Penny leaned across the table and gripped my hand. ‘Henny, it’s a flash in the pan, that’s all. A nonsense. It’ll be fine.’
I gave a little nod to show I believed her. Willed back the tears. She let me recover, then regarded me over the rim of her wine glass.
‘How long d’you think it’s been going on?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ I said bitterly, ‘but he’s been having lessons with her for over a year now, so no doubt he’s been having a bunk-up in her cottage afterwards for about as long.’
‘So why don’t you confront him? God, you’re holding all the trump cards now – why didn’t you stay there when you found it? Wave it in his face?’
‘What, like Lucinda Cavendish did?’ I looked up quickly.
She paused. ‘Ah. Right.’
‘How is Lucinda, by the way?’ I said tersely.
‘You don’t want to know.’ She sank into her drink.
‘So tell me anyway.’
Penny cleared her throat. ‘Living in a flat in Balham.’
‘Balham? I thought she was in the country? You told me she was tearing her hair out down there. Pipes freezing over, sheep escaping, and a nasty smell at the bottom of the garden.’
‘Nasty smell?’
‘Yes, you said whenever the children used the trampo-line there was a horrible farty smell. Lucinda carted them off to the doctor’s in the end, thought they were unusually flatulent.’
‘Ah yes, that turned out to be the septic tank. It was under the trampoline, you see, and had burst with all the jumping. Lucinda didn’t even know it was there and had bought the trampoline to make up for Daddy leaving. It was all rather unpleasant, actually.’
‘What, Daddy leaving or the smell?’
‘The smell! She found poos in the flowerbeds.’
‘Oh Christ!’
‘But she’s in Balham now. With the two younger children.’
‘Two? I thought she had four?’
‘She has, but the elder two chose to live with Daddy. He somehow managed to wangle keeping the house in the country. Well, Lucinda couldn’t cope with it, and the elder ones …’ She tailed off nervously. ‘I suppose all their friends were there, the ponies, the swimming pool and what have you, so they decided to stay with their father,’ she finished miserably. ‘Plus Daddy’s got a pad in Barbados which must be quite fun in the holidays.’
‘Bloody hell! How come he’s got all that and Lucinda’s got nothing?’
She shrugged. ‘He could afford to buy her out, I suppose. And Kara – that’s the mistress by the way, except he’s married her now so second wife – had a bit of cash put away, so that helped. She’d worked for years and was divorced, I think. No children.’
‘Sounds horribly familiar,’ I breathed. I thought of Perdita’s smart little cottage, her shiny Discovery jeep and designer clothes. Oh yes, she’d built up quite a nest-egg there.
‘So they live with the two older children in the family home while Lucinda’s in Balham?’
‘Four, actually.’
‘What?’
‘There’s four children. Kara gave birth to twins last year.’ She saw my face. ‘Henny, you are absolutely thinking the worst now and there is no way – Henny!’
But it was no good, I’d gone. To the loo, to either puke or howl, I wasn’t sure which, and in the end, I did a mixture of both, much to the alarm of a couple of girls applying their make-up. They left in something of a hurry. By the time I’d finished and was recovering, clutching the basin and shivering, Penny came running in. She took one look at my grey face, got me a glass of water, then took my arm and led me firmly back to the table. She topped up my glass and handed me a napkin to blow my nose on. I blew noisily, like a cow bellowing for its calf, making most of the bar jump, but I didn’t care.
Penny leaned across the table. ‘It is not going to happen,’ she hissed vehemently. ‘You are imagining the very worst scenario, now get a grip!’
I nodded bravely. Stuffed the napkin up my sleeve and raised brimming eyes to the ceiling. I swallowed. ‘Bastard.’
‘That’s better.’
‘Cunt.’
‘Steady.’ Penny glanced around nervously.
I blinked, surprised. ‘I’ve never said that word before.’
‘No, me neither. How did it feel?’
‘Pretty good, actually.’
We were silent a moment. I gave a mighty sniff, then licked my lips, swollen from crying.
‘He used what happened the other day, Penny, I realize that now. Used that nonsense with Laurie as a convenient smokescreen to get me out of the house and hustle his mistress in. You see that, don’t you?’
Penny shifted unhappily in her seat. ‘Perhaps,’ she admitted.
