by Joan Smith
JOAN SMITH
Don’t Leave Me This Way
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Coda
Chapter 1
Loretta gently unrolled the stocking over her left knee, taking care not to snag the fragile fabric, then stood up to make sure it wasn’t twisted before fastening the suspender. She stretched each leg in front of her admiringly, deciding it had been worth paying for real silk, and turned to the bed. The dress, an early Christmas present from Robert, lay neatly on the quilt where she had left it before her bath. There was no denying it was a beautiful garment, very much the sort of thing she would have chosen herself, but she felt a faint twinge of reluctance as she picked it up. She eased it gently over her head and down over her plain black slip, anxious not to damage the antique gold lace. It was a perfect fit, the dropped waist resting lightly on her hips, and she crossed the room eagerly to stand in front of the dressing-table mirror. She turned from side to side, enjoying the dramatic effect, but her uneasiness persisted. In the drawing-room a recording of Vivaldi drew to a close and she left the room to change it, puzzling over her feelings as she went downstairs. Perhaps it wasn’t the dress that was making her uncomfortable, but the fact that it was a Christmas present from Robert? She remembered the casual way he had handed it to her the previous Sunday evening, saying he was giving it to her early because she needed something to wear for the party they were going to on Christmas Eve. And now here she was, dressed up in one of the most beautiful outfits she had ever owned, and feeling – well, as if she, like the dress, was simply a possession. It wasn’t a good start to the evening, and she made an effort to shake off her awkward mood. She put the Vivaldi cassette back in its box and rummaged in her collection for something energetic and cheerful, settling on the Communards, whom she knew Robert loathed. She turned up the volume as the first song started and began to sing along, then let out a yelp.
‘Bertie!’ she exclaimed. ‘Look what you’ve done!’ She bent down to disentangle the cat’s claws from the hem of her dress, picking him up and giving him a quick stroke before returning him to his favourite place on the sofa. Then she surveyed the damage, of which there was fortunately very little; she was engrossed in pushing a stray gold thread through to the underside of the material when the phone rang. Loretta gave the dress a gentle shake, hoping its fragile seams would survive the evening without further mishap, and reached for the phone.
‘Hello?’ she called, raising her voice above the music. ‘Sorry, can you hold on a minute? I can’t quite hear – ’ She put down the receiver, went over to the stereo system and turned down the volume. ‘That’s better.’ She paused, waiting for the person at the other end of the line to reveal his or her identity.
‘It’s a bit early in the evening for a party, isn’t it?’ asked a woman’s voice, faintly quizzical. There was something familiar about it, although Loretta couldn’t immediately come up with a name. ‘Or are you just getting into the Christmas spirit?’
‘Um –’ Loretta hesitated, still no wiser. The caller, whose voice was low for a woman, gave a deep chuckle.
‘You haven’t a clue who I am, have you? Well, it has been a long time. This is Sandra – Sandra Neil.’
‘Sandra? Good God, you’re the last person I expected –’ The words were out before Loretta had time to reflect that her reaction had hardly been civil. ‘I mean – gosh, I am sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice.’
Sandra chuckled. ‘I obviously have caught you on the hop! How are you?’
I’m – I’m very well,’ Loretta said distractedly. How long was it since she had spoke to Sandra Neil? It couldn’t be less than four years, it might even be five. ‘What about you?’
Sandra gave a heavy sigh. ‘Frankly, I’m in a bit of a spot. That’s why I’m ringing you – I can’t tell you how relieved I was when you answered the phone. Everyone else I know in London seems to be out or has moved. I suppose I ought to have expected it on Christmas Eve. So – I’ve phoned to throw myself on your mercy.’
‘Oh my mercy?’ Loretta was immediately wary. She had not forgotten Sandra’s skill in extracting what she wanted, even from people who, like Loretta, didn’t like her very much.
‘Yes. To be honest, I’m in an absolutely bloody mess. My flat’s flooded, I can’t find a plumber, and the landlord’s away on holiday. I really am desperate.’
