by Lulu Taylor
‘I was doing you a favour,’ Sara said coolly. ‘Otherwise you might have not kept him as long as you did. Now you’ve guessed, you may as well know the whole truth.’
Nicholas made the engine roar into life to drown out anything else Sara might say, and Caitlyn slid quickly into her seat, shutting the door with a slam. ‘I’m finished with all of it now, thanks. Have a nice day. Bye.’
‘You can’t get away from it that easily!’ Sara snapped. ‘You can’t run away from it, I won’t let you!’
‘Try and stop me.’
Reading his cue, Nicholas pulled out into the road and they set off down the street. Caitlyn watched in the rear-view mirror as Sara headed back to her car. ‘Nicely done,’ he said to Caitlyn. ‘I think she got the message.’
But a moment later, Sara’s car pulled out into the road after them. Nicholas had to stop at the end of the street, and by the time a space had cleared to pull out onto the main road, she was immediately behind them.
‘Oh God,’ Nicholas muttered, glancing up into the mirror to look back at the car on their tail. ‘She’s following us.’
‘She has to come this way,’ Caitlyn said. ‘She’ll probably turn off.’
Sara stayed with them all the way to the ring road, followed them tightly round the roundabout and out onto the A34.
Caitlyn watched her with growing unease. ‘You’re right. She’s definitely following us. Can we lose her without doing anything stupid?’
‘Even being stupid, we’d have a job. Her car is a bit more powerful than this old thing, which is all bluster and no trousers, I’m afraid. And it’s more or less a straight dual carriageway all the way from here to the house. We just have to hope for some luck.’
‘We mustn’t lead her to Kings Harcourt. If we don’t lose her soon, we’ll have to turn around.’ Caitlyn was filled with a nasty mix of anger and anxiety. Had she pushed Sara too far? I can see now that that’s why I always played it safe with her. I never wanted to find out how far she would go. I didn’t want to see her nasty side.
A normal person would have been ashamed at being caught out having an affair with the husband of her oldest friend. Perhaps she would have retired, humbled. But no. Not Sara. She was doing me a favour, apparently! She wanted a confrontation and she would have it, no matter what.
That’s what my power is. I can refuse to take part. I won’t give her what she wants.
‘Okay,’ Nicholas said, his voice low and serious, ‘if we don’t lose her soon, we turn around.’
The children, unable to hear the conversation in the front seat with the wind whipping around them, were oblivious to the reason why Nicholas suddenly pulled out into the outside lane and accelerated hard. He had chosen a moment that put him just ahead of a stream of traffic that made it impossible for Sara to pull out after them. He kept his foot down as they zoomed along at the MG’s top speed, the faster cars behind nudging a little at their rear and flashing them to move over.
‘Just a bit longer,’ Nicholas said, his hands gripping the wheel, ‘just to be sure . . .’
Then, suddenly, he moved over to the adjacent lane, flicked on his indicator again and took an exit that Caitlyn had hardly seen coming.
‘Bit of a detour.’ He grinned at Caitlyn as he braked and the engine’s roar subsided. ‘But I think it’s worth it. We’ve lost her.’
*
With Sara now consigned to follow the A34 not knowing they had exited, Caitlyn’s mood lifted and she felt a small swell of triumph. She and Nicholas were joined together in a bond of victory.
The drive was soothing. The bitter feelings Sara’s appearance had stirred up began to settle, and the beauty of the countryside started to work its magic. As they came into the little village just before Kings Harcourt, she was overwhelmed by its picturesqueness.
Really, it’s absurdly beautiful.
The village houses and shops had been gently rubbed by the centuries to a dull, golden gleam, and stone walls were bedecked with climbing roses and clematis. There was still a village shop, she noticed, and an artisan tea room and bakery with windows full of rows of patisserie in delectable colours of passionfruit and raspberry.
Once through the village, they turned right at the lane with its old fingerpost pointing down to Kings Harcourt. In a moment the house was in view, approached almost side on, its windows facing out over the fields towards the village and the spire of the church.
