Between Friends

by Jenny Harper

  Where am I going to find money like that?’

  ‘You’ll find it,’ he said easily. ‘Look on it as an investment in your future. Now listen, darling, I must go. A working man and all that. Give me a call when you’ve got everything in place. But don’t leave it too long. Tomorrow afternoon will be fine.’

  ‘Tomorrow! Ha ha.’

  ‘No joke, Carrie. Bye.’

  And he was gone.

  Carrie, still shaking, was back at the office before she realised that she hadn’t been to the deli.

  ‘Where’s my latte, then?’ Sally asked expectantly.

  ‘Shit. Sorry. I forgot.’

  ‘Carrie. Christ. If that’s what love does to you, give me less of it,’ Sally groaned. ‘I’ll go myself.’

  ‘No, I’ll go back. I need the air.’

  Chapter Thirty-two

  A week after Ross and Emily made their joint confession to Jane, Emily made another, even bigger one, to her mother.

  ‘Mum? Can I tell you something?’

  They were on their own in the house. Gran Porter, her presence required less as Jane’s health improved, had retreated to her own flat. ‘I’ll just have a quiet wee evening to myself, Jane, if that’s all right with you.’ Neal had taken the boys to a school football game and as Jane tackled a pile of ironing, an unusual sense of calm prevailed in the Harvie household.

  ‘Of course, d-darling. Here, sit down.’

  Jane swept a pile of crumpled clothing off the chair nearest to her onto the slightly hairy floor to make room for Emily. She picked a shirt off the top of the pile and stretched it over the ironing board.

  ‘What is it?’

  Emily settled onto the chair.

  ‘I’ll fold these for you.’

  She picked up some towels and began to smooth them half-heartedly.

  ‘Thanks. What is it?’

  ‘You know Robbie?’

  Jane frowned. Robbie Jamieson was not her favourite topic of conversation.

  ‘Yes?’ A series of serious discussions with Emily about her recent behaviour had led to an agreement that she would stop seeing him. It hadn’t been a difficult agreement, Emily had been surprisingly acquiescent.

  ‘That night – the one when I ended up in hospital?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘I slept with Robbie.’

  Jane’s iron hovered in mid-air, then landed heavily on the shirt. Both her hands flew to her mouth as she stared at her daughter.

  ‘Oh, Emily. Why? Why did you d-d-do that?’

  ‘Don’t be angry with me. I loved him. At least, I thought I did. I guess I thought it would tie him to me. But it wasn’t really very nice. Is that shirt all right?’

  ‘Oh!’ Jane seized the iron and placed it upright on the end of the board. She looked at the shirt ruefully, then bundled it up and tossed it to one side. ‘Never mind that – Emily, d-d-dearest – are you all right? My baby...’

  She squatted down beside Emily and put her arms round her.

  ‘Are you? I mean, you’re not likely to be p-pregnant?’

  Surely history would not be so unkind?

  ‘No, of course not. I may be stupid but I’m not that irresponsible. I just wanted to tell you, that’s all. I thought you should know.’

  ‘Thank you Emily. You know, sleeping with someone should be a very special thing. You should wait until you are really ready.’

  ‘I know that now. It hurt. And it felt a bit dirty. I didn’t want to listen to Suzy, but she was right all along. Robbie didn’t care about me much, I can see it now. I’ve already told him I don’t want to see him again. I’ve decided to leave the orchestra.’

  ‘Leave the orchestra? Emily, no, surely not.’

  ‘I hate it.’

  ‘Because Robbie goes?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘You mustn’t let it rule your life. It was just the once, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. It wasn’t all Robbie’s fault. I mean, Suzy’s right, he is a really selfish guy and all that, but I did throw myself at him. And now I can’t stand even looking at him.’

  ‘Emily, sweetest.’ Jane hugged her again, ‘What a shame you d-did it for the first time with ... well, it’s done now, I suppose. But you’re only sixteen ... wait a bit, eh? Wait until you meet someone you really care about?’

  Emily nodded. ‘Yeah. I will.’

  She stood up.

