Friends and Secrets

by Grace Thompson

  ‘I’m buying everything new — underwear, night clothes, a new outfit for travelling in.’

  Cath was quiet as usual, although she did make a few comments on Paris, which she described as her favourite city and suggested a few places Cynthia and Christian might visit.

  ‘You know Paris well, do you?’ Joanne asked.

  ‘I’ve been a few times yes.’

  They waited for her to explain but Cath added nothing more.

  When they were leaving, Vivienne walked with Meriel down the road towards the sea.

  ‘Toby and I are thinking about going away for a few days this month,’ Vivienne said. ‘Are you planning anything this summer?’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about going away. I feel tied to the house, afraid of leaving it in case Evan and Sophie go in to snoop. And the dogs. I wouldn’t want those two to look after them. Silly I know, but it’s how I feel. I won’t feel able to go away until I’ve decided what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.’

  ‘Make a decision about the rest of your life! What a terrifying thought!’ Vivienne laughed. ‘I never plan more than a month or two. It’s too boring to know so much of what lies ahead. Impulse is much more fun. Why don’t you come with us? Toby’s funny, fascinating, exhausting at times on holiday but not difficult. After all, you know him well enough — which reminds me, can you look after him tonight? I was hoping to go out with two girls I met a couple of weeks ago.’

  ‘Yes, to minding Toby, but I’m not sure about going away. There’s the house—’

  ‘Lock it.’

  ‘And the dogs—’

  ‘Ask your ex to mind them. Might as well make use of him.’ Then, seeing that the suggestion was not well received she added, ‘Or, why not bring them?’

  ‘We couldn’t manage two dogs and Toby. Could we?’ She couldn’t admit that she wouldn’t leave the dogs with Sophie because she was afraid she would steal their affection like she had stolen her husband, coaxing them away from being her own dogs.

  ‘The house will still be there when you get back. Dusty perhaps, but unharmed.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said doubtfully.

  ‘Kennels. A friend. A house-sitter. If you want to come I can obliterate all your objections.’

  ‘Where were you thinking of going?’

  ‘That’s better! I thought we could just set off for West Wales and see where the car takes us. Pembrokeshire is particularly lovely in summer. It shouldn’t be that difficult to find bed and breakfast. What d’you think? If there’s some other area you’d prefer, I’m not averse to a change of plan, in fact, I love changes of plan.’

  ‘If you’re sure you want me along, I think I’d like to come. Thanks.’ Meriel went home feeling more cheerful than she had for a long time, a year in fact. Although she did have a slight apprehension as to how many evenings she would sit alone. Toby-sitting, while Vivienne went out!

  * * *

  ‘John and I will be going to Spain.’ Joanne told them when holidays were being discussed again a few days later. ‘Not a very exciting choice, but the boys love it. Sea, sand and swimming pool. That’s all they want. Plus plenty of good restaurants to satisfy their giant-sized appetites.’ She sighed theatrically. ‘Soon it will be sea, sand and sex, I suppose, then the troubles start. But at the moment that’s all in the future and Spain is a restful break for John, and easy for me, not having to choose meals, and shop and cook.’

  ‘Where are you staying,’ Cynthia asked.

  ‘Oh, Menorca,’ Joanne replied, saying the first name that came into her head. She couldn’t admit that John had told her they couldn’t afford a holiday this year. Later on, she could explain they’d had to cancel owing to pressure of work or something.

  ‘North or south?’ Cynthia wanted to know.

  Joanne frowned as though trying to remember. ‘West — I think.’

  ‘Cuitadella?’

  ‘Mmm, that might have been it. I’m a bit vague actually. John sees to the bookings. I leave everything to him.’

  ‘Pretty little town, there’s a river running through and the island’s so small you’re never far from a beach.’

  Anxious to change the conversation, Joanne invited Cath over and began to ask her about her recent purchases from the shop.

  ‘I covered my chair and made two quilted cushion covers,’ Cath told them. ‘The velvet looks lovely. So rich.’

  ‘You’ll have to invite us up to see them,’ Joanne suggested, knowing she would never set foot in the place no matter how many times she was invited. It was bound to be a tip.