If this were mine, I would never leave it. As they approached she thought wistfully of Patrick – the one she had known before all these sordid revelations. He would have loved this place. Perhaps we both could have been happy in a house like this, away from the city and all its pressures and people and the way it made us feel. She wished that they had had the chance to try out a different life, where Patrick would have been home more, and Max would have lived with them all the time and perhaps they’d have had more children to fill a house and make a garden ring with shouts and laughter.
Far away from Sara and her manic world, all her pretence and manicured fiction.
Nicholas turned the car in between the gateposts and pulled to a halt behind the main house. At the back, it was more ramshackle than the gorgeous front implied. An old pigsty seemed to be attached to it, along with various outhouses and sheds. Behind the house, the woods appeared very close. The trees were in full leaf now, bursting with a lime-green haze, and the grasses and hedgerows had sprouted into shaggy life. There was the buzz of insects and bright birdsong and everything seemed full of vigour.
‘This is wonderful,’ Caitlyn said, as they marched out carrying the picnic basket, over the velvet grass of the tended lawns and out towards the meadow. They walked away from the woods with their pheasant pens, and out over wild grass sprinkled with tiny blue and yellow flowers and alive with bees hovering between them.
Max and Coco seemed to be getting on famously and they engaged in a busy game of frisbee while Nicholas and Caitlyn laid out the picnic. It was a feast of salads, cheeses, cured meats and fresh bread, followed by strawberries and tiny honey meringues, with dollops of thick cream on top. The children drank ginger beer while Nicholas popped open a bottle of cold champagne.
‘I’ve been saving it for a special occasion,’ he said, ‘and this seemed appropriate.’
The children got up to play again and the grown-ups watched from their rug, Caitlyn enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face and arms. She felt as if she were being slowly but thoroughly defrosted.
Nicholas observed the children, his champagne glass balanced on one knee and the sunshine glittering on his dark glasses. ‘Max seems like a great kid,’ he said. ‘He looks like you.’
‘Does he?’ Caitlyn was surprised. ‘People always say he looks like Patrick.’
‘Well, I suppose as I didn’t meet Patrick, it’s you I see most of all.’
She felt suddenly deeply grateful that he hadn’t met Patrick and never would. That part of her life and this – whatever it was – were separate. The knowledge that she had finally made the break with Sara after all this time was a relief but she felt too that she had been kicked back to the first rawness of Patrick’s death because she was, in a way, losing him all over again.
She watched the children running about for a moment, then said, ‘I think Coco is amazing. So confident and articulate. I’m sure I wasn’t like that at twelve.’
Nicholas smiled proudly. ‘Yes, she’s wonderful. It’s awful living so far away from her, but having her in my life at all is the greatest thing there is. I’m working on her mother to send her over here for school in a few years. Coco could come to Oxford, she’s plenty smart enough, and her mother definitely would like that. So the idea is that she’ll come here for her sixth form to prepare for university entrance. That’s only a few years away now.’
Caitlyn took a sip of the cold champagne which she was surprised to find she enjoyed very much. ‘You obviously adore her.’
Nicholas smiled at her, his eyes invisible beh
ind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. ‘Maybe I’m prone to adoring,’ he said in a low voice.
A prickle went over her skin, lifting the hairs on her arms. She guessed he meant for her to understand something. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she’d been wondering if he thought there might be something between them. Not now – it was far too soon for that – but one day. ‘That’s nice,’ she said quietly. Then added, ‘You’re a good friend. Thank you.’
Nicholas put down his glass, and leapt up, suddenly buoyant. ‘Come on, let’s play frisbee!’ he shouted, and grabbed her arm to help her up, so they could run and join the children in the sun-warmed, scented meadow.
After lunch, they packed up and made their way back to the house to say hello to Geraldine. She was awake and perky in her sitting room, and talked a while with the children who were both very good at sitting quietly and conversing politely with a lady in her nineties.
Geraldine sent Coco and Max to find Renee in the kitchen, where some biscuits had been freshly baked, and then turned to Nicholas and Caitlyn. ‘Well, my dears, how very nice to see you both together again. And to see your children here too. It makes me very happy.’
‘Aunt, it’s a bit upsetting how eager you are to get me settled down.’ Nicholas laughed.
