‘Well, I’m sorry, but that’s me off your promotion list then,’ I answered, quick as you like and ho ho ho-ing again. ‘I can’t be doing with namby pamby rules and regulations, you know. Not if they interfere with my gin habit.’ I swallowed. His arm was still around my shoulder.
And then, all of a sudden, I found I’d stopped laughing. And we had also stopped walking. I turned my head to look up at him.
‘Nick, you still have your arm round my shoulder,’ I said.
Oh, the surreal and subterranean ambience of a really posh hotel foyer. Except we weren’t in the foyer any more, of course. We were now one floor below. Back in the cavernous carpeted expanse that led the way back to the car park, and which I’d jogged anxiously through not an hour and a half before.
I was gripped once more by the otherworldliness of it. The sense that we were held here, as if in a time lock or portal. Above us the hotel, dripping with the affluent trappings of lives extravagantly lived. Beyond us, outside, an ordinary car park. Ordinary life. We were stationary now. Suspended between the two. Still some yards from the doorway and standing in the half-light, adjacent to yet another extravagant floral display. There wasn’t a soul around. I felt the knot in my stomach begin to unravel, sending tendrils of dangerous electricity through me. Not a soul. Just us. We were all alone.
‘I know,’ he whispered now, as I turned fully to face him. He wordlessly lifted his other arm so it, too, was now around me. And I couldn’t seem to stop my own arms from participating. Up they shot, encircling the back of his jacket, like renegade eels I just couldn’t control. My head tipped back too. Seems I couldn’t trust anything. He seemed suddenly taller, but the distance was now shortening. He smiled as his head dipped.
‘I know,’ he said again.
At which point the thing we should have done – the thing that my extensive reading of some of the finer romantic gems in classic historical fiction would indicate persons in our situation might sensibly have done, would have been to draw apart reluctantly, sigh a little, swoon a little, effect postures of rigid embarrassment or dismay and continue on our journey to the automatic doors.
But I was no Anne Elliot. He was no Captain Wentworth. So I’m forced to report that we did no such thing.
Being, as we were, not a million miles from the support of an obliging wall, we staggered backwards, kissing each other as madly and hungrily as if global apocalypse or the departure of the last troop ship to the Normandy beaches was imminent, till we were right up against it, me panting, wall-side, him pressed hot and hard against me, a lather of tangled limbs, moans, groans and squirming, and utterly unrestrained, unbridled lust.
Until a gentle ping heralded the lift doors opening.
We sprang apart – pop! – and stared wide-eyed at each other.
‘Oop,’ he mouthed, untangling his fingers from my hair.
I was speechless. Breathless. Swimming. Steeped in a cocktail of desire and guilt. The lift disgorged a brace of middle aged men. I yanked my bag from my shoulder and began ferreting in it.
‘– taken at face value,’ one of them was muttering. ‘Spurring’s got a point. If we’re talking bottom line here, my feeling’s we have to start thinking outside the box. Get my reasoning on this, Graham?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ the other man was saying through a haze of cigarette smoke. ‘But come on, face it. Spurring’s out of the loop. He’s –’
The men wafted by, our eyes following them as they strolled off out into the sunshine, a thin sheet of smoke loitering at chest height in their wake. We continued to watch as one of them deposited his Financial Times on a side table (more exuberant flowers) just inside the doors.
And then they were gone. We looked at each other again.
‘Dear me,’ said Nick.
‘Dear me,’ said I.
He lifted my hand up and put it against his cheek.
‘Yes,’ he said softly, putting his lips to it. ‘Dear you.’
Nothing like a big blast of radiation to turn a lightly fetid car into a seething morass of inhospitable fumes. Nothing like a big intake of inhospitable fumes to bring you to your senses and make you realise that no, you are not a celluloid heroine, but a real person, with a real life, and that you have just kissed, no, snogged – damn, it was the only word for it – someone other than your husband for the first time in eighteen long years.
‘Ugh!’ I said now, as the full extent of my family’s olfactory contributions hit me like a slap around the face with a haddock. Nick, who had chivalrously opened the door for me, wrinkled his nose in disgust.
