To the Moon and Back

by Jill Mansell

  ‘And then what?’ The cab driver twisted in his seat to look at him. ‘You want me to follow them? Hey, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for someone to say that and actually mean it!’ Chuckling, he expertly spun the steering wheel and swung the cab around. ‘You’re Tony Weston, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Am I allowed to ask what’s going on here?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ said Tony.

  ‘They’re not getting into any car. Looks like they’re walking.’ Tony thought fast. Knowing his luck, they were off to the supermarket. But he was here now, and what else did he have to do?’

  ‘Let’s follow them.’

  ‘Are you serious, mate? We’re in this thing’—the driver indicated his cab—‘and they’re on foot.’

  ‘You’ll just have to go slowly then, won’t you? And make sure they don’t catch you at it.’

  Luckily Martha and Eunice didn’t look back. The taxi remained at a safe distance behind them, trundling along at the speed of mud. When they reached the busy main road it got trickier, the cab driver having to stop and start and work hard not to get trapped in the bus lane.

  ‘I’m sure it’s supposed to be more exciting than this,’ he grumbled. ‘Tires squealing, handbrake turns, police joining in, all that malarkey.’

  ‘Think yourself lucky. When that happens,’ Tony pointed out, ‘the taxi driver tends to end up not getting paid.’

  Martha and Eunice weren’t window-shopping. They didn’t dawdle; this was an outing with a destination at the end of it. Eventually turning off the main road, they made their way down leafy side streets. They weren’t speaking to each other, just walking side by side. Where they might be heading was anyone’s guess. A church meeting, perhaps. Visiting a friend. Keeping an appointment with the orthodontist.

  ‘There you go,’ said the cabbie as the two women finally turned into the driveway of a property set well back from the road.

  Tony leaned forward. It was probably a dental surgery. As the taxi drew closer he saw the sign by the gate.

  Stanshawe House Nursing and Residential Care Home, the sign announced.

  ‘Mystery solved.’ The cab driver sounded relieved; the last twenty-five minutes must have ranked among the most boring of his life. ‘They’re visiting some old granny.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. They could be visiting anyone.’

  ‘Or else they work there,’ the cabbie amended. ‘Anyway, what now? Are you going in after them?’

  ‘No.’ Tony sat back in his seat; this wasn’t how he’d planned to spend the rest of the day. ‘Take me back to Primrose Hill.’

  ***

  Ellie was still out at work. Back at the flat, Tony looked up Stanshawe House in the Yellow Pages and copied down the number of the place. Then he forced himself to sit and wait, because the one thing he couldn’t do was phone them while Eunice and Martha might still be there.

  At five o’clock he made the call.

  ‘Oh, hello, I’m calling about one of your residents. By the name of Daines.’ It was a shot in the dark, but the only shot he had.

  ‘Sorry, who?’ The woman sounded distracted.

  ‘Daines.’

  ‘Could you give me the first name?’

  Tony hesitated. No he couldn’t, because he didn’t know the first name. He didn’t even know if it was a male or a female. ‘Um, well…’

  ‘Oh, do you mean Henry Daines? Sorry, I’m new here, I’ve just found him on the list.’

  Bingo. ‘That’s it. Henry.’ Tony wondered whether real detectives got sweaty palms when they had a breakthrough.

  ‘Right. And what is this about? Let me take a message.’

  ‘Oh, no message. I’m just calling to… find out how he is.’

  ‘Hang on, I’m just writing this down. Say again?’

  God, she was dippy. ‘I haven’t seen Henry for some time. I heard that he’s in your care,’ said Tony. ‘Could you tell me why he’s with you?’

  ‘Ooh no, we’re not allowed to do that! Sorry! I tell you what, love, why don’t you contact his family? They’ll be able to give you all the information you need.’

  Typical. ‘OK then, can you tell me who his family—’

  ‘Oh my goodness, now the red light’s started flashing! What does that mean? Sorry, love, I’m going to have to go, just call his family… OK, bye!’

  ***

  At nine o’clock the next morning, Tony rang the bell and heard the sound of footsteps inside the house.

