Got You Back (27 page)

Inside the room had been decorated beautifully, but there was an edgy atmosphere with people standing around in small groups, whispering about what might be going on. News of James giving up the surgery had already spread, and clearly all was not well, but Katie seemed to be smiling and laughing and all she would say to anyone who asked was that she would explain everything later. She was looking especially lovely. In a flowing floral maxi-dress, and with her hair dyed back to its former blonde self and falling in curls round her shoulders, all she needed was a bicycle to look as if she had stepped straight out of a postcard from the 1970s.

At about nine o'clock she took a deep breath and had her first swig of champagne. She had been dying for some alcohol all evening but had resisted, knowing that she wanted to be able to remember every detail of what was
about to happen. Now she knocked back half a glass in one go and made her way up to the small stage at one end of the room where the Lower Shippingham Players, led by Sam and Geoff McNeil, performed their twice-yearly shows. She climbed the stairs at one side and stood in front of the patchy red velvet curtains. Before she had time to worry about how she was going to attract everyone's attention, all eyes were on her and the anticipatory buzz was almost tangible.

Katie swallowed. She had never been any good at public speaking, preferring to play the role of the quietly supportive friend rather than vying for attention. But she had thought through exactly what she was going to say and, after all, this was her night. There was no doubting that the crowd would be on her side. She cleared her throat softly.

‘I expect you're all wondering what's going on,’ she said, and a low murmur went round the room. She could see them all there, looking up at her expectantly: Richard and Simone, Sam and Geoff, Hugh, Alison, Simon, Malcolm, even Owen. She hadn't been able to persuade Sally or her family to come, although she had tried. She recognized countless of James's clients among the crowd and the bloke who ran Le Joli Poulet. All of them were staring at her now and she could feel herself blushing. Just get on with it, she told herself.

‘I'm sure lots of you remember Stephanie, James's wife.’ She watched as their expressions changed to utter bewilderment. What did Stephanie have to do with anything?

‘As you know, James and Stephanie separated about
a year and a half ago. James and I got together a few months later and he moved into the cottage with me. Since then he's spent half the week living with me and the other half down at his London practice where he lodges with friends and gets to see his son Finn on a Saturday. Or…’ she paused dramatically ‘… that's what I thought.’

The silence in the room was so intense she felt lightheaded. She waited a second for her words to sink in.

‘A few weeks ago I discovered that James and Stephanie have never, in fact, been separated.’

There was an audible gasp.

‘In fact, as far as Stephanie was aware, they were still happily married.’ The murmuring had started again. Katie wanted to laugh as she looked round at the expressions on their faces. Several people asked for quiet, eager to hear the rest of the story.

‘So, you see, the truth is that I had no idea about Stephanie, and Stephanie had no idea about me. James was living a double life. Caring husband and father from Wednesday through till Sunday and loving boyfriend for the rest of the week. Until Stephanie found out, of course. Then she told me. She wanted to be here this evening, by the way, but she couldn't make it.’ More confusion all round. This was perfect, Katie thought. They were hanging on her every word. She could hardly bear to leave the stage.

‘So,’ she said, ‘to cut a long story short, James and I are finished. I told him to get out and he's gone, back to London, as far as I know, although what he's going to do there I can't imagine because Stephanie has thrown him
out as well. And I don't care because I have no intention of ever speaking to him again.

‘Now, I want you all to enjoy the party. The buffet will start in a minute. Let's all get drunk.’

Someone started to applaud and a few others joined in, unsure of quite what the etiquette might be. As Katie stepped down from the stage a small crowd gathered round her, hugging her and commending her on her bravery. She could do much better, they assured her. James was clearly a loser and would certainly never be made to feel welcome in Lower Shippingham again. Katie basked in the attention. OK, so it wasn't the public humiliation she and Stephanie had wanted for James, but this felt almost as good.

At about eleven, when she could finally tear herself away from the concerns of her neighbours for the first time, she went outside and called Stephanie. ‘I've done it.’

‘Good for you,’ Stephanie said, and Katie could tell that she was smiling. ‘Tell me all the details.’