‘Where are you – where are you living these days?’ Loretta asked cautiously, wondering what was coming next. ‘Have you still got that flat in – Blackheath, is it?’
‘Good God, no, I haven’t lived there for years. I’ve been working away from London, as a matter of fact. I only came back a couple of weeks ago. I’ve got a new job, and I’ve rented a flat in Notting Hill –’
‘Oh dear, I don’t know any plumbers over that side of London. There’s quite a good one in Holloway Road, but I think he only does Islington. I can ask him, if you like? As it’s an emergency. . .’
‘Heavens, Loretta, I wasn’t expecting you to find me a plumber. Even if I could find one who was willing to come out, which I doubt, the place is going to take days to dry out. And he’d no doubt charge the earth, you know what they’re like. No, I rang to ask if you could put me up for a few days.’
‘Stay here, you mean?’ Loretta was aghast. ‘But – I’ve only got one bedroom. And I’ve got someone staying over Christmas,’ she added awkwardly, reluctant to mention Robert to Sandra.
‘God, you’re not back with that creepy husband of yours?’ Sandra demanded. ‘What’s his name – Lacey?’
‘Tracey,’ Loretta said sharply, ‘John Tracey. No, I’m not. He’s in the Middle East, as it happens, Cyprus. He isn’t coming back for Christmas. No, it’s – a friend.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. But even so, you must have a floor I can sleep on? Look, Loretta, put yourself in my position. How would you like it, Christmas Eve and up to your ankles in water?’
‘What about your husband?’ Loretta asked, suddenly bold. If Sandra could ask personal questions, so could she. ‘Can’t you stay with him?’
‘Hardly,’ Sandra said frostily. ‘He’s gone off skiing.’
‘But what about your children? Surely – I mean, aren’t you going to see them over Christmas?’
‘They’ve gone with him. We are separated, you know.’ Sandra scarcely bothered to hide the irritation in her tone. ‘Really, Loretta, I’ve been through all the alternatives. I’ve even tried a few hotels. But as I keep saying, it’s Christmas Eve.’
Loretta stifled a sigh. ‘You’d have to sleep on the sofa,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s a sofa-bed, actually, but –’
‘A sofa would be bliss,’ Sandra said feelingly, sensing that Loretta was giving way. ‘You won’t even know I’m there – really.’
Loretta doubted the truth of this promise, but was too polite to say so. ‘When do you want to come over?’ she asked in a resigned voice. ‘The thing is, I’m – we’re going out in about an hour, as soon as Robert gets here. Can you be here by then?’
‘What’s it now? Ten past seven. No problem, I’ll set off as soon as I’ve thrown a few things into a bag. What’s he like, by the way?’
‘Who?’
‘This Robert.’
‘He’s – well, you’ll meet him when you get here. Have you got the addr
ess?’
‘Yes, I found it in an old address book. Unless you’ve moved and taken your phone number with you.’
‘No, I’m still in Liverpool Road. Do you remember how to get here?’
‘I’ve got an A to Z. See you soon.’
There was a click as Sandra put the phone down. Loretta moved across the room, sitting down heavily on the sofa next to the grey cat. He immediately opened his yellow eyes, regarding her questioningly, and she began to stroke his head.
‘Bertie,’ she said ruefully, ‘what have I let myself in for?’ She remembered all the things she disliked about Sandra, trying and failing to convince herself that it was all a long time ago and the woman had probably changed for the better. Then there was Robert to be considered; the more Loretta thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that he and Sandra would get on. Nor would they be able to avoid each other since Loretta’s flat, while spacious for one person and a cat, certainly hadn’t been designed for three human beings.
