Going Too Far

by Catherine Alliott

  ‘No, it was always tomorrow. He arrives at the hotel on Tuesday.’

  ‘But it’s Tuesday today, Polly.’

  I went pale. ‘Don’t be silly, it’s Monday.’

  ‘No.’ Sarah shook her head emphatically. She pulled a diary out of her handbag, flipped through, then brandished it in my face. ‘Look, definitely Tuesday.’ I nearly fainted with shock.

  ‘My God! It can’t be true! You mean I’m sitting here wasting precious hours gabbling to you when I could be talking to him?’

  ‘You’ve been in bed too long, Poll. Lost a day along the way somewhere.’

  ‘Out! Out!’ I screamed, shooing her away. ‘I’ve got to ring him right now, quick, Sarah, go away!’

  ‘All right, I’m going, I’m going,’ she said, making hastily for the door. One hand was already on the phone, the other scrabbling around on my bedside table for the important piece of paper I’d scribbled the number on.

  Sarah picked up the dirty dressing gown and scuttled out, but a second later her head popped back round the door. ‘Oh, and you will let me know how it goes, won’t you?’ she said eagerly.

  ‘Yes!’ I screeched. ‘Just go!’

  She went.

  With a very shaky hand I punched out the number. I listened nervously as it rang and rang. Eventually someone answered.

  ‘’Allo?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to speak to Mr Sam Weston, please,’ I said breathlessly. ‘I believe he’s staying with you.’

  ‘Heh? Speak up?’ It was a terrible line.

  ‘MR SAM WESTON!’ I shouted.

  ‘Ah yes, he in his room.’

  I sat bolt upright. ‘He is? Terrific! Put me through, please!’

  ‘Ah no, he resting, he say he no want to be disturbed.’

  ‘Do you know who I am?’ I screeched.

  ‘Heh?’ The line was getting worse.

  ‘DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?’

  ‘No, but Meester Weston, he say –’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what he say! I’m Helena Bleeding-Bonham-Carter, that’s who, Mr Weston’s leading lady no less, and if you don’t put me through right now I shall abandon Mr Weston’s picture and go to Hollywood and make one with Harrison Ford and Great Britain will hold you personally responsible for the collapse of its film industry! You’ll find yourself impaled on top of one of your precious pyramids if you’re not careful. Now put me through!’

  I thought I might have gone slightly over the top as far as the old prima donna bit was concerned, but it certainly did the trick. It scared the living daylights out of Abdul and two seconds later Sam answered his phone.

  ‘Sam Weston?’ The line was even worse. ‘Hello, Sam? It’s me, Polly, can you hear me?’

  ‘Hello? Who’s that?’

  ‘It’s me! POLLY!’ I yelled, almost eating the mouthpiece.

  ‘Polly! Darling, listen, I’m so sorry I had to dash off like that the other morning, do forgive me, I’d much rather have woken up beside you but I had to go to the office to organize this blasted shoot!’

  ‘Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter at all – listen, Sam, are you on your own? Can you talk?’

  ‘What? Speak up, Polly, this line is appalling, you want to what?’

  ‘TALK! It’s about that night at the hotel. It’s very important, Sam. I need to know what happened, because you see I can’t remember!’

  ‘Become a member? Darling, it’s a hotel, not a club. Very smart, I agree, but –’

  ‘NO!’ I screeched, feeling rather faint from shouting. ‘I said I can’t remember! Did we do it, Sam?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘DID WE DO IT?’

  ‘Darling, I want to do it too, I’m aching for you right now, absolutely aching! And Polly, let’s see each other the moment I’m back, we’ve been apart too long already. I can’t wait to take you in my arms and –’

  ‘NO!’ I screeched, feeling sick with both fear and a strained larynx. ‘I don’t want to do it again, I want to know if we did it at all! If we made LOVE!’

  ‘Ah, love.’ He sighed. ‘D’you know it felt very much like that for me too, isn’t it extraordinary? I’ve never in my life strayed out of my marriage, Polly, and to be honest I expected to wake up the next morning with terrible feelings of guilt and awful misgivings, but I didn’t. I can’t help it, I just didn’t, and now I can’t stop thinking about you. When am I likely to see you again – can I phone? I haven’t liked to in case Nick answered but –’

  I groaned and bashed my head against the headboard a few times. The way this convoluted conversation was going there seemed little doubt that I should essentially fear the worst and slit my wrists right now, but, call me old-fashioned, I still wanted confirmation that the evening had indeed been consummated. I got the mouthpiece so close it was practically nudging my tonsils and yelled, ‘DID WE HAVE SEX?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘SEX, damn you, SEX SEX SEX!’

