After some thought, they were going to take the plunge and move house although she was not entirely sure she wanted to. It was sort of expected now that they had come into money and it would be exciting to furnish and decorate a new place, and they had started looking for somewhere on the outskirts. She was not yet ready for a bungalow but a small detached with a garden would be ideal.
Today she avoided going past the card shop even though there was absolutely no reason why she should. After all, she had resigned and because she did not want to leave them short-staffed, she worked the full notice and the big boss had turned up on her final day and presented her with a little gift and a nice farewell card of course, one of their pricier hand-made numbers. There were a few tears because she had enjoyed working there, although in a way it was a relief because it saved her the bother of making a decision about the promotion.
She avoided the shop because for some daft reason she did not want them to think she was somehow checking up on them, seeing how the new woman was getting on, the one who had replaced her: a snooty individual with purple nails to whom she had taken an instant dislike.
It was no longer her problem and money was no longer a problem either, which took some getting used to. It made her feel just the teeniest bit guilty for surely one or other of them, Alan or his father, could have made an effort during the last few years, one or other of them could have got down from their high horse and tried for a reconciliation. She was not a blood relative and it had been ultimately up to Alan to do something about it, but that remark his father had made all those years ago about her not being good enough had hit home and hurt him every bit as much as it hurt her. It was no use feeling guilty and she reminded herself that they had not seen hide nor hair of Thomas Walker at Lucy’s funeral, or at Matthew’s wedding, and the old so-and-so could have got off his fat behind and come to see them.
She supposed, in Thomas’s eyes, by leaving Alan the lot, including the surprising number of properties he had accumulated, Thomas would feel he had redeemed himself. By accepting it and not telling the old fool to stuff his fortune, they had more or less forgiven him although they had to assuage their conscience in some way and they would be setting aside some for the local charities that they already supported.
Paula glanced at her watch before making her way to the little Italian restaurant, much-praised locally, where she was meeting Eleanor. As of old, an attack of nerves overtook her, but she must not allow herself to show it. She was on stage now, playing the part of a confident contented woman.
She had an idea what this might be about, although she hadn’t said anything to Alan. She had seen her son recently and although he told her all was well she knew it was not. Sons could not fool their mothers. Matthew was working too hard these days and he should relax a little because, at his age, there should be much more to life than work. That business with Chrissie had upset him of course, for who liked to be accused of harassment particularly when there wasn’t a word of truth in it? She had wormed that story out of him after Nicola had rung her and started to ask questions about Chrissie, before eventually coming out with it.
She might have known.
She had always been neurotic, had Chrissie. She wished she had seen Chrissie again because she was one step removed from the whole situation and she would have known straightaway whether or not Chrissie was happy in her life. In fact, she would have asked outright because Chrissie had always responded to the direct question. Chrissie York had been one of those worryingly intense young girls and nobody had been more relieved than she was when she moved away and was no longer a threat to her son’s happiness. She would have wrung him dry, that young madam, and it took a mother to know it. However, her son was a romantic and there was nothing wrong with that, but she was still at a loss as to why he had gone to the station that day when he had told her he was not going.
That had been a mistake and a half.
After their shouts of delight and meeting-hugs, Eleanor bit her tongue, stopping herself from making a remark about the way Paula looked, for it was truly a remarkable transformation. Her whole demeanour was different, as if the well-cut suit, the good shoes and the lovely handbag – not to mention the flattering scarf – had given her a much-needed confidence boost. She was altogether more poised and she walked differently, although that could be something to do with the spiky-heeled shoes.
‘You look nice,’ Paula said, giving her the opportunity to respond.
‘I like your new hairdo,’ she murmured, irritated though, because today of all days – and uncharacteristically for her – she was having a truly awful hair day, a fact which she was certain Paula noted. Threatening to be late, she had in the end given up on it and just scraped it back into a ponytail. She had missed her last hair appointment and a few grey hairs were beginning to show, which was doubly annoying. ‘It suits you,’ she added, in for a penny in for a pound.
‘Thanks. I’m growing it. It’s taking ages,’ Paula said as they settled at the reserved table towards the rear, a table where they could conduct their conversation without fear of being overheard. ‘How are you, Eleanor?’ she asked, slipping off her leather gloves. There was a new ring on her right hand, Eleanor noted, and it was not costume jewellery either.
‘Very well, thank you. And you?’
‘Fine.’
Good. Niceties out of the way, then.
‘Good afternoon, ladies.’
The waiter appeared, handing them the menus and there followed some consultation before they both settled on lasagne and two glasses of wine, red for Eleanor, white for Paula.
‘I shouldn’t. I’m driving, but one glass will do no harm,’ Eleanor said, mindful of Paula’s expression, but then she was married to a driving instructor who absolutely never ever drank when driving. She was beginning to realize that Alan Walker was a man of principle, which was of course something to be admired. Her own husband took no notice whatsoever of the rules of the road, overtaking on blind bends and what have you, and it was a miracle he had never been involved in an accident. ‘Look, Paula …’ She hesitated but it needed to be said. ‘I’m so sorry if I upset you when I had to cancel dinner, but Henry was really poorly, honestly, and it couldn’t be helped. I hope you didn’t think I was making an excuse.’