  ‘All right if I go and practice my cello now?’

  ‘Of course. Maybe you can join the orchestra again next term?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘And Emily—’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘When my Forster is mended, why d-don’t you start playing it?’

  Emily swung back, her face aflame with delight.

  ‘Do you mean it? Really?’

  Jane nodded. She had no more fear of the cello. Her fears had moved on.

  If Jane had thought she was going to have a quiet evening with the ironing, it seemed that she was mistaken because just as Emily began her cello practice, the doorbell rang. She sighed. Hopefully it would be just one of the Mormons who called round from time to time, squeaky clean, trying to convert them all to their cause. A quick, polite, ‘No thanks, we’re Presbyterians’ would see the back of the young man.

  But it wasn’t a Mormon, it was Marta.

  ‘I’m sorry, Jane, I know I should have called, but I just ... I was out just driving around and I... Please—’

  ‘Come in.’

  Jane’s irritation flew to the skies as compassion took its place. She knew about Jake’s visit, and what had happened, but when she’d related the events of the weekend, Marta had been matter-of-fact, very calm, hopeful of a good resolution. The Marta in front of her now was a wreck, her normally immaculate blonde hair was bedraggled and limp, she wasn’t wearing any make-up, and her hands were visibly trembling.

  ‘Sweetheart, come into the kitchen. Here, I’ll get t-tea. Sit.’

  She indicated the chair just vacated by Emily.

  Marta collapsed onto it as though someone had hit the back of her knees.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For troubling you. For coming in unannounced. I can hear Emily practising.’ She cocked her head in the direction of the music room and managed a shaky smile. ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s getting a lot b-better, thanks,’ Jane said firmly. ‘Here.’ She ladled two spoons of sugar into the tea – her mother always maintained that the best thing for shock was hot, sweet tea – and put the steaming mug down in front of Marta. ‘T-tell.’

  Marta lifted the mug, but she seemed to have some difficulty in taking a sip.

  ‘It’s just hit me, Jane. That’s all. I feel so...’ she searched for the word. ‘Empty. And stupid!’ She snapped out the word angrily. ‘How could I not have seen what was happening? How could I not have understood my own behaviour better? Or read our relationship more accurately? How could I have been such a fool?’

  Jane abandoned all thought of ironing and found another chair. ‘Are you sure it’s as b-bad as you think?’

  Marta groaned.

  ‘Jane, I replay what he said over and over and over in my head all the time. I pick apart his words until they make no sense at all. I don’t know. I think so. I think it’s probably worse. He’s seeing someone else, you know.’

  Jane did know. Marta had told her a dozen times already.

  ‘Really?’ she said sympathetically. ‘P-probably just enjoying a bit of freedom.’

  Marta talked, Jane mostly listened. The conversation was circular.

  ‘I should have seen it coming and done something about it.’

  ‘That’s easy to say in retrospect, M-Marta.’

  ‘If only I’d...’

  When Marta’s mug was empty, she put it down and stared at it unseeingly for a minute then said, in an unexpected twist of conversation, ‘Have you told Neal yet? About the ... you know.’

/>   Jane was caught off guard. ‘N-no, not yet.’

  ‘Oh Jane, why not? You must tell him, you know, and the sooner the better.’

  The truth was that Jane, fearful about Neal’s reaction, was still in two minds. It was a long time ago. She’d been young. She’d been alone, unable to talk to friends about it. Times were very different then. Excuses chased round her head, each justifying silence. Besides, Marta’s ideas – always well intentioned – all too often ended by backfiring. She couldn’t be sure. And if she couldn’t be sure, she couldn’t take the risk.

  Marta, perhaps seeing the look of doubt on Jane’s face, said earnestly, ‘You have to talk, Jane. I didn’t talk to Jake, that was what the problem was.’

  Jane sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘I’d better go and let you get on with your ironing. Thanks for the tea and sympathy.’

  At the door, she said again, ‘Tell Neal, Jane. You won’t regret it.’