‘Is it any surprise?’ retorted his aunt. ‘You’re getting old! You need a wife and a proper home instead of being an eternal student.’
Nicholas turned a sideways gaze to Caitlyn. ‘Aunt Geraldine doesn’t realise that I’m not a student. I teach students, remember?’
His aunt looked at him fondly. ‘Because you’re a very clever boy. And I’m sure Caitlyn is a clever girl too.’ Geraldine looked at Caitlyn. ‘And I understand you’re moving in next week. What an excellent time of year to arrive. The house is quite at its best in the summer.’
‘We’re looking forward to it,’ Caitlyn said sincerely. She felt safe here. Protected. Hidden. ‘I’m going to show Max around a bit now, so he knows the place.’
‘Good idea,’ said Geraldine. ‘Nicholas can stay here and keep me company.’
Caitlyn went off to find Max and Coco in the kitchen.
They drove back to Oxford more slowly than they’d come, the fresh evening air ruffling their hair as they went. In Caitlyn’s quiet street there was no sign of Sara’s car and the atmosphere was warm and quiet, a holiday evening.
‘Come in for a bit,’ suggested Caitlyn. She rustled up pasta for Max and Coco and they ate it in front of a movie, while she and Nicholas talked quietly in the kitchen. Now that they were away from Kings Harcourt and its seductive atmosphere, Sara and her unpredictability became an issue again.
‘Do you think she’ll still be following you?’ Caitlyn said, loading the dishwasher as they talked.
‘Who knows? Maybe she’ll give up now. She must guess where my loyalties lie. She can’t try the same trick twice.’ Nicholas gathered up the pots and put them in the sink full of soapy water. ‘Or maybe she’ll just back off altogether.’
‘I think it might be too much to hope for.’
Nicholas plunged his hands into the kitchen sink to scrub the pots. ‘Whatever happens, I’m in it with you, okay? You’re not alone.’
She was filled with a sudden affection for him. ‘Thank you, Nick.’ She smiled at him. ‘Who would have thought we’d end up here, like this? Doing the washing-up together while we talk about Sara.’
‘It is strange,’ he conceded. ‘But life has a way of bringing you full circle. That’s what I’ve found anyway.’ He looked down at the pot in his hands, concentrating on it hard, and then he looked up. His expression was hard to read. ‘So you decided to look in Patrick’s email again, did you? That’s how you found the picture?’
‘Yes. And that reminds me. Look.’ She went and got Patrick’s phone and brought up the second picture. ‘It says “Look for the snake in the grass”. What do you think it means?’
Nicholas frowned. ‘It sounds like he means Sara – the snake in the grass.’
‘Yes, but it’s right next to a picture of her. I mean, I found her. I don’t need to keep on looking.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘And it’s a weird way to describe her, if they were having an affair. He’d be just as bad – even worse, really.’
Nicholas looked puzzled. ‘I don’t know then. Does it sound like him?’
‘Yes, it does. He liked leaving me clues.’ She sighed. ‘But I’m not sure if I even know Patrick any more, not now I’ve found out what he was really up to.’
‘So he wasn’t the unfaithful type?’
‘Having an affair would have been really out of character. With Sara – well, I would have said it was impossible. But all this proof . . .’
Nicholas put another clean pan on the tray to drain. ‘It changes how you feel about him.’
‘It has to,’ Caitlyn said in a small voice. ‘I hate it, but there’s no way round it. Patrick isn’t who I thought he was after all. And that’s the worst thing, the most heartbreaking thing about it.’ Grief, bitter and painful, was suddenly hard in her chest. ‘I don’t know who I’m mourning, or what my marriage meant.’
Nicholas came over and hugged her, his hands hot and still soapy from the water. His nearness and warmth were deeply comforting. ‘I’m so sorry. You’ve been through a horrible, dreadful time. This must make it worse.’
She nodded, pressing her face into the solidity of his shoulder. The hug was everything she needed. ‘It does.’
‘Don’t doubt him too much, Caitlyn. Patrick sounds like a tricky customer to me. I’m sure someone like him would always be two steps ahead. Let’s see what happens, and keep looking for that snake in the grass.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tommy ran, hardly knowing where to go. The children were asleep, she couldn’t disturb them. She stood on the landing, tears falling down her face, unable to decide where she might be able to hide away.