  As I screeched these last few words I heard a faint click behind me. I turned around to see Nick standing in the doorway. I stared at him aghast, and simultaneously heard a voice in my right ear saying, ‘Oh, sex! Yes, of course we did, darling, you were tremendous! It was absolutely wonderful, I’ve never felt so close to someone in my entire life, I just wish I wasn’t a million miles away and could –’

  I gasped and slammed down the phone. Nick was staring at me, ashen-faced, a muscle twitching away in his left cheek. It seemed to me that my last, highly compromising words were still echoing round the room. I jumped up and ran to him.

  ‘Oh no, Nick, it’s not what you think!’

  He shook me off and pulled a case down from the top of the wardrobe. He began to fill it with clothes.

  ‘No? I take it that was Sam?’

  ‘Y-yes, it was, but –’

  ‘But what, Polly?’ he said, throwing things in the case. ‘God, I had no idea you were so frustrated, you’ve obviously got a problem.’

  ‘But you don’t understand, I –’

  ‘Oh really?’ He turned to face me, his face white and deadly. ‘I walk into my bedroom to get some more clothes and find you sitting up in bed, stark naked, screaming, “Sex! Sex! Sex!” down the phone to some guy you bedded a couple of weeks ago. What do you expect me to think?’ He shook his head grimly. ‘I obviously haven’t been able to satisfy you, Polly. I had no idea you were so highly sexed.’

  I groaned and fell to my knees on the floor, clutching my head and bashing it on the carpet.

  ‘No!’ I groaned. ‘No, it’s not like that, really it isn’t! For a start, the only reason I’ve got nothing on is because my dressing gown is filthy and Sarah’s taken it away to – WHAT ARE YOU DOING!’

  I screamed as he reached into the back of the wardrobe and pulled out a gun. I ducked, covering my head with my hands.

  ‘Don’t be bloody silly, Polly, it’s for the rats in the barn, not the rat in the house.’

  I gulped, peering through my fingers. He rested it against the wall while he snapped his case shut. Heavens, for a moment there I thought I was going to be on the receiving end of a crime passionnel. Then he picked up the case in one hand and the gun in the other and marched to the door.

  ‘Oh, Nick, please …’ I whispered, as he walked away.

  ‘Oh, Nick, please what?’ he hissed, suddenly turning on his heel.

  I tried to meet his eyes but couldn’t. I stared down at my bare knees, lost for words. There was a silence.

  ‘Nothing to say?’ he asked softly. He walked back. ‘Well, perhaps while I’m here you could explain our phone bill which I picked up from the hall table not a few moments ago.’ He took it out of his pocket and threw it on the floor beside me. ‘No less than fourteen itemised phone calls and all of them to Egypt. Is that where your boyfriend is at the moment?’

  ‘Nick, he’s not my –’

  ‘IS THAT WHERE HE IS?’

  ‘Yes, but you don’t understand,’ I wailed. ‘I was just trying to get hold of him, to ask him so
mething. I wasn’t trying to –’

  ‘I understand perfectly, Polly,’ he interrupted icily. ‘I understand that this was anything but a one-night stand and that you’re speaking to him constantly and probably thinking about him every minute. You’re infatuated with him, aren’t you? God, you’re nothing but a nasty, cheap little cheat.’

