Between Friends

by Jenny Harper

  She turned her face to him and could hold back the tears no longer.

  ‘Goodbye, Drew. I hope, when you think back on this time, you won’t think too badly of me.’

  This is unbearable. I can’t stand it.

  As he began to move towards her, she turned swiftly and ran to the door. She had to get out of there. Fast.

  Across town, Jane had come to exactly the same conclusion as Carrie. Tom Vallely could not be allowed to blackmail her. All day she had wrestled with her thoughts and in the end it was Marta’s voice that kept coming back into her head.

  ‘Tell Neal, Jane. You won’t regret it.’

  For years now, she had shied away from her past. She had pushed the abortion into the deepest recesses of her mind, convinced that if Neal ever found out he would hate her, or leave her, both of which were unthinkable. But now, she could avoid it no longer.

  As the day turned into evening and the evening into night, one fact began to make itself clear in Jane’s brain: Tom Vallely had pushed her into a corner and there was no escaping from it.

  Even if she found the money to buy his silence, she could never be free from her memories.

  And when you’re in a corner, all you can do is turn and fight.

  The children were in bed. Neal had come back from his choir practice. It was the time when, usually, they sat down in front of whatever was on television with a cup of tea and a biscuit. Sometimes they chatted inconsequentially, commented on an item on the news, made some remark about one of the children, raised the question of whether they could afford a holiday this year and if they could, where they might go. Tonight, Jane made the tea and brought it through to the front room, but in a change to their usual pattern, she stood next to the television, controls in hand, and asked, ‘Are you watching this specially, Neal? There’s something I’d like to talk about.’

  ‘Sounds ominous,’ Neal grinned. ‘Not our Em again, I hope?’

  ‘Not Emily, n-no.’

  She flicked the standby button and the screen went black with a small ‘pop’.

  Nerves were kicking in. Jane had spent most of the evening wondering if she could go through with this, but every time she came to the same conclusion: she had no other option.

  She crossed to the sofa, where her husband of sixteen years was lounging, relaxed, one leg draped half along the cushions, the other resting on the carpet, propping him up. She lifted the leg and sat down, replacing it on her lap. Familiar movements, a familiar body. What would he be like when she told him?

  ‘I’ve got a confession to make.’

  ‘Broken something? Not Ian’s precious candlestick I hope?’ Neal grinned again. Last year, at school, Ian had crafted a crooked and odd-looking candlestick on a lathe. It was thick in parts, and so thin in others that it would have been easy to snap the wood.

  ‘N-nothing like that.’

  There must have been something about her voice, because Neal lifted his leg off her lap and swung to an upright position, suddenly alert. ‘What is it, poppet?’

  ‘I’m frightened to say.’

  ‘Why?’ He took her hand between his own. ‘Talk to me, darling. Tell me what’s bothering you.’

  ‘I’m frightened you’ll be angry. I’m afraid that you’ll hate me.’

  She was shaking now, from head to foot. This was even harder than she had anticipated.

  ‘Jane? Sweetheart? I’ll always love you, surely you know that?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not when you know what I did.’ Then she collected herself and asked him a question. ‘When I met you, Neal, what did you think of m-me?’

  ‘When I met you? I thought you were the sweetest, shyest, most vulnerable, person I had ever met. I wanted to take you in my arms and protect you. I wanted to kiss the hell out of you and make you smile.’

  ‘You never asked about my b-background.’

  ‘I waited for you to tell me. And you did. You told me you’d been playing in an orchestra, but that you’d become depressed and had to get away.’

  ‘That was t-t-true. Up to a p-p-point.’ The stuttering was becoming almost unmanageable. ‘The truth is, my b-boyfriend had just walked out on me.’

  ‘Darling kitten, I guessed that. I loved it that you learned to trust me.’

  ‘But that’s not all.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘Neal, I’d just had an abortion.’

  She looked at him, her gaze steady now. It was out. For better or worse, she had told him and whatever happened now, happened.