  The topaz-yellow door opened and for the first time in a fortnight he came face to face with Martha. His heart twisted with longing; it was so wonderful to see her again and so unbearable to witness the look of anguish on her face.

  He kept his voice low. ‘Are you on your own?’

  She closed her eyes for a second, then nodded. ‘Oh, Tony, don’t do this. You shouldn’t have come here.’

  ‘I had to. You can’t just tell me to leave you alone and expect me to do it. I thought we had something…’

  ‘Please, no.’ Martha was shaking her head in despair, her fingers clutching the front of her raspberry-pink shirt.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I told you, we can’t see each other anymore.’ Across the street a door slammed and she raised a trembling hand in greeting at whoever had just emerged from their house. Her breathing shallow, she said, ‘Tony, just go. Do you think this is easy for me? Because it really isn’t, I can promise you that.’

  ‘I know, I know, but we need to talk.’ He paused. ‘Who’s Henry?’

  She froze, the fingers of her other hand convulsively tightening around the edge of the door.

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘Is he your father-in-law?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Brother-in-law?’

  Martha shook her head.

  ‘So that means he’s your ex-husband.’ Tony had already guessed as much; he didn’t need to look at her to know he was right.

  Except he couldn’t help himself; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face.

  ‘He’s not my ex-husband,’ Martha said finally.

  ‘You mean you’re still married.’

  She pressed her lips together, gave a funny, wobbly nod.

  ‘Why don’t I come in?’ said Tony. And this time she stood back to allow him into the house.

  In the kitchen, Martha rubbed her face to get the blood back into it. ‘I still don’t know how you found out. Was it Eunice?’ She shook her head. ‘It couldn’t have been Eunice.’

  Rather than tell her how he had stalked the pair of them, Tony said, ‘Just tell me about Henry.’

  ‘How much do you know?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’

  ‘We’ve been married for thirty-three years. Happily. Very happily.’ Her voice began to waver. ‘Well, up until six years ago. OK, I’m going to cry now. Don’t say anything, just ignore it.’ Reaching for the roll of kitchen towel, she tore off a couple of quilted sheets and rested one hip against the kitchen units. ‘The thing is, he has Alzheimer’s. Well, officially it’s presenile dementia. It started seven years ago when he was only fifty-five. Just gradually, you know, losing keys and forgetting people’s names. We joked about it at first. Until he made a serious mistake at work and it stopped being funny.’ The tears were rolling down her cheeks, almost as though she didn’t know they were there. ‘Then he saw the doctor and had to have all these tests… well, you can imagine the rest. We got the diagnosis. We were both devastated and I promised to look after him. Henry was a high-powered accountant. Within a year of giving up work he couldn’t put together a shopping list.’ Martha paused to wipe her eyes. ‘It all happened so much more quickly than I thought it would. He started putting his shoes in the oven. He tried to give our microwave to the postman. And instead of eating his dinner, he’d hide it in the loft.’

  She stopped again to gather herself, and it was all Tony could
do not to take her in his arms. But he stayed where he was, at the opposite end of the kitchen.

  ‘And it carried on going downhill from there,’ Martha said quietly. ‘I did my best, I swear I did. But it was so much harder than I ever thought it would be. I was twenty-one years old when I married Henry. He was just the best husband any girl could ask for. I loved him so much… and he could do anything, you know? He was clever, he was practical, if anyone had a problem he was the one who’d solve it. One of our neighbors was desperate once when her plumber let her down. I mentioned it to Henry when he came home from work, and he spent the evening plumbing her toilet in.’ She shook her head. ‘But that was before. Then it all changed and I was the one who had to look after Henry. He started having mood swings, then temper tantrums. It wasn’t his fault, he was just scared and frustrated. But it was like trying to keep a six-foot toddler under control. He wasn’t… easy. And all the time you know it’s only going to get worse. I was having to feed him. And wash him. Brush his teeth.’ Martha’s voice broke. ‘It’s horrible. It’s so undignified. And I know I’d promised to look after him, but it was just the l-loneliest job in the w-world…’

  Tony said, ‘That’s why you told me you’d been on your own for a long time.’

