by Mary Nichols
Barbara didn’t want to go. She had done nothing to help, had in fact sabotaged the effort by handing her leaflets over to Rita. And she certainly hadn’t voted for the man. He was too much like George, full of bluster and his insincere smile sickened her. But as she could not give these reasons to George, she dressed in a gown of blue chiffon with a hemline of handkerchief points and accompanied her husband to the Conservative Club, where an orchestra played background music and everyone talked too loudly, mostly about the idiocy of the electorate and the impossibility of getting anywhere with a Labour government.
‘What can a woman know about Labour relations?’ George said derisively referring to the appointment of the first woman to sit in the cabinet with the job of Minister of Labour.
‘I should think as much as a man,’ Barbara said.
‘Women should stay at home and mind the house,’ he said, reminding her of her own abortive attempt to go out to work, out of the question now. What with her children, her charitable work and the social demands of her husband, she had no time for anything else, no time to go to the theatre or see a film, no time to wander round art galleries and museums, once a favourite pastime. She had even missed Penny’s last film. Most films were talkies nowadays and she could hear as well as see her friend.
It was strange that they had remained such good friends when their lifestyles were so different. They did not see each other often but they wrote and talked on the telephone. Of all the people she knew, Barbara felt she could confide most to Penny, though she wondered if it would have made any difference if Penny had known what happened in her flat the last time she had seen Simon.
‘Mrs Kennett, is no one taking care of you?’
George had gone and it was Donald Browning who stood beside her. He was no taller than she was in her heels, and his face was homely rather than handsome, especially with that straggly moustache. George’s hints that he was interested in Virginia seemed not to have any basis in truth, unless, of course, he had realised where his competition was coming from and had dropped out of the running. He indicated the empty glass in her hand. ‘Can I get you another drink? Something to eat perhaps?’
She handed him the glass. ‘Thank you.’
He disappeared through the noisy throng but was soon back, carrying two full glasses. ‘There, not a drop spilt.’
‘Thank you, Donald. Now, tell me all your news. I don’t see much of you these days.’
‘We’ve been very busy, Mrs Kennett, what with the building work and the new shop, and of course, George is often on council business, so I’m more or less in charge.’
‘But you must have a private life, a little time to call your own.’ She was blatantly prying and wondered if he knew it.
‘Not a lot.’ He smiled. She was one of those really nice people, who made you feel as if whatever you had to say was important. She was interested and interesting. The dress she was wearing tonight emphasised a figure just on the full side of perfect and though she wore a little make-up it was not obvious. George Kennett might be the bee’s knees when it came to running a business, but he was a bastard where women were concerned. How did he get away with it? ‘But that’s how I’ve wanted it, ever since my wife died,’ he told her. ‘George was good to me over that. I owe him a lot.’
‘I’m sure he doesn’t think of it like that.’
He knew that was exactly how George did think of it. ‘It’s all right for me, I have no one waiting at home for me, but it must be hard for you, seeing so little of your husband.’
‘But if my husband is a public figure, then that’s one of the things I must accept, isn’t it?’
‘You are very tolerant, if I may say so, Mrs Kennett. George is a very lucky man.’
‘Oh, enough of the flattery. How did we get on to talking about me anyway? I asked you about yourself.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. I did start seeing someone, a year or two ago, but nothing came of it. She turned to me when the man she was seeing packed her in. I said I could live with that, but she never really gave him up and it all started up again.’
She had asked and she shouldn’t complain when the answer was not the one she wanted to hear. But every fibre of her was crying out in despair. Had he mentioned it on purpose to warn her? He was standing beside her, chewing on his moustache, and though his face was carefully expressionless, the knuckles on the hand that clutched his glass were white. She couldn’t continue to stand there, on the edge of a mass of rejoicing, half-drunk people; she had to get away before the smile she had fixed on her face slipped. She put her glass down on a table behind her. ‘I had better go and look for George. His mother is looking after the children and I don’t like to keep her up after midnight.’
She could not see her husband in the room and went out into the corridor. There was a gleam of light under a door further along. She walked towards it and opened it. She wasn’t being deliberately stealthy, but that was how it must have seemed. They sprang apart, but not quickly enough. She had seen the tousled hair, the flushed faces, the unbuttoned clothing. Virginia was backed against a desk, her breasts were half exposed and her skirt was up round her thighs.
‘Barbara!’ George hurriedly began buttoning his flies but it was too late. She turned and left them. There were no words for what she wanted to say, nothing she wanted to hear.
He went to follow her, but Virginia pulled on his arm. ‘Let her go.’
‘I can’t.’ He pulled himself from her grasp and went after his wife.
‘If you go after her, George, don’t think of coming back,’ she called after him. ‘I’ve had enough of this cloak and dagger stuff.’ But he was already striding down the corridor away from her.
Barbara went home in a taxi, asking the driver to wait and take Elizabeth home. By the time George arrived, she was alone and sitting on the sofa in the drawing room with a large tot of whisky in her hand. She couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts at all. It was as if someone had punched her in the stomach and followed it up with a blow to the head. While nothing had been said aloud, she had managed to live with her suspicions, to pretend the affair was long over, but to have the confirmation of her own eyes was tearing her apart.
