by Penny Jordan
‘Pippa,’ Susie repeated now as she hurried over to her and gave her a fierce hug, ignoring Philippa’s warnings about the soil clinging to her wellington boots and her gloves. ‘How are you? I’m so sorry that I haven’t been in touch before now. Jim rang me with the news, but Mum was celebrating her seventieth birthday and I couldn’t rush away and take the children from their doting grandmother. I got back last night and I was going to call round then, but…’
‘Let’s go inside,’ Philippa suggested.
She could feel emotional tears prickling the back of her throat and stinging her eyes, and as she blew her nose she asked Susie shakily, ‘Why is it so much easier to cry over something that makes you feel happy than something that really hurts?’
‘Perhaps because it’s easier to acknowledge good feelings than bad ones,’ Susie suggested as Philippa opened the kitchen door and ushered her inside.
As she made a cup of coffee and they sat down, Philippa felt for the first time since Andrew’s death that she could unburden herself and share what she was actually feeling.
‘I still can’t believe that Andrew could act so recklessly and not tell you…’ Susie said angrily when she had related the full story to her. ‘I’m sorry, Pip,’ she added apologetically. ‘I know he was your husband and I…’
Philippa shook her head.
‘It’s all right,’ she told her. Although she had never discussed the specifics of her marriage with Susie, she suspected that it must have been obvious to her friend that she and Andrew did not share the same kind of close, loving relationship that Susie had with Jim.
‘Have any of Andrew’s friends been round?’
‘What friends?’ Philippa asked her cynically, and then added, ‘Although I have had one offer…’
As Susie waited and watched her she couldn’t help contrasting Philippa’s life with her own. She felt so sorry for her, not so much because of her financial problems—she and Jim had known some hard times in the past—but because of the paucity of her relationship with Andrew and her family.
‘Someone, a supposed friend of Andrew’s, called round last night. I must be pretty dim… I didn’t realise at first…’
Susie frowned as Philippa told her what happened.
‘I can see the funny side of it now,’ she told her wryly. ‘But at the time…’
Susie watched as her eyes became shadowed.
‘It wasn’t so much his cold-blooded suggestion that I should become his mistress that hurt as the fact that he so obviously believed that I would be only too grateful to accept. The way he took it for granted that I could be bought, like a… like a new car, or some other inanimate object that had taken his fancy. He said that all I’d ever wanted from Andrew was his money… made me feel that my marriage to Andrew had been a form of prostitution, and it hadn’t… I didn’t… Is that how people see me, Susie, as a woman quite happy to exchange her pride and self-respect for money?’ she said painfully.
‘No, of course it isn’t,’ Susie told her robustly. ‘To be honest I’ve always rather envied the way you not only don’t seem to have any vanity where your looks are concerned—and you certainly could have; I’ve seen the way male heads turn when you walk into a room—but also that you never seem to trade on them. Given the temptation of looking the way you do, I don’t know that I’d be strong-minded enough to resist.
‘In fact I suspect that very few woman would be. I’m sure I’m not the only woman to wear her husband’s favourite outfit or to make that little bit of an extra effort every now and again when I have to break the bad news about a huge fuel bill or when the kids want something…
‘Not that Jim doesn’t see straight through it. In fact it’s become a kind of early warning signal, I suspect, rather than anything else. It must have been horrid for you, though; you should have rung me.’
Philippa shook her head. ‘He left quickly enough once I’d threatened to tell his wife. He made me feel so dirty, though, Susie, as though something I’d said or done had somehow made him think that I…’ She gave a small shiver. ‘How awful it must be to feel that you don’t have any option other than to sell your body. How many women have to do that, Susie… ? How many women have no other way of feeding their children and themselves… ?’
‘Too many,’ Susie replied soberly.
‘No woman should be put in that position——’ Philippa began fiercely, and then broke off. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just that thinking about it… about him and the way he treated me… has made me realise how much worse things could actually be. At least I’ve got the choice of refusing him. I wish the bank would get in touch, though. If they’re not prepared to… if they decide to sell the house immediately and I have to leave——’
‘You know you’d always be welcome to come and stay with us,’ Susie interrupted her quietly. ‘You and the boys. With Rosie starting at university in the autumn we’ll have two empty bedrooms and…’
‘Oh, Susie… that’s the second time you’ve made me cry,’ she accused as she blew her nose. ‘Sometimes I feel so angry with Andrew, Susie. Why couldn’t he have been satisfied with what we had? Why did he have to take so many risks? I feel now that the boys and I never really meant anything to him at all, and I can’t help wondering how much of that was my fault…’
‘None of it,’ Susie told her firmly. ‘You’re not responsible for Andrew’s faults, Pip, and you’ve got to stop blaming yourself for them.’
‘Pull myself together and get on with sorting my life out, you mean?’ Philippa laughed.
‘Come back with me for lunch,’ Susie urged her.
‘I can’t,’ Philippa told her, shaking her head. ‘I’ve got an appointment with the social services people this afternoon. I’m dreading it,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Susie offered.