  She nodded, struggling to regain control. ‘It is. But it wasn’t fair for me to say that. I let you think I was divorced. That was so wrong.’

  ‘It was completely understandable.’

  ‘No, it was… disgusting. And I’ve never been so ashamed.’

  ‘I interrupted.’ Tony made a scrolling-back gesture with his finger. ‘Carry on with the story.’

  ‘The story.’ Martha grimaced. ‘The one with no happy ending. OK, I carried on as long as I could. With help from Eunice,’ she amended. ‘She’s Henry’s sister. Very hardworking, very serious. But I owe her a lot. Anyway, a year ago it all got too much for me. I was exhausted, I just couldn’t cope anymore. I sold our big house in Notting Hill and bought this little one instead. Thanks to Henry, our finances were in good shape. And how did I repay him?’ She heaved a sigh. ‘By putting him in a nursing home. That was nice of me, wasn’t it? But you know what? If it had been the other way round, he wouldn’t have done that, I can guarantee you. Henry would have looked after me.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Oh, I do.’

  ‘He’s getting the best care. You visit him… who’s to say that isn’t better?’

  But Martha was giving him an odd look. Tony held up his hands in surrender. ‘I’m sorry. I followed you yesterday afternoon. I had to know.’

  She nodded slowly. ‘It was stupid of me to ignore you and hope you’d disappear. But you do see now, don’t you, why we can’t see each other again?’

  ‘It’s a terrible situation.’ All he wanted to do was comfort her and make the pain go away. ‘How is he now?’

  ‘Confused. Sad, sometimes. But he still recognizes me. He knows who I am. He calls me his beautiful wife.’ Martha’s expression changed. ‘And in return I betrayed him.’

  ‘When I saw you that day on the hill, you looked as if you didn’t have a care in the world,’ said Tony. ‘You seemed so happy. That was what drew me to you.’

  ‘I was happy.’ She inclined her head in agreement. ‘At first, after Henry went into the home, I was relieved. And every time I felt relieved, I felt guilty. My life had become easier and his hadn’t. I was ashamed of myself, I shouldn’t be happy. But as time went on, the guilt started to fade. For the last couple of months I’ve let myself relax and feel OK about my life. And, I don’t know, sometimes it all just comes together. I was outside on a beautiful summer’s day with the sun on my face. My painting was going well. That dear little boy came along with his ball and he was just adorable, and I suddenly realized I felt completely at peace. It was the most amazing experience, like having a great weight lifted off my shoulders.’ Martha gazed fixedly at the wall. ‘And then you came along, and you were lovely too. It was as if you were part of it.’

  So that was why she had wanted to give him the painting. The money aspect had been irrelevant, the fact that he’d loved her work was all that mattered.

  ‘And the next day was a continuation of that,’ said Tony.

  She nodded. ‘I still can’t believe I did it. You were just… so perfect. It was like taking a holiday from being myself. For a few hours I could be somebody else. I felt normal. No, I didn’t, I felt wonderful.’ Fresh tears sprang into her eyes. ‘It was like the best dream ever.’ Her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hands. ‘And then it was over, and I woke up.’

  ‘But it wasn’t a dream.’

  ‘I know that. I wish it had been. I was unfaithful to my husband and I hate myself. Which is why you have to leave me alone and not contact me. Because it’s never going to happen again.’

  Tony didn’t want to hear her saying this. ‘I don’t think what we did was wrong.’

  ‘That’s not true. Of course it’s wrong.’ Martha eyed him sadly. ‘You’re just trying to justify it.’

  ‘But there is a justification.’

  ‘For better, for worse. That’s what I said when I made my wedding vows.’

  ‘But that’s not—’

  ‘Don’t say it.’ Martha held up her hands to stop him. ‘This is my husband we’re talking about. Would you like to ask Eunice if she thinks there’s justification? What do you suppose her opinion would be? She lives just across the street, by the way. That afternoon we came back here, I knew she was away visiting friends in Stockport. Then when you turned up the next day, she was here. She’d come back early. And Eunice isn’t stupid. She doesn’t miss a trick. Which is why you have to go now.’

  This was unbearable. Tony said, ‘But I love you.’