He stood in the doorway, watching her, expecting a tirade, preparing himself to deal with it, though the explanations which had fallen so convincingly from his tongue before would not come to his rescue this time. He stepped into the room and stood in front of her. ‘What can I say? I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry?’ She looked up at him. ‘You mean sorry that you were caught?’
‘No. That I’ve hurt you.’
‘Hurt me?’ There was venom in her voice. ‘You’ve destroyed me.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, don’t be so melodramatic. You’re hurt I know, but to say I’ve destroyed you is rubbish.’
‘You have. You’ve made me into a boring, uninteresting housewife, a mindless mother, with nothing to say for herself, no words but what you put into her mouth. In order to please you, I’ve become the woman you wanted me to be, but instead of being satisfied with your creation, you’ve turned away, looked elsewhere for your pleasure. It’s not fair, George. I hate you for it.’ And suddenly she meant it.
‘It wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean it to happen.’
‘Then you had better tell me what it was like. Why on earth did you marry me?’
Why had he married her? He tried to bring it back, the first time he had seen her in Cambridge, the frisson of excitement when he had learnt she came from Melsham and that her father was a somebody, respected in the community and wealthy to boot. She represented a challenge. And he could never resist a challenge, it was part of his nature. And she had loved him; the glow of pride that had given him seemed small in comparison with the soaring ecstasy he had experienced with Virginia. The trouble was he only knew that in hindsight. At the time… Oh, what was the use, he’d messed it all up. ‘I loved you,’ he said. ‘I still love you.’
‘What?’ She
looked up into his face for the first time and wished she hadn’t. ‘You’re surely not going to tell me Virginia means nothing to you? It’s been going on too long for that to be true.’
‘No, I’d be lying if I said that. But it’s different.’
‘Yes, she’s not your wife. She’s your mistress. Do you lie in bed and laugh at the way you pulled the wool over my eyes?’
‘No, of course not.’ He went to the cabinet, poured himself a drink and refilled her glass when she held it up to him.
‘I don’t believe you. I don’t believe a word you say anymore.’
‘I hated deceiving you. I tried to end it several times, but she kept on at me, writing, ringing me up, waylaying me. I just gave in. I was weak.’
‘Weak?’ She laughed harshly. ‘You’re the strongest man in Melsham. You can manipulate anyone and everyone, including Virginia, including me. Well, not anymore.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think straight tonight. I’ve had too much to drink. Tomorrow I’ll decide. But I tell you this, I’m not going to stand by and do nothing like I did before.’
‘No, I suppose not. I’ve been a fool. Will it help if I say it’s over between Virginia and me and it won’t happen again?’
‘You mean you’ll be more careful. God, George, how could you? Anyone might have come into that room, not just me.’
He knew that, had known it at the time, but Virginia had been all over him, even in the crowd at the party, hissing at him that she didn’t care who saw them. He’d taken her into the office to calm her down. She wanted their affair made public, believing it was the only way she would get him to leave his wife. It made him so furious he had grabbed her by both arms, wanting to shake some sense into her. Instead he had kissed her, brutally, without tenderness. But that only served to rouse him, giving him a monumental erection. He forgot where he was, forgot everything outside their two entwined bodies and his need to get inside her. If Barbara hadn’t come in, would he have gone the whole hog, made love on that dusty desk, or even the floor? He felt weak at the knees over the risk he’d taken.
Everything he had worked and schemed for – his business, his work on the council, his ambition, his family – had all been put at risk. And for what? It was a question he couldn’t answer. Animal magnetism? Chemistry? Lust? Or was it true love? But he loved his wife too. And he adored his children. He sat down beside her, but refrained from touching her. ‘Barbara, I am utterly ashamed. It will not happen again. I’ll never go near her again. You have my word on it.’
‘Your word?’ She gave a cracked laugh. ‘That means nothing to me.’
‘Then how can I prove I mean it?’
‘You can’t.’ She put her glass down and got unsteadily to her feet. She was drunker than she realised: her knees were wobbly and she felt sick. ‘I’m going to bed.’
She clung onto the banister rail as she stumbled up the stairs, then wove an erratic course to her bedroom, leaning on walls and grabbing hold of furniture on the way. She slammed the bedroom door behind her and collapsed, fully dressed, across the bed.
She woke in the early hours of the morning with a monumental headache and her evening dress all rucked up round her. She took it off and flopped back onto the bed, lying sleepless for hours. But she couldn’t stay there, much as she wanted to. Another day was dawning and the children needed her. She washed, dressed and went downstairs, her limbs obeying her mechanically but she felt numb.
George had gone. The remains of his breakfast were still on the table, an empty coffee mug, a plate with toast crumbs on it. There was also a note for her propped against the marmalade pot. ‘We’ll talk tonight. Don’t go away. I love you.’
She smiled grimly. Don’t go away. Where the hell did he think she could go?