‘That’s all right.’
Eleanor waited, half-expecting another date to be suggested but with none forthcoming she carried on. ‘Nicola came by for tea the other afternoon.’
‘That’s nice for you. I haven’t seen her for a while.’
‘She was off-duty and we don’t often have the chance to catch up. You know, the mother-and-daughter thing.’ She stopped dead when she realized just what she had said but Paula seemed unperturbed, remarkably cool today, distant too. Hastily, she moved on to chat about other things; their husbands’ health, the weather, the autumn/winter fashions at Marks & Spencer, but it was a relief when the food arrived with a flourish and after the usual fuss with accompaniments, the waiter left them in peace.
Eleanor took a sip of her wine. ‘It’s only one glass,’ she repeated, Paula’s look making her feel guilty. ‘Don’t tell Alan and I shall be very careful on the way home,’ she added.
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘It’s strange that you don’t drive, Paula.’ Eleanor smiled. ‘I suppose you two would argue terribly if Alan tried to teach you.’
‘I’ve never felt the need, although it’s never too late, is it? Do you know you’ve got me thinking? I shouldn’t rely on Alan all the time. All the ladies drive these days, don’t they? Some of Alan’s clients are older than me so why on earth am I waiting?’
‘It would give you so much more independence if you can drive yourself around.’
‘Yes it would. I might start lessons, not with Alan, though. You’re right about that. It would be a mistake. This is delicious, by the way.’
‘Yes, it is a good attempt, although it doesn’t compare of course with the real thing. Do you remember our
lunch in that restaurant in Venice? They were proper lasagnes, weren’t they, not cheap imitations.’
Paula glanced round hurriedly, for it was hardly the thing to say within hearing distance of the waiting staff, but fortunately for once Eleanor’s ringing tones seemed not to have been overheard.
Paula did remember the restaurant in a side street off St Mark’s Square, remembered too, how Eleanor had taken charge, fluttering away in Italian as usual, remembered too the glance Henry shot her, the glance that said more than a thousand words, the glance that told her what she already knew, that he was willing if she was. It was a very popular restaurant, not the usual tourist haunt but one that the locals enjoyed, so that for once Eleanor’s knowledge of the language was most helpful. It was crammed to capacity, so much so that they were squeezed together on a table that was barely adequate for two.
Somehow she and Henry had ended up side by side on the bench with the other two opposite and she was very aware of his leg against hers – and surely an additional pressure as she caught the sideways glance that was nothing to do with the lack of space. It made her blush but it was so damned hot in the very middle of the restaurant that she hoped her pink cheeks would be put down to that. She was wearing a sundress in palest blue with tiny shoestring straps and she was realizing a little too late that it was not providing enough bust support, so she had to hitch up the straps from time to time.
Sitting there on the bench in that crowded restaurant, at first she thought it was a mistake, that it was not intentional, but when Henry dropped his hand down to her thigh and stroked it, that was quite different. It took a huge effort to remain seated for she was very effectively trapped there. She knew full well that Henry was aware that she would stay silent rather than cause a scene and mortify both Alan and Eleanor. She could not believe it. How dare he? She was happily married, had been for years, and she had never in all her married life looked at another man, not in that way. Why should she when Alan satisfied her very nicely when it came to all that?
She very nearly blurted it out to Alan that evening but she did not want to ruin the rest of the holiday and she was not sure how he would react. Good heavens, the four of them were in this relationship for the long haul with their children married to each other, so perhaps a discreet stepping-back might be the best option. Certainly when the holiday was over, she would make damned sure that she never found herself alone with him. Poor Eleanor. For a moment she felt quite sorry for her living with a slimeball such as Henry Nightingale, who wasn’t half the man her husband was.
‘What are you thinking about, sweetheart?’ Alan asked when they were back in the hotel after the Venice trip, as she had been sitting at the mirror in their room for a long time staring at her reflection.
‘Nothing.’ She managed a smile. ‘Nothing at all.’
*
Eleanor smiled a little wearily at the woman opposite. The restaurant was busy now and it was hardly an atmosphere conducive to discussing such a delicate matter as her daughter’s concerns. If she were so much as to offer a crumb of criticism directed at Matthew, Paula would round on her. She felt sure of that for there was something of the tiger and the tiger cub about Paula.
‘Paula …’ she began hesitantly. ‘I’m not sure how to say this but Nicola’s not very happy just now. She feels that Matthew is being a bit distant with her.’
‘He’s busy at work.’
‘That’s what I said. I said it would be work-related but she thinks not. She thinks it’s something else.’