‘Leave it here,’ he said, closing it again firmly and locking it. ‘Come in my car. I can drop you back here tonight.’
‘Oh dear,’ I said again, a tantalising parade of in-car clothes-off situations riffling alarmingly through my brain as if the flapping pages of a catalogue called being ravished; a field guide. My stomach flipped again. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean – ‘I stopped. What did I mean? Did I mean that was that? ‘I mean,’ I said again, ‘don’t you think I should just –’
He was so close to me again. If I could just get a couple of feet on him perhaps I would be able to take a hold of myself and stop wanting to paw him so badly. He waited for me to finish whatever it was I’d been going to say, and as I failed to, (not knowing quite what it was I had wanted to say and feeling completely unable to formulate any utterance not starting with an extravagant sigh or a lunge at his shirt front) he took my hand instead and started leading me across to the other side of the car park.
‘Tell you what I think,’ he said firmly as I trotted breathlessly alongside him. ‘I think you’re right. It’s an extremely bad idea, but I’m relying on you to keep your wits about you, and if I so much as look as if I might hint at the idea that we might make an unscheduled stop down a secluded lane somewhere –’he paused and took a breath here. ‘Then please take immediate action and hit me over the head with your handbag or something. Or just slap me. Whatever. Oh, Sally – ’ We had reached his car. He pressed the button on his key fob and the door locks clunked upward. His other hand was still holding mine and he squeezed it. ‘Jeez. I am really really sorry. This is no way good. This is – ‘
I lifted a finger to his mouth to silence him.
‘I can’t,’ I heard myself say.
He kissed it. ‘Can’t what?’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘But you have to,’ he answered.
What had possessed me? What on earth was I doing here?
‘I know,’ I whispered. ‘But I can’t.’
Chapter 16
‘Oh, Sally! Oh, Sally, you’ve never seen anything so funny in your entire life. Really you haven’t!’
Oh, Nick. Oh, God. What had I done?
Ruth had burst into my consulting room laughing so much I thought she might set off the smoke alarm, her gales of laughter reverberating like a volley of ping pong balls off the walls. I had got into work and been testing solidly ever since – a relief of momentous proportions as I could barely articulate the letters on my chart, let alone get to grips with making sentences. But now she had sought me out, and was twittering on about something that was clearly uproariously funny, but it felt like I was listening to her through a soupy pink fog.
‘Never,’ she said again. ‘Oh, it was such a hoot! You can imagine her, can’t you? Stomping around, screeching and yelling. My poor father thought the angel of death had come to lynch him. And her face!’
I grappled to make sense of her. ‘What about it?’ I had not even managed to establish what she was on about. I had not even quite established what day it was. All I had established with any clarity was Five thirty. Back in the car park.
‘Well it was scarlet, of course! In a big livid stripe right across her face!’ She paused for a second, then grabbed my wrist.
‘God, there’s a thought! You didn’t use yours, did you?’ She examined my face carefully. �
�No. Of course you didn’t. And DON’T. Whatever you do. They’re obviously faulty. Oh, it was– ‘
My mind was a blank. ‘What, Ruth? What was faulty?’
‘The Wonder Mask, of course! You had one didn’t you?’
Of course. It suddenly seemed like a million years ago. I got my brain back into gear. ‘Oh, that. Yes, yes, I did.’ That. Then. A billion years ago. I nodded comprehension. ‘And I did use it. Well, had intended to, but I had to go out and pick Kate up at God knows what hour, so I took it off again. And it split. I never smelt anything so vile. It –’
‘I know! God only knows what was in there – at first I thought my Dad’s colostomy – hmm, well.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Never mind about that. Anyway, I went and told Veronique this morning, and now she’s in a right state, of course. Must have been old stock or something, mustn’t it? Must have been degenerating or having some sort of chemical breakdown. I don’t know what quite, but she’s in a right old lather about it. She’s sold about twenty of them, you know, poor girl. She’s expecting to be sued now. So that’s bang goes the Botox. Oh, but Demelza’s face! What a picture! She was in a right old strop. She’s supposed to be doing a workshop at the WriteRight group tonight, and she looks like – Er, Sally? Hello? Are you with us?’