  ‘Perhaps I will.’ Cath gave one of her rare smiles.

  ‘Lovely,’ Joanne breathed.

  ‘I’m beginning to sort out what I need to keep and what I won’t use and I have a couple of shelves you might like,’ Meriel said. ‘And a couple of kitchen chairs I no longer want.’ She wrote down her address. ‘Call if you’d like to see them.’

  Cath thanked her and promised to do so the following day.

  * * *

  Cath arrived at three. She stepped out of an old Saab wearing a long flowing dress made of assorted patchwork and dyed a uniform green, with a crotcheted shawl low on her shoulders to take away the slight chill of the ever-present breeze coming in from the sea. Walking slowly, her head held high, her hair undulating gently around her, a velvet shoulder-bag swinging against her hip, Meriel could imagine her looking quite at home in a scene centuries back in history.

  She would have fitted perfectly in a film of a Thomas Hardy story, or one about a Celtic queen, Meriel mused, as she watched the woman approach. As she drew near, she realized with sudden surprise, that Cath was very beautiful.

  After a coffee, Meriel showed her visitor into the garage where, stacked along one wall, there were tea chests and boxes all neatly labelled, in which Meriel kept her treasures.

  Cath was pleased with the shelves she was offered.

  ‘I have some baskets abandoned by a florist that I’ll fill with dried flowers and grasses,’ she explained, a faraway look in her dark eyes. ‘I’ll display them on these shelves fastened to the wall. My tiny kitchen will be a brighter place in which to work. Thank you very much.’

  ‘It sounds lovely,’ Meriel smiled. ‘I wish I’d thought of it myself.’

  ‘If you’ve changed your mind and want to keep them, I’ll help you fill them?’ Cath said at once.

  ‘No, no. I’m gradually taking my home apart, not building it up,’ she said lightly. ‘I have to move soon. When I’ve decided where I want to live.’

  ‘That must be exciting.’

  ‘That’s a better response! I usually get, “poor you”. And I have to admit that’s usually how I feel. I thought I’d stay here, with Evan, for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Better to pull up roots at least once. You know who you are after living in a house for a while, then you can move on and choose what you really want.’

  ‘I thought I had what I wanted.‘

  ‘Two years from now you will know it was not.‘

  ‘You sound so sure.‘

  ‘Two years,‘ Cath repeated softly. ‘Then you’ll know I’m right.’

  One of the tea chests was still open, only partly packed, and Cath spotted a wooden fire engine. It had been well used but was still strong and ready for more rough handling. She picked it up and fondled it with her long elegant hands, a frown clouding her lovely eyes.

  ‘You don’t have children?’ Meriel asked softly, about to explain her own lack of a family and, to her alarm, she saw the dark eyes flood with silent tears. Unable to decide what to say, wishing the words could be revoked, she stood and watched as Cath coped with the sudden rush of emotion before replying briefly,

  ‘No.’

  ‘I wonder whether things would have worked out differently if Evan and I had had children,’ Meriel said as she gathered up the shelves and put them beside Cath’s car. She had turned away from her and was talking to give the woman a chance to recover, aware
she should have chosen a different subject but unable to think of one. ‘We wanted them, but it just didn’t happen. I’m afraid it’s too late now.’

  ‘There you go again, Meriel. Think positive, isn’t that the slogan for today? You’re young enough to remarry and have children, so why shouldn’t it happen?’

  ‘Perhaps I can’t?’

  ‘Perhaps he couldn’t.’

  Meriel laughed aloud then. ‘Keep trying, Cath. You’ll teach me positive thinking in the end.’

  ‘Would you like to see where I live?’

  ‘Really? Well, yes. I’d love to,’ Meriel said in surprise. ‘Thank you.’

  Packing the shelves into Cath’s car, and an old, unwanted watering-can Cath had admired, plus two slightly damaged urns, they set off. Meriel was quite excited. She had an idea Cath’s home would be unconventional, but would certainly be a calm, peaceful and attractive place. She also thought it was a place to which few were invited.

  It was high on a hill, backed by trees growing out of the rocky higher ground behind it and leaning over its roof as if for extra protection. From the front there was a view over the town and the distant sea. There were three houses similar to Cath’s but hers was the furthest in, tucked into a corner cut from steeply rising rocks, close to the narrow path which led to the back entrance of the houses.

