by Lisa Hill
Rebecca shrugged. ‘Truth hurts, doesn’t it? But I’ve moved on.’ She bit her lip, considering what she wanted to say next. ‘And so had you.’
Pamela winced. She started to slice some lemon for their drinks. Rebecca watched as Pamela went to fetch some ice. A companionable silence filled the room as she waited for Pamela to finish up the drinks.
‘Shall we sit in the garden?’ Pamela asked, picking up the glasses.
Rebecca nodded and followed Pamela out through the conservatory towards the wicker garden sofas under a large, cotton umbrella.
‘Please,’ Pamela said, setting the drinks down on the glass surface of the wicker table and indicating for Rebecca to sit down.
‘Thank you,’ Rebecca said, popping her handbag on the patio before settling in the squashy cotton cushions.
‘So why do you want to talk about Jack?’ Pamela’s tone had changed, dropping into something resounding sorrow.
‘James only told me this morning that Jack moved out earlier this week.’
More silence as Pamela sat down and looked up the garden towards St Mary’s church. ‘I ended up sobbing in the churchyard when he said he was leaving.’
‘Then why did you let him go?’ Rebecca tried to leave the tone of exasperation out of her voice.
Pamela looked back at Rebecca with watery eyes. ‘I really don’t know. When Edward said he was dying, I felt overwhelmed, consumed almost, with this feeling of guilt and,’ she shrugged, as if she was searching for the right word, ‘duty, I guess. Responsibility; we’re still married.’
Rebecca shifted slightly in her chair, feeling uncomfortable for what she was going to say next. ‘But you’d already gone as far as filing for a divorce.’
‘Pah!’ Pamela dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her screwed up tissue. ‘I know,’ she chuckled. ‘None of it makes any sense, does it?’
Rebecca sighed. It made perfect sense. Guilt preventing you from moving forward with your life, and yet Pamela had the least to feel guilty about.
‘I don’t agree with you, actually,’ Rebecca said, before picking up her gin and tonic.
‘Pardon?’ Pamela sounded stunned.
‘It does make sense. You feel the burden of responsibility to care for a man you cared and looked after for over forty years. It’s habitual, that’s all. But because it’s habitual, it makes you feel guilty if you don’t pick up the mantle and look after him, again.’
Pamela clicked her fingers together. ‘That’s precisely it! I don’t even really know how I ended up suggesting he moved in, although it is half his house and—’
‘There you go again!’ Rebecca interrupted, her voice rising an octave.
‘What?’
‘With the guilt! It’s half his house; without wanting to sound crude, do you think he was thinking about you when he was with me or any of the other,’ Rebecca’s voice began to wobble, ‘women before me?’ Rebecca watched tears start to flow freely down Pamela’s cheeks again. ‘Which is why I came here.’ She tried to get her voice under control. ‘Because Jack saved me from Edward and, now, it’s my turn to return the favour. You and Jack deserve to be together! You may feel some sort of unwarranted obligation towards Edward but—’ she hesitated; could she say this? ‘—he’s dying. You and Jack aren’t; are you really going to let Edward ruin your chance at happiness after all these years of misery?’
Pamela crossed her legs and picked up her gin and tonic. She leaned back in her chair and looked back up at St Mary’s as she took little sips of her drink. Rebecca did the same, acutely aware of the ice clinking every time they took the glasses to their mouths, grating on her nerves. She was pretty sure this wasn’t the affect alcohol was meant to have on you.
Pamela let out a little cackle. ‘You’re right, you know. Of course, you know you’re right; you wouldn’t have come here otherwise, would you?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘No. I don’t know why I feel quite so strongly about it. But, when James told me what was going on this morning, my heart went out to you that Jack had left. He’s such a gentleman.’
‘What you really mean is, I’m never going to find another one that good again?’
Rebecca smiled. ‘I think you already know the answer to that, don’t you?’
Pamela grimaced and nodded. ‘Yes. I’ve messed up big time though; how do I get rid of Edward now he’s got cancer? He’s proposing we forget about the divorce and just wait for him to…’ she trailed off, clearly too upset to vocalise what was going to happen.