‘Tommy.’ Fred came swiftly up the stairs. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He took her in his arms and hugged her. ‘What a horrible thing to hear. You should never have to endure something like that. It was repellent to witness.’
‘My mother can’t bear me. She thinks I’m the lowest of the low.’ Tommy sniffed, determined not to sob on his chest, but the temptation to pour out all the hurt she had suffered over the years was strong.
‘But why? Why on earth? When you’re so wonderful, so strong and beautiful?’
‘She doesn’t think that and never has.’ There was a noise in the hall downstairs and Tommy froze, then said in a low voice, ‘I feel as though we’re surrounded by spies.’
‘Come on.’ He pulled her by the hand. ‘Let’s go to my room. We can be quiet there.’ In his room, he drew the curtains around his bed. ‘Now we can be doubly sure we won’t be overheard.’
‘If they know we’re in this room together, they’ll only think the worst.’
‘Let them. They can’t think worse than they do.’
She managed a weak smile. ‘All right.’
They climbed onto the high mattress behind the curtains. Fred lay back against the pillows and beckoned Tommy to him. She lay down next to him in the crook of his arm, comforted by his nearness. ‘What do you think about all this terrible mess?’ she asked him.
‘I believe that the last thing Roger wants to do is marry Barbara. And he’ll consign himself to a lifetime of misery if he does. He’s angry and she’s poured poison into his ears. A regular little Borgia. He was ripe to listen as well, and that’s my fault.’
‘How?’
‘I’ve not given him my full attention. He was jealous.’
‘What on earth was he jealous of?’
‘Of you, of course. Because he could see that I’d fallen in love with you.’ He looked at her earnestly. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do.’ She smiled weakly but happily. ‘I know because I feel the same.’
Fred shook his head. ‘Then why have we suffered so much o
ver it all?’
‘To spare ourselves – and others – pain. You knew Roger hated the idea of us being together.’
‘Yes. But I’ve always been honest with him. He knows I don’t feel that way about men, and there’s no chance that will change. I’ve told him that if he wants that from me, then I must never see him again. So he hasn’t asked. Knowing he can’t have that relationship with me, and seeing me want you, must have been a potent mix. That’s Barbara’s cleverness. She’s seen all our weaknesses and played on them beautifully to get what she wants.’
Tommy shook her head. ‘But how can she want to marry a man who can’t love her?’
‘You know why. Security. It’s a cold and hard world out there.’
‘Yes.’ Tommy sighed a trembling breath. ‘And now we both have to leave.’
‘That’s nonsense. I’ll go, of course, and I’ll write to your mother and Roger and explain the truth. We never intended to go through with a swap.’
‘Perhaps I might have considered it,’ Tommy said. ‘But I don’t think in the end I could have.’
‘Well, I’ll do my best to explain. But you must stay here. You shouldn’t surrender the field to Barbara just like that. And where would you go?’
‘I have friends in London I can stay with. I’d have to leave the children, though, until I found a place to live. I think it would only be a week or so. I don’t want to leave them with Barbara longer than I have to, although I know Gerry will take care of them. It’s poor Molly I feel for. The cat’s a better mother than Barbara is.’
Fred turned to look at her, his expression serious. ‘Tommy, you mustn’t go. I mean it.’
‘But I want to. I can’t stay here, while my mother thinks of me the way she does.’
‘I can’t imagine why she threw such a ghastly insult at you,’ Fred said, his voice tense with anger at the memory. ‘No mother should say such a thing.’
‘She’s very old fashioned. Quite a puritan. She can’t stand talk of love or relationships, or face up to any truths about people. Everything has to be proper. Underneath it all, she’s a seething mass of sex obsession, I expect.’ Tommy laughed wryly. ‘But you see . . .’ She shifted a little awkwardly. She was wary of telling the facts of her life, in case she provoked the same reaction in Fred that she had in her mother. She was afraid that love would disappear and never come back. But I trust him. And if I can’t tell him, there’s no hope for us.