‘What d’you mean perhaps? Of course! Oh, it all worked out very well for him, worked beautifully, in fact. And I played right into his hands. I’ve been so stupid, Penny. Taking the job, scampering up to London …’ I dug my nails hard into the palm of my hand. ‘I should have sussed something was up at home long ago. Should have dug my heels in and got rid of her. Stayed put and made sure he never bloody well rode a horse again. Chopped the legs off his mare – hers too. This job was a big mistake,’ I said unhappily.
‘Nonsense,’ she said warmly. ‘Think where you’d be now if you didn’t have it? At least there’s dignity in doing something for yourself, Henny. Not just moping around and waiting for him to come back.’
‘I don’t want dignity,’ I said sadly, looking down at my hands. ‘I want my home. My kitchen. My children. My dog. My friends.’ I looked up, appealing. ‘I don’t want dignity, Penny.’
She made a sad face. Reached across and squeezed my hand again. ‘I know.’
We were silent for a while. At length I looked at my watch. ‘You ought to go, Pen. You’ve got your client at two.’
She nodded. ‘I have. But I don’t like to leave you like this.’
I shook my head, tears welling again. ‘I’ll be fine.’
She shot me little anxious looks as we left the bar together. We walked silently through the Piazza, dodging the crowds, hands in our coat-pockets, shoulders hunched. The juggler was on stilts now, juggling his socks off. He winked at Penny. She glared back.
‘Come and have supper on Friday night,’ she said as we paused at the top of Laurie’s street. ‘I’ve got Benji and Francis coming and some people Tommy used to work with. They’re a bit dry, but I thought Benji might liven them up a bit. I shouldn’t think they’ve met a gay couple in their lives, I’m hoping he’s going to be on flying form. Come.’
I smiled weakly. Dear Pen. She adored Benji. Always had done.
‘Thanks, but I don’t want to go out. I want to be on my own for a bit.’ I hesitated. ‘But Penny, you couldn’t – tell Benji for me, could you?’
‘About Marcus?’
I nodded. ‘I don’t want to go through it all again, and I know he’ll be …well …he’ll be shocked.’
She nodded. ‘Sure. I’ll ring him this afternoon. I can do that.’
‘Not Mum though,’ I added quickly. ‘Not yet.’
She looked horrified. ‘Henny, there was no way I was going to ring your mother!’
‘No, but I meant, tell Benji not to.’
‘Oh. OK.’
We parted: she to catch a cab back down Fleet Street to the City, and I to go back to the office.
When I got there, Laurie was tearing his hair out. All morning he’d been worried about some TV contract that should have been sent weeks ago and still hadn’t arrived (I think he was wondering if they really were going to renew his contract, or ditch him in favour of some glamorous Oxford graduate who’d been making quite a name for herself in the history world recently, albeit on a rival channel). The Beeb had promised to bike it round that morning, but there was still no sign of it, so I sat down at my desk and spent the rest of the afternoon making a series of frantic phone calls: chatting up other PAs at the BBC, getting them to chase their executives,
emails flying back and forth. I finally organized a three-way telephone meeting with Laurie, his producer and his director. It took most of the afternoon to set up, and funnily enough, the day passed quickly. I was surprised when it was five o’clock. Laurie, so grateful that I’d managed to jack up the meeting and procure the contract, which was now sitting on his desk, came into my room, running his hands through his dark curls, his eyes wide with relief.
‘I don’t know how I ever managed without you,’ he said. ‘Honestly, Henny, you’re a life-saver. Emmanuelle was sweet in her way, but she didn’t pull her finger out like you do.’
If I hadn’t been so miserable, I’d have glowed with pleasure.
All right, Penny, I thought grudgingly as I trudged back to the flat that evening, getting off the Tube at High Street Ken then walking slowly up Church Street. A small amount of dignity doesn’t hurt. Just a smidgen. I’ll give you that.
The next couple of days passed grey and miserable, the Indian summer having disappeared as abruptly as it had arrived. The crisp golden leaves turned to brown slime underfoot, and the skies were leaden and cold. But that was fine. That suited my mood. I didn’t want sunshine.
