First Friends

by Marcia Willett

  ‘Don’t be so wet!’ she muttered fiercely to herself. ‘Have the courage of your convictions! Hugh’s always telling you to have more initiative. He’ll be pleased! Anyway, you don’t need his permission or approval to go to Bristol.’

  When the round nylon carry-all had finally been filled to her satisfaction she sat down on her bed and drew a guide book to Bristol from her rubbed and shabby leather satchel. She studied it closely, tracing with her finger the roads between the small hotel, the address of which she had located in the back of an AA book, and Hugh’s Hall of Residence, only a few minutes’ walk away. Both, however, were miles from the station. She’d have to take a taxi.

  Charlotte had never been away from home alone before and she felt a twinge of apprehension, quickly suppressed. Luckily her allowance had hardly been touched these past months and there was plenty in her account to cope with a weekend in Bristol.

  She didn’t know whether to be hurt or relieved by Cass’s indifference to the whole escapade. To be fair, she had told her mother that she was staying with a school friend’s family in Bristol and had answered Cass’s questions with exaggerated patience. Yes, the train went straight through with no changing. Yes, someone would be meeting the train. No, she didn’t need any money, and for goodness’ sake, don’t fuss, Ma! Yes, she’d organised a lift to Plymouth with Mrs Haynes, who was going in shopping and who had agreed to drop her at the station. Anything else? Cass had hesitated. Since she had no intention of giving Charlotte a telephone number or address in case of emergency she could hardly ask for one in return. She decided to let the matter drop. After all, Charlotte would be quite safe with her friends.

  Charlotte put away the book, counted the cash that she’d drawn out over the past few weeks from her building society account in Tiverton, and decided that, on the whole, she was relieved that Cass hadn’t probed further and discovered the truth. She may have put a ban on the whole thing if she’d known that Charlotte wasn’t going to friends or she might have wanted to phone the hotel and check it out. Much better as it was. After all, what could go wrong?

  CASS DOUBLE-CHECKED THE TRAIN timetable to make certain that Charlotte would be well on her way to Bristol by the time that she, Cass, left for Shropshire. She found Harriet’s letter and re-read Tom’s, praying that the boat wouldn’t come in early.

  Lastly, on Friday morning, with everyone gone, she phoned Jane.

  ‘Hi, it’s Cass. Everything OK? . . . Good. So it’s just a question of keeping a low profile locally for a couple of weeks? . . . Fine. Look, I’m off for a couple of days, back sometime Monday. You don’t anticipate any problems before then? . . . Right . . . Oh, don’t mention it. Isn’t it marvellous how everything worked out? Must be meant . . . Quite. Now, no panics, bad for the baby, OK? I’ll phone as soon as I’m back. Take care. ‘Bye.’

  She replaced the receiver and stood for a minute, thinking of Nick. Only a few more hours and she would be with him . . .

  Twenty-six

  At the time that Cass was talking to Jane, Kate was walking on Plaster Down. The dogs gambolled in and out of the leat as the sun sucked up the last shreds of the thinning mist and shone warm on Kate’s back. Her thoughts twisted and turned, part of her mind on Cass, part on her own situation. She had discovered, through the naval grapevine, that it seemed unlikely that Mark would get his third stripe and intended to leave the Navy within the next few years. This wasn’t terribly surprising. If Mark was not to be promoted to Commander, then he would be unable to drive a nuclear or polaris submarine and his sea-going days were over. She knew how much he would hate pushing a pen at Northwood or the MOD for the rest of his working life. There was a rumour that he intended to go to Canada. He had struck up a friendship with a Canadian Engineer Officer over on exchange some years before and, according to Kate’s source, he had offered Mark a job in his father’s company where he himself now worked.

  ‘Let him go,’ Chris had advised. ‘Have done with it all. We’ll manage with the boys. If their father has gone abroad, they’ll be eligible for grants and things so stop worrying. There’s a few years to go yet. It’s not worth fighting it and dragging it all up again.’

