A Friend of the Family

by Marcia Willett

  A few days later she returned home. She felt that by this time Paul would have come to some conclusion and might be kind enough to share it with her. She was in the kitchen before she realised that there were signs of habitation and before she could take it in, she heard the key in the door and Paul came in.

  ‘So you’re back at last,’ he said. ‘Had a good time? I was beginning to worry but Suzy said that you’d gone off to stay with a friend and the weather’s been so awful that I wondered if you’d got snowed in.’

  Polly stared at him in amazement and after a moment he raised his eyebrows at her silence and went to fill the kettle.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he said when she continued to stare at him. ‘You look half-witted. Where have you been?’

  ‘Where have you been? That’s more to the point, surely,’ she burst out at last. ‘When did you come back?’

  ‘As soon as the weather cleared. All flights out of Edinburgh were cancelled for a few days.’

  ‘Edinburgh?’

  ‘I told you in my note,’ he said impatiently. ‘Fiona was giving her paper there and then we heard that someone else was giving a paper on the same thing. I know there’s no point in going into details because you won’t be interested but it was important that 1 was there to give her moral support. As it happens it all went very well but when I knew that we were going to be delayed 1 tried to phone and got no reply.’

  Dazed, Polly watched him make coffee. ‘You said in your note that you’d gone off with Fiona.’

  ‘Well, so I did. I’ve just told you. D’you want some coffee?’

  Polly shook her head. ‘I thought you meant really gone. Left me. For Fiona.’

  Paul fiddled with the sugar spoon, his back turned to her. ‘Why should you think that?’

  ‘Because it’s true,’ said Polly slowly. ‘Oh, perhaps I read the note wrong but instinctively I got it right. You have left me for Fiona, haven’t you? You may live here with me but you love her and you’ve slept with her, haven’t you?’

  Paul kept his back turned and made a great business of pouring the milk. Polly watched him. She was filled with a huge, overwhelming sadness. There was simply nothing left of the young Polly or the Paul who had been charmed by her. The tiny flame had flickered and gone out and there was barely a trace of smoke to mark its passing. She watched him deciding how to parry her question and felt quite suddenly impatient, almost angry. She wondered how he would react if she described the events of the past few days and knew that she couldn’t be bothered to tell him. He simply wouldn’t be interested.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I know vou have and it really doesn’t matter. I was a fool not to see it before. I’ve been living half a life and I’m not going to do it any longer.’

  He turned now to look at her and she regarded him dispassionately.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘You left me ages ago,’ she said. ‘The note simply confirmed it, underlined it. Made me really think about it. I’m going to Thea’s to house-sit for a while. She and George are going to Brussels and I’m going to look after Jessie and Percy. I’d like to keep some of my things and you’ll have to continue to support me for a bit until I get my act together. But you’ll probably think that it’s worth it to get rid of me.’

  A variety of emotions passed across Paul’s face: relief, shame and something else which could have been annoyance.

  Perhaps he wanted to be the one to pull the rug, thought Polly. He’s annoyed that I’ve pipped him to the post and wrong-footed him.

  ‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit drastic?’ he asked.

  ‘Am I?’ Polly raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you suggest? The mixture as before? Me sitting here like a lemon while you have it off with Fiona at the lab?’

  Paul assumed an expression of distaste and Polly smiled. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Is that a bit too crude for the finer emotions that you share with her? Well, too bad. Or are you insisting that your relationship with her is purely a platonic one and all you share with her is a microscope?’ She nodded at his silence. ‘Quite. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? We’ll have to decide whether we want to sell the house or whether you intend to move Fiona into it and buy me out.’

  Paul stirred uneasily. ‘I don’t think that anything should be decided in a hurry,’ he said. ‘Since you’ve brought it up, I agree that our relationship has been a rather empty one for some time now. Obviously I shall continue to support you and if you’ve arranged to go to your friends I shall probably go on living here for the time being. You’d better take the car'—Polly bowed ironically-’and anything that you particularly value. Naturally I shall consult you before I take any definite steps.’