I worked hard and saw no one, answering Benji’s sympathetic emails and entreaties to come and have lunch with polite refusals, and leaving the answer machine on when he called. I didn’t feel like talking. Wasn’t up to it. There was a certain comfort in hearing his voice though, and I think he probably guessed I was in the flat, listening.
He always signed off with a sigh and an, ‘Au revoir, dear heart. Love you lots.’
I sat at the pretty Georgian desk in the window of the drawing room overlooking the walled garden, and wrote long chatty letters to Lily and Angus at school. I got sweet ones back, via Marcus of course, at the farm. Naturally he’d read them first as they were addressed to the both of us, and I hoped they brought a lump to his throat. Caused a chill to settle on his heart.
Dear Mummy and Daddy, (wrote Lily)
We’ve had a brilliant day today because exams have finished and we were allowed to wear any clothes we liked! I wore my new patchy jeans and that purple top you bought me in Top Shop with my dolphin necklace. Yesterday we were allowed to go into Oxford with Miss Barker, but I’ve spent all my money. Already! Can I have some more?! PLEASE!! Also my mobile’s run out! Annabel Bagshaw is going skiing in Wengen for New Year and I said we might go too. CAN we?! You said we might, Daddy. Give Freckles a big kiss for me AND Dilly, and tell them I miss them loads.
LOTS of love and hugs,
Lily XXXXXXXXX
Angus was more prosaic. More chilled.
Dear Mum and Dad,
We won four nil on Saturday which was pretty good considering we’re supposed to be a crap side. They had a retard for a goalkeeper which helped.
Food here revolting as usual, so any Red Cross parcels appreciated.
Have you decided about skiing yet? Ed Palmer’s going to Wengen, and he’s got a really fit sister. No pressure.
Love, Angus
Christmas. New Year. I gazed out of the window at the swirling leaves being torn off the trees by the wind. They spiralled down to the garden below and were whipped around the base of a sycamore tree. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms tightly, watching them dance. No, darlings. Your father hasn’t decided. He hasn’t got that far yet.
That night I dreamed that Marcus and I and the children were skiing down a mountain in Wengen together, schussing merrily along in bright primary colours with wide beaming smiles, like something out of a Ski yoghurt advert. Then suddenly, at the bottom of the slope, instead of our favourite restaurant, there was Perdita, naked on a horse.
‘Come on, Marcus!’ she urged.
Marcus shot me a look of sheer delight. ‘Look who’s here!’ he cried.
‘Yes,’ I growled. ‘Look.’
Marcus skied down and leapfrogged up behind her in the saddle. From nowhere appeared two ponies, and before I knew what was happening, Angus and Lily had schussed down too and leaped aboard.
‘Come on, Henny!’ I heard Marcus call as they galloped off into the distance. ‘It’s fun!’
I tried desperately to follow, but the sun was burning now and the snow getting slushy, turning to mud. My skis stuck horribly, and all I found, as I trudged wretchedly after them, were bits of Marcus’s ski gear – his hat, gloves, boots, trousers, and even his underpants, littered in the snow. Finally, I came to a cottage in the woods with the horses tethered outside. As I staggered towards it, dripping with sweat, I saw a cradle, rocking on the porch. I peered inside. A pair of newborn identical twins gazed back …
The following morning I marched into work and greeted Laurie with a crisp, ‘Good morning.’
‘Morning,’ he murmured, looking up surprised as I went straight to my room without coming in to chat to him as I usually did. I shut the door firmly behind me, shrugged my jacket off and arranged it neatly on the chair. Then I sat down to seize the phone. Penny answered immediately.
‘Penny, you know that dinner-party you were having tomorrow?’
‘Still tomorrow.’
‘Still? It’s still on?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Can I come?’
‘Of course you can,’ she said, delighted. ‘Oh Henny, I’m so pleased. You must be feeling a bit better. A bit stronger?’
‘Much,’ I said grimly. ‘And Penny, can I bring someone?’
‘Er, yes, all right. Who?’
‘Just an old friend.’
She paused a moment. ‘An old friend. By definition, Henny, any old friend of yours is an old friend of mine. We go back a long way.’
‘So we do, my friend, so we do. And on that basis, trust me.’
There was another silence. ‘So that’s it then, is it?’ she said slowly. ‘No clues as to the mystery guest’s identity?’