  Kate had agreed with relief and prayed that Chris was right. She never heard from Mark. He paid a sum of money monthly for the twins’ upkeep and settled the bills that the school sent in. Occasionally he wrote to the twins but never to Kate. Sometimes she wrote to him telling him of the boys’ achievements and to arrange the yearly visit to their grandparents so that it coincided with his leave but, in the main, silence prevailed. She knew that, despite his fifteen years, Giles was still nervous of Mark and neither of the boys looked forward to their yearly holiday with their father so perhaps it would be a relief to all parties to have the last threads cut. Kate wondered briefly how Mark’s parents would take the defection of their only son and turned her thoughts to Cass. She would have set off by now and Kate sighed. She called to the dogs and turned to retrace her steps. She would be very relieved when the weekend was over and Cass was safely back again.

  AS CASS DROVE up the motorway towards the Severn Bridge she was aware that her present feelings were entirely new to her. She felt as if she had cast all her cares and responsibilities away and was possessed of a great happiness. None of the sensations she usually experienced at this stage of a relationship were present. No sharpening of wits ready for the cut and thrust of flirtatious backchat, no keen anticipation of new sexual technique, none of the thrill of knowing that she was successfully deceiving not only Tom and her friends but another wife or girlfriend: just this deep joy.

  The day reflected her mood. The sun shone, warm and mellow, on glowing leaves and berries not yet torn from their moorings by harsh winds or beaten down by fierce rain. This glorious weather seemed set to last for ever.

  Once through Ludlow she pulled in to consult the map Nick had sent her. Concluding rightly that she could get herself as far as Ludlow he had drawn the map beginning at the turning off at Wootton and it was marked with strange and delightful names—Chapel Lawn, New Invention, Clun.

  ‘ “Clungunford, Clunbury, Clunton and Clun / Are the quietest places under the sun,” ’ he had quoted to her during one of their lunches. ‘Of course you’ve read Houseman. You’re going to love Shropshire, my darling.’

  From what she’d seen of it she felt that he was right. However, she made several wrong turns before she found the narrow lane that wound on beneath the shoulder of the hill and finally brought her to Nick.

  Leaving the lane where it started a sharp upward climb, she swung the car on to a narrow track that doubled back on itself, sloped down to a stream and stopped. Beyond the stream stood a little wooden house, rather like a Swiss chalet, painted black, with green window frames and a green door. A thread of blue smoke drifted from its twisted chimney and a wicker chair stood on the verandah. The house nestled into the side of the hill beyond which the sun was now disappearing and, even as she looked, the door opened and Nick hurried out.

  ‘Thank God, my darling,’ he called. ‘I was beginning to worry.’

  Her heart leapt up in her breast. How tall and straight he was, how distinguished, and he wore such delightful clothes. His cords were a loden green, his Viyella shirt matched them perfectly and his cashmere sweater was the colour of porridge. His brogues gleamed like chestnuts and he looked expensive, well-preserved and charming.

  He crossed the wooden footbridge and came round to the car window. For a moment or two they smiled at one another and when she put out her hand to him he raised her fingers to his lips. She gave a little shiver of pleasure as his hazel eyes looked into hers and then he moved back.

  ‘Look.’ He indicated an open-fronted barn, built back into the hedge where his own car was already parked. ‘Put her in there beside mine.’

  Once out of the car Cass realised that the place was a perfect hideaway. Both the house and the barn were impossible to see from the lane and she turned to Nick with a smile.

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p; ‘It’s perfect,’ she said. ‘Is it just as lovely inside?’

  He exhaled deeply with relief.

  ‘Thank heavens you approve,’ he said. ‘I lost my nerve as the day wore on and I was sure you’d hate it. It’s a bit primitive, I’m afraid. Careful now! The bridge is a bit rickety. It gets a hell of a beating in the winter when the water pours down off the hills and the stream becomes quite impassable. Not that one would want to be here in the winter anyway, the house gets no sun then and it would be damp. There now!’