  ‘Naturally.’ Polly nodded. ‘In that case, I shall go back to Thea’s tomorrow, taking as much as I can, and if I want to come back to fetch anything I shall phone first. We’ll sort the furniture out at some later date.’

  ‘Very well.’ Paul hesitated. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began and paused.

  ‘Forget it. What about tonight?’

  ‘I’ll disappear,’ he said quickly. ‘Best thing all round I should think. I’ll go and pack a bag.’

  He went out and Polly turned and walked over to the sink. She poured the untouched coffee into the sink and then stared at her reflection in the window.

  He didn’t even notice my hair, she thought.

  A spasm of pain caught at her heart and, with a sharp movement, she leaned forward and dragged the curtains together against the winter’s night.

  Thirty-two

  THEA AND GEORGE WERE so delighted to have their problem dealt with that they welcomed Polly back with open arms, comforted her and made her feel loved and needed. This was just as well because a few days after her confrontation with Paul, she suffered a reaction against all the events of the past two weeks and had a minor breakdown. She felt deeply depressed and suffered bouts of uncontrolled weeping, and Thea and George enclosed her in a net of love and security until she was able to face her life and take the reins into her own hands once more. A few w eeks more and they had gone and she was left alone with Percy and Jessie and the weekly visits of Maggie Tabb. Maggie, who had been told the bare facts of Polly’s marriage by Thea, looked upon Polly as a fellow victim. Norman had finally left her for ‘ol’ surfboard chin’ and she felt in Polly a kindred spirit. They got along in a companionable, easy-going way and Polly took over where Thea had left off in assisting Maggie in her ongoing battle to keep the maintenance payments coming and to take advantage of all the benefits available to her. Maggie could barely read and much time was taken up by working through forms and writing or telephoning to those in authority. Maggie repaid this by working late, making special dishes for Polly and sending her young brother over to help in the garden.

  Freddie was already a regular visitor. When Thea had telephoned to tell him of Polly’s separation from Paul he had felt suffused with a joy so all-encompassing that he had been unable to speak and, when he had seen her in the depths of despair, he had been terrified that she might regret her decision and return to Paul. This had not happened and now he was proceeding cautiously, warned by Thea not to rush things as Polly was in a delicate emotional state. Freddie needed no such warning. He had waited far too long to ruin things now by hasty action. Apart from which, his whole concern was for Polly’s well-being and happiness and he was perfectly ready to set his own needs aside for the time being.

  For the first time since she left university Polly found herself with a daily routine, thanks to the animals, as well as a social life. Harriet, Kate and Cass took her into their lives and she found herself happily occupied and content. Two other visitors were Tim and Miranda.

  Tim sometimes felt that a blight was gradually destroying his marriage. He had come to accept that Miranda was of a jealous disposition and made sure that no action of his, no look or word, could give rise to suspicion or cause her distress. It was tiring for one of his
naturally friendly, easy-going nature but he still loved Miranda and wanted to make her feel safe. Fie hoped that eventually she would learn to trust him and that things would improve. However, this in itself was not enough. Miranda, if anything, grew quieter, more touchy, obsessed with keeping Broadhayes spotless and feeding them on healthy, homegrown food. When he confronted her with her moodiness she became tearful and, for a while, remorseful. Short periods of self-recrimination and shows of physical passion exhausted them both so that Tim was almost relieved when things slowly returned to what he had come to accept as normal.

  Much to Tim’s sadness Mrs Gilchrist gave in her notice and would not be persuaded to stay. She was very emotional but adamant, saying that it had perhaps been too much to ask of either Miranda or herself to go on together. She had been so long with dear Mrs Barrable that she was set in her ways and she was getting older . . . Tim was quite capable of reading between the lines and knew that it would be cruel to press her to stay or ask for her real reasons. She went off to her sister, promising to stay in touch and with a handsome present and one or two keepsakes about which Miranda knew nothing. Tim hugged her goodbye, promised that he would ask Thea to go to see her when she came home and put the matter to the back of his mind. With Mrs Gilchrist gone Miranda became ever busier and Tim, looking at her drawn face with its inward expression, felt that he was married to a girl he didn’t know at all.