  Whether she would have told Neal or not, Jane was never to know, because the next morning, after the house had cleared of husband and children – Emily and Ross cheerfully bickering again, a good sign – the telephone rang. Expecting her mother, wanting to discuss arrangements for the day’s visit, she answered it quickly.

  ‘Hello?’

  But it was not Evelyn Porter. It was Tom Vallely. At the sound of his voice, Jane nearly dropped the phone. It felt as though the receiver had suddenly burst into flames in her hand. Pain shot up her arm, along her left side, and started to make her ear burn and her head throb.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t sound so suspicious, Janie darling. Just calling to hear how you are.’

  ‘What d-do you care?’

  ‘Oh Janie, Janie, Janie,’ he said reproachfully, ‘I cared for you for years, don’t you remember?’

  She tried to remember. Perhaps there had been a bit of caring, early on, but the truth was that she’d always wondered why charismatic, sexy, popular Tom Vallely had stuck with her, plain Jane Porter. He could have had anyone in those days.

  After they’d split up, she did suspect that he had been unfaithful more than once. Thinking back, she remembered small incidents, the faintest scent on his clothes, a blonde hair on his sweater, things she had not even considered or which he had airily explained away.

  ‘You d-don’t care for me now,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I’m fine, thank you, so you have no need to worry.’

  ‘Good, good. That’s not what I heard, but if you say so.’

  ‘Heard? What did you hear?’

  ‘Oh, I heard you were really depressed. I didn’t like to think about that, Janie darling. I thought you might be a bit worried, you know, because of Neal not knowing about the abortion. It occurred to me that you might be concerned that I would tell him.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’

  ‘No. Of course I wouldn’t,’ Tom said reassuringly. ‘Only the thing is, Janie darling, I find myself a little short of cash right now. Maintaining my new lifestyle is a little more expensive than I thought it would be. And I thought you would be so relieved to know for sure that Neal would not be hearing anything from me once you help me out a little.’

  ‘Help you out?’

  ‘Money, darling. I need some money. And then Tom will disappear. Simple! Except, of course, you will have the extreme pleasure of watching me three times a week on your television screen.’

  ‘I haven’t g-g-got any money.’

  ‘Poor darling Janie, that stutter’s getting worse, wouldn’t you say? I think you’ll find some money. Oh, I think so. And then all your problems will go away.’

  ‘T-Tom, don’t do this to me.’

  ‘I’ve got to go now. Rehearsals beckon. A star’s life is not an easy one.’ His laugh made her shiver. ‘I’ll call tomorrow. Tell you where to send it,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Because I’m sure your children wouldn’t like to know what you did either, would they now? Bye darling.’

  The fire on Jane’s left side had been quenched by an icy glacier. She felt numb, sick, filled with helplessness and despair. She sank onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands. She’d find the money somehow. She would do whatever it took to protect her family from the knowledge of what had happened. But would she be able to live with herself afterwards?

  Chapter Thirty-three

  For the first time, Carrie made an excuse not to see Drew.

  ‘I’m shattered, darling,’ she told him when he phoned in the afternoon. ‘I was in the office really early this morning, I think I’ve been overdoing it recently. I don’t have your unquenchable energy,’ she said lamely. It wasn’t true – her energy levels were generally off the top end of the scale.

  ‘We could just cuddle up together?’

  ‘You know we wouldn’t just “cuddle up” Drew. If I’m with you I can’t sleep for looking at you and marvelling that you care for me.’

  He gave his big, easy laugh.

  ‘Right then, honey, I’ll let you off just this once. Take care of yourself now.’

  ‘And you.’

  She ended the call, her heart heavy. But how could she face him? She had to get Tom off her back. Then, perhaps, everything would settle down and she could put all this aside.

  Earlier in the day she had reluctantly telephoned her broker and asked him to cash in some of the shares she had inherited from her father – money she had been keeping for a rainy day. Resentment wrestled with anger, first one emotion uppermost, then the other. Still she had not called Tom back.

  After work, she headed to the gym. She tackled the rowing machine first then headed to the treadmill. Carrie liked running. She liked to push herself harder and harder, a bit longer this time, a bit faster the next. Tonight she tried both – further, faster. The pain in her legs was nothing to the hurt in her heart.