  ‘Nick, I –’

  ‘Yes you are, Polly, and you know it.’ He sat down slowly on the arm of a chair and shook his head. ‘You know,’ he said softly, looking past me, ‘when I married you, I have to admit I found your cock-eyed view of life rather endearing. Call me foolish, but I always thought your propensity to be so economical with the truth was just a harmless, quirky trait in your character.’ He shrugged. ‘If anything, I found it rather charming and lovable, I certainly didn’t see it as anything sinister. But this isn’t charming and lovable, Polly, this is just downright devious.’ He narrowed his eyes at me. I tried to meet them but had to look away. ‘You’re corrupt, Polly, you know that? You slip from one lie to the next without even knowing what the truth is half the time. You go through life in a haze of half-truths, white lies, and now downright deception. Well, I’ve had enough. I’m getting out. I’ve had it with your nasty, cruel little games. Go and inflict them on someone else. I’m sure Sam would be a willing partner – he’s obviously cheating on his wife too.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Nick, you’re so wrong,’ I whispered. ‘If you could just let me explain for one moment I could –’

  ‘Polly, no!’ he snapped fiercely. ‘Enough! I’ve told you, I just don’t want to hear any more! I’m quite sure you could fabricate your way out of this one like you’ve fabricated your way out of everything else, but to be honest just hearing your voice, just hearing you attempt it, makes me feel sick now!’

  His face screwed up in disgust and I gazed at him in horror. I could feel the tears rushing to my eyes. I made him feel sick. I actually made him feel physically sick.

  ‘Now what I propose,’ said Nick, rearranging his features with difficulty and speaking calmly, ‘is that you should find yourself somewhere else to live. There’s no rush, and you don’t have to start looking immediately, but start thinking about it, please. I’m quite happy to stay with Tim and Sarah for as long as it takes, but you must see that we can’t live together any more. You’re entitled to a decent-sized place, so don’t go looking at hovels. Somehow, I’ll find the money to run two houses.’ He paused. ‘If it means I have to sell this place,’ he went on, slightly shakily, ‘then so be it.’

  I gasped. My God. He hated me so much that he was prepared to sell his beloved house just to get rid of me. There was no holding the tears now, they streamed down my cheeks, and splashed on to my bare knees.

  ‘No histrionics please, Polly,’ said Nick quietly, getting to his feet. ‘I dare say you won’t be short of places to stay. I’m quite sure your boyfriend will look after you.’ He walked to the door and made as if to go out, but before he did he turned. Our eyes met. His hard, but nonetheless hurt and haunted, mine streaming with tears.

  ‘Shame on you, Polly,’ he whispered, ‘shame on you.’ And, with that, he walked out.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I don’t remember much about the next couple of days. I lay in bed and lurched from one bout of crying to the next, feeling shocked and dazed. I couldn’t actually believe this was happening to me. I stayed in my room and drew the curtains, staring into space, sleeping a bit, but eating nothing. I didn’t answer the telephone and I didn’t answer the doorbell. I just lay there, hugging my pillow, my face turned to the wall.

  Sarah had a key so she still came to see me, but she didn’t say much on these visits. There wasn’t an awful lot to say. She just sat by the bed and patted my hand. Now and again she tried to get me to eat, but they were half-hearted attempts because even she knew it was useless. My marriage was over and I just wasn’t up to eating. She’d heard the news from Tim and she knew it was final. Nick wasn’t a man to make idle threats so there was no point in trying to make me think positive and I didn’t ask her to.

  We sat in silence most of the time, except when I cried, but after a while she began to make tentative suggestions about places I might go and look at with a view to living in. She’d seen a nice cottage for sale in Polzeath, apparently, but just mentioning moving out only provoked a fresh bout of tears, so eventually she gave up on that too. She simply arrived, made sympathetic noises, cleared up my room and left food parcels by the bed as if I were a little old lady and she were Meals on Wheels.

  On one such day, about a week after Nick’s dreadful pronouncement, she was creeping round the room, stooping to pick up tear-sodden tissues and cigarette ends, when she suddenly straightened.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot why I came today, I mean apart from trying to tidy up and get you to eat a bit. I’ve got some news!’

  I turned my head away from the wall and looked at her with blank eyes. ‘Is it Nick?’ I whispered. ‘Has he said something?’

  ‘Oh, er, no, ’fraid not, Polly, it’s not Nick. No, it’s about the burglary.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ I turned away again. Gosh, all that seemed so long ago now, and so unimportant.

  ‘Don’t you want to know?’

  ‘Go on then,’ I sighed, ‘tell me.’

  ‘Well, apparently they’ve arrested someone!’

  I turned back and raised myself up very slightly on my pillows. ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Ah, you see!’ said Sarah gleefully. ‘You are interested.’

  ‘Only because it took place in my – my husband’s house,’ I said shakily. ‘Go on, Sarah, spill the beans, who is it?’