  He led her on to the verandah, pushed wide the green-painted door and Cass looked in upon a charming scene. The house consisted of just one big room, one corner of which was partitioned off to make a tiny kitchen. Against the back wall, which was windowless, stood a wood-burning stove and above it was a deep balcony that stretched the width of the house and on which stood a low, wide bed, piled high with gaily coloured blankets, a small painted chest and two spindly chairs. Wooden steps led up to it from the extreme left side and beside these, on the opposite wall to the kitchen, was a door leading out to a small lean-to which contained a shower unit and lavatory. The floor was covered with a huge square of carpet and several comfortable armchairs were pulled up to the stove, behind whose glass doors flames danced. At the entrance to the kitchen a gate leg table stood, laid for tea with two chairs beside it.

  Despite the fact that the sun had now completely vanished the room was still full of light. There were large windows on the east and west walls as well as those opening south on to the verandah and, despite the cosy atmosphere, the room also felt light and airy. Although it was apparent that it was furnished with cast-off pieces, it was also apparent that the things had been of high quality and were, even now, well cared for, clean and pleasant to the eye.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Cass repeated when she could find her voice. ‘I feel I’ve wandered into fairyland.’

  ‘Darling Cass! How like you to be so generous. It’s all very basic, really. Of course, you turn it into a palace.’

  ‘Oh, Nick. You are an idiot.’ She turned to him and they embraced for the first time. He kissed her tenderly and then, releasing her, led her to an armchair by the stove.

  ‘Sit down there and relax while I make the tea. You must be exhausted after that long trip. Bless you for making it. I couldn’t have waited another day. If only we could have travelled up together but I’m sure you were right to point out that it would have been madness.’

  Cass, who had thought that the idea that they should travel separately in case of some disaster had come from him, smiled back at him.

  ‘I couldn’t have waited either. I’ve missed you so much.’

  He blew her a kiss and disappeared behind the heavy velvet curtain that screened the kitchen. Cass stretched luxuriously, admiring her long, elegant legs in the cream ribbed tights and feeling absurdly pleased that the green tweed of her skirt blended so well with the green of Nick’s trousers. She watched him finish laying the table with a practised hand.

  ‘You’d like some tea, I hope? Nothing too much, just some tea-cakes and a sponge. I’ve booked us in for supper at the Bear in Ludlow. I discovered that they have a nice, quiet little room and the food is delicious.’

  ‘I thought that everyone went to the Feathers in Ludlow,’ observed Cass, a delicious languor stealing over her. It was lovely to be sitting here whilst Nick prepared tea and talked of their supper plans.

  ‘We’re not everyone. Now come along and have some tea. I’ll leave you to pour while I get your case in. Where are your keys?’

  ‘Oh, Nick.’ She fumbled in her bag and passed the keys over. ‘You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to be fussed over. You’ll spoil me.’

  ‘Quite impossible, sweetie!’ He kissed her lightly and went out.

  Cass moved across to the table. The food looked delicious, home-made. Perhaps he’d bought it in Ludlow. How nice it was not to be leapt on at once, not to have one’s clothes torn off and have to perform without so much as an exchange of pleasantries. Nick was so civilised. Perhaps it’s because he’s older, thought Cass, sitting down and lifting the teapot. After all, he must be in his late-forties, quite a lot older than Tom. Well, whatever it is I like it. She smiled at him as he returned and waved a teacake at him.

  ‘Delicious!’ she cried. ‘Hurry up, or I’ll eat them all.’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ He climbed the little staircase and placed her suitcase on the bed. ‘Anything to be hung up?’

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ she said. ‘If we’re going out my skirt should be hung up to let the creases drop out.’

  ‘Don’t move!’ he called, as she made as if to push back her chair. ‘I’m quite capable of hanging up clothes.’ He lifted out a skirt in soft, donkey-brown suede. ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Yes. There are hangers in the case. And, would you mind? There’s a silk shirt, too.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got it. And the hangers. What an efficient girl you are.’ He dealt with the clothes, hanging them on a peg on the wall. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No, that’s fine for now. Come and have your tea.’

  ‘I’m coming. Oh, thanks. Now, I want to hear about everything that’s happened to you since we last met.’