‘Some Christmas this is going to be,’ Loretta told the cat, who had rolled over on his back and was purring loudly as she stroked his tummy. The scene with her mother, silent and tearful by turns on hearing that her elder daughter would not be arriving at the family home in Gillingham until the evening of Christmas Day, had been bad enough; now there was the imminent arrival of Sandra to contend with as well. . . Loretta curled her legs under her, careful not to put any strain on the material of her dress, and stared gloomily into space.
‘You look terr-ific,’ Robert said, putting his arm proprietorially around Loretta’s waist. He had a way of drawing out words as though he had discerned an extra syllable invisible to other people. ‘Those twenties things suit you, they go with your hair. That colour’s very good – gold and blonde. I knew that dress was you. It took me forever to find it. I was sure it was there somewhere, but I had to turn out half the loft.’
‘The loft?’ Loretta stopped just inside the drawing-room. Robert had arrived a few minutes before, and they were carrying their drinks through from the kitchen.
‘Yes. It belonged to my grandmother. I was looking through some old photos the other day and I suddenly remembered there was a trunk of her stuff up there. You should have a look through it some time.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t got you anything so exotic,’ Loretta said, thinking of the Fair Isle pullover she had wrapped up earlier in the day. ‘Or so historic. How was the traffic?’ she asked, changing the subject. Robert lived in a village in Oxfordshire, and his arrival in London was usually accompanied by stories of roadworks and traffic jams. She wanted time to absorb his revelation about her Christmas present: at least he hadn’t, as she feared, spent a small fortune on it; on the other hand, there was something peculiarly intimate about wearing a dress which had belonged to one of his closest female relatives.
‘The road was empty.’ Robert took a seat to one side of the smouldering fire. ‘Does this need more wood? I suppose it isn’t worth it, we won’t be here long. We-ell, here’s to Christmas.’
He raised his glass and Loretta did the same, smiling across the room at him. She noticed he was wearing a new tie, one with a vivid pattern of green and blue swirls. Loretta was still surprised, she didn’t know why, by the care with which Robert dressed. He was tall and thin, his features rather bony, and although she hadn’t been attracted to him at their first meeting she was now aware of a powerful physical reaction to his presence. She realized she had been staring at him and looked away, her face reddening, trying to conceal her embarrassment by paying extravagant attention to the cat.
‘Sorry?’ She looked up blankly.
‘Penny for them.’ Robert was smiling. ‘I was only remarking we ought to keep an eye on the time. When do we need to set off?’
Loretta looked at her watch. ‘Oh, we’ve got another ten minutes or so. I booked the table for half past eight. In fact – um, I’m expecting a friend to arrive any minute.’
‘A friend?’ Robert raised his eyebrows.
‘Well, someone I used to know a few years ago. She’s not exactly a friend – I’ve told you about the woman’s group I used to be in?’
‘Ye-es.’ Robert looked at her quizzically, but Loretta refused to be drawn. At times like this he reminded her of her estranged husband, who routinely referred to the women’s group as ‘the coven’ and blamed it, unfairly, for the breakup of his marriage to Loretta.
‘Sandra was in the group,’ she explained. ‘I haven’t spoken to her since – till an hour ago, that is. She seems to be in rather a mess, she rang and said her flat’s flooded and she’s got nowhere to sleep. So I said she could stay here. . .’ Loretta’s voice trailed off as she saw Robert frown. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want her here either – to be absolutely honest, I don’t even like her. I didn’t get on with her, right from the start. . . But what else could I do? It is Christmas Eve.’
Robert shrugged lightly. ‘You don’t have to apologize. It’s your flat. How long is she going to be here?’
‘Well, realistically, it’s only Thursday today ... I don’t suppose she’ll be able to get anything done till Monday at the earliest. But it needn’t affect us. I mean, I’m going to my mother’s tomorrow evening, so it’s only really a day –’
‘Just as well I brought two pheasants,’ Robert said. ‘I take it she’ll be here for lunch tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know,’ Loretta said. ‘We didn’t go into that. She may already have something arranged. . . But don’t worry, I can do the cooking. Another drink? She should be here any minute.’