  ‘Well, it’s one of those film-crew people, you know, who came here. I think he actually came to supper that time. I’m just trying to think of his name.’ She frowned.

  I sat up a bit more. ‘Really? God, who is it?’

  Her face cleared. She snapped her fingers. ‘I remember now! It’s that poofy guy, Australian name …’

  I sat bolt upright. ‘Not Bruce!’

  ‘That’s it, Bruce!’

  ‘Oh no.’ I shook my head. ‘No, you must have got it wrong, Sarah.’

  ‘No, it’s definitely Bruce the police have got, I heard Nick talking to the police last night and he was amazed too, he kept saying – Bruce? Surely not! So there you go, quite a piece of news, eh?’ She grinned, clearly delighted she’d managed to get some sort of reaction from the corpse in the bed aside from more tears or a noncommittal whisper. They arrested him a couple of days ago apparently. I think they’re holding him in London, but – oh, I know, Polly, why don’t you ring Hetty? She knows all about it and I know she’s dying to speak to you.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t,’ I said, shaking my head and sinking back into my pillows again. ‘Not Hetty.’

  ‘Look,’ said Sarah gently, sitting down beside me, ‘please speak to her. You and I both know that Hetty is the last person to take sides. She loves you, Polly, she really does, and not just because you married her son, and she’s desperate to talk to you, to comfort you. Please give her a ring; she’s too afraid to ring here.’

  I sighed. ‘I’d like to speak to her too,’ I said softly, ‘but not about me and Nick. I can’t discuss that.’

  ‘Well, say that then, say you just want to talk about the burglary. Honestly, Polly, you’ve got to get out of bed at some point – you can’t stay here forever.’

  ‘I’m not staying in bed forever. I’m getting up the day after tomorrow. I’m going to London.’

  ‘Oh?’ She looked amazed. ‘Why?’

  ‘Sam’s back, that’s why. I’m going to give it one last shot.’

  ‘What – get him to lie about that night? Polly, I honestly think that even if you can get him to talk to Nick, Nick’s gone beyond the point of listening to anything. He’s going to guess it’s all a huge invention dreamed up between the two of you and –’

  ‘But it’s worth a try, isn’t it?’ I cut in desperately. ‘I mean, any
thing’s worth a try. I know it’s hopeless but I’ve got to have one last attempt to save my marriage.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ she said hastily, seeing my eyes water. ‘Have a go, see what he says, at least it will get you out of bed. But please, Polly, do talk to Hetty, you’ve got no quarrel with her, have you? And she’s so worried about you.’ She gazed at me beseechingly.

  I sighed. ‘OK,’ I muttered, ‘I’ll ring her when you’ve gone.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ beamed Sarah, hastily making for the door before I could change my mind. ‘Now don’t forget, will you, do it now.’

  The door shut behind her and I heard her running downstairs. Bruce. Blimey, who would have thought? And why? I wondered. I bit the skin round my thumbnail, then reached for the phone. I hesitated. Hetty was the kindest, wackiest and most sublime of mothers-in-law, but she was nonetheless my mother-in-law. How was I supposed to explain that the reason her son had walked out on me was that I’d been up to no good with another man?

  Suddenly I grabbed the receiver decisively. No, I had to do it. I couldn’t lie in bed and hide from people forever. I punched out her number. She answered straight away in her dark-brown throaty voice.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hetty, it’s me, Polly,’ I said somewhat shakily.

  ‘Polly! Darling, how lovely, I’ve been dying to ring but – well, you know, haven’t liked to, what with one thing and another.’

  ‘I know, and it’s my fault. I should have rung you sooner, but I felt awkward. Listen, I’d love to come and see you, but would you mind awfully if we didn’t talk about me and Nick?’

  ‘Of course! I couldn’t agree more, too boring for words, and anyway I think he’s behaved abysmally. Fancy moving out lock, stock and barrel after only one tiny little indiscretion on your part, I mean, really! Incidentally, hate to be nosy, but this indiscretion, it wasn’t really a whole rugby team, was it? Only Mrs Parker at the dairy swears it was but I told her it was far more likely to be one of those glamorous film people. I can’t really see you as the rugger-bugger type and I don’t honestly think you’ve got the stamina for a whole team of virile young –’