  Astonishingly, the relief was instantaneous. The secret was out and whatever her punishment was to be, it could not be more than she deserved, nor worse than she had imagined.

  ‘An ... abortion.’

  ‘I know what you’ll think of me, Neal. I’m sorry. But I was at my wit’s end. I was terrified. My parents had given up so much for me, I felt I couldn’t let them down – though of course, in the end, I did, because I couldn’t carry on with my music.

  ‘I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you, then you proposed and I wanted you to keep on loving me so much that I found I couldn’t. I was terrified you’d leave me because I know how strongly you felt about... Then as time went on, there was never the right time to bring it up.’

  Neal hadn’t said a word during her whole confession, he’d simply looked at her – but his hands, holding her trembling ones, were rock steady.

  ‘And then that evening, at Marta’s. Abortion’s a sin, you said. There are no circumstances that justify abortion. I felt ... terrified ... all over again—.’

  ‘Oh my love, my love,’ Neal drew her close and hugged her to his chest. ‘I’d had a few drinks, darling. I was enjoying a good argument. That was all. And I hated the way Tom was so casual about it all, I just went to the other extreme.’

  ‘You didn’t mean it?’

  ‘I ... of course I did. Up to a point. It’s not something I would advocate as a form of birth control, nor even approve of in a general way. But I would concede that every case is a case to be decided on its own merits. Was Tom the father?’

  Jane nodded.

  ‘I’ll kill him! I didn’t like the man from the moment I met him and now I know why. He didn’t stand by you?’

  ‘He told me he wouldn’t support it. Or me. That he was getting married to someone else and that if I said anything he’d kill me.’

  ‘What a bastard!’

  Her man was protecting her. Something indefinable in Jane shifted and eased.

  ‘He can’t hurt me now, Neal. Not so long as you stand by me. Will you?’ she added anxiously.

  ‘What did you think I’d do? Walk out on you and the kids? Darling, listen: I always knew you had a secret. I was waiting for you to tell me. I’m just sorry that I made it so difficult for you to confide in me.’

  Jane looked at Neal and she saw again the small ghost of her unborn baby. But now the pale, blurred face seemed more peaceful, as if it knew it was finally being laid to rest.

  She would carry the child in her heart always. But the shard of glass that had been buried deep inside her felt as though it had been pulled through her skin, leaving only a raw wound that would, given time, begin to heal.

  ‘Have you noticed something?’ Neal asked at length.

  ‘No, what?’

  ‘Your stammer. It seems to have gone.’

  Jane smiled her lopsided smile.

  Perhaps – could it be true? – the healing had begun already.

  Chapter Thirty-four

 

  Marta received the text from Jane around midnight, Carrie a few minutes later.

  Jane was calling a Council of War.

  Jane?

  Jane had always been the last of the three friends to initiate any event or any idea – and yet she was doing so now? When she was so low?

  The last time Marta had walked across to the island, she had stowed her walking shoes in the wardrobe in the spare room. Now, as she went in to fetch them, her gaze lit on the not
ebook that Jake had handed her. Tom’s notebook. She’d completely forgotten it again. Funny that he’d never phoned to ask for it back.

  She picked it up and riffled through it. Notes, names, numbers, seemingly random, jotted here and there, some with initials, some marked out with complicated doodles. Receipts slipped in between the pages. Larger pieces of paper, folded to fit. She smoothed one out and scanned it quickly. Her attention quickened. She unfolded another. And another.

  Interesting. Very, very interesting.

  Marta had no idea what Jane was considering as the subject of her Council of War, but she slipped the notebook into her small backpack anyway. She was quite certain that the others would find it fascinating.

  ‘The subject of our meeting is “Retribution”,’ Jane announced solemnly.

  The three women were sitting on the top of the hill on Cramond Island, well wrapped up against the October chill. The day was clear and cold and, as was the established custom, each had made her own way across the causeway to the rendezvous.

  Marta and Carrie glanced at each other, then looked at Jane.

  ‘Say that again, Jane,’ Carrie commanded.