‘To hold my hand?’ Philippa shook her head and smiled. ‘No… It’s time I learned to stand on my own two feet. I keep trying to tell myself to look on what happened as a challenge and opportunity, the way they tell you in all the magazines.’
‘The power of positive thinking,’ Susie said. ‘Does it work?’
Philippa grinned at her. ‘Let’s just say that my personal success-rate is under fifty per cent—well under!’
‘Mmm… I read somewhere that what you have to do is to write down a set of affirmations… you know, statements that you make that are positive, and then you repeat them to yourself in front of a mirror and…’
‘It sounds like a form of self-hypnosis,’ Philippa laughed.
‘It’s supposed to work,’ Susie assured her.
Philippa gave her an amused smile.
‘So are diets,’ she pointed out and they both laughed.
Susie had been complaining ever since Philippa had known her that she needed to lose at least half a stone, but so far she had never managed to stay on any of the diets she had started for more than a few weeks.
As Philippa walked her to her car, she realised how much better seeing Susie had made her feel… how much less alone and, shocking though it might sound, how good it had felt to laugh and push aside all her problems.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she told Susie emotionally as she hugged her.
‘I meant what I said about you and the boys staying with us,’ Susie told her quietly. ‘In fact I wish you’d move in with us now…’
‘What, after I’ve just spent a whole morning digging over what’s left of the old vegetable patch? I can just see Jim’s face if I started digging up his precious roses,’ Philippa teased her. ‘No,’ she told her more soberly. ‘I’ve got to try and see this through by myself… other women manage, bring up their children single-handed, support themselves.’
‘Mmm… by choice and without the handicap of a mountain of debt.’
‘Not always,’ Philippa pointed out. ‘I’ve hidden behind the role that other people have cast for me for too long, Susie. I need to know now whether I’m actually capable of being any differen
t, or if I simply accepted that role because deep down inside I knew that it’s true that the only thing of any value about me is my pretty face. Something that is really nothing to do with me, an accident of genes, not a personal achievement at all,’ she said bitterly. ‘Am I really supposed to be proud of that, Susie? To feel that it’s to my credit? Do you think I’m so unintelligent?’
‘Of course not,’ Susie told her fiercely.
‘Thanks… let’s just hope that you’re right.’
‘I am,’ Susie assured her. ‘Just you wait and see.’
‘No… waiting to see isn’t any good any more… What I have to do now is work and see… starting with my interview with the social services people this afternoon.’
‘I’ll ring you tonight,’ Susie promised as she got into her car. ‘You can do it.’
Philippa laughed. ‘Is that what I’ve got to tell myself?’
‘Why not?’ Susie challenged her. ‘It can’t do any harm.’
* * *
Philippa stepped out into the street, letting the door to the Social Services office swing closed behind her as she breathed in the clean, cold air.
She had had to wait more than half an hour after the official time of her appointment for someone to see her.
‘We’re running late,’ the woman interviewing her had apologised as she’d asked her to sit down.
It had been hard not to let herself be overwhelmed by her guilt and discomfort as she’d answered the other woman’s questions. Despite what Elizabeth had told her, it had still felt wrong that she should be sitting there claiming state benefit, and she suspected that the other woman had thought so as well, although she’d been far too professional to show it. Her briskness hadn’t quite hidden her tiredness and Philippa had tried to answer her questions as quickly and concisely as she could.
The ordeal of her interview had dissipated her earlier more optimistic mood and she was glad to leave the office, with its depressing smell of despair and defeat, behind her.
Joel saw her emerging from the Social Services office from the other side of the street. He had seen her inside the building earlier and had recognised her immediately.
Even without knowing who she was she would still have drawn his attention. The way she was dressed would have made her stand out like a sore thumb even if her face hadn’t. Initially it had angered him that she should be there—what the hell did someone like her need state benefits for?—and then as she’d turned her head he had seen the look in her eyes, had remembered what Sally had said about hearing that she had been left with nothing other than a mountain of debts.
As she’d felt him watching her she had lifted her chin and stared back at him, and, although there had been nothing remotely sexual in the way she’d looked at him, just for a heartbeat of time he had felt his body respond to her with such unexpected force that it had taken him completely off guard.
He was not a man who had ever allowed his sexuality to rule him. In his view a man’s sexual response to a woman was his responsibility and not hers, and a man who couldn’t take that responsibility wasn’t much of a man.
As he’d turned away from her he’d told himself that that was what happened when you had a wife who no longer wanted you in bed, but deep down inside himself he’d known that his reaction had been more than a mere transfer of sexual frustration from one woman to another.
She’d looked oddly vulnerable standing there despite her fancy clothes and the air of aloofness she was trying to project.
Now, as he watched her step out into the street, he saw the youth darting out of the side-street beside her and running up behind her, reaching out for her bag.
He called out a warning at the same moment as the would-be thief made a grab for her bag.
Philippa swung round, her body tensing as she heard Joel call and felt the hand on her shoulder-strap, hanging on to her bag as the youth tried to take it from her, pushing her to the ground as Joel raced across the road to help her.