  One afternoon, finding himself near the Old Station House, he dropped in to see how Percy was faring and introduce himself to Polly. It turned out to be a tremendous success. Percy, carried away by the excitement, positively outdid himself in quotations and recitations, Jessie took to him at once and he found Polly’s easy-going humour a wonderful relief after the rules and regulations at Broadhayes. She persuaded him to stop for supper and since Tim was not expected back until later he agreed. It was a magic evening. All four of them were on top form and it was with a real effort that Tim finally dragged himself away. He drove slowly home rehearsing the manner in which he intended to tell Miranda about the evening. He knew that if he were ever to be able to go to the Old School House again or to invite Polly to Broadhayes he must be very careful how he spoke of her or described her.

  It took Miranda approximately three minutes to discover that she might have something to fear in Polly and she decided that it would be wise to see for herself so when Tim suggested that they should visit Polly together Miranda agreed and they went to lunch on a glorious Sunday in late spring.

  Polly, getting it right for once, had invited Freddie and the day went very well. There was none of the magic of the evening that she and Tim had shared but Freddie and Tim got along splendidly and Miranda, assuming that Polly w as seriously involved with Freddie, tolerated her scattiness. On the way home, however, she was careful to point out to Tim her faults and failings and to imply that Paul must have been the injured party and Tim was careful to agree with her. He majored on Freddie and how much he had enjoyed his company and Miranda was lulled far enough into a false sense of security to agree that it would be only proper to invite them back.

  Polly was perfectly happy to go and Freddie was overjoyed. To appear publicly linked to Polly gave him enormous happiness and so ebullient was he that even Polly began to see that his friendship was hiding a great deal more. Suddenly her eyes, which had been blind for so long, saw quite clearly exactly how he felt about her. Her first feeling was alarm. She had grown used to Freddie being around and looked upon him as a brother with whom she could joke and relax and in whom she could confide. In a stroke, that was all done away with and her second feeling was a sort of revulsion. Polly was the kind of woman who couldn’t bear men to have a hopeless passion for her. Even as a girl she had hated it. It made them ridiculous in her eyes, pathetic and unmanly, and it was why she had always preferred older men whom she could hero-worship and who treated her with an experienced, confident manner. It was this which had attracted her to Paul and it was his charming, lighthearted unavailability that drew her to Tim. Freddie had behaved so perfectly that she had half thought he was in love with Thea but now, unable to dissemble any longer and feeling that he had reason to hope, he dropped his guard.

  He relaxed to such an extent that on the way back from Broadhayes Polly was brittle and nervous. She knew that she simply couldn’t bear it if he were to attempt to kiss her and, in the end, took refuge in a headache—which her terror had brought on—and he seemed much more concerned that she should hurry in and go to bed than in pursuing his own desires. Polly escaped half mad with relief and guilt and spent the next hour wandering up and down the track with Jessie, the cool night air caressing her hot head, and wondering how she should deal with this new anxiety in her life. At last she went inside and pushed the kettle on to the hotplate. Jessie slumped down as usual and Polly looked at Percy, who drowsed sleepily on his perch.

  ‘What shall I do, Percy?’ she asked him. ‘It was all so nice and comfortable and now it’s been spoilt. I don’t want him to be in love with me.’

  Percy regarded her thoughtfully. ‘Much ado there was, God wot,’ he quoted in Great-uncle Edward’s voice. ‘He would love and she would not.’

  ‘I don’t want there to be much ado,’ said Polly crossly as she made some coffee. ‘I want it to be like it was before. And if that’s the best you can do you might as well shut up.’