‘I hope so,’ said Robert. ‘All right, I suppose I might as well – don’t get up. Can I get you something?’
He took Loretta’s glass and went into the kitchen, leaving her to reflect that he hadn’t taken the news of her unwanted guest too badly. She sighed, and looked at her watch again: almost twenty past eight. Where had Sandra got to? She looked up as Robert came back into the room.
‘Do you think one of us should ring the restaurant?’ he asked, echoing her thoughts. ‘If she doesn’t arrive soon. . . It’s only fair to warn them.’
‘I can’t understand it,’ Loretta said, taking her gin and tonic from his outstretched hand. ‘It was just after seven when she rang, ten past in fact. She should have been here ages ago.’
‘Where did you say she was coming from?’ Robert sat down beside her, draping his arm along the back of the sofa.
‘Notting Hill. She’s just moved there, apparently. She lived in Blackheath when I knew her.’
‘In that case, she really should be here by now. I came in on the Euston Road and it was clear all the way. Have you got a number for her?’
‘No. I didn’t think – it didn’t occur to me that she’d be late.’
‘You don’t think she’s changed her mind?’
‘It doesn’t seem very likely,’ Loretta said sharply, irritated by Robert’s questions. ‘I mean, she’s not going to think, oh, I might as well stay here after all, the water’s quite pleasant when you get used to it.’
Immediately regretting the way she had spoken, Loretta glanced at Robert and carried on in a more conversational tone. ‘Especially not Sandra. She wasn’t very happy with where she was living when I met her – she’d just qualified, it was her first job as a social worker, and she didn’t have much money. She hated her flat, she said she couldn’t get used to living in such – such inferior accommodation.’ Loretta smiled weakly. ‘The rest of us couldn’t understand why she didn’t move to a cheaper area, somewhere with more space. I don’t think she’d ever been short of money before.’
‘She’s younger than you, then?’ Robert asked. ‘I must have the wrong impression – from what you’ve said I thought you were all about the same age. You don’t talk about it – the women’s group – much, do you? But if she’d only just started work –’
‘Oh, she didn’t start her training till her children were – I don’t know how old they were, but she seemed to feel s
he could leave them. I think they may have been away at school or something. She did her training in London, I don’t know why – I don’t know much about how you train for social work. I can’t remember how old she is exactly, but I know she’s older than me. Thirty-six, thirty-seven – something like that.’
‘What about her husband? I presume she had one?’
‘Oh yes. He lives in the country somewhere – Hampshire, I think. Where on earth can she have got to? Typical Sandra –’ Loretta stopped, deciding not to reveal any more of her prejudices to Robert. ‘You’re quite right, I’d better ring the restaurant.’
She got up and went to the phone, picking up the receiver with one hand while opening the E to K telephone directory with the other. She found the number she wanted, dialled it, and warned the waiter who answered that they might be late, assuring him that they would arrive by nine at the very latest.
‘If she isn’t here by then,’ Loretta said worriedly, putting down the phone, ‘I suppose I could leave a note on the front door. . . It’s a pity Shahin’s away, or she could have let her in – she’s got a key.’ Shahin was an Iranian exile who had recently bought the flat downstairs. ‘I really am –’
She was interrupted by the welcome sound of the buzzer in the hall. She went to the entryphone, picked it up, and heard Sandra’s voice at the street door two floors below. Loretta pressed a button to release the lock.
‘It’s her,’ she called ungrammatically to Robert, opening the front door of the flat. She was immediately assailed by the sound of someone struggling through the street door, slamming it, and coming noisily up the stairs. A second later Sandra appeared round the bend.
‘My God, I’d forgotten your stairs.’ She was out of breath, weighed down by a suitcase in one hand and a holdall in the other.
‘Here, let me help you,’ Loretta offered, going down a few steps to meet her guest and taking the holdall. The bag was heavier than she expected, and part of a nightdress was trailing out of one end where the zip had not been fully fastened.