First Friends

by Marcia Willett

  Cassandra smiled to herself at the recollection: Charlotte defiant and a little scared, and herself, determined not to play the heavy mother, pretending to be unmoved. Girls of Charlotte’s age did all sorts of things and it was sometimes wise to turn a blind eye. Tom would be furious. Charlotte’s thick brown hair was her one beauty but it wouldn’t be just the loss of it that would upset him. The truth was that Charlotte no longer looked like a little schoolgirl of nearly fifteen. Now, in her jeans and oversize sweatshirts, the new haircut emphasised the fact that Charlotte was leaving childhood behind her and Tom would find that very difficult to come to terms with.

  Cass craned again to discover the whereabouts of her flower arrangement and glimpsed it hidden away behind the font as usual. Oh well, she gave a mental shrug, it was no more than it deserved. She was not clever with her hands but she liked to keep her end up in the village, to show willing and join in. She felt that she had a responsibility to the community. As she turned back towards the altar her glance tangled with that of a man sitting with William in the Manor pew and she experienced an odd but very familiar sensation: that of recognition between two total strangers. An almost tangible crackle passed between the two of them and Cass turned away feeling even more vitally alive than before. The stranger’s glance proved that she was still attractive even if she was thirty-five and had four children.

  Cass chuckled inwardly and thought briefly of Tom, a Commander now, who was at that moment manoeuvring his nuclear submarine with great delicacy in the cold depths of the North Atlantic whilst under attack from a Dutch frigate. This was only a NATO exercise, however, and presently Tom and his submarine would slide away to ‘sink,’ in due course, a US aircraft carrier. Since his promotion he’d become a little more staid, more inclined to want quiet weekends at home instead of the parties and the social round that he had once enjoyed so much. He still liked to see his friends but less often and in small informal intimate gatherings and Cass was very glad now that they had settled at the Rectory and she had gradually developed her own circle of friends and entertainments.

  She made a show of finding the first hymn for Gemma, pointing out something to Saul, giving the impression of the devoted mother with her children. She felt, like a current of warm air, the stranger’s eyes upon her and turned her head slightly to give him the benefit of her beautiful, grave profile. She wondered who he was. She didn’t remember him from any of Abby’s parties and he looked rather older than William, or even Tom, well into his forties, grey-haired but very distinguished-looking. There was a well-kept, smooth, expensive look to him and his glance had been keen: both measuring and exciting.

  Her gaze rested once more on Jane and she felt a twinge of pity. How awful to be Jane, plain, thin and mousy. She’d never even notice an attractive man, although Alan was rather nice, if formal and over-polite. He was nervous and rather over-awed, poor lamb, thought Cass, casting her mind back to the barbecue. Might be fun to loosen him up a bit, get him a bit tiddly. He probably didn’t get much fun with Jane. It was difficult to imagine them in bed together and they had no children.

  Cass smiled complacently as she glanced down at her own voluptuous curves and then at the two proofs of her fertility. The choir entered and she rose gracefully to her feet, every inch of her aware of the stranger standing across from her. The boys and men filed into their stalls and the Rector announced the first hymn. The organ swelled and Cass’s rich contralto poured forth. We plough the fields and scatter. She did not need her hymn-book; she knew the words by heart but her heart was not in it.

  I wonder who he is? Thank Heaven I put on my new Jaeger . . . all good things about us are sent by Heaven above . . .

  Mrs Hampton, that little wren of a woman, chirped happily, her heart full of love and peace. How she loved the big festivals of the Christian year, with the old church looking so beautiful and all the dear children. She remembered how the General had loved the early Communion service, always in his place winter and summer alike, and how often she had knelt beside him at the altar rail to take the Sacrament. She was aware of his presence very often. She was aware, too, of Jane’s unhappiness. In her opinion Jane didn’t belong in that new box of a house with a pocket handkerchief-sized garden on the estate at the edge of the village. She’d known Jane all her life and remembered the old cottage where Jane had been brought up, always over-run with dogs and cats it was, as well as Jane’s elder brothers and sisters, and chickens scratching in the garden. Not that Jane could have lived in the cottage even if she’d wanted to. When her father, who’d been cow-man up at Home Farm, had died her mum had moved down near Plymouth to one of Jane’s married sisters and Mr Hope-Latymer, young Mr William’s father, had sold the cottage. Jane had bettered herself and didn’t seem to be getting much happiness from it.