  She flinched, the words hitting her like arrows. ‘Don’t say that either. It can’t happen. We had a moment together, but it was wrong. And it’s over. You’re a Hollywood actor and I’m an ordinary married woman from Tufnell Park.’

  ‘You’re not ordinary.’

  Martha pressed her lips together and crossed the kitchen. Out in the hall, she pulled open the front door.

  ‘I can’t do this anymore. You have your life to live and I have mine.’ She sounded as if her heart was breaking, but the look she gave him was resolute. ‘If you care about me, you’ll leave. Now.’

  Chapter 20

  A nasty riding accident seven years ago had left Dr Geraldine Castle with a broken left hip that had never successfully knitted back together. Now arthritis had set in as well, making the situation that much more difficult. It was, as she put it herself, a complete bugger. Walking was painful now, horse riding a thing of the past. High heels these days were only for looking at.

  It didn’t stop her buying them, though.

  Once a shoe queen, always a shoe queen.

  The postman, unable to deliver the parcel next door earlier, had left it with Ellie instead. Now back from lunch with an ex-work colleague, Geraldine had arrived to pick it up.

  ‘OK, you have to see these,’ she exclaimed. ‘They are just to die for!’

  Neither her limp nor her carved ebony walking stick detracted from her glamour. At sixty-one, innate style coupled with the posture of a model meant heads turned whenever Geraldine entered a room. Last year she had retired from a career in medicine, having spent many years in general practice.

  In the office, she sat down and unwrapped the parcel.

  ‘Oh, now, there you are. Hello!’ Having removed the lid of the box, she greeted the shoes like long-lost children. ‘Look at you! Aren’t you beautiful?’ She lifted them out and lovingly stroked the butter-soft lilac leather.

  ‘If a patient told you he talked to his shoes,’ Ellie pointed out, ‘you’d refer him to a psychiatrist.’

  ‘You know what? I probably would. But these are different.’ Geraldine was busy admiring the silver leather flowers on the front. ‘They’re a work of art. They demand adulation!’

  She trul
y loved them. Sometimes she would even wear them, but only whilst sitting down. Ellie watched her reverently place the shoes back in the box. ‘I prefer flip-flops.’

  ‘That’s because you’re a heathen,’ said Geraldine. ‘Where’s Zack today?’

  ‘Northampton. He’ll be back around six.’

  ‘You’ve been here for almost a month now.’ Geraldine’s eyes were bright as they searched her face. ‘Enjoying it?’

  ‘Definitely. No more getting squashed on the tube,’ Ellie said happily. ‘Bliss!’

  An eyebrow was raised. ‘That’s all, is it?’

  ‘And getting to see Elmo every day.’

  ‘Well, that goes without saying.’ Geraldine looked amused. ‘I was thinking more of Zack. Isn’t it a bonus getting to see him too?’

  Giving up work had left Geraldine with way too much time on her hands and a curiosity that knew no bounds. She was like a couples therapist in perpetual search of problems to solve. Probably because she was a doctor, there was no question she was too embarrassed to ask. It wasn’t the first time she had attempted to find out if Ellie was secretly harboring a crush on Zack.

  ‘He’s a good person to work for,’ Ellie said patiently.

  ‘And don’t forget handsome.’

  ‘Looks aren’t everything.’

  ‘But you don’t have a boyfriend.’ Geraldine had found out this much. ‘Surely you must find him attractive.’

  ‘OK, he’s nice to look at. But that’s all.’ Ellie shrugged. ‘Really.’

  ‘You mean it, don’t you? This is so disappointing.’ A fresh thought struck Geraldine. ‘Ooh,’ she said brightly. ‘Are you a lesbian?’

  The question provoked a bittersweet flashback moment; whenever Jamie had been in the mood for sex and she hadn’t, his standard jokey riposte had been, ‘How can you not want me? What are you, a lesbian?’

  But that had been then. This was now. Ellie smiled slightly and said, ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, shame. My friend’s daughter is a lesbian. I could have introduced you.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Zack’s so lovely, that’s all I’m saying.’

  ‘I’m sure Louisa thinks so too.’