘Oh, Tom, I've missed you too.' (Oh God, I do so want him.)

‘Just one more. Mmm. Now let me see. Where had we got to when I had to rush away this morning? Shall we go upstairs and try to refresh our memories?'

Much later, struck by a wonderful idea, she raised her head from his shoulder.

‘Tom! Why don't we go to Tavistock for a few days? I could see Michael and we could look for places to live. Oh, do let's!'

‘You must be crazy, love.' He pulled himself up, reaching for his cigarettes. ‘Tavistock is less than half an hour's drive from home. Cass often shops there. No chance of that, I'm afraid.'

Harriet felt as if she had been doused in cold water. She was plunged back into reality, and very cold and bleak it was, too. Well, what did she expect? That Cass would cease to exist? That Tom would up and leave his family? And would she really want him to? She
pushed this last disturbing thought away and moved to the edge of the bed.

Tom, inhaling on his cigarette, watched her collect her discarded clothes and thought quickly. That one had been a bit close and he'd been a bit clumsy. Should he persuade her back to bed and take her mind off it? On the other hand he was absolutely starving . . . Compromise.

‘Is there anywhere else you'd like to go, love? I don't care where we are as long as we're together. We could stay here if you wanted.' (As long as we keep a low profile.) ‘Must you go? Have you had enough of me already?'

‘Of course not!' She turned back quickly. ‘Don't be silly!' (And I mustn't be silly, I don't want to lose him . . . oh, dear. I've got a lot to learn.) ‘I just thought that some supper might go down well. I've got some nice juicy steaks.'

She leaned over to kiss him and his hands moved up under her dressing-gown as he murmured appreciatively.

‘Well, I suppose so then. But only on the condition that we come straight back here afterwards. I've never known anyone like you, Harriet.'

At last he let her go and then lay back on the rumpled pillows to finish his cigarette. He would have to play this one very carefully indeed.

‘H
ELLO?
T
HAT YOU
, J
ANE
?'

‘Hello. Yes, it's me. I told you not to phone me here, Philip. Alan might answer it.'

‘Yeah, but he's gone, hasn't he? And I haven't seen you in two weeks, have I? How'd it go, then? Did you tell him?'

‘Tell him what?'

‘Come off it, Jane! You know what I mean. Obviously you didn't then. Why not?'

‘Dunno, really. Didn't seem to come up.'

‘For Chrissakes, Jane! What's that mean? Didn't come up! Not
likely to, is it, not without you bring it up? You promised you'd have it out with him.'

‘I know, but somehow I couldn't. It's not that easy and anyway I don't feel well enough to cope with it all.'

‘Oh, Jane. But we gotta do something.'

‘I know. Where are you now?'

‘I'm in Yelverton. Look, I gotta go up to Okehampton to pick up some parts. What say you come with me?'

‘Oh. Well, I don't know.'

‘Come on, the drive'll do you good. It'll be lovely over the moors today.'

‘I'd have to meet you. You can't come here. Oh, God, I don't know if I should.' A pause. ‘Phil, Mrs Hampton knows.'

‘Knows what?'

‘About us, the baby, everything!'

‘Bloody hell. These old dames don't miss nothing. Well, she's all right, she won't go talking.'

‘I know. But if she knows who else does?'

I dunno. What's it matter anyway? They'll all know soon enough. Look. I gotta go. I'll meet you in the usual place, OK? ‘Bout half-two.'

The phone went dead. Jane replaced the receiver and walked slowly to the window, her arms folded across her stomach. How kind Mrs Hampton had been to her, and was she right? Should she, Jane, stick to Alan, try to make a go of it, learn to accept his job? Certainly, for the baby's sake it was the right option. But what of Philip? He made her feel so alive and so carefree, or he had, before all this trouble had started. But would she continue to feel carefree in a tumbling-down old cottage, not knowing where the next penny was coming from and wondering how she'd manage? If it was just me, thought Jane, but there's the baby now. I don't even know whose it is. She'd had to tell Philip that it was his. She'd sworn that she and Alan weren't sleeping together anymore. Philip's temper was a byword locally and Jane was a little frightened of him, especially when he'd been drinking.
As yet, Alan didn't know she was pregnant. She'd have to tell him sooner or later but it was as if she were waiting for something to solve the problem for her. She had no strength left. Apathy enfolded her. She wanted someone to tell her what to do, even do it for her, but without anger and shouting. If only, calmly and peacefully, it could all be put right. But how?

A shaft of golden sunlight slanted through the window, piercing the grey gloom that enfolded her. She would go with Philip to Oke-hampton. Why not? At least if she moved in with Philip she'd have company, not these long, empty hours of boredom. Would she, though? Unbidden came the thought that Philip was mostly out on jobs, off on trips like this one to Okehampton, never knew how long he'd be, and, of course, he liked to go down to the pub of an evening. And I'd have to stay at home with the baby, thought Jane. I'd still be on my own . . . Oh, hell! She turned away from the window and went to get her coat. At least today she could have company and tomorrow could look after itself.

K
ATE SAT AT THE
kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, trying to decide whether she should take the plunge and start showing Oscar at some of the larger dog shows. Her breeder friends all advised it. Once he started winning, then other breeders would want to use him. It was essential, they told her, if she wanted to make a name and make some money.