  ‘The subject of our meeting is “Retribution”.’

  ‘What’s happened to the stutter?’ Marta asked.

  Jane beamed. Marta couldn’t remember her looking this relaxed in a long time.

  ‘It seems to have gone again. Brilliant, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sure – but why do you think it’s stopped? And so suddenly?’

  ‘I told Neal last night.’

  ‘Oh Jane, that’s great. I mean, I’m sure it was hellish but by the way you’re looking, I’m guessing he took it well?’

  ‘He was fantastic,’ Jane said. ‘A real hero. You were right, Marta, to encourage me to tell him. But there was another reason I had to – I got a phone call from Tom.’

  Carrie bridled. Marta groaned. ‘Will that bloody man never go away?’ she said. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Carrie said grimly. ‘He wanted money, to stop him telling Neal about the abortion.’

  Jane looked at her, surprised. ‘Yes. He did. How did you know?’

  ‘Let’s just say it’s a pattern of behaviour that’s familiar,’ Carrie said. ‘So, you were left with no option, huh?’

  ‘That’s how I saw it. I didn’t have the kind of money he wanted and anyway, I had this awful feeling he would come back again.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘You?’ Jane asked, puzzled.

  ‘He was playing that game with me too, Jane.’ Carrie grimaced. ‘There’s a large slice of my past I would rather people didn’t know about, Drew in particular. Tom was playing on that. I was just about to make the money available for him when the same thing occurred to me. And besides, I realised that I couldn’t deceive Drew. So I told him. And now we’ve broken up.’

  ‘Carrie, no!’

  ‘Oh Carrie, surely not? You seem so fantastic together.’

  ‘Listen, can we not talk about it right now?’ Tears glistened in Carrie’s eyes and she changed the subject quickly. ‘Jane, tell me instead about this retribution idea. I have a feeling I’m going to like it.’

  ‘Okay. If you’re sure?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ Carrie said impatiently. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, this is my thinking. We need to get our own back on Tom Vallely. And we need to stop him doing this to others. I’ve no idea exactly how, that’s why I’ve asked you here. But there’s one thing it seems to me is more important than anything—’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We have to do it together. As a team. As friends. The past is past, our friendship has to be held together.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Marta added her voice. ‘Agreed. And I have something that might help.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  Marta pulled Tom’s notebook out of her pocket. ‘Take a look at this,’ she said. The book fell open at a well-thumbed spread.

  ‘My God!’

  ‘He said that about Anya Merton!’

  Carrie squealed. ‘Kate H? D’you think that could be Kate Herdman? On the early breakfast show? Jeez! I always thought she was so proper.’

  ‘Angela? Isn’t that his agent? I have a feeling she’d drop him like a hot brick if she knew he thought that about her.’

  ‘Yes, but look.’ Marta unfolded one of the pieces of paper that had been tucked inside the notebook.

  ‘What is it?’ Jane asked curiously.

  Carrie took the paper. ‘Looks like a pawn ticket. It’s that shop in town, isn’t it? This is a ticket for a signet ring.’

  ‘There’s a clutch of them,’ Marta said, unfolding another, then another. ‘I didn’t think too much of them, till I got to this one.’

  She passed the paper to Carrie.

  Jane, peering over Carrie’s shoulder read out, ‘One brooch, late eighteenth century, eighteen carat gold set with pearls, rubies and sapphires, in the form of a bow.’

  ‘That sounds like your great-grandma’s brooch, Marta,’ Carrie said slowly. ‘The one you keep for very special occasions.’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘It’s gone?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘When did you find out?’

  ‘Just after Tom left.’

  ‘You didn’t go to the police?’

  ‘There’d been no break in, it would have been a bit difficult to prove Tom had taken it, especially if he’d already got rid of it. Anyway, I wasn’t in a fit state to think about anything very clearly.’

  ‘Well, he’s clearly pawned it. What a scumbag. What can we do? Can you get it back?’