‘It’s not that Chrissie thing, is it? It’s a while ago now. He told me all about that, about how they met accidentally and about how she rang Nicola to complain about him harassing her. The thing is, Eleanor, it doesn’t surprise me in the least. I always knew that there was something a bit odd about Chrissie but I never let on. Why would I? You have to let these things run their course and nobody was more relieved than I was when she left. I could see what was coming.’ She leaned forward, lowering her voice. ‘I believe she was going to trap him, get pregnant and get him to marry her. I was worried sick that he would do the decent thing and that would have meant him giving up his place at university. I think he would have done it for her. But when she left, he took it hard. First love, that sort of thing …’ She looked towards Eleanor for some sort of understanding and Eleanor nodded. ‘He’s a deep thinker, is Matthew, and meeting her again just got to him, that’s all. I thought it might. He’s probably thinking about what might have happened if she hadn’t moved away. Things like that don’t last. They were still children and as soon as they go off to different universities to study that’s it, isn’t it? They meet other people and move on. Chrissie’s gone now, married with children, so there’s no need to worry and there’s been no more contact so they should put it behind them now.’
‘Are you sure there’s been no more contact?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Nicola is suspicious. He’s acting funny.’
‘She’s probably just imagining it, but that’s between the two of them, isn’t it? They are grown-ups, Eleanor, and we mustn’t interfere.’
‘Oh, come on, we can’t just stand by and do nothing.’
‘That’s exactly what we must do.’ Paula put her fork down. ‘I wouldn’t have liked it if my mother-in-law had butted in if something was up between me and Alan. Not that there ever was. We’ve been happy together. Alan’s always been very loyal to me.’
The look was knowing and a little smug and Eleanor resented it. Did Paula know about Henry and his little dalliances over the years? Or did Paula imagine for one minute that her husband might be interested in her? She had caught a few glances between them during the holiday but that was just Henry playing at it. He couldn’t help it. He would be trying to charm the ladies on his deathbed.
‘We will see how things go,’ Eleanor said. ‘Whatever the problem is, it might blow over.’
‘We will see and if there’s any talking to be done to Matthew then I will do it,’ Paula said, determination etched in her face. It left Eleanor feeling that it was Paula who was leading this conversation and that somehow during the course of this lunch there had been a distinct shift in their relationship. She had not anticipated any problems, for Paula was usually such a meek woman, anxious to please, maybe a little scared of her; but she was changed, her whole demeanour altered, and Eleanor did not care for it. It wrong-footed her and she had no idea how to deal with it. Should she tell her that Nicola was trying for a baby? She very nearly succumbed to that idea but Nicola had told her in confidence and all would be revealed in due course once she was pregnant. Although that might turn out to be a very bad idea if there was a problem with the marriage.
‘We must keep in touch.’ Eleanor knew she was not forgiven about the wretched dinner and determined that, should another invitation be forthcoming, she and Henry would be there like a shot.
‘Yes we must and you and Henry must come along to dinner another time,’ Paula said, giving in a little but refusing to look at the dessert menu as it was presented to them. ‘I’m sorry but I’ll have to cut this short because I have a meeting.’
‘With whom?’ She regretted the sharpness of the question for it was none of her business but Paula, who would previously have blushed at so direct a question, merely smiled.
‘If you must know I’m meeting up with the agent who manages our rental properties. I have some ideas I want to discuss with him. I’ve had a look round them and they need considerable updating if we are to rent to a higher-end market.’
Eleanor stared at her. Where had she picked up that business-speak phrase? ‘Oh, so you inherited properties as well? Isn’t that lucky?’
‘It’s not lucky at all. It’s family. And it’s not just a few, it’s practically a terrace. Alan’s father was quite the entrepreneur.’ Paula smiled at her and beyond the smile, Eleanor saw in her face that look of triumph. Paula Walker had blossomed and loved it. ‘I hope that whatever happens in future you a
nd I can keep in touch,’ she went on. ‘Although I’m sure that they will be just fine. Matthew adores her, you know. I don’t know about Nicola. I never really know what she’s thinking.’
‘Trust me, she loves him very much too.’
‘Well, then, we have nothing to worry about, do we?’
Out of habit Eleanor was just about to ask for the bill but Paula beat her to it, slipping her hand into the leather bag, an expensive number, and bringing out a credit card and adding a substantial cash tip.
My, my.
She was learning fast.
Chapter Seventeen
IT WAS NOT part of Nicola’s brief to check through the rooms at the hotel although, if a couple had booked the honeymoon suite, she did like to make sure that all was well there. She unlocked the door and went inside, nodding with satisfaction because the first impression was that it looked good. She smoothed down the quilt on the four-poster bed, fluffed up one of the cushions, reflecting that she had never slept in a bed as grand as this. She and Matthew had not come here for their wedding reception, choosing another venue and also choosing to forego the ubiquitous disco evening, opting to spend their wedding night in an airport hotel prior to jetting off.
This room most certainly had that elusive wow factor, managing to be restful and romantic, with the curtains drawn back to reveal the beauty of the gardens that were today bathed in an autumnal low-lying mist, making them almost ethereal.
She was just checking the bathroom when the door opened and one of the housekeeping staff came in. It was the girl with the nose-stud and she looked startled as she saw Nicola.
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