*
‘Well we didn’t see any owls – or ghosts, did we?’ Martin laughed as he unlocked the wooden door to the centre. ‘Mind you, it’s probably a bit early for ghosts. This used to be a barn, until it was converted to the visitor’s centre.’
‘I think Lorna and Nicky came here once with the school.’
‘They probably did. We get lots of school parties here. I’m supposed to say that I enjoy showing the kids around, but I don’t. I like some children individually, but en masse they’re a different matter.’ Jenny wondered if he would like Lorna and Nicky. She didn’t like them herself sometimes. She followed him to the rear of the centre. ‘Here we are – enter,’ he gave a low sweep with his right hand. ‘This is where I spend quite a few hours each week, too many sometimes.’ Jenny walked into a small square room. ‘Sit down and make yourself at home – tea or coffee?’
‘Coffee would be good.’ He disappeared into an adjoining room. Jenny could hear him whistling as she looked around. Files covered an old wooden desk, while on a dusty windowsill stood an even dustier spider plant, its many off-shoots dangling to the floor. The walls were covered with posters.
He came back into the room carrying two mugs of steaming coffee. ‘I bought some chocolate biscuits earlier. I hope you like them.’ He placed the drinks on the table and went over to a cupboard and produced a tin that showed New Forest ponies munching grass on the lid. ‘You’re not dieting or anything, I hope?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Jenny laughed as she thought the last thing she needed to do at the moment was to diet. The tension and excitement of the past few weeks were doing a good enough job. She put the mug to her lips, took a sip and placed it on the table. ‘It’s a bit too hot to drink at the moment.’
‘I’ll show you around then while they cool down.’
Jenny followed him out into the visitor’s centre. The walls were covered with colourful posters showing downland and estuary plants, birds, mammals and insects. Glass cases sloped downwards from the walls. Fossils and flint axes were displayed with labels showing when and where they were found. Jenny lingered by a “Shepherd’s Crown”. She read “Birling Gap 1979”.
‘We find a lot of those in the chalk,’ said Martin.
‘Does anyone else work here with you?’
‘Not permanently. I have volunteers all year who help with the management, and a university student comes in the holidays. It’s not lonely here, there’s always plenty of visitors.’
Jenny ran her fingers along the top of the glass as she walked along, trying to concentrate on what lay beneath. She was aware of Martin inches behind her.
‘You’ve got a barn owl,’ Jenny spoke softly as she reached the corner. The stuffed bird looked down at them from a wooden bough.
‘Yes, we’ve got some more birds over there.’
‘Where?’ Jenny turned. He was almost touching her. The air between them quivered with longing.
‘Over there.’ Martin looked straight into her eyes.
This is it, she thought, and lifted her hand to touch his hair.
‘Come here,’ he whispered.
*
‘I suppose this is when I’m meant to say I’m sorry, and that I didn’t mean this to happen. But I can’t Jenny, because I’m not sorry, and I did.’ He lifted his head from between her breasts and kissed her tenderly on her lips. ‘Is it uncomfortable for you lying here?’
‘I haven’t noticed, at least it’s carpeted of a sort. I’m not sorry either.’ She covered his face with kisses. She had never felt so complete.
‘Mmm,’ he gave a deep sigh. ‘I could stay like this all night, but, it must be getting late. I’ll go and make us a drink. The others must be stone cold by now.’ He smiled at her, the skin around his eyes crinkling. He sat up and looking around, laughed out loud. ‘Look at our clothes.’
Jenny joined in his laughter. ‘How did they get over there?’
‘I don’t remember.’ He laughed again.
’Nor do I.’ Jenny watched him as he staggered to his feet and found his underpants, then his socks and trousers. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He covered her body with his shirt. ‘This will keep you warm.’
Jenny sat up, the ghostly mask of the owl watching as she gathered her clothes.
‘Coffee’s made. Come and sit in here,’ Martin called from his office.
Jenny smoothed her jumper over her trousers and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to untousle it.
‘We’ll try again, shall we?’ He smiled sardonically, as Jenny entered the room. He placed two chairs side by side.