Rebecca shifted to the edge of her seat and set her drink down on the table. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that you were willing to divorce Edward before you knew he had cancer. I’ve never been married, so I don’t really understand divorce, but I know you can get a divorce and delay the financial side of things. So, there’s really nothing stopping you pushing a decree absolut through and marrying Jack, is there?’
‘What?’ For the first time this afternoon, Pamela looked something other than distraught. There was a glimmer of hope flashing across her face. ‘We could still get married?’
Rebecca smiled. ‘I think so. I’m no solicitor,’ she hurried on, ‘but it’s worth a punt, isn’t it? Show Jack you still love him.’
Pamela fought back tears. ‘I truly do love him.’
Rebecca took a risk and took Pamela’s hands in hers. She squeezed them hard. ‘Then tell him.’
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘I’m off then,’ Louise said, craning her head around the stock room door. Johnnie was sitting at his desk, a standard lamp poised over him, rapidly tapping away at his calculator.
He looked up. ‘Right,’ he said, tersely. ‘Don’t worry about me then; I’ll just be here checking we’ve got enough cash flow to keep us going until the end of the month.’
Louise refrained from rolling her eyes. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’
Johnnie’s shoulder’s slumped. ‘No, you go. Jack said he was going to call down this evening, anyway. Says he’s got some important news to discuss with me.’
That foreboding feeling whirred away in Louise’s stomach again, like a washing machine between cycles, waiting to angrily launch into a frenzied, spin-cycle at any second.
‘Right,’ she said, afraid that saying anything more would inevitably cause a row. ‘See you later.’
Johnnie put his hand up and waved, without taking his eyes off of his accounts.
She turned away, feeling as rejected as he had just eluded to feel, when she said she was going out. Making her way through the empty tearooms, however, a spark of excitement cut through her melancholy when she thought about where she was going and the hope of who she might see. Of course, she was looking forward to catching up with Rebecca and hearing her news. For a brief friendship formed in a nature reserve, Louise couldn’t help but feel some connection to this woman and she had precious few other girlfriends. Lottie and Jude were always there with an ear to lend but they had busy lives, as did she, which kind of prevented any regular socialising. Perhaps having Rebecca living just a few doors down might make all the difference, Louise thought, as she locked the French doors behind her and wended her way up the garden path to the back gate. She started along Back Lane, before heading into the pub gardens. Every nerve ending tingled and a swarm of butterflies took flight in her stomach at the thought that she might see Duncan.
She’d tried hard while she was away. She’d tried very hard, to put thoughts of this man she barely knew to the back of her mind, instead focusing on Johnnie and where they were going wrong. It hadn’t worked. All it had served was to highlight all the things she found irritating about Johnnie. The way he’d planned the entire week’s agenda of what they did each day; they’d gone away for a rest, for goodness sakes! The way he’d decided where they should eat without consulting her and the girls. How he’d insisted on his normal bedtime routine, flossing his teeth and changing into his nightwear before he’d been able to get into bed f
or sex. She’d pretended to be asleep by then; the effects of drinking chianti all night beginning to wear off. Where was the passion, the romance, the spontaneity? And if keeping to his bedtime routine hadn’t quelled her urges, listening to him persistently go on about VOCAB, checking their private Facebook group for any updates, had only served to completely turn her off.
Actually, that had more than turned her off. It had hurt her. He’d promised he was giving up all the VOCAB stuff to focus on them.
‘Ah, the wanderer returns.’ Duncan’s smooth, Scottish tones drifted across the garden.
Deep in thought, Louise hadn’t realised she’d made it all the way down the lane and was now at the rear entrance to the pub. Holding two plates of battered cod and chips in his hands, a tea towel slung casually over a crisp, white shirt and wearing his standard, faded denim jeans, he looked effortlessly suave and totally desirable.
Louise swallowed hard. ‘Hello,’ she said, meekly.