  ‘Hopefully. I’ve got a photo of it, for insurance. I can’t think there’ll be too many brooches like that around, and because Tom stayed with us, I think he’d find it quite hard to make up a convincing story to clear himself – not with this ticket made out in his name.’

  ‘So will you go to the police now that you’ve found this?’

  Marta said slowly, ‘I was wondering if there might be another way. I thought maybe we could have a bit of fun of our own – and put a stop to Tom’s horrid little tricks. Fancy joining me in a bit of sweet revenge?’

  Carrie grinned. ‘Do I ever!’

  ‘Just try me,’ Jane said. ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Well… What do you think about this?’

  Cramond Island had been the scene of many a Council of War in years past, and as her friends listened eagerly to her scheme, Marta managed to forget all her other problems for a blissful half hour.

  The plan was to play on Tom’s weak point: his greed. Carrie’s part in the plot was key, but it was going to take some courage. She didn’t tell the others just how difficult it was going to be. It’s my penance, she thought doggedly, as she steeled herself to make the essential honeytrap call.

  ‘Tom? Hi, it’s Carrie.’

  ‘Well hello, darling. Got the money?’

  Come straight to the point, why don’t you?

  ‘I’ve got it,’ she lied. ‘But Tom—’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I thought it would be nice to give you it in person. You know—’ she made her tone coy and dropped to a whisper, ‘—maybe as Bed Buddies? One last time?’

  His laughter was spontaneous.

  ‘Carrie darling, what can I say? Can’t give up the old ways, huh? So our Mr McGraw isn’t so very special after all. I’m tempted to increase the fee ... but no,’ he pondered, ‘now that I come to think of it, I’ll be happy to accept another shag in lieu.’

  Bastard.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it. Can you make it back to the old stamping ground? The Salamander Hotel? Wouldn’t that be nice – revisiting old haunts? Can you get a weekend off?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, we’re not filming this weekend. And as it happens, I have some unfinished business in Edinburgh anyway.’

  I bet you have, you sneaky rat.

  Carrie knew he could ne
ver resist a free meal. ‘Great. Dinner first then? On me?’

  ‘See you there.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Jane and Marta took their seats at a table for four, set for dinner, in the recess beside the large fireplace in the hotel’s modest restaurant, and waited.

  In the bar itself, Carrie’s nerves were clattering. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the granite counter top. It seemed hard now to think that she had found Tom Vallely irresistible the last time they’d met here.

  The memory of Drew’s hand, curled protectively and lovingly around her own caused a hurt that was almost physical. She could hear his full-throated laugh and ached for the joy of his company.

  ‘Hi D.A. Delight.’

  Carrie jumped. Tom had a nasty habit of appearing from nowhere.

  ‘Oh! Hi. Drink?’

  He took off his leather jacket and fedora and hung them on a coatstand, then turned and kissed her on the lips. Carrie strained every muscle not to flinch away. She thought he was going to whisper some sleazy compliment, but instead he whispered, ‘Got the money, darling?’

  ‘Calm down, Tom,’ she said amicably, sounding more relaxed than she felt. ‘We’ll get to that. Dinner first. Then upstairs. The money’s in my room anyway.’

  ‘How about we go upstairs first?’ His hand was on her thigh.

  She shook it off. ‘Now, now, if you’ve got that much of an appetite you can munch your way through three courses in anticipation.’

  ‘I’m only hungry for one thing, darling.’

  ‘Well, you’re going to have to get me in the mood over dinner, all the same. I’m ravenous.’

  This was hard work, but she had to get him through to the dining room.

  Tom sighed. ‘Okay. Let’s skip the drinks though. I’ll order some some champagne for the table. If there’s any left, we’ll take it up with us. Or get another bottle.’

  Yes, because you think it’s on my bill, you bastard.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘You’re looking particularly fetching tonight, Caroline darling. Is that a Mary Quant dress?’

  It was Mary Quant. ‘Top Shop,’ Carrie said curtly.

  ‘You carry it well, then.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ve reserved a table. Let’s go through.’