  FREDDIE WENT HOME AND let the dogs out. He, too, walked in the cool night air in his adjoining paddock, his thoughts jumbled and confused. For more than two years he had been in love with Polly, worshipping from afar, and now it looked as though his hopes and dreams might be realised. Why then this surge of anxiety? He loved being with Polly, enjoyed her company more than that of any other woman he had ever known, but when the relationship looked set to move into a more serious and physical stage he had the most terrible attack of cold feet. The thought that she might be expecting him to kiss her had filled him with such terror that when she had said she had a headache he had been visited with the most exquisite relief.

  He walked the boundary of his field, unaware of the owls hunting in the woods below him or of the eerie silver light shed by a cold white moon. Perhaps, he consoled himself, it was simply because it had been so long since he had been involved with a woman that he felt so nervous and even then it hadn’t been a marked success. He didn’t have much sexual drive and an anxiety that he might not perform adequately always hindered him further. But surely with Polly it would all be different?

  Freddie sighed deeply, called to the dogs and turned back towards the house. He simply didn’t know how to go forward. Cravenly he wondered if he might let the next move come from Polly and shook his head in amazement and despair.

  ‘I’m mad,’ he said. ‘Quite mad.’

  The dogs came up to him, tails wagging, and he stroked their great heads and felt comforted. Perhaps it was a perfectly ordinary attack of nerves and in the morning he would feel differently. He watched the bats for a moment, darting and wheeling over his head, then went inside to make some coffee.

  WHEN FREDDIE TELEPHONED A few days later to say that Jon Thompson was coming down to stay for a holiday and that he’d be a bit tied up for a week or so, Polly felt first relieved and then, illogically, hurt. She had worked herself up to feeling capable of telling him kindly but firmly that there was no question of a romantic entanglement and, after all, there seemed no need. She felt rather foolish and let down and went about slamming drawers and cupboard doors and muttering to herself. Jessie withdrew to the garden and Percy, who was enjoying a grape, kept a beady eye cocked in her direction.

  ‘A trick that everyone abhors in little girls is slamming doors,’ he observed suddenly.

  Polly stared at him in surprise and then burst out laughing and they were in the middle of reciting Belloc’s ‘Rebecca who slammed doors for fun and perished miserably’ when she became aware of someone standing at the open door from the utility room watching them. She gave a cry of alarm and the man raised his hands in
apology and explanation.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he said. ‘It was too good to interrupt. I’m Marcus Willby. Thea told me that you were staying here and I thought I’d drop in and meet you. It was a very happy day for me when you telephoned and told me about Thea and her parrot.’ He held his hand out. ‘You are Polly, I imagine. Or have I made a blunder?’

  ‘No, no.’ Polly took his hand. ‘How nice to meet you. It’s all been wonderfully exciting, hasn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly has. I’ve met Percy, of course. How d’you do?’ he asked the parrot.

  Percy stared at him but remained silent and Polly laughed. ‘He’s going to go all grand and silent on us now,’ she said. ‘How nice of you to drop in. I hope that you’re going to stay to lunch? I was just feeling terribly unwanted.’

  ‘Heavens!’ Marcus’s eyebrows shot up. ‘The local male population must be dreadfully lacking. I should love to.’

  ‘I have to warn you that I’m the world’s worst cook,’ said Polly, liking the look of Marcus with his long legs and elegant carriage. He was well into his forties and she felt immediately at ease with his quiet confidence and easy charm.

  ‘Well, I could always take you to the Elephant’s Nest, if you prefer?’ he offered. ‘Thea took me there once. It’s very pleasant.’

  ‘No, no. Thank you,’ she said hastily. That was one of Freddie’s haunts and she didn’t want to risk bumping into him today. ‘I’ve got some nice elderly quiche and an ageing lettuce. You must be content with that. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘At least let me deal with that side of things. I’m on my way to Cornwall to visit my mother and I have to take my own drink as self-preservation. I’ve got a nice hock that will liven up the quiche a bit.’

  He went out and Polly watched him go. She turned and made a face at Percy. ‘Well, well,’ she murmured. ‘Lucky old Thea. What d’you think of him then?’