  Life seemed much more complicated these days and she felt sorry for these young people who strived for more and more and then never seemed satisfied when they’d got it. She and Jack had been so happy and John was doing so well out in Hong Kong and earning so much that he could afford to help out his old Mum and Dad in so many ways. Yes, she was one of the lucky ones . . . Her voice soared up. So thank the Lord, yes, thank the Lord . . .

  Jane’s eyes were fixed on the white pages of her hymn-book but her lips barely moved and her voice was little more than a whisper.

  CASS WAS TALKING TO the Rector’s wife when William emerged from the church porch into the warm September sunshine. She had strategically placed herself by an old stone tablet which assured passers-by that Edith May Trehearne, beloved of Henry Charles, rested in peace and had done so for the last ninety-five years. By stopping at this point where the paths diverged, Cass ensured that everyone leaving the church must pass her sooner or later. In the case of William it seemed very much the latter to the impatient Cass. The Rector’s wife was not an easy person to keep engaged in animated conversation.

  Gemma, still preoccupied in self-admiration, remained at her mother’s side, whilst Saul had wandered off to exchange insults with an erstwhile school chum who sang in the choir. Saul, who had started at Mount House the year before, and was, therefore, now ineligible for this dubious honour, nevertheless enjoyed poking fun at his old friends who still suffered the humours of the somewhat eccentric choirmaster.

  When William and his companion finally arrived within her orbit Cass’s casual greeting was masterly; indeed she seemed reluctant to let Mrs Tanner go. At length, however, Mrs Tanner was allowed to hurry away to her lunch, giving thanks, as she often did, that she had escaped from the large draughty Rectory to her warm, modern, manageable house.

  Cass turned to the men with a charming, if slightly rueful, smile.

  ‘I don’t think that Mrs Tanner minds at all that she has to live in that ghastly modern box. Good morning, William.’

  ‘Not everyone likes cold and damp as much as we do, Cass,’ said William, who was living in somewhat straitened conditions at the Manor. ‘The smell of mice is an acquired taste, you know. And the Tanners couldn’t afford the central heating and all the extras you put in.’

  ‘All thanks to my dear old pa,’ sighed Cass. ‘I still miss him so dreadfully.’

  ‘We all do. This is Nick Farley. He’s a lawyer. His firm deals with all our problems and Nick’s been helping us out with a boundary dispute. He’s staying a few days. This is Cass Wivenhoe, Nick.’

  ‘How do you do?’ Cass allowed her hand to rest in Nick’s clasp a moment or two longer than was necessary.

  ‘We were wondering if we could carry you off for a lunchtime drink? Abby said to be sure to ask you.’

  ‘Oh!’ Cass pretended to debate with herself, eyes fixed on Gemma. ‘Well, I don’t quite know . . . ’

  ‘Oh, do come,’ said Nick. He smiled at her and Cass turned to Gemma.

  ‘Darling, d’you think that you and Saul could go home by yourselves? I’ll be very quick but tell Charlotte I may be a few minutes late. Good girl. Look, there’s Saul, run and tell him. Off you go
.’

  ‘Charlotte?’ questioned Nick, watching Gemma pick her way between the grassy humps to Saul.

  ‘Charlotte’s my elder daughter. She’s cooking the lunch.’

  ‘Are you trying to tell me,’ Nick lowered his voice slightly as he and Cass followed William out of the churchyard, ‘that you have a daughter old enough to cook the lunch?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Charlotte’s nearly fifteen.’ Cass was never afraid of divulging this fact as the response was always the same. Nick did not disappoint her.

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  As they set off towards the Manor, Cass saw Jane Maxwell walking home.

  ‘Hold on a sec,’ she said. ‘I must have a word with Jane. Jane!’ She hurried after her. ‘Jane!’

  Her preoccupation pierced by Cass’s second, more insistent cry, Jane turned and waited for her to approach.