The fading light cast shadows across the desk as Jenny sipped her coffee. She was a married woman with two children. Suppose he didn’t want to meet her again? She couldn’t bear it. But he was married too. He took both of her hands in his.
‘I should have done this earlier,’ he said. ‘I wanted to, but, I couldn’t.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Jenny remembered how she had reached out to him earlier on the beach. It had to be all or nothing.
‘If you drive back soon, you shouldn’t be too late. You should get home before it’s too dark.’
‘What will you say?’ Jenny said, not adding his wife’s name.
‘Don’t worry about me. I’ll think of something.’ Martin walked over to a filing cabinet. ‘I’ve got a meeting in Chichester tomorrow, so I need to take a file home with me.’
Jenny stared at his back as he rummaged through the metal cabinet and wondered where they would go from here.
‘We’d better go.’ Martin shut his office door behind them and they walked past the spot where they had made love. ‘I won’t be able to forget you now will I? Not that I could before.’ He drew her to him and kissed her tenderly. After padlocking the wooden door to the centre, they walked hand in hand in silence across the road. Jenny panicked, as she felt for her car keys in her trouser pocket. Should she say something?
‘Jenny, do you want to meet here again next Tuesday?’
Do I want to? Do I want to? It’s too late for that. ‘Yes, of course I want to.’
They kissed again, and tried to draw apart, but embraced twice more.
‘I can’t bear to leave you,’ Jenny whispered. ‘Shall I phone you here if there’s a problem?’
‘Yes, the number’s in the book. I’ll see you here the same time next week then.’ He held her car door open. ‘Take care driving back.’
‘You’re late,’ Robert said as Jenny walked passed the open door.
She went into the kitchen and sat down. She couldn’t face going straight into the lounge as she usually did. She opened the hatch. ‘I’ll be in, in a minute. Would you like some tea?’ Robert never drank coffee.
‘Yes, if you’re making one. We’ve lost some more ships.’
‘I’ll be in soon.’ Jenny felt in her trouser pocket and removed the stem of glasswort. She turned it over in her hand and took an eggcup from the cupboard. Adding a little water she placed it on the windowsill. Did that really happen tonight? She hadn’t expected it. But what had she expected – a few kisses and a cuddle? She had spent enough time making sure she looked attractive for him. She lingered in the kitchen after she had made the tea.
‘Jenny – are you coming in?’
‘Yes, just coming.’
‘Here you are.’ She handed Robert his tea.
‘Come and sit here with me.’ He moved the newspaper along the sofa.
Jenny sat down in the armchair opposite. ‘The class went on a bit longer this evening.’
‘It’s your last one next week isn’t it?’ he looked across at her.
‘It might not be. Someone asked Andrew if we could go on some field trips, now that it’s summer; so they might go on a bit longer.’
15
July 1982
‘I hate you having to lie,’ Martin said as he lay on his back in the grass.
‘Saying I’m going on a field trip isn’t really lying. I’m just being economical wit
h the truth.’
The temperature had reached eighty-six degrees earlier that afternoon. The newscaster had said that it was the hottest day of the year so far. They left the Land Rover at the end of the concrete road and walked across the Downs for half a mile to a hollow screened by a trio of gorse bushes. Jenny turned on her side and raising herself on one elbow smiled down at him thinking that she would say anything to be with him. ‘You have to be economical too, don’t you?’ Jenny picked a stalk of grass and ran it up his neck, and down to the edge of his forest of chest hair.
‘I do, but I can always say that it’s to do with work. You can’t go on field trips indefinitely.’
Martin reached into his jeans and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. ‘You don’t mind do you Jenny?’
‘ ‘No, of course not.’ If Robert has asked the same question, she would have said she did mind, and start to nag him. That was the difference – she loved this man. It was impossible for her to refuse him anything.
‘I haven’t done this before. I want you to know that,’ he flicked his lighter and drew deeply on the cigarette.
‘I should hope not.’ Jenny grinned and covered his lips with her own, devouring the tobacco. ‘Neither have I. You’ve made a scarlet woman of me, Mr Barretti.’
‘My mother used to say that.’