  Tom bloody Vallely. Tom bloody Vallely.

  The words echoed round and round to the rhythm of her pounding feet. Sweat was pouring off her. She had no idea how long she had been running, but after some time she knew that even if she paid him the money, Tom was not going to go away. Why would he, if he thought that all he had to do was threaten her and she would stump up? It was so obvious she couldn’t imagine why it hadn’t occurred to her before.

  I can’t win. I can never be free of this.

  She slowed her pace. The treadmill slowed. She stopped running.

  Enough. She couldn’t run any more.

  The views from her penthouse windows gave her no pleasure tonight. The clean open space of her living quarters, usually so cherished, did nothing now but emphasise her loneliness.

  In the bathroom, feeling the need for further punishment, she turned the shower to cold and stood under it. The water cascaded down her back, splashing onto the marble tiles behind her. She scrubbed at her skin. If only she could wash her past away, if only she had found Drew years ago, if only Tom hadn’t come back into her life, if only ... if only ... if only ...

  Clarity seemed to come with cleanliness. She couldn’t allow Tom Vallely to capitalise on this and besides, she could spend the rest of her life being held to ransom by the loathsome man.

  She turned off the water and dried herself roughly. She had reached a decision and her resolve was steely.

  ‘Hi, who’s there?’ Drew’s voice boomed down the intercom.

  ‘It’s me. Can I come up?’

  The night had turned icy. There would be a frost later. Carrie was chilled to the bone, but half the cause was fear.

  ‘Hi!’

  He flung the door open and reached out his arms delightedly, ready to scoop her up in them.

  Carrie stepped back, out of his reach.

  ‘Don’t, Drew. Don’t touch me.’

  He was all concern.

  ‘Why, honey, what’s wrong? You sick?’

  She shook her head. ‘Can I come in? I have to tell you something.’

  ‘Sure, sure, come on in.’ He opened the door wide, a look of bewilderment on his face. ‘But
I don’t understand—’

  ‘Drew. I have to tell you this because you’re a good man, a wonderful man and you think I’m a good, clean-living person, that I share your values.’

  She drew a long, juddering breath and went on, ‘I haven’t been the person you think I am, Drew. I haven’t had simple, monogamous relationships, in fact I have deliberately steered clear of any kind of relationships for many years, because I wanted to be in control of my life and in charge of my feelings.’

  ‘Honey, that’s okay—’

  ‘No.’ She held up a warning hand. ‘I haven’t told you yet. Listen. I don’t mean I haven’t had sexual relationships. The truth is, I have had as much sex as I wanted, when I wanted, with whoever I wanted.’

  Carrie couldn’t look at Drew, she just had to get this out.

  ‘I met people first of all through advertisements in the newspaper. If I liked them, I slept with them. If things threatened to turn serious, I got out, moved on, found another partner. After the internet took off, I found a site called bed-buddies.net. I became a member. I made appointments with men through the site and met them for sex.’

  She stopped. ‘That’s it. Hardly the sweet, wholesome kind of woman I imagine you’re looking to share your life with.’

  He took half a step towards her, but again she held up her hands, warning him off.

  ‘I wasn’t going to tell you, Drew. The truth is, for the first time in my life, I have fallen in love. And because of that I can’t hide my past from you. It wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be honest and I simply cannot live a lie.

  ‘I can’t come to the States with you, Drew, not that you’d want me to come now anyway. I can’t meet your family. Now that you know what I’ve been like, you’ll despise me and I can’t handle that. It doesn’t matter that I’ve changed. It doesn’t make any difference that I would never go near anyone but you now. It doesn’t matter that I’ve finally discovered what it means to love someone. The past cannot be undone. I plead guilty, m’lud.’

  Tears were near the surface and she fought them valiantly, though her voice became choked.

  ‘I love you, Drew. I’ve not said those words to anyone for years and years and I swore I would never say them again. But that’s the truth of it. I love you and I can’t do that to you.’