  WHEN TOM ARRIVED HOME and found Cass’s note, it came as a very pleasant surprise to find that he could have a whole weekend with Harriet without any difficulties or explanations. That she would not be as pleased about it as he was never occurred to him for a moment. In their encounters so far, even before their affair, she had been eager, willing, compliant and grateful and he saw no reason why this should not continue. He found her letter, telephoned her at once and, in tearing high spirits, told her the news.

  Harriet replaced the receiver and stood for a moment paralysed with panic. He had sounded like a stranger to her and she felt it impossible that he should be about to enter her life, her cottage and, finally, even her own body as though he were anything else. His voice had sounded full of excitement and something else. After a while Harriet realised what it was. He had sounded like a naughty, small boy who was about to perpetrate some dreadful trick on his elders, as though the whole thing was a lighthearted joke. At that moment something shifted a little within their relationship. Always in the past Harriet had seen Tom as the older man, the senior officer, the next generation. He had always seemed so much more mature than Ralph and she had always felt flattered by the attention that he had showed her, his predilection for her company. Ralph’s deference towards him had underlined the feeling and he had always made her feel rather young and inexperienced and shy. It was he who had made all the moves in the relationship so far and Harriet liked his air of command. She didn’t want to feel she was someone he was amusing himself with whilst congratulating himself on pulling the wool over Cass’s eyes. She did not wish to enter into a kind of conspiracy with him as if they were two small children defying and hoodwinking their elders. She wanted to think of him as strong, confident and desirable and it was a different Harriet that went to greet him. She opened the door and he bounded in, enveloping her in a huge hug.

  ‘What wonderful luck!’ He was jubilant. ‘Fancy the boat coming in unexpectedly just when Cass is away for the weekend. I can have you all to myself. I can’t believe it!’ He was too hyped-up to notice her reservation. ‘I had a shower, grabbed a bag and came straight over. Thank God Cass left your letter lying about. Let me look at you. Mmm. Delicious. But you’ve got too many clothes on.’

  He slipped his hands up beneath her jersey and she felt a spurt of irritation.

  ‘Hang on a minute!’ She made herself smile at him. ‘You haven’t told me what you think of my cottage yet.’

  He gave a perfunctory glance round.

  ‘It’s great! But you’re nicer. Oh, Harriet, I’ve missed you. Come and give me a kiss!’

  ‘Tom!’ She began to laugh, mainly with exasperation. ‘You’re impossible! Is this what Cass has to put up with when you come home from sea? You’ve hardly said hello.’
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  He began to look sulky.

  ‘I didn’t realise that you’d want to go through all the formalities,’ he said, rather childishly. ‘I hoped you’d feel as I do.’

  Careful! thought Harriet.

  ‘I probably do feel as you do,’ she replied calmly, ‘but you’ve had a bit of time to get used to the idea. I haven’t heard from you for weeks and suddenly here you are. I need a moment to adjust.’

  ‘After all, we did agree not to write.’ Tom sounded aggrieved. ‘I didn’t even have your address. If I’m in the way I’ll push off.’

  Harriet had never seen Tom’s peevish side and began feeling he was a stranger. Over the years she had built up a picture of an idealised figure which she now realised had nothing to do with the real man. Panic stirred again and she pushed it down.

  ‘Don’t be silly. It’s lovely to see you and I’m as thrilled as you are. It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all. It seems so long ago that we were together that I was beginning to think I’d dreamed the whole thing.’

  ‘I’m sorry, love.’ He was all penitence. ‘I’m a selfish bastard, I know.’ Admitting it, apparently, seemed to excuse it, even make it acceptable. ‘I haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks and when I saw you it was just too much. You’ll have to forgive me.’

  This time she didn’t avoid his embrace and a few moments later they were in Harriet’s bedroom, her clothes scattered across the floor.

  Afterwards, Harriet made omelettes whilst Tom sat at the kitchen table watching her.

  ‘The problem is,’ she spoke her thoughts aloud, ‘that I suppose we daren’t go out together.’

  ‘I must admit it is a bit close to home.’ Tom poured himself another gin and tonic. ‘It’s marvellous to have you down here but it’s going to be a bit tricky. Still, you won’t be here forever, will you?’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’