  The impression Meriel had on entering was more or less what she had envisaged: drapes of material, tassels and ropes, wind-chimes, gold embroidery and polished brass and copper. Carpets and rugs were piled on the floor one on top of another in casual disarray yet looking elegant and tasteful. Cushions offered comfort and relaxation. Amid all the draperies, the windows were unadorned to allow the view to be enjoyed to the full.

  There were several soft toys around and they looked well used. Meriel didn’t comment on them. The subject of children was, for whatever reason, one to be avoided.

  She wasn’t shown any of the other rooms, so Meriel presumed that the rest had yet to be furnished. The kitchen was filled with jars of pulses and dried herbs and several kinds of rice and pasta. Draped around the walls were garlands of hop vines.

  It was not a home in which she would have enjoyed living, there was an all-pervading air of sadness, but it was the perfect setting for the tall, slim, mysterious and beautiful woman who was pointing out to her with obvious pleasure, where the flower shelves would be fixed.

  ‘Tom Harris, one of the brothers I work for, is very kind. He’ll come and fix them for me,’ she explained.

  ‘I work for him too,’ Meriel explained. ‘Although I haven’t seen Tom since the day he hired me, and Roy not at all.’

  ‘They lead a very full social life, belonging to various organizations and with a variety of interests which they share.’

  ‘They seem remarkably close, for brothers.’

  ‘They have so many interests in common I suppose.‘

  ‘And gardening is not one of them,’ Meriel laughed.

  Meriel felt it a privilege to have been invited and knew her visit wasn’t one she would share with Cynthia, Joanne or Helen. Not even Vivienne would be given the opportunity to discuss Cath so intimately. They wouldn’t understand and might ridicule Cath’s style.

  When she was back in her own place, she sat and stared into space for a long time, wondering what had brought Cath to live in Abertrochi and what had happened to the children for whom she grieved.

  Four

  Meriel’s ex-husband, Evan Parry, drove back from Newport, feeling utterly exhausted. He had broken down on the motorway and had spent hours getting the car fixed. This had made him late for his appointment with a prospective buyer for the last of a recent consignment of conservatory suites. The cane was not the best quality and the cushions were looking a bit jaded and he had offered a low price to get them cleared. The buyer was not soothed by his explanations and apologies and the result was a wasted day.

  This morning’s two appointments had been cancelled to enable him to go, which meant a very full day tomorrow and to add to that, Sophie had expected him home an hour ago. Belatedly, he thought he should call to let her know that he was on his way. He’d never had to bother when he was with Meriel. She had accepted his odd hours and irregular meal—times without a murmur. That was because she was dull, he reminded himself. She never wanted to do anything in the evenings except walk the dogs or watch television or read, so it had never made much difference to her if he had been held up. Yet, he wished he was going home to the peace she created. Inexplicably he felt he needed to see Meriel, needed her to soothe away the tensions of his day, and he found himself outside his previous home. He sat in the car for a while, allowing the agonies of the day to settle, and fall from him. He was stiff when he finally stepped out of the car and walked to the door. He knocked and there was the sound of excited barking. He smiled and opened the letterbox. ‘All right, you two, I’ll see you in a moment.’ When nothing further happened he said, in the foolish way of dog owners, ‘Where’s your mum, eh? Go and tell her I’m here.’ Disappointment was powerful as he accepted that Meriel was not there. She wasn’t the type to hide and not answer the door. He wondered with slight irritation where she could be. She rarely went out in the evening.

  Returning to the car he dialled Sophie’s number. When the phone was picked up he heard the sound of music played very loudly and in his imagination saw her dancing around their untidy kitchen. He smiled in spite of his tiredness. Peace was not why he had chosen to live with Sophie.

  ‘Darling, I’m running late, but I should be with you in an hour.’

  ‘I can’t wait,’ she said, sending kisses down the phone. ‘Shall we go out this evening? There’s a good band at The Farmers.’

  ‘Well, I do have a lot of paperwork. I should stay in and get on with it.’