‘No clues. Let me surprise you.’
‘D’you know,’ she said uncomfortably, ‘I have a horrible feeling you will.’
Chapter Sixteen
When I’d put down the phone to Penny, I glanced at my door. Laurie, I was sure, was deep in the sixteenth century, grappling with Lady Jane Grey’s position on the monasteries, but I just wanted to make certain. Didn’t want any ears wagging on this conversation. I tiptoed across and peered around. Ah. Even better. He’d adopted the Serious Business Position: horizontal on a sofa, laughing softly and murmuring into his mobile as he ran his hands through his curls. I’d hazard he had a more modern damsel than Lady Jane dangling on the line and was attempting to grapple with more than her monasteries. He spotted me and grinned and I smiled back, shutting the door softly. He’d be there for ages, I decided, padding back to my desk. Half the reason Laurie got in such a frantic muddle, I’d discovered, was that he was so fatally distracted by women. Poor love. Just like my husband, I thought grimly, reaching for the phone.
Keeping that thought firmly at the forefront of my mind, I tapped out a number. It felt so strange to be ringing it after all this time, and as it rang and rang, I felt a little less brisk. A little less certain. My heart was performing acrobatics and I was about to put it down in panic, when suddenly – he answered.
‘Hello?’
‘Rupert? It’s Henny.’
There was a pause, then, ‘Henny. How nice.’
And suddenly I was lost. Sunk. Marooned. Beached even. I didn’t know what to say. My heart was banging away in my throat now. Finally, I found my voice. Ploughed on.
‘How are you, Rupert?’
‘I’m well. Very well.’
‘Um, Rupert. Strange request.’
‘Fire away.’
‘I’ve been invited to a dinner-party on Friday. And I wondered if by any chance you’d like to come with me.’
I held my breath. And I suspect he tried to find his. His voice when it came was cautious.
‘Well, I’d love to see you, you know I would. But a dinner-party? Is this the start of your London season? Seeing sing
le girlfriends and going on theatre trips?’
‘Something like that. Except she’s not single, this girlfriend. It’s at Penny and Tommy’s.’
I heard him inhale sharply. ‘Penny and Tommy’s. Right.’
‘And Benji will be there, along with his boyfriend, Francis.’
His voice grew fainter. ‘Benji? With his …did you say boyfriend, Francis?’
‘That’s it,’ I agreed cheerfully, enjoying myself now. ‘My brother’s gay. You’ve missed out on quite a few years, Rupert. A whole stack of information.’
‘Clearly.’ He sounded bemused. ‘Yes, I imagine I have.’
There was another silence. I smiled into it.
‘Too much of a baptism by fire? Shall I take that as a no?’
He rallied. ‘Certainly not. You can take it as a yes. Golly, dinner with my ex-fiancée’s best friend and brother – not to mention his gay partner – who were last expecting to see me beside her at the altar in a morning-coat? Hell, who’d pass that up? Count me in. Next you’ll be telling me Marcus is coming too. Make my evening.’
I laughed. ‘No. Marcus is, um …’
‘Still away on business?’ he finished for me carefully.
‘Still away on business,’ I finished equally carefully. There was a pause.
‘Right. Well, I’ll see you on Friday then. D’you want me to pick you up?’
‘Please. D’you know where?’
‘I heard you tell the taxi driver. It’s in my memory bank.’
‘OK, fine. We’ll have a drink first.’
‘I have an idea I’ll need one.’
I smiled and put the phone down. Yes, Rupert, you may well need one. And yes, you can see me. But in public, with my friends and family around. I’m not sneaking about in parks or hiding in dark bars, wondering if anyone’s watching. And no, Marcus, I am not sitting here crying my eyes out, either. You may be sleeping with your mistress and trying to assuage your conscience by saying to Perdita, ‘Well, of course, she’s sleeping with her boss so fair’s fair …’ But I’m not. And never was. Oh no, I’m doing something much more dignified. Much more acceptable. I’m being taken out to dinner-parties – maybe even to the theatre, perhaps – by an old friend. The fact that I once loved him more than life itself is neither here nor there. Playing dangerously? You don’t know the meaning of it, Marcus. Put that in your pipe and choke on it.
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