First Friends

by Marcia Willett

  Mark turned a page of his newspaper. ‘Mmmmm?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ sighed Kate. ‘I was just thinking that I seem to have lived in Chatham for ever and I’m thinking of going home.’

  There was more silence broken by a sudden shout of laughter from Mark.

  ‘Oh, what a scream! There’s a Frenchman here. He’s ninety-one years old, been driving for seventy-five years without a single accident and he’s just been killed in a car crash. Don’t you think that’s funny?’

  Kate stared at Mark for a long moment. ‘I don’t think it’s the least bit funny. I think it’s rather sad.’

  He lowered the paper and looked at her. She watched his expression change and set, as though his features were stiffening under ice, and, as usual, felt as though she were looking at a stranger.

  ‘I said that I was thinking of going back to Devon,’ she said.

  Mark raised his eyebrows in a mental shrug. ‘Why not? We’ll be going to sea soon. Trials and so on. You may as well be down there as on your own here.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it quite like that. I think that I was thinking of a more permanent separation. After all, there’s not much point in continuing our marriage, is there?’

  Mark folded the newspaper and put it aside without taking his eyes from hers.

  ‘Oh, I think there is. What about the embarrassment of telling people, for a start? You’re just feeling a bit depressed.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Kate shook her head. ‘It’s so much more than that, Mark. There’s nothing left as far as I’m concerned. The only thing to show for the last eleven years is the twins. Perhaps if we’d had another child . . . ’

  ‘Oh, don’t start on that one again,’ he said impatiently. ‘Children are much more likely to wreck a marriage. You know my feelings about that.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I know.’ Despair gave her the courage to confront him at last. ‘I think I’m going to have to tell you what I really think about our relationship. You see, being married to you has been so different to what I always imagined marriage was about. It’s like being married to a lodger or a paying guest who has sexual rights over my body—to someone who isn’t really a part of me or interested in me. I used to put it down to the fact that you were young and trying to carve out a difficult career for yourself and I decided that we would have to wait until you matured a bit and got far enough up the ladder to feel secure. But that was going to take years and the only way I could have got through those years was to have more children—so that I had something to live for, too.

  ‘I thought it was morally wrong of you to deny me those children, so I came off the pill. Because I didn’t tell you, that was morally wrong of me and I know that two wrongs don’t make a right—but what else could I do? I know that children aren’t the answer in the long run—but I thought we’d sort ourselves out, given enough time, and that they would have been the answer in the short term. I know now that it goes deeper than that and that we just don’t have a marriage and never would have had one even if I’d had another baby. Perhaps it was lucky that nothing happened after all.’

  ‘Oh, hardly.’ Mark had been leaning back in his chair while she talked, regarding her with amused contempt. Now he smiled a little and continued to stare at her.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘I don’t believe in trusting to luck. Did you honestly think that knowing how much you wanted another child I’d trust you to go on taking the pill? Oh, no.’ He laughed aloud. ‘No. I had a vasectomy.’

  Kate felt as if she had been dealt a heavy physical blow. Her heart began to beat with thick heavy strokes and she could hardly breathe. She seemed to stagger under it and Mark laughed again.

  ‘I knew I couldn’t trust you. You were droning on about it one summer—oh, years ago now. The boat went to Sweden and someone told me where I could get it done, no questions asked. I thought it was sensible and I see now that I was right.’ Still smiling, he watched her for a moment and then picked up his newspaper. ‘I think it’s a very good idea for you to go back to Devon. It’s getting very busy now and I shall be perfectly happy in Pembroke. There’s no point in your coming to Faslane when the boat goes up, but listen very carefully . . . ’ the smile had gone and the familiar threatening, heavy-lidded look had taken its place . . . I have no intention of advertising our differences to the Navy and neither will you! I’m sure you want me to continue to support you and the twins and to meet the school fees and the mortgage, don’t you? Naturally, I shall come down if I feel like it. And I shall expect you to come up to the Commissioning.’