  ‘How are you, Jane? I haven’t seen you for ages. Come and have coffee with me very soon. Please,’ she said as Jane hesitated. ‘Let’s make a firm date now. It’s a Hammy day tomorrow so what about Tuesday? Yes? Oh, good. See you then. Don’t forget. ‘Bye.’

  Cass hurried back and Jane walked on, seething.

  Damn and blast the woman, she thought. I don’t want to go and have coffee with her. Why can’t she leave me alone? She jumped as a battered Land Rover screeched to a halt beside her.

  ‘Hello then. Been to church?’

  ‘Hello, Phil. That’s right.’ Jane glanced quickly up and down the lane. Although she had walked some way out from the centre of the village there were still one or two cottages and bungalows in sight. Nobody seemed to be interested but Jane knew her neighbours better than that.

  ‘What’re you doing, Phil? You promised me.’ The low, furious tones were at odds with the smile still fixed to her lips.

  ‘I didn’t promise nothing. Chrissakes, Janey, I can stop and say hello, can’t I? We’ve known each other all our lives. Shouldn’t’ve bought a house in the village if you didn’t want us to meet.’ The young man at the wheel seemed charged with vitality. His very hair, thick and dark, seemed to stand on end with it, and his incredibly beautiful, dark blue eyes sparked angrily between long curling lashes.

  ‘I do want to see you. Please, Phil, you know I do. But not here. You know what they’re like around here.’

  ‘It would look mighty odd if we ignored each other, old sweethearts like us.’ His voice dropped, caressing and sweet. ‘Come on, love, let’s see you smile. I got the key of Long Barn.’

  She looked away from the expression in his eyes. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Yes, you do. It’ll be OK. Say about four o’clock.’

  Jane struggled with herself.

  ‘All right then. About four o’clock. I’ll walk across the fields. Don’t come down in the Land Rover mind.’

  ‘Don’t talk daft.’ He winked at her, pantomimed a kiss. ‘See you later then.’

  Jane walked on.

  BY THE TIME JANE arrived at the Rectory on Tuesday morning Cass had already had a visitor. Abby had called in on her way to Plymouth.

  ‘I’m doing the Tesco run and I wondered if you wanted anything,’ she told Cass, who had persuaded her to stop for a cup of coffee. ‘I know this is your busy week, getting them all back to school.’

  ‘Sweet of you. Although it’s only the girls so far. The boys don’t go back to Mount House until next week.’

  ‘Well.’ Abby shrugged. ‘You’ve still got two lots of trunks and tuck-boxes to do. Sheer hell. Thank God I haven’t got to think about it yet. What will you do with Charlotte when she leaves Lambspark next year?’

  ‘Don’t talk about it.’ Cass filled the coffee mugs from the kettle on the Aga. ‘I can see another Education Debate looming. Gemma will be perfectly happy to go to Meavy with Sophie but where Charlotte will go I simply don’t know. We’d like her to go into the sixth form at Blundells. Oliver will be starting and they could go together but I hardly dare mention it. She goes into the most fearful sulks as soon as I open my mouth. The thought of having all four of them at different schools fills me with horror.’

  ‘So what did you think of our Nick?’ Abby perched at the corner of the kitchen table with her coffee while Cass scribbled busily on the back of an old bill with a stub of pencil.

  ‘Perfectly gorgeous,’ she answered promptly. ‘I couldn’t think who he could be when I saw him in church. He looked much too old to be one of William’s school chums or Army buddies. Very attractive though, isn’t he?’

  ‘Bit old for me,’ said Abby provocatively.

  ‘Only in his forties,’ protested Cass. ‘Forty-five, forty-six?’

  ‘That’s twenty years older than I am,’ Abby pointed out. ‘Anyway, he’s married.’

  ‘Is that intended to tell me something?’ Cass arched her brows.

  Abby laughed. ‘Have you finished that list? I must get on.’

  ‘Hold on a sec’. Cass added a few items. ‘I think that’s it. By the way, what about coming to dinner on Saturday? Tom’s home for the weekend and I’ve got Harriet Masters staying for a few days. You could bring Nick if he’s still with you.’