After that things became a bit of a blur. Katie could remember all the kind words and how everyone seemed to want to look after her, fetching her drinks and encouraging her on to the dance-floor. She remembered crying briefly when someone — Simone, she thought, who was obviously feeling guilty for her attempted seduction of James — was especially sympathetic. What she didn't remember, though, was going home with Owen or how she had managed to end up nearly naked in his bed.

The view from the window of James's hotel room was of the air-conditioning units outside the back of the next-door
restaurant and their insistent hum drowned out any hope of being able to watch the TV. He tried closing the window, but as his hotel didn't have the luxury of its own air-conditioning it quickly became unbearably hot and he had no choice other than to open it again. But he had chosen the hotel for the location, not for its facilities. He was within walking distance of Stephanie, somewhere where it wouldn't seem ridiculous for him to bump into her every now and then. He felt it was important that she couldn't just put him out of her mind completely.

He lay down on the narrow bed. He was exhausted but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. His head was reeling with the events of the past couple of days. He hadn't expected Stephanie to just say she forgave him and carry on as normal after he'd blurted out his secret, but her reaction had knocked him sideways. How could she have known what he was going to tell her? And how long
had
she known? He tried to think back over the last few months to see if her behaviour towards him had changed, if he could pinpoint a day or an hour when her attitude had shifted, but the truth was he hadn't been paying attention. And as for Katie… James rubbed his eyes. He had no idea what was going on, except that his life with Katie, indeed his whole life in Lincolnshire, was over and he didn't care. In fact, it felt good to cut off a whole portion of his existence so completely. Once he had sold the surgery he would never have to think about Lower Shippingham or the people in it again. Good riddance.

He broke out in a clammy sweat as he thought about how he was going to survive. Until he got any money
from the sale of the surgery he would have to live on his savings, a big portion of which had just been wiped out by the tax people. He would call an estate agent in the morning — maybe there was a way of selling up without having to wait for the planning permission for the extension to come through. Although why anyone would want to take on that headache he couldn't imagine. The hotel was costing him seventy-five pounds a night for this little space without even a kettle or a free bottle of water. He supposed he should look for a flat although he thought it unlikely that, in London, he could afford to live alone, and the idea of having to share, like a student, with a person or people he didn't know (and who would almost certainly be at least ten years younger than him) made him want to weep. He thought of Stephanie in their cosy house just round the corner and wondered if she was thinking about him.

She wasn't.

37

On Monday morning Stephanie woke having slept rather well after talking to Katie. It was over. She couldn't help but be pleased that James had been spared the public humiliation they had had planned for him. It was strange the way he had decided to tell her, quite brave, really, she supposed, very unlike him.

Finn had been a bit tearful getting ready for school, as if the news that Stephanie had broken to him the previous day had just sunk in. She bribed him by promising to buy him a girlfriend for David, which seemed to work. Oh, God, she thought, we've only been separated for two days and I'm trying to buy my child off. But he went into school happy so it seemed worth it, even though Stephanie was now having visions of having to live in a kind of Noah's Ark just to appease her son.

After dropping Finn off she went back to the house where she was, euphemistically, ‘working’ from home. Things had gone a bit quiet after the BAFTAs, as they always did, but the glossy magazines had featured photos of both Meredith and Mandee, with complimentary comments, so that should guarantee some future business. She spent half an hour on the phone to Natasha filling her in, half-heartedly flicked through some magazines for inspiration, then allowed herself to think about the evening ahead.

Michael was meeting her in Nobu at seven thirty and, although he didn't know it yet, Stephanie had decided that this was the night they would take their relationship on a stage. She had arranged for Finn to sleep over at Arun Simpson's house, telling his mother that she thought an evening spent with his friend would take his mind off the trauma at home. Arun's mum, Carol, herself a single mother, had been only too happy to help.

