Near And Dear

by Pamela Evans

  ‘We certainly have.’ They looked at each other in the pale glow of the promenade lighting. ‘Despite all the memories of Lena and the problems of having a secret affair, I really do love you.’

  ‘And I you, Giles,’ Jane said, lifting her face to his.

  The New Year celebrations at the Drake’s Arms had been predictably riotous and a good time had been had by customers and staff alike. The landlord had splashed out and hired a pop group for the night. They had played all the modern hits until ‘Auld Lang Syne’, after which the whole place had erupted into ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’. A conga line had trailed out into the street.

  ‘We didn’t half shift some booze tonight,’ Patsy said to Mick when they got home. ‘The guvnor was well chuffed.’

  ‘If a pub doesn’t do well on New Year’s Eve, they didn’t ought to be in the business,’ he said, pouring them both a scotch from a silver drinks tray on the sideboard.

  ‘I really enjoyed myself,’ said Patsy, leaning back in the armchair and kicking off her high-heeled shoes. ‘It was bloomin’ hard work but a lot o’ fun too. Did you have a good time?’

  ‘Not half.’

  He handed her a drink and settled down in a chair opposite her by the imitation log fire set in an ostentatious marble surround. He wasn’t exactly drunk but he’d had enough to make him feel happy and relaxed. Patsy had insisted that they leave the car at the pub and get a cab home.

  ‘Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve are my favourite times at the pub,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Even if my feet do feel as though I’ve walked to London and back without a break.’

  ‘You should wear more comfortable shoes,’ he suggested.

  ‘Can you honestly imagine me in flat heels?’ She grinned.

  ‘No, not really,’ he said with an affectionate smile.

  ‘Neither can I.’

  She looked like a tart, he thought, with her tight black skirt halfway up her thighs and her plunging neckline pulled down over one shoulder where she’d sat down awkwardly. Her brassy hair was wild, her make-up thick and bright. She wasn’t the sort of woman you’d want to take home to Mother but she was great to have as a partner - amusing, undemanding and terrific in bed.

  ‘You’re a very good barmaid,’ he remarked, sipping his whisky. ‘Ever so popular with the customers.’

  ‘Blimey, Mick, you must be drunk,’ she said with a broad smile. ‘It isn’t like you to dish out the compliments. ’

  ‘Credit where it’s due.’

  ‘Thanks, love,’ she said. ‘It’s nice to know I’m appreciated.’

  ‘You are. Everybody at the pub thinks you’re great. I’m the other side of the bar . . . I hear what’s being said.’

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Without any prior intention, Patsy found herself slipping into a serious frame of mind and mulling over something that had been bothering her rather a lot lately.

  ‘Well, another New Year, eh, Mick?’ she said. ‘A time to make resolutions.’

  ‘Not worth bothering with those,’ he said. ‘Nobody ever keeps ’em.’

  ‘I’m going to make one this year,’ she said, reaching a sudden decision.

  ‘Oh, yeah?’ he replied in a tone of amused affection. ‘What are you giving up this year, ciggies or chocolate? If you say sex, you’ll have me to contend with.’

  ‘It’s none of those things.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘You, Mick . . . I’m giving you up,’ she announced. ‘I’ve decided to move out.’

  Looking at her with a half smile, he said, ‘You’re having me on?’

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘You’ve said nothing about it before,’ he said, looking bemused.

  ‘I’ve only just this second made up my mind,’ Patsy told him. ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you for ages about the unsatisfactory state of our relationship, and the beginning of a New Year is the ideal time for sorting things out.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice, that is,’ he said, sobering up suddenly. ‘That’s a lovely start to the New Year, that is, you walking out on me.’

  She sat up and leaned forward, looking at him earnestly.

  ‘It’s time you went back to sort your marriage out, Mick.’

  ‘Oh, no, not that again.’

  ‘Yes, that again.’

  ‘Don’t give me a hard time, Pats,’ he said, frowning. ‘I’ve told you, I have every intention of going back . . . when I’m ready.’

  ‘That just isn’t good enough,’ she said determinedly. ‘I’ve heard all about this wonderful woman you’re married to. For years you’ve been telling me you’re going back to her. But you never do a damned thing about it!’

  ‘You know why that is.’

  ‘I know what you’ve told me . . . that you want to wait until you’re back in the money again,’ she said. ‘Well, you are now, aren’t you? You’re doing well. You run a good car, live in a decent flat . . . have plenty of dosh in your pocket.’

  ‘I’m not sure if this is the time to go back, though . . .’

  ‘You’re putting it off because you’re scared to death, and with very good reason,’ she said. ‘Your wife wouldn’t be normal if she didn’t give you a whole lot of grief. But it’s your duty to go back and face up to it. The least you can do is to let the woman know you’re alive.’

  ‘So you’ve told me, many times,’ said Mick impatiently.

  ‘While I stay around, you’ll never do it.’

  ‘What’s got into you, Pats?’ he said. ‘You’re usually so easygoing, never one to nag or worry about the future or doing the right thing. That’s why we get on so well, ’cause we’re two of a kind.’