Penny’s telephone call later that morning seemed like an answer to a prayer. She had taken the children to school, chatted with the other mums, listened to them gossiping and then come home with Jay-Jay to find Kate busily at work in the kitchen. Kate wanted to talk, to ask if she had had a nice time at the party, wondered aloud if she ought to try and press the evening frock she had found thrown on a chair or whether it would be better sent to the cleaners. The sound of the telephone came to Barbara’s rescue and she hurried into the hall to answer it.
‘Oh, Penny, thank heaven it’s you.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘Everything. Nothing. Oh, I’m just fed up, don’t take any notice. How are you?’
‘I’m fine. There is something wrong, isn’t there?’
‘I can’t talk about it. Not now. Not yet.’
‘Then come up and see me. That’s why I rang. I thought you might like to come to the premiere of Dragon Castle on Saturday and stay for the party afterwards. I can give you a bed for the night.’
Barbara hadn’t realised the film was near completion, let alone ready for release; it only seemed five minutes since Penny had told her she had landed the part. ‘I don’t think I’ll be very good company.’
‘Course you will. If you need to get away a bit, what better opportunity?’
‘What makes you think I need to get away?’
‘Sixth sense. So how about it?’
‘There’s the children…’
‘Let George look after them for once. I won’t take no for an answer. Come early, give yourself time to relax and get yourself up in your glad rags. I want you on top form.’
‘Oh, Penny, you’re a tonic.’
‘Good. See you Saturday. Bye for now.’
Barbara put the phone down and returned to the kitchen. ‘Kate, if George is busy on Saturday can you look after the children and stay overnight? I’ve been invited to Penny Barcliffe’s new film premiere.’ She managed a smile. ‘I’d really like to go but I’m not sure what my husband has booked.’
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Kennett, I’ll look after the children. They’re no trouble at all.’
‘Thank you. Can you keep an eye on Jay-Jay now? I want to take that dress to the cleaners and book a hair appointment.’
She gathered up the dress, stuffed it into a shopping bag and left Kate happily washing the kitchen floor, watched by Jay-Jay from his playpen where he stood rattling the bars. George may not like her plans but to hell with George! Why should she go on putting him first, when he so obviously didn’t care a toss about her? If she was going to be more assertive, now was a good time to start. She might even stay longer than one night. It would serve him right if she stayed away altogether. But she couldn’t do that; she couldn’t leave her children. And George would never let her take them. She was trapped.
‘Going to Penny’s?’ He couldn’t believe it. ‘I thought we were going to sort this thing out, talk it over.’
‘What is there to talk about?’
‘Us.’
‘Oh, us.’ It was very difficult putting on an air of indifference when every nerve and sinew wanted to howl and beat his chest with her fists. ‘There is no us.’
‘Barbara, for God’s sake, don’t be like that. It’s not like you.’
‘How do you know what I’m like? You’ve never bothered to find out.’
‘I know it’s not like you to be bitter and vengeful. And it won’t help. I need a little understanding, forgiveness…’
‘And what about my needs, have you ever considered those?’
‘I’ve tried. But part of that has been working hard, to give you a comfortable life, to make a home for us all…’
‘Then why destroy it?’
‘I don’t want to destroy it. It needn’t happen. I want us to stay together. Don’t you want it too?’
‘Not at any price.’
‘Then help me change. Stay with me, we’ll spend the weekend together.’
‘What about all the other weekends. The days and weeks, the rest of our lives?’
‘Those too.’
‘Then this weekend is mine, for me to get away and make up my mind.
If you mean what you say, you won’t go anywhere near your mistress while I’m gone.’
He winced at the word mistress. It had been spoken with such venom. He didn’t know she could hate; for once in his life he knew the meaning of fear. How could he face his work force, his council colleagues, his constituents, if she left him? Who would look after the children? Would she take them with her? He might not see them again. ‘But you will come back?’ There was a measure of pleading in his voice.
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I’ll come back. My children are here.’
Chapter Nine
Flashbulbs were popping all over the place and the crowd jostled each other on the pavement as the celebrities left their limousines and made their way into the theatre. Penny looked stunning in a white crêpe halter neck dress which clung to her slim figure from breast to knees, where it was slit to give her room to walk. There was a colourful dragon embroidered all down the front, its fiery breath blazing up onto one shoulder, its tail looping round over her neat bottom. The back of the dress was scooped out as far as the waistline. It was a seductive dress which drew whistles from the men in the crowd.
She was accompanied by her leading man in a plum-coloured velvet evening jacket and matching bow tie. He was tall, dark and handsome and very aware of the admiration and sighs of those who had come to watch. At the door, they turned to allow the photographers to take pictures, then they disappeared inside.
Barbara, who arrived in the following car with Simon, felt self-conscious, knowing that everyone was busy putting names to the celebrities; they would be puzzled over her, asking each other, ‘Who on earth is she?’ She was thankful that the hairdresser had made a good job of piling up her fair hair, which emphasised the slenderness of her neck and narrow shoulders. Her make-up had been done by Penny’s own maid, and she had managed to make the dark eyes and hollow cheeks, caused by sleepless nights spent weeping, look interesting, even a bit glamorous. But that wasn’t how she felt. She felt hollow. There was nothing inside but emptiness.