Stephanie's plan was to break the news to Michael that her marriage was finally over for good during the starter and then have seduced him into wanting to take her home by the time they had finished their main course. She didn't, in truth, think he would take much persuading. In retrospect she felt relieved and happy that Natasha's interruption had meant they hadn't yet had sex — well, not quite, anyway. She wanted their relationship to be totally above board, with no niggling thoughts at the back of her mind that it had started before she had told James their marriage was over.

By the time it got to six o'clock and she was starting to put on her makeup she felt sick. Could she really go through with this? Forget whether it was the correct thing to do morally, she wasn't sure if she could cope with taking off her clothes in front of another man after all these years. OK, so he had pretty much seen her naked the other day, but not quite. She blushed when she remembered the way they hadn't even waited to get undressed properly, like two teenagers shagging in the park. Oh, well, she thought, if he doesn't like what he sees, then that's his problem. She tried to convince herself that she really believed this but, of course, she didn't.

It was twenty to eight by the time the cab dropped her off in Park Lane. Michael was sitting at the bar, an almost empty white wine glass in his hand. ‘Dutch courage,’ he said, as he saw her, and she laughed.

Of course he was nervous too. He had been married to the same woman for fifteen years, after all. Stephanie relaxed a little. ‘I'd better have one too,’ she said.

Four and a half hours later it was over. Well, for the first time at least. Stephanie lay back in Michael's big wooden bed while he went downstairs to fetch drinks and congratulated herself. It had been… well, it had been a bit awkward, like first-time sex always was. They couldn't anticipate each other's moves yet and there had been a lot of ‘How does that feel?’ and ‘Is that good?’ and ‘Do you like it like that?’ going on and she had had to put on a bit of a performance because otherwise they would have been there all night. But otherwise it had been good. Nice. Not earth-shattering, but nice. And nice was definitely good enough at the moment.

Katie had woken up with a dry mouth and a slightly hazy memory of the previous evening. As she'd struggled to open her eyes she'd become aware of an unfamiliar smell. Nothing unpleasant, it just wasn't her lily-scented familiar bedroom. Someone had grunted softly beside her and she'd felt wide awake in an instant. She'd forced herself to look round. Sprawled on his back, she would have sworn with a smile on his face even though he was asleep, was Owen. Surely not. She couldn't have. She'd looked under the covers: she'd seemed to still have her underwear
on, that could be a good sign. Oh, God. She had no idea what had happened.

She had eased her way out from under the covers, trying not to wake him. She hadn't been able to face having to have a conversation, let alone whatever else he might have been be expecting. She had to get out of there. Owen had mumbled softly and rolled over, blissfully unaware that Katie had been standing looking down at him, horrified. She'd stopped dead in her tracks for a moment, holding her breath, and he had settled down again, like a contented baby. Katie had felt anger welling inside her. How could he sleep so happily after what had happened? Not that she knew quite what that was, of course, but she could imagine. He must have taken advantage of the fact that she had been drunk and emotional. She hadn't even been able to remember what time she had left the party or even if she had said goodbye to anyone. She'd spotted the rest of her clothes lying on a chair and had gathered them up as quietly as she could. She'd looked around for her shoes and couldn't see them anywhere. Sod it, she'd have to leave them behind.

Outside, the grass was dewy wet. She had no idea what time it was and realized, looking at her wrist, that she had left her watch behind too. It must be early, she thought, but she didn't want to risk bumping into anyone she knew so she decided to go the long way round, through the fields. She tiptoed along, occasionally stepping on something sharp or stubbing a toe on a tree root. She felt sick, too, and headachy. It was so long since she'd had a proper hangover that she'd forgotten how miserable it
felt. All she wanted to do was lock herself inside her little cottage and sleep it off.

As she put the key in the lock she heard Stanley's miserable whine and realized, with a guilty pang, that she had forgotten about him. When she opened the door he shot out past her and cocked his leg against a tree and she felt terrible, knowing that he had probably been dying to go for hours but would have kept his legs tightly crossed rather than mess on the floor, which he had always been told was wrong. She made a big fuss of him and tried not to gag as she opened a can of his favourite foul-smelling food. He wagged his tail happily, the trauma of the previous night already forgotten.