  ‘But you won’t,’ she said. ‘It’s no good trying to sound serious, I can almost see the smile on your face which shows me you’re teasing. I’ll be freshly bathed and perfumed and waiting for you, darling.’

  Smiling, Evan drove towards home, only a few minutes away, reminding himself of his good fortune. Sophie is wonderful, he told himself. Young, beautiful, sexy, and altogether wonderful, and she has chosen me! He glanced at the package on the seat beside him. He’d bought a new shirt. It was unlikely there would be a clean one hanging ready in his wardrobe. Young, beautiful and sexy maybe, but Sophie wasn’t that kind of wife, he thought ruefully. Perhaps he should suggest getting someone in to deal with the ironing as well as the cleaning.

  As he opened the door, he stopped to take a deep breath, aware of mild irritation. If only she didn’t have the CD on quite so loud. She was dancing around the kitchen, as he had guessed, her face flushed, her long hair a glorious cloud around her lovely face. Her eyes were wide apart and a summer—sky blue, more intense now with the heat of her exertions adding colour to her face. She lowered the sound and ran to him. sweet—smelling, warm and soft and so desirable.

  ‘You tease! You were just around the corner and not an hour away.’

  He laughed, enjoying her delight.

  ‘Can we eat out?’ she pleaded. ‘I was going to defrost some chicken and do a stir-fry, but I haven’t started preparing anything and I’m starving.’ Seeing the hesitation on his face she added, ‘Your fault, you phoned and told me I had plenty of time.’

  ‘Give me an hour first, and—’

  ‘That long? Are you tired of me already?’

  ‘I’ll never tire of you. I love you.’ he said. ‘Come here and let me show you.’

  * * *

  Meriel opened her door later that evening to see Cynthia standing there, with her youngest son, Marcus.

  ‘I’ve come to beg a favour,’ Cynthia said as she bustled in. ‘I can’t stay a moment as I’m on my way to a committee meeting. The fourth this week would you believe. The end of school year coincides with the end of season for so many other organizations I don’t know how I can fit them in. Anyway, I won’t keep you.’

&nbs
p; ‘Coffee?’ Meriel suggested when she had a chance to speak. ‘And orange juice for you, Marcus?’

  ‘It’s about this weekend in Paris that darling Christian has arranged. I’ve been let down by Millie. She wants to go away to some cousins in Hampshire. Could you possibly stay with the boys? I would be ever so grateful to you if you would.’

  ‘We wouldn’t be any trouble, Meriel,’ Marcus smiled. But as his mother looked away from him, he gave a broad wink.

  ‘Of course I’ll stay with the boys, but will it be all right if I bring the dogs?’

  ‘We hoped you would,’ Marcus said, patting the two inquisitive dogs who had come to greet the visitors.

  ‘Don’t do any housework, nothing at all. Millie will catch up when she gets back, and I’ll leave money for you to eat out whenever you wish. It’s only a few days.’

  ‘Why don’t I come over tomorrow so you can show me where everything is?’ Meriel suggested.

  When Meriel walked into the imposing house near the cliffs, a team of decorators were clearing up having refurbished the hall, landings and staircases. A new chair, upholstered in yellow velvet, stood beside what Cynthia called the post table at one side of the hall, which had a tooled-leather top, bearing stamps, pens and four brass trays, in which the separate piles of post had been sorted and placed.

  ‘Christian’s business, my committee work, family letters and bills,’ Cynthia explained. She pointed to the waste-basket underneath, ‘And of course, the bin for rubbish.’

  Briskly she opened doors and explained where everything was kept. At the back of the garage was a room adjoining the airing room, which, she explained hurriedly, as though with embarrassment, was full of junk. ‘I’ve discarded a lot of old ornaments and rugs, even some furniture now I’ve redecorated the hall,’ she said. ‘Some of it was abandoned years ago, stuff from when Christian and I first married when we had no idea of what we wanted. If there’s anything you think you can use, please help yourself. Just don’t tell anyone you got it from me,’ she said with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘That would be too embarrassing, so tasteless. If you don’t fancy anything,’ she went on airily unaware of the implied insult, ‘I’ll give it to Joanne for her charity shop. People will buy anything, won’t they?’