‘Er…what? Yes. Sorry –’I was trying very hard, but I kept slipping back into neutral.
There was a rap on the door. Russell poked his head round it.
‘Sally?’ he said brightly. ‘Jonathan’s on the phone.’
Where are we? Where are we? Monday? No. Tuesday. That’s it. Five-thirty. Back in the car park. No! This is Tuesday. Tuesday morning. And I am at work. Everyone is behaving normally. I am behaving normally. Nick Brown is behaving normally. And Jonathan is on the phone.
I left Ruth regaling Russell with the details in my room and walked briskly out to the reception area. The receiver was lying on the desk by the computer. I swallowed hard, picked it up and put it to my ear.
‘Hello?’
‘Ah. There you are,’ he said. ‘All right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ The words felt thick and strange coming from my treacherous mouth.
‘I just thought I’d better ring and remind you about tennis. We’ve got our first home match tonight –’
‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’
‘Crawley Second team.’
‘Of course.’
‘So we’ll be needing sandwiches. Or a cake or something? If that’s not too much trouble, of course.’
I listened hard for traces of sarcasm, but there were none. It was a simple request, uncluttered by ulterior implications.
‘Right. Of course,’ I said again. ‘No problem. I’ll pick something up at lunchtime.’
‘Unless you want me have Sylvia to get something from M and S up here. I’m sure she –’
‘No, no,’ I said quickly. ‘I’ll get a cake. No problem.’
I could see Nick on the other side of the shop floor talking to the area manager. Just off to their meeting, no doubt. I lowered my eyes before they locked on to his and made my mouth go into spasm like my stomach already had. I felt nauseated. Giddy.
‘Anyway,’ Jonathan was saying. ‘You all right?’
He’d said that already. Twice in one phone call. ‘I’m fine,’ I said again. ‘What time do you think you’ll be home?’
‘Oh, seven-ish, I imagine, traffic allowing. Quick cup of tea and I’ll be on my way.’
‘Only I might be late,’ I said, thinking it suddenly. Lucidly. ‘My car’s at Gatwick. I had a meeting there this morning. I –’
‘Well, whatever.’ He sounded uninterested. It was really that easy. ‘If you’re not back before I leave you can always run the stuff down in the car later. No panic. Better go. See you later.’
‘Bye.’
‘Oh, and hey, hey, hey! More excellent news!’ Ruth was beside me again, a box of pink Drug U Like contact lens cases in her arms. ‘Had a letter from Woman’s World this morning. They’ve asked me if I’d like to try my hand at a serial. How about that then? I mean, I know it’s only a standard letter and everything, but it said ‘dear regular contributor’. Fancy that, eh? A Regular Contributor! Me! Isn’t that fab?’
‘Fab,’ I said.
She beamed happily at me. ‘I’ve got to go for it, haven’t I? And I had a chat with Michael first thing, and I’ve decided I might take a look at one of the part-time posts in the office here. I really don’t want to move, and what with dad and everything – and he’s said he’ll help me out, the sweetie. So I can have a proper crack at it. I am so fired up right now about my writing right now. I really want to give it a go, you know? I’ve decided it’s fate. This is my watershed moment. The whole Drug U Like takeover. It was obviously meant to be. To kick me out of my inertia. If I take a part time job it’ll give me heaps more time to write . Anyway, the main thing is that I’ve really got something to aim for now, haven’t I? Fab, or what? Hey, you OK?’
I nodded. ‘I’m fine. Fab,’ I said again. ‘Really good news.’
Five-thirty. Back in the car park.
Five-thirty. Back in the car park.
And so soon. It felt as if I’d mislaid the whole afternoon.
‘I was right,’ I announced, as Nick Brown fell into step with me on the stairwell. ‘I don’t think getting in your car right now is going to be a sensible life-choice for me. In fact, I think it will be dangerous.’
His hand brushed my shoulder as he held the door open to let me pass. I was right. It sent seismic waves pulsing through me.