  ‘He won’t be,’ said Abby. ‘William and I would love to come but Nick’ll be back home with wifie. I could give you his number if you like?’

  ‘Oh, shut up!’ said Cass good-naturedly and grimaced as the door bell shrilled. ‘Blast! Here’s Jane already, and I’m still in all this muddle.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Jane Maxwell. You know? You met her at our barbecue. Her mother was William’s old cook or something. She’s married to a submariner now. They’ve bought a house in the village.’

  ‘Oh, her. Rather a dreary creature I always think. What’s she coming for?’

  ‘Well, you know how it is. We naval wives must stick together and I don’t think she’s coping very well with being alone. I might ask if she and Alan would like to come on Saturday if he’s home.’

  ‘Oh, bore!’ Abby made a face. ‘They’re such a prim and proper pair, so inhibiting!’

  ‘I’d like to see the person who could inhibit you,’ remarked Cass. ‘Go and do your shopping and I’ll see you later. Don’t forget Saturday.’

  ‘As if I would. What a pity Nick won’t be around. It’s always such an education watching you carry on your little affairs under Tom’s nose whilst playing the loving wife. Nick was quite smitten, you know.’

  ‘Oh, go away!’ Cass pushed her friend out of the garden door and went to answer the front door in high spirits.

  Jane, waiting on the doorstep, was feeling quite the reverse. The hours spent in Long Barn with Philip Raikes on Sunday afternoon had merely served to make her more confused and unhappy.

  Phil had been waiting for her when she had stepped tentatively within the door. He had carefully ground out his cigarette before moving forward to take her in his arms.

  ‘Hello, love. All right then?’ He kissed her, gently at first but then more passionately. ‘Come on over here, I’ve brought a blanket.’

  Ten years before he’d used exactly those words when, as fumbling, inexperienced teenagers, they’d discovered each other in the straw of Long Barn. For nearly three years they’d done everything together, and then Philip had been sent to an uncle in Ivybridge to learn the trade of a plumber. Shortly after that Jane had got a job in the lingerie department at Debenhams in Plymouth and arranged to share a flat with a friend through whom she later met Alan Maxwell, a Petty Officer in the submarine service. She was struck by his cleanliness, good manners and purposeful attitude to life, characteristics that had been very little in evidence during Jane’s up-bringing, and it was only later that she became aware of his resemblance to Philip Raikes; taller, perhaps, and heavier built, but his colouring was the same and he had the same vitality. That was a bonus.

  Odd, then, that it was the very things that had attracted her to Alan, that, five years later, were to throw her back into Philip’s arms. The peace and solitude occasioned by
Alan’s long months at sea had become loneliness and boredom. The thrill of owning her own home—it was at her request that they had bought the new house in her old village eighteen months previously—had worn off and her immaculate surroundings, once her pride and joy, now seemed sterile and empty.

  Besides, Alan’s ambition, which had pushed him so swiftly up the ladder, was now a threat to her peace of mind. Parties on the submarine or in the homes of the other officers were a nightmare to her. Her voice and clothes were wrong. They all seemed so frighteningly self-assured and, although they were very kind to her, she knew that secretly they were despising her. It was different for Alan. He was accepted on the strength of his abilities. He’d proved that professionally he was as good as they were and he had managed to pick up so quickly the nuances of social life that still left her bewildered and fumbling. The men talked shop where Alan could more than hold his own; the women were more personal. They talked a language that was unknown to her and—to her amazement—their language was sometimes almost as crude as her old dad’s had been. They all drank an enormous amount and sometimes the men became playful and acted very foolishly which their wives thought terribly funny but which embarrassed Jane dreadfully. She simply couldn’t understand it or accept it and Alan, preoccupied with holding his own, had no patience with her. They seemed to be drifting further and further apart and it was this loneliness which had made her turn back to the security of a past which she had so readily rejected.

  She had met Philip again—now living near Yelverton—coming out of the village shop. It was just after the Wivenhoes’ barbecue and Alan had gone back to sea for six weeks, still cross, leaving her miserable and lonely.