  He stared at her for a moment longer and then shook out the newspaper and buried himself in the pages. Presently Kate got up and left the room. A week later she was back in Devon.

  Eleven

  ‘Felicity! This is an unexpected pleasure.’ Cass, her baby daughter astride her hip, stood at the top of the Rectory steps looking down at her. ‘To what can I possibly owe this honour?’

  Felicity took her bag from the car, shut the door and advanced to meet her.

  ‘Quite a spread you’ve got here, Cass. Very impressive. I hear your father bought it for you.’

  ‘Some people will say anything.’ Cass stayed where she was and Felicity was obliged to stop a couple of steps below, feeling at a distinct disadvantage.

  ‘I’ve really come to see Kate.’ Felicity abandoned any pretence. ‘I understand she’s staying with you.’

  ‘She’s not here at the moment,’ lied Cass, with an ease of manner that would have shocked and disappointed her father. ‘Can I take a message?’

  Realising that Cass intended to conduct the whole interview on the front steps, Felicity felt her temper begin to rise.

  ‘George tells me that she wants him out of the cottage. It’s quite ridiculous. I feel that it’s most unreasonable of her to come rushing back after a few months and expect him to go.’

  ‘But that was the arrangement, Felicity. George had it on very reasonable terms, and all her nice things left there to make him feel at home, on the understanding that if she needed to come back unexpectedly he would leave.’

  ‘Nice things! What nice things?’ Felicity looked scornful but decided to let it pass. ‘But why does she need to come back? The boat doesn’t commission for another three months and then she goes to Faslane.’

  ‘What a lot you know, Felicity.’ Cass watched an unbecoming flush stain Felicity’s thin cheeks. ‘You have been busy. And you must forgive me for asking this question but what on earth has any of it to do with you?

  ‘George feels extremely upset . . . ’

  ‘Oh, balls!’ said Cass impatiently. ‘Kate went to see George yesterday. We both went. He was absolutely sweet about it. Most understanding. We were there for hours. He’s going to move back into the Mess. Odd, actually,’ mused Cass, ‘I almost felt that, for some reason—can’t imagine what—he was relieved to have an excuse to go. Very odd.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Oh, well. So you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Really touching, your attitude to old George, Felicity. Just like an old mother hen with one chick but then, you’re rather older than he is, aren’t you? Well, than all of us! You mustn’t worry about him so. I always did feel that you should have had children . . . ’

  But she spoke to thin air. Felicity had gone. The car door slammed, the engine burst into life and gravel spurted as she turned the car and sped away down the drive.

  ‘You’re very naughty.’ Kate joined Cass on the steps.

  ‘She is the ultimate cow. Good job we saw her coming.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have said that about George.’

  ‘It’s probably true. He welcomed us with open arms, didn’t he? Even though he knew we were going to ask him to go. He’s great fun on his own. Felicity has the most terrible effect on him. I think he’s frightened of her.’

  ‘It’s going to be a bit embarrassing,’ said Kate, as she followed Cass back into the house. ‘Everyone’s going to wonder why I’ve co
me back so suddenly. You won’t tell anyone, will you, Cass? Not about the vasectomy?’

  ‘Of course I won’t! What do you take me for? And no one will wonder anything. No one needs an excuse for getting away from Chatham, for God’s sake, and lots of wives of our ages are beginning to stay put now. Stop worrying. What d’you say we wander down to the village and go and see my old pa? Charlotte and Oliver go in and see him on their way home from school. Hammy’s always got some little treat on the go. Saul can just about make it and we’ll put Gemma in the push chair. Then we can all come back together.’

  ‘The twins will be breaking up in a few weeks,’ said Kate, taking Saul’s hand as they set off down the drive. ‘We’ll be able to take them all to the beach.’

  ‘So long as you don’t sit on your own, moping.’

  ‘I wish I could finish it properly. I shall feel in a sort of limbo but the idea of divorce fills me with horror.’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll die,’ said Cass cheerfully. ‘Fall under a bus or something. Trip off the casing and drown.’

  ‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of it,’ said Kate guiltily. ‘I was imagining it myself last night in bed. How many ways he could come to a painless end. I don’t want to go on with it dragging round my neck for ever. But where would I live?’

  ‘Well, it was your pa who gave you the deposit for the cottage.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s Mark who’s been paying the mortgage. If I was qualified for anything I could get a job and take it over. I must look into it. But what about the school fees? The naval grant doesn’t cover it all, you know, and it’s even worse when they go to second school. It would be a pity to take them out just when they’ve settled so well. They’ve been moved about so much and so many of the friends they’ve known all their lives are there. It would be a terrible upheaval. I couldn’t possibly hope to earn enough for all of it.’

  ‘Well, Mark would obviously have to make some contribution anyway. They’re his children too and he can certainly afford to. Oh, look, there they are!’ They all waved as Charlotte and Oliver appeared round the lane at the other end of the village. ‘I see Charlotte’s got both satchels as usual. That boy!’

  ‘Just like his mama,’ laughed Kate, as Saul set off at a run to greet his siblings. ‘He has that same knack of making one feel that it’s an honour to do things for him.’

  ‘Darling! How sweet of you to say so. Hello, my poppets!’

  ‘Good heavens! What’s all this?’ The General had appeared at his gate. ‘Looks like the Eighth Army arriving. Let’s hope that the provisions can cope with this invasion.’ He stood back to let them file in, returning his daughter’s peck and giving Kate a brief hug. ‘Lovely to see you back, my darling.’

  He made no mention of her sudden return—having been primed by Cass—and she smiled at him gratefully.

  ‘I did suggest that we should warn you.’

  ‘Nonsense, nonsense. Always welcome.’ They followed the others up the path. ‘It’s quite extraordinary how Mrs Hampton seems to pop over when school’s finished. Incredible coincidence! I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if she’s in my kitchen even now. I get my tea very much earlier these days. Good afternoon, Mrs Hampton. Now this is very nice. We’ve got the hungry hordes visiting us, I hope there’s an old crust to give them.’

  ‘Old crust!’ exclaimed Mrs Hampton, bustling out. ‘An’ a chocolate cake just out the oven. In you come, my lovers. Well now, what’s this?’ Charlotte had already dropped Oliver’s satchel and was rooting in her own. ‘Well now! That’s a right pretty li’l box. An’ you made it all yourself? I never! For me? Well now, I don’t know what to say. And me sayin’ only last night to Mr ‘ Ampton: “If only I ‘ad a li’l old box to put my special things in.” I reckon a little bird must’ve whispered in your ear. ‘Tis lovely. I’ll put it ’ere, safe, where I can see it while I gets the tea.’

  ‘Blue Peter,’ sighed Cass, as the adults headed for the drawing room. ‘That programme has a great deal to answer for. The things you can make out of two egg boxes and a bog roll simply have to be seen to believed!’

  The twins were delighted that Kate had returned to Devon and the summer holidays got under way in high spirits. The moor was a huge playground right on the doorstep and Kate knew the places least likely to be discovered by the grockles. The twins had entered a war-like phase and Kate, after some thought, felt that it was best to let them get it out of their systems. Wearing cotton camouflage boiler suits and green plastic helmets, they raced up and down the granite tors firing toy machine guns and emitting loud explosive noises. With Megs stretched in the shade of some overhanging rock, Kate sat in a sheltered corner with a picnic and her book although, all too often, her eye was drawn away from the printed page to the scene laid out before her: the green bracken, waist high, the shimmer of heat over the short-cropped turf that was starred with tiny gold and white flowers. Sheep moved slowly, barely distinguishable from the grey boulders, and a cluster of grazing ponies would, for no apparent reason, set off at a gallop, hooves clattering over the scree. Skylarks mounted up and up against the infinite blue, singing and singing until, suddenly, they shut their wings and dropped silently back to the heather.