‘What – you’ve made a scarlet woman of me?’ she laughed out loud.
‘No, well not exactly that. She might have said it to my father though,’ he laughed. ‘She always used to call him Mr Barretti when she was cross with him, which was quite often.’
‘Well I’m certainly not cross with you.’ She covered his face with kisses. ‘I remember your sister being angry with you at her birthday party, that day you invited me round. She accused you of taking something from her room. I can’t remember what.’
‘I can. I took some of her birthday money. I wanted to buy you a record. I owned up the next day, and paid her back.’
‘I remember wishing my hair was straight like hers, instead of wavy and unmanageable.’
‘She’s blonde now – it doesn’t suit her, but she won’t have it. She thinks she’s one of Charlie’s Angels. Anyway I love your hair wavy and unmanageable. I can bury myself in it.’ He pushed her back on the grass, rolled on top of her and pressed his mouth hard against hers. ‘Look what you do to me. If we stay here any longer I won’t be responsible for my actions for the second time this evening, and you’ll be very late home.’ He stood up, fastened the belt on his jeans, reached out his hand and pulled Jenny to her feet. ‘We’ve got quite a walk back. I was tempted once. It was a girl at the bank; we were on a course. It’s usually at work where these things happen, isn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t know. It certainly couldn’t happen at Celia’s,’ Jenny said, fastening the buttons on her blouse.
‘But I didn’t want to risk my marriage.’
But you are now, she thought. She didn’t know whether to feel pleased that he felt so passionately about her, or jealous that he had once considered someone else. He must have fancied Marilyn too. Does he still? The question lingered. He had confided in her though. That brought them closer. Perhaps she could confide something too? The sun was still high as they walked down the chalk path.
‘You look deep in thought, the way you’re biting your lower lip. Are you worried about something?’
Jenny’s ankle twisted on a large flint. Martin reached out to steady her. ‘Careful, are you alright?’
‘I was adopted – as a baby,’ she said.
‘Were you?’ he smiled at her. ‘My best friend at school was adopted. Dave, David Warlow – I don’t think you knew him. He didn’t come to the youth club. We were at junior school together, but lost touch after we moved. Men aren’t very good at keeping in contact. He was always boasting that his real dad was a G.I. We all thought he was lying, but it was probably true. His birthday was at the end of 1944. He was always playing cowboys and Indians. Mind you we all did back then.’
Jenny remembered her cousin Alan as a boy, wearing his Indian headdress.
‘Does it worry you?’
‘Not now. It did when I first found out.’
‘You found out. Your parents – didn’t tell you?’
‘No.’
‘So did they say who your parents were?’
‘Only that my father was a soldier from South Africa, and my mother was a young girl. That’s enough for me. I don’t want to know anymore than that. I loved my parents.’ Jenny brought the topic to an end. They had both confided in the other. They were equal.
‘South Africa, so we both have foreign roots then.’ Martin put his arm around her shoulders. ‘We better get a move on if we’re going to have time for a drink.’
They clambered over a stile and quickened their pace across the short turf. ‘There’s a badger’s sett on the other side of this field. There were some youngsters there the other evening, we might see them if we’re lucky.’
16
July 1982
‘I’ll think I’ll have an early night. What about you Jen?’
… Cape Town occupies one of the world’s most stunning locations. Take the cable car to the top of Table Mountain, where to the south you can see Cape Point and look across to Robben Island in Table Bay…‘I’ll just finish this chapter first.’ She knew the code. An early night meant only one thing. Initially, when she had thought about it at all, she had decided that seeing Martin didn’t have to threaten her marriage. They could carry on meeting, sharing their lives, her joy spilling over into everyday life. One of Lorna’s friends had remarked on it just last week, on a day trip to London.
‘Your mum’s so much more fun than mine,’ she had heard Sarah say as they had waited for an hour in the queue outside Madame Tussauds.
‘Yeah, she has been lately,’ Lorna had replied, and cupped one hand over her mouth and whispered something to her friend. They had both burst into fits of giggles.