‘Hello you,’ he said, that twinkle glittering in those bearlike, dark eyes.
‘Cooeee, Louise, over here!’
Louise turned to see Rebecca lounging on one of the pub garden sofas, a bottle of bubbly chilling in a bucket, with two glasses waiting next to it.
‘Looks like you’re in for the night. I’ll catch you later,’ Duncan said, brushing past her to take the steaming plates of food to a table in the far corner.
Louise joined Rebecca on the opposing sofa.
‘Isn’t it a lovely evening?’ Rebecca said, picking the bottle up from the ice and uncorking it. As it popped, she quickly filled the glasses with flowing champagne. She handed one to Louise.
‘Thanks. What are we celebrating?’
Rebecca shrugged. ‘I just like champagne,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘Actually, that’s a crap reason isn’t it? Let’s drink to moving on, achievements and new friendships.’ She leaned in and chinked her glass against Louise’s.
‘Ha, I’ll drink to that. Although, I think only the latter applies to me.’ She smiled at Rebecca, feeling humbled that Rebecca was clarifying that they were now friends.
‘Nonsense.’ Rebecca shook her head. ‘How’s that cake business of yours going?’
Louise nodded. ‘Good actually, I’ve had a few enquiries while I’ve been away.’
‘There you go then.’ Rebecca raised her glass in acknowledgement.
‘Actually, I’m quite surprised Pamela hasn’t been hassling me about the design of hers since I’ve been back.’
Rebecca, mid-necking champagne, shook her head. ‘It’s all off.’
‘What?’
‘Well, for the moment anyway. I’m hoping it’s going to get back on track; I’ve been round there this afternoon trying to sort things out with her.’
‘Blimey, the last time we met you were proper scared of her.’
‘I know, we’ve made good progress since then. I think mainly because we’ve both identified we’re the same in a way; both victims of Edward’s actions. I was carrying around the burden that I was the cause, but I can see it differently now.’
‘So, you’re with James?’
‘Yes, not living together or anything, but it’s going well. And I really have you to thank for pushing me to go back and face the music at the fete.’ Rebecca beamed. She had that glow about her; a loved-up glow.
Louise wasn’t sure she would ever be allowed to feel like that again. Johnnie felt like the proverbial ball and chain around her ankle. ‘That’s good, I’m pleased.’
‘And how are things with you? You eluded that things could have been happier when we had our heart-to-heart at the school.’
Louise smiled, touched that someone remembered what she said; someone had listened to her.
‘Did the holiday help?’ Rebecca asked.
Louise pursed her lips together, but still couldn’t speak. To vocalise it would be to concede there was problem.
‘Can I get you ladies anything?’ Duncan suddenly appeared, with a notepad and pen in his hands.
‘Rebecca, have you met Duncan?’ Louise felt uncomfortable with Duncan standing over her. She didn’t seem to know how to behave naturally with Rebecca there; like Rebecca might be able to read her body language.
Or even worse, her mind.
‘Yes, James and I have been in a few times since I moved.’
‘A regular, I’d say.’ Duncan smiled.
‘Do you want anything to eat, Louise? I’m starving,’ Rebecca said, grabbing a menu from the table.
The way Louise’s stomach had launched into a swarm of butterflies the moment Duncan had approached the table made her feel like she’d never be able to eat again.
‘Tell you what,’ Duncan said, ‘I’ll give you a couple of minutes and come back.’ He winked at Louise before turning to leave.
Louise was trying hard, but she knew beneath her Italian sun kissed freckles, she was turning an enviable shade of pink to match the sunset in the sky.
Rebecca looked up from her menu and stared, her perfectly applied, glossed lips parting. ‘Oh my God.’
‘What?’ Louise looked behind her, expecting there to be someone coming up the garden from the car park whom Rebecca had recognised.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’
‘Pardon?’ There seemed to be a thudding in Louise’s ears now which she was pretty sure had nothing to do with the effects of the champagne.
‘You said your marriage could be happier and I thought there could be someone else.’