The flump of the letters arriving on the doormat disturbed her reverie and she got up and wandered into the hall. Three envelopes lay there. Kate picked them up and turned them over idly. One looked interesting with its London postmark and the name of a firm of solicitors in the corner. Perhaps some unknown rich relative had died and left her some money. Kate carried the letters back to the kitchen and slit open the long white envelope. She read the letter through without taking in a single word and, with her heart beginning to thump, read it through again. After all, it was quite simple. Their client, Mark Webster, was seeking a divorce on the grounds of an irretrievable
breakdown of the marriage. He would continue to support his sons until they had left school. After that, he would consider that his responsibilities were at an end.

Kate felt for her chair and sat down. She tried to collect her thoughts and decide how she should feel. It was hardly a surprise that after five years he should want his freedom. Perhaps he wanted to marry again? Kate examined the thought carefully and diagnosed her reaction with as much self-honesty as she could muster. There was a twinge. Yes, there was certainly a tiny fluttering at the pit of her stomach. Could it be jealousy? Kate didn't think so. Never for a moment had she regretted her decision to leave Mark, never had she wanted him back. No, this was more a sensation of shock that there would be an official finality to what had once been between them, the love that they had once known, the shared moments, the fact that, for a moment in space and time, they had been linked together. Now, it would be judged, a few strokes of the pen would sever it and it would be wiped out.

After a moment another thought struck her. She seized the paper again. Yes, there it was: no support for the twins once they had left school. How would she manage to get them through university, keep them clothed and fed until they had qualified in order to find jobs? It was cold fear now that clutched at her stomach and she stood up and automatically pushed the kettle on to the hotplate.

She made some more coffee and sat down again, willing herself not to panic. Was Mark legally able to stop supporting his sons when they finished school? Giles wanted to read drama and theatre studies, his great ambition being to direct films, and Guy wanted to study engineering. Kate imagined telling them that they wouldn't be able to and felt quite desperate. Were the twins to be punished and deprived for her mistakes? She took a gulp of coffee and strove again for calm. It was stupid to panic until she knew all the facts. She must talk to someone who could advise her. Chris had left the name of his lawyer to be contacted if an emergency should arise and he was obviously the person to whom she should speak. Kate finished her coffee and
pushed back her chair, Oscar and his future career completely forgotten.

W
HEN
T
OM HAD LEFT
Harriet to rejoin his submarine he was uncertain as to when they would be able to spend more time together. In the end they had spent their few days together in Harriet's house with only an occasional sortie in the car. After all, if you're a naval officer Hampshire is a dangerous county in which to have an affair. It had been a blissful time and now Harriet felt flat and lonely. She had pushed away any long-term thoughts of the relationship but her resolve to move to Tavistock and join Michael was slowly strengthening.

‘After all,' Tom had observed, ‘it would be a lot easier for us to meet if you were only half an hour away across the moor. Quite legitimately, of course. Burst pipes, blocked gutters . . . Oh, Harriet! I'm really going to miss you.'

Now, more than a week later, she slumped in an armchair, coffee un-tasted on the table beside her. She felt it would be quite impossible to carry on with her life as if nothing had happened. No. It was a time for positive action and, sitting up, she opened the small address book that she had dug out of her bag and pulled the telephone towards her.

A soft voice with a West Country burr informed her that Michael was on the other line. If she could hold on a moment?

Impatiently Harriet tasted her now-lukewarm coffee. She mustn't lose her nerve. After all, she needn't commit herself to anything, just a chat . . .

‘Harriet! How marvellous! How are you?' Michael's voice, exploding suddenly into her left ear, made her jump and spill the coffee.

‘Michael! Hello. I hope I'm not interrupting anything.' She scrubbed at the table with her handkerchief.

‘Of course not. Where are you? Dare I hope that you're down here in the Wild West?'

‘No, no.' Harriet felt warmed, her spirits lifting at his obvious enthusiasm. ‘But I could well be soon.'

‘Really? That's fantastic. Have you thought over my offer?'

‘Well, yes, I have. No, no, hang on. I haven't come to any decision yet, except that I want to move down to Devon and I want to carry on working.'

‘I should think so! And I need you, Harriet, remember that. So what are your plans?'

‘Well, I thought I'd come down and have a look around at houses, see what's going and prices, etc.'

‘Well, you've certainly come to the right man for that!'

‘Yes. And then we could have a long chat about my coming in with you.'

‘Sounds good to me. So when?'

Harriet could visualise the tall, loose-limbed form, crouched over his desk, dark hair falling across his forehead, horn-rimmed spectacles slipping down his nose, whilst the pencil in his free hand doodled on the blotter.

‘Heavens! I had no idea you were so dynamic. Well, let me see . . . ' She thought quickly. She was taking some time off and could easily ask for extended leave. ‘What about tomorrow? I could be down by tea-time. Could you book me in somewhere?'

‘Splendid. But can't you stay with me? I've got plenty of room, you know.'

‘Well.' She hesitated.

‘Oh, come on, Harriet.' His chuckle seemed to reverberate down the line. ‘I shan't jump on you if I see you in your dressing gown.'