  ‘I am easygoing, it’s true,’ she said. ‘And I take each day as it comes, most of the time. But I’m only human and I like to know where I stand the same as anyone else. You told me when I first moved in with you that it would only be temporary.’

  ‘Yes . . .’

  ‘Well, it’s time you either went back to your wife or put her out of your mind and made a go of it with me,’ said Patsy. ‘Either way, you must go and see her. Apart from anything else the children are your responsibility. Now that you can afford to contribute to their keep, that’s what you should be doing. You can’t stay away forever, ignoring your duty. And you can’t expect me to live with the threat of eviction from your life indefinitely either. I’ll be forty this year. Better I move out while I’m still young enough to make a new start . . . before I begin to feel permanently settled here with you. My leaving will give you a chance to sort yourself out.’

  ‘But you don’t have to move out right away, Pats,’ he said persuasively.

  ‘Oh, but I do. While I stay here, making life comfortable for you, you’ll never face up to what has to be done.’

  Mick was shaken to the core. It had never occurred to him that Patsy might leave. Control over their relationship had always seemed to be firmly in his hands. He could hardly believe she could be this assertive.

  ‘Where will you go?’ he asked because he knew she had made up her mind.

  ‘I’ll move into the pub . . . for the time being anyway. There’s a room there I can have any time I like.’

  ‘You’ve come to mean a lot to me, Pats,’ he said, and meant it.

  ‘Yes, I believe I have, Mick. But you’re still in love with your wife.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I guess I always will be,’ he said. ‘It’s just one of those things.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, trying not to show how downhearted this made her. ‘Because I’ve been so happy with you, I’ve let things drift on. I should have taken a stand a long time ago.’

  ‘We’ve had some good times, you and me.’

  ‘Not half. But I’ve never been happy with the idea of living with another woman’s husband, even though you’d already left her before I came along.’

  ‘My going back to Jane doesn’t reflect on my feelings for you. You’re one of the best and if things had been differen
t . . . well, who knows?’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘It’s just that I could never feel for any other woman what I feel for Jane. It’s one of those rock-solid things for both of us.’

  ‘I hope it works out for you,’ said Patsy, swigging whisky to ease the pain. ‘You know where to find me if it doesn’t.’

  ‘You mean, you’d have me back?’

  ‘Only if your marriage was definitely over and you’d sorted things out properly with Jane.’

  ‘You really are something else, Pats,’ he said with genuine affection. ‘You deserve someone better than me.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said, joshing. ‘I’ll go out and find myself someone better tomorrow, shall I?’ She finished her drink and stood up. ‘In the meantime, I’m going to bed. I’m absolutely shattered.’

  ‘I won’t be far behind you,’ said Mick, getting up and pouring himself another drink to help him over the shock of Patsy’s decision to leave. He’d got used to having her around and was going to miss her. But that in itself might encourage him to make a positive move towards putting his marriage right.

  ‘See you in a while, then,’ she said with feigned cheer-fulness and headed for the bedroom.

  Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, sobbing into her handkerchief so that Mick wouldn’t hear. Forcing a watershed was something she’d known she would have to do sometime, and it was the right thing. But it was so hard. This way she would either lose him forever or get him back on a more satisfactory basis.

  Either way, she would never be the love of his life but she’d rather be second best than not have him at all. How she was going to manage if he went back to Jane permanently was something she daren’t even think about.

  How perverse the fates were, she thought. Jane was the only woman for Mick and he was the only man for Patsy. But she couldn’t go on as they had been, knowing he was constantly hankering for someone else. She dried her tears, for fear he would find her in this pathetic state. One of the things Mick liked best about her was the fact that she didn’t make scenes, and she didn’t want to lose points with him at this crucial stage.

  When she was feeling a little more composed, she began to get undressed, deciding to move out of here tomorrow. Strike while the iron was hot, that was her motto. Further delay would only cause more pain. But, for all this sensible reasoning, just the thought of not being here with Mick tomorrow night made her want to cry again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jane left her car at the station and travelled into central London on the tube because of the parking problems in the West End. It was one of those deceptively sunny February days that felt warm through the windows of a heated house but which turned your toes and fingers numb as soon as you set foot outside. The weather was irrelevant to Jane, though, as she sat on the stale-smelling train, her stomach churning nervously, her heart beating erratically.

  She’d been awake most of the night, reeling from the shock of hearing Mick’s voice again after all this time. The telephone had been ringing at the cottage yesterday afternoon when she’d got back from collecting the children from school. He had got her number from Marie apparently.

  Jane had been too stupefied to ask any more than the basic details, which were that he lived in Brighton and was staying in London in a hotel near Marble Arch. He wanted to see her urgently and said he would explain everything when they met.

  Managing to gather her wits sufficiently to decide not to involve the children until she knew more about his intentions, she’d agreed to meet him for lunch at his hotel. It had meant reorganising her working day and leaving her assistant in charge in her absence, but Mick knew nothing of this and simply assumed she was free to fit in with his plans at any time. Having shattered her life nearly seven years ago, he was once again turning it upside down.