The car was sitting in wait. Almost a whole day had passed since we’d last been here, but I could still taste the last hungry kiss we’d snatched before leaving it. I bustled round to the passenger door and jumped in with my cake before he could come round and open the door for me.
He eased himself into the driver’s seat and pushed the key into the ignition.
‘I’ve been thinking all day,’ he said quietly. The air was full of heat and leather. ‘I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve been thinking what a complete ass I’ve been.’ He turned. ‘I really didn’t think you’d be here.’
Oh, God. ‘And I shouldn’t be!’ I lifted my hands to my face to shut out the clamour of raging guilt that was pressing in on me, then lowered them again and folded them together in my lap. It felt like I’d been in my suit forever. He started the engine and the car throbbed beneath us. I was here. Of course I was here. I was never not going to be here. It was a terrible, frightening thought.
‘I told Jonathan I’d be late.’ I said quietly. ‘It’s not even a quarter to six and yet I told Jonathan I’d be late. Why did I do that? I’m not going to be late. There’s no reason why I would be late. Not that late. Only I’d already decided I was going to be late. Already made my mind up.’ I glanced across at him fearfully. ‘Why am I here? I should have got a lift from Ruth. I should have just left with her and had her drop me off. Only I couldn’t bring myself to ask her because I knew she’d ask me why I’d left my car at the airport and I’d have to explain about Kate and her being sick and the car being so disgusting and you driving me to work and everything else and even though all of that is perfectly innocent and reasonable and not remotely suspicious, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it, Nick. My face couldn’t do it. My whole body couldn’t do it. God, what the hell am I doing here? I am married. This is wrong. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this. Thinking the things I’m thinking and – ‘I turned to look at him again and my body was suffused by new waves of fierce and uncontrollable heat. I put my head back in my hands. ‘…oh, God. I am thinking such evil, wicked things. But I had to – oh, this is awful!’
I stopped gabbling and took a few deep breaths while he slipped his card into the machine at the exit.
‘OK,’ he said calmly, as the barrier came up. ‘Shall I take you to your car? Or shall we drive somewhere and talk?’
‘Oh, I don’t
know! What will we talk about? That’s exactly my point! I don’t want to talk. I just want to kiss you and –’ I turned towards him again, exasperated that I’d lost control of myself so utterly. He was looking straight ahead at the road, his expression unreadable.
‘OK. So I’ll just drop you at your car, then. Would that be best?’
‘Yes. NO! Drive us somewhere. Let’s talk.’
So we drove somewhere. A secluded lane, in fact. Ten minutes or so from the airport. A road going nowhere in particular, but with a parking space and with what was obviously a picnic area – a couple of wooden bench tables and an overflowing bin. And on the way there I took lots more deep breaths and tried hard not to think more than three steps ahead. Live for the moment. Wasn’t that what my Dad always used to say? Live for the moment and bugger tomorrow. I had kissed him. So what? I had lived for the moment. But apart from that, I had done nothing wrong yet. Still time to salvage the rest of my life. The car rolled to a stop.
‘Do people really do this?’ I said, as he pulled on the handbrake and swivelled in his seat. I was feeling a little less panicky now we were distanced from the real world and surrounded by trees. God knew why, but I did. I lifted the cake from my knees and reached to place it on the back seat. ‘I mean, do people really do this? You know, drive out to secret places and…and…’ I flapped a hand in the air in front of me. ‘You know –’
He glanced behind him. ‘And make love in the backs of their cars?’ he said. ‘Yep. I guess they do. All the time.’
His words lingered in the air like voluptuous sirens beckoning from a rock. ‘Nick, Do you – I mean, have you –’
He shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Me neither. I’ve never been unfaithful. Not once.’
‘Nor me.’
‘And I mean, it’s not even as if I have been unfaithful – I mean, we only kissed, didn’t we? So it’s not as if – ‘I sighed a heavy sigh. What was I saying? I plucked a fleck of dust from my skirt and felt the trembling of my legs beneath it. ‘No. That’s not true, is it? It is as if. It’s absolutely as if. ’
Straight on Till Morning Page 17