As soon as her attacker saw Joel he let go of her bag and ran off. Shakily Philippa got to her feet. The shock of what had happened had brought her dangerously close to the edge of bursting into tears… her whole body had started to shake and she felt physically sick. A small group of people had gathered to see what was going on, adding to her discomfort and embarrassment.
‘Are you all right…?’
Joel’s hand was on her arm, his body protectively shielding her from the onlookers. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, and for some reason the warm male scent of his body felt so comforting that she was actually tempted to lean closer to him.
It was a totally unfamiliar sensation to her, this instinctive feminine awareness of male comfort and strength, this knowledge that if she did act on her impulses and lean closer to him his arm would curl protectively around her, holding her safe; she could almost hear the steady, comforting thud of his heartbeat, feel the protective warmth of his body.
Shockingly, tears suddenly filled her eyes, an inexplicable sense of loss filling her with pain as she recognised how different a man like this was from the men in her life.
For the first time in years she was aware of feelings she had thought she had successfully dismissed: a sharp, aching sense of deprivation and loss; an awareness of all that her marriage had denied her.
Angrily she pulled away from Joel, irritated by her own weakness, thanking him tersely for his help.
There was no way he could let her walk away on her own, Joel acknowledged as he watched her; for one thing he didn’t think she was physically capable of doing it. She looked as weak as a kitten and when he had held her he had actually been able to feel the shape of her ribs beneath her clothes. Sally was a slim woman but her body was nicely covered with flesh as a woman’s body should be. This woman felt as though she hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks. He was surprised she’d had the strength to hold on to that bag of hers.
‘I’ll walk you to your car,’ he told her gruffly.
Philippa shook her head.
‘No. No, I’m fine… honestly…’ But when she turned to look at Joel she saw from his face that he wasn’t going to be deterred and she was forced to tell him, ‘I don’t have my car with me… I… I walked…’
‘From Larchmount Avenue; that’s almost two miles away.’ Joel was frowning, standing in front of her so that she couldn’t really walk past him.
Philippa eyed him uneasily. How did he know where she lived?
Joel read her mind.
‘I recognised you in the social services office,’ he told her. ‘I used to work for your husband.’
Philippa flushed uncomfortably. ‘I… I’m sorry——’ she began, but Joel interrupted her, shaking his head as he told her gruffly,
‘It’s not your fault, and besides, he seems to have left you as badly off as the rest of us.’
Philippa didn’t try to deny it.
She still felt slightly sick and shaky and she wanted to get home. As she moved to walk past Joel he fell into step beside her. When she hesitated and looked at him, he told her lightly, ‘I could do with the exercise; my wife complains that I spend far too much time sitting around making the place look untidy.’
Despite his smile Philippa could hear the bitterness in his voice. ‘Why aren’t you using your car? Walking around isn’t the safest thing for a woman to do these days…’
‘It wouldn’t start,’ Philippa told him, adding drily, ‘And besides, walking’s cheaper.’
They both stopped walking and looked at one another.
‘Yeah,’ Joel agreed. ‘It helps to fill the time as well. Did Social Services give you a hard time?’
‘Not really, but I feel so bad about being there.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Joel derided.
‘You… you haven’t been able to find another job?’ Philippa ventured.
‘No, and there isn’t much chance that I will find one either,’ Joel told her. ‘Not round here.’
&nbs
p; He paused as he saw the look in Philippa’s eyes, his voice softening slightly as he told her, ‘It isn’t your fault.’
‘I feel as if I’m to blame,’ Philippa said, stopping as she realised how intimately they were talking. They were strangers, she reminded herself, and yet…
‘You’re not,’ Joel told her. ‘In many ways we’re both in the same boat.’
‘Well, if we are, I’d better warn you now that we’re not likely to get very far,’ Philippa told him humorously. ‘Because I’m not much good at rowing… or anything else,’ she added more soberly.
‘It isn’t really that hard,’ Joel told her. ‘Rowing… all you need is someone to show you how.’
As she listened to the lightly husky timbre of his voice a tiny shiver of awareness ran down Philippa’s spine. There was nothing either overtly or covertly sexual about his comment and she could see from his expression that he hadn’t intended to make any sexual innuendo, and yet… Did he have the same awareness of her that she had of him?
Philippa was used to men being aware of her, making passes at her, but she certainly wasn’t used to being sexually aware of them like this.
‘Your wife…’ she asked quickly. ‘Does she… does she work?’
‘Yes… she’s a nurse,’ Joel told her. He suddenly looked very bleak, Philippa recognised, as though talking, even thinking about his wife was somehow painful for him.
‘Have you got children?’ she asked, anxious to establish some kind of neutrality between them and to banish that disturbing sensual intimacy she had sensed earlier.
‘Two—a girl and a boy. Not that you’d know it. It’s their mother they’ve always turned to, and why not? She’s also the one who holds the purse strings now…’
‘I’ve got two boys,’ Philippa told him. ‘They’re both at boarding-school. Andrew… I didn’t want… but Andrew insisted. He said I was spoiling them.’
‘Sally spoils our two, especially Paul. The minute they want anything she drops everything else…’
Philippa could sense the resentment in his voice. Was he really jealous of his children? she wondered.