  Walking to the hotel from the station in her fashionably long tweed coat with a black fur collar and stylish black boots, Jane was feeling very confused and had no idea how she would feel about Mick when she saw him again. Naturally she was glad he was alive and well but a part of her wished he’d left her alone to continue with the life he had forced her to make for herself and which she’d grown to value. Just when she’d begun to look forward to a settled future with Giles, Mick had reappeared to complicate matters.

  With her heart beating wildly, she went through the revolving doors and into the foyer where they had arranged to meet.

  It had taken Mick nearly two months to pluck up courage to make contact with his wife. After Patsy had left, he’d felt lonelier than he could possibly have imagined and had spent a lot of his time at the Drake’s Arms in search of company and business. But most of all he had gone there to see Patsy. The flat felt desolate without her chirpy presence. Despite his attempts to persuade her, however, she was adamant about not coming back. She wouldn’t even consider it until he had sorted out his marriage one way or the other.

  And now he was here in the hotel foyer, waiting for Jane and tingling with apprehension. When the smart woman with the smooth bobbed hair and air of confidence about her came through the doors, it didn’t occur to him that she was his wife. Only when she drew nearer did recognition begin to dawn. But could this sophisticated lady really be his homely Jane? It was. It really was! How she had changed. He was mesmerised by her lustrous hair, her smooth skin, the classy look which was doubly obvious to him after being with Patsy for so long.

  Emotion overcame him at the sheer joy of seeing her again. How could he have stayed away so long? How could he have left her in the first place? Thank God Patsy had forced him into coming back. This was where he belonged - with his beloved Jane. Dear old Patsy seemed positively tacky in comparison.

  Jane was coming towards him and he could hardly breathe from the pleasure of it.

  ‘Hello Mick,’ she said evenly.

  ‘Oh, Jane,’ he said, tears in his eyes. ‘It’s so good to see you . . .’

  He felt her stiffen against him when he kissed her, and she didn’t seem to want to linger in his arms but drew back quickly.

  ‘Shall we go into the bar and have a drink before lunch?’ he suggested, feeling awkward with her.

  ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘Because you have a heck of a lot of explaining to do.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ he agreed breezily. ‘So let’s get settled with some drinks and I’ll tell you all about it.’

  Jane’s first impression of Mick when she saw him in the foyer was that he looked different. He seemed flashier than she remembered. He wore his hair longer now and had thick, exaggerated sideburns which made him look rough. He was wearing a bright red shirt and a hideous multicoloured tie under a light grey jacket worn with black flared trousers. Was he more flamboyant than he used to be or was it simply that her tastes had changed? she wondered, as he came to the end of a rather unlikely story about losing his memory and living under a false name.

  He still had the dazzling good looks and roguish charm that had first attracted her to him - but she wasn’t attracted to him now. She had known the instant she’d set eyes on him in the foyer that her feelings for him had changed.

  ‘It must have been some sort of breakdown caused by all the money worries,’ he was saying. ‘You can imagine how terrible I felt when I got my memory back and realised what I must have done to you and the children.’

  ‘You don’t actually remember leaving, then?’

  ‘No, that’s the strange part about it,’ he said. ‘I remember feeling desperate and not knowing which way to turn. I remember contemplating suicide. The next thing I knew I was on the beach at Bognor. I still don’t know how I got there.’

  ‘I thought you said you were living in Brighton?’

  ‘I moved there later,’ he said, careful not to be too generous with the truth about the time element. ‘More scope for business.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose there would be. It’s a busy place.’

  It was an incredible story which she knew many people would dismiss
as a pack of lies. But she didn’t disbelieve him. Such things did happen. She remembered reading about a similar case in the newspaper once. She also remembered finding the valium in his pocket after he’d gone, and how tense he’d been.

  ‘You should have told me what a mess you were in financially,’ she said.

  ‘I just couldn’t bring myself to.’

  ‘It was a terrible shock when the bank manager came to see me and told me we were about to lose everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Jane,’ he said, tears in his eyes again. ‘You must have hated me.’

  ‘I didn’t hate you but I was angry and hurt, naturally,’ she said. ‘Not knowing about the breakdown, I thought you’d just done a runner . . . left me to cope ’cause you didn’t have the bottle to stay.’

  ‘I bet your dad had a few choice things to say about me?’

  ‘It’s a wonder your ears didn’t burst into flames!’

  ‘Can’t blame him, I suppose.’

  ‘His reaction was perfectly normal,’ said Jane. ‘His daughter had been left homeless and penniless with two kids to bring up. We weren’t to know you were ill.’

  ‘Surely you must have known I wouldn’t have gone if I’d been in my right mind? You and the kids were my life. Everything I did was for you.’

  Most of what he’d done had been pure self-indulgence but she didn’t have the heart to mention it as he seemed to have had such a bad time.

  ‘At first I refused to believe you would just go off and leave me,’ she said. ‘But when there was no word from you at all, and then when I heard the truth about your finances, that seemed to be the only logical explanation.’

  ‘You must have been furious?’

  ‘It was very hard for me, Mick . . . having no home and no income, and suddenly having to go out cleaning to feed the kids. And, yes, I did feel bitter at times. But I stopped feeling like that ages ago.’

  ‘It took me a while to drum up enough courage to get in touch with you when I did get my memory back.’