by Debby Holt
And then she saw him. Neil stood, checking his watch, impossibly handsome, his thin raincoat over his suit. His face broke into a beautiful smile when he saw her. He strode straight across to her and put his arms round her. As romantic gestures went, it was up there with Anna Karenina.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tess had had a disturbing dream on Sunday night. She was in the library at the party. Her mother was in the arms of Neil Lockhart. As she stepped towards them, the couple raised their faces and they were no longer her mother and Mr Lockhart, they were Tess and Jamie. Tess could feel Jamie’s breath on her face and his body pressed against her own.
The memory made her feel awkward when Jamie rang her on Monday evening and their conversation was difficult enough without it. He assumed everything was settled. She’d told him she’d come back to Scotland for her October Reading Week. As far as he was concerned, the week was already set aside. She was beginning to see that life for Jamie was quite clear-cut. He loved her and she’d kissed him. Ergo, there was nothing to worry about. All was well.
And he seemed almost indifferent to the actions of his father and her mother.
‘Did Mum strike you as drunk at the party?’ she persisted. ‘She didn’t seem to be. At the time she seemed far more composed than the rest of us.’
‘Different people act in different ways,’ Jamie said. ‘I have a friend. When he’s had a few drinks he speaks with huge passion about the state of the planet. When he’s sober he doesn’t give a damn. How does your mother usually act in that situation?’
‘I don’t know. She gets quite merry after a few glasses of wine. What’s your father like when he gets drunk?’
‘I have no idea. I don’t see him very often. I expect he goes round kissing strange women.’
She couldn’t understand his flippancy. She couldn’t understand his family. ‘Has he said anything to you about it? He must have said something.’
‘He did send me a text. He said he’d been an idiot.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I sent one back to say I agreed with him.’
Tess sighed. ‘And that’s it? Has he been in touch since?’
‘Rory rang last night. He wants me to invite Dad up to Scotland.’
‘Well, that’s thoughtful of him.’
‘No, it isn’t. Dad’s moved into Rory’s spare room. Rory’s worried it might prove permanent.’
‘He and Eva have split up? That’s terrible!’
Jamie sounded unconcerned. ‘I don’t blame Eva for throwing Dad out. I don’t know why she ever took him in. You’d think his marital track record would raise alarm bells. Don’t worry about him.’
‘I’m not worried about him. I’d have thought that you might be. I just keep going back to that night.’ Tess hesitated. ‘It was very unnerving to see my mother in the arms of a strange man especially when…’
‘When what?’
She said, almost apologetically, ‘He does look so very like you.’
‘He’s fifty-five!’ Jamie was outraged.
‘Well, he looks much