‘Did I say that?’ Louise squeaked.
***
James walked back down Vicarage Lane for the fourth time. Tigger-like, bouncy excitement was urging him to go to the pub and see Rebecca. But a little voice, the Eeyore in him, was telling him to just head back to the Old Rectory. He stopped again and looked over to the village where the windows of cottages were emblazoned, reflecting the orange setting sun, giving the effect of looking like they were on fire. Was that a warning to stay away? He felt the little box in his jeans pocket again. Still there. What was stopping him? Fear of rejection; Rebecca had said she was having an evening to herself. He knew she wouldn’t be impressed by him gate crashing her drinks with Louise, but this was different; time was of the essence.
He looked to his left and realised he was standing outside the vicarage. Through the large bay window, he could see Reverend Eckersley’s wife, Lucy, walking through with their daughter, Poppy, who was in one of those pinafore, sleeping bag things he’d seen Lottie use on her kids when they were younger. She had a swollen belly again, caught quickly after having Poppy, who was only just coming up to one. Reverend Eckersley took Poppy from Lucy who passed him a book too. It was obviously bedtime story time.
James smiled. This was what he wanted so much; a little family. The Eckersley’s were a similar age to James and Rebecca, evidently either waiting until their careers were established before starting a family, or perhaps having to wait because they’d needed IVF. What if he and Rebecca needed IVF? He was forty-one now, she was thirty-nine.
‘I’ll need an answer within forty-eight hours,’ Reverend Eckersley had said to James when Jack had taken him to see the Reverend earlier. ‘There’s a waiting list; I’m really breaking the rules by pushing you to the top.’
As a result, James had spent all afternoon trawling the jewellery shops of Harrogate and ending up at an auction at Nidd Hall, where he had found just what he was looking for.
He squeezed his hand tight around the box in his pocket.
‘Time is of the essence, in more ways than one,’ he said to himself, putting his best foot forward.
***
Rebecca could recognise lust a mile off. Perhaps even more so since her affair with Edward. That’s how she’d known there was nothing going on between Lottie and Tom last year, when even the press accused them of having an affair. Lottie hadn’t had that aura about her. She hadn’t had that flushing glow of anticipation you got from lusting after someone new. Louise hadn’t had it this morning
when Rebecca had called into the stores, but she was certainly wearing it now.
‘How long have you fancied him?’ Rebecca whispered.
The flush of lust was fading fast, being replaced with a deathly pale, veil of guilt, making Louise’s sun kissed freckles look more like an attack of the measles.
She firmly shook her head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, come off it; he’s looked over here a hundred times in the short while we’ve been here tonight. He definitely fancies you.’
The lust flush rose in Louise’s cheeks again. ‘I’m married,’ she said, shaking her head again.
Rebecca stood up and snaked around the low table, slumping down on the sofa next to Louise. Louise didn’t look up. She just kept her head down and her hands sandwiched between her thighs.
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ she said, quietly.
Louise looked up; her face full of anguish. ‘May I remind you why we met on the banks of that nature reserve that day?’
‘Fair point,’ Rebecca said, necking the last of her champagne. She went to refill her glass. ‘The thing is though, you are allowed to not fancy your husband anymore.’ She watched Louise look around to check who was around them. ‘You’re even allowed to,’ she dropped her voice to barely a whisper, ‘not be in love with him, either.’
Louise stared at her clasped thighs. Rebecca watched on, as if she could actually see the cogs whirring away in Louise’s mind.
‘If I admit that,’ she finally said, ‘I’d have to admit it to myself.’
‘What was your holiday like?’
Rebecca watched Louise wince. ‘I never knew it was possible to be so physically close to someone and feel so distant from them at the same time.’
‘And where does Duncan fit in to all of this?’ Rebecca asked, still whispering.
Louise looked up and across to where Duncan was chatting to a large group dining outside. Rebecca watched her bite her lip and shrug. ‘He’s kind,’ she hesitated, as if uncertain to confess the rest, ‘and he listens to me.’