  The twins would appear, flinging themselves down at her feet and demanding sustenance and, after lunch, they would pack the detritus into the car and take Megs for a walk across the springy turf and down to a stream where she could drink the cold, peaty water. And so back to the car and home along the white ribbon of road to the cottage.

  Sometimes they would drive to the coast: Bigbury was the favourite with its golden stretches of sands and its warm rock pools. The twins would plunge in and out of the long rolling waves and, when the tide was right down, they would walk out to Burgh Island and climb the cliffs to stare out over the sea. On these occasions Megs was left at home and after she had put the twins to bed, Kate would stroll up to Huckworthy Common, Megs quartering the ground ahead for interesting smells, letting the silence of evening envelope her and watching for the first faint twinkling of a far-off star.

  She felt as if she were suspended, poised between the past and the future. If her life up until this point had been a waste, at least it had, until now, had a point. There had been the on-going hope that the shore job, time together, would miraculously put things right, fuse the relationship. Now she knew that it was all over, but what next? She had no intention of living in limbo. The marriage was finished, no more life could be breathed into its corpse and she wanted to bury it, put it aside and start on whatever future she might have. She simply didn’t know how it was to be done. Divorce was the obvious and accepted way but on what grounds? The whole idea of it filled her with distress.

  She’d had a letter from Mark telling her that he was spending his leave sailing with a friend who wanted help to take a boat over to France. He confirmed the date of the Commissioning and said he would let her have the details at a later date. It hung over Kate like the sword of Damocles. If only she could be free of it all.

  They went down to see her father who was selling the house in St Just and moving to Wiltshire to live with James and Sarah. Kate was worried for him. Her sister-in-law was a rather managing person, although James had always been his favourite child.

  ‘I’m so lonely, you see, with Penny away at school so much,’ he told Kate, ‘and she spends most of the holidays with Sarah, anyway. Life seems so utterly pointless. At least 1 shall be useful and little Lizzie is a sweet child. I see Elizabeth in her so much. It’ll be OK. Penny and I will have a little annexe of our own.’

  He gave Kate a few possessions that her mother had wanted her to have and presented each of the twins with a little memento to remember her by. Telling him to come to stay whenever he wanted to, Kate hugged him goodbye.

  She drove sadly home. She didn’t feel too badly that the house would be sold for they had only moved to St Just at the beginning of Kate’s life at boarding school. It was, nevertheless, the end of an era. It made her mother trul
y dead. There was nowhere now for Kate to go where her mother had loved and worked and had her being. Her possessions were split up; her presence dissipated.

  She drove out of Plymouth and through Roborough. As they climbed up to the open moor, a harvest moon—the colour of rich egg yolk—swung above the horizon. The moor lay silent and mysterious beneath it, the mist rising and spreading out over the low ground. Kate felt an upsurge of longing for some spiritual experience that would enclose her in serenity and certainty and lift her above the nagging anxieties of daily life. Ignoring various disturbances from the back of the car, she tried to concentrate on a kind of communing, of prayer. A verse of psalm slid into her mind: ‘Oh Lord, our Lord, how excellent is Thy name in all the earth! who has set Thy glory above the heavens.’ Wonderful! How did it go on? Something about out of the mouths of babes and sucklings?

  ‘Mum.’

  But what came after that? Ah, yes: ‘When I consider Thy Heavens, the moon and stars which Thou hast ordained.’

  ‘Mum.’

  And what a moon! ‘What is man that Thou art mindful of him? Thou hast made him a little lower than the angels and has crowned him with glory and honour.’

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘What is it, Guy?’

  ‘Megs is being sick. And it’s all gone down inside Giles’ gumboot!’

  THE TWINS’ TENTH BIRTHDAY fell two days before term started and Cass gave a party for them at the Rectory. Mrs Hampton, who now went two mornings a week to help Cass out, was in her element: jellies were made, cakes baked, sandwiches cut.