Two weeks earlier she had taken Nicky on a day trip to Duxford, enthusing with him every time they clambered up into the metal bodies of the planes and were shown the controls. The previous weekend she went to a cricket match – in Croydon, of all places – to watch Robert play. All these things she had done willingly. The problem was sex. It had been easy in Egypt, where there were other distractions and the distance from home liberating. They had returned home full of Middle-Eastern promise. For a few months the promise was fulfilled. Even when she began meeting Martin, her happiness ensured a generosity of response when Robert reached for her in bed. But once they had made love, everything changed. A few weeks ago, they had invited some friends over for Sunday lunch; they had just left, when she noticed Robert staring at her.
‘Have you changed your hair Jen? You look different lately. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about you. More confident perhaps, that’s it; you’re more confident. It’s very sexy.’
He had been right. She had changed. Everything that had been an effort before was easy; except for one thing.
Robert had come over and pulled her towards him, running his hands up and down her back, and whispering in her ear, ‘I’ll do the clearing up later, let’s go upstairs? The kids are in the garden. We can lock the door just in case.’
‘I’m expecting a call from Celia.’
‘Let her ring back.’
‘No, it would spoil it if she rings.’
‘I’ll take the phone off the hook then.’
‘No.’
Robert’s face dropped. The tone of her voice had been enough. He sighed, walked out of the room and opened the cellar door.
*
‘Are you coming up?’ Robert’s words booming down the stairs returned her thoughts to the present.
Jenny put a bookmark between the pages describing the Cape Winelands, and with a heavy heart walked from room to room, checking that all light switches and sockets were turned off, and that the front and back doors were locked.
‘What on earth h
ave you been doing down there?’ Robert sat naked on his side of the bed, splashing aftershave across his evening stubble. The small bedside lamp on Jenny’s side threw a beam of soft light across their bed.
He’s so predictable, she thought as she slipped between the sheets. No, that’s unfair. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s a good man. He’s never done anything to hurt me, but I don’t want him.
Sliding alongside his wife, Robert ran his hand up Jenny’s thigh.
‘No, I’m sorry Robert, I’ve got my period.’ She pushed his hand away.
‘You said that last week. You can’t still have it.’ He pushed her nightdress up over her hips.
‘It’s been lasting longer lately.’
‘Well, it can’t be that bad now. It was nearly two weeks ago. I’ll just lie on top of you.’
She knew what he was thinking; that once he started to arouse her she was bound to respond – period or not. He rubbed his penis against her stomach and moved slowly downwards. He was right, she thought, as she parted her legs, and turned her head to avoid his kisses. As Robert thrust against her, she thought of Martin and imagined him and his wife in bed. Jealousy surged like a tsunami. She couldn’t bear the idea of him with anyone else. What did Marilyn look like? Her chest tightened at the thought of her. She gasped for breath.
‘See, you’re enjoying it too,’ Robert muttered breathlessly, then groaned and collapsed, pinning her to the mattress.
17
July 1982
Jenny parked on the narrow road that encircled the green. Cricket stumps bent towards her as a gust of wind blew. She walked back towards the main road that separated the two halves of the village. I’ll cross over and walk towards Lewes first, she thought. She passed a line of detached houses that lay back from the road, Sunnyside; Holly Tree Cottage; Well Cottage. Why on earth do they call enormous houses like these cottages. At the end of the row a post box edged the footpath. Behind it was the Post Office and general store. Alongside stood a Victorian detached house divided into two; the bricks advertising its age. No. 1 Blacksmith Cottages was written roughly on a wooden gate. Beside the second semi was a low wooden building. A sign hung from the guttering, B. Goble – Hand Made Furniture. That looks as if it was the forge, she thought, picturing shire horses waiting patiently to be shod. At least these are proper cottages. Checking that there was no sign of Martin’s Land Rover, Jenny approached until level with the gate. She stood and stared. The house had two floors, with a dormer window poking through the roof. The paintwork was a freshly-painted sage green. The rooms looked small. It must have been strange for them moving here after a large house. A pair of muddy wellington boots stood in the porch. She turned round. There was a lane opposite, tunnelled by overhanging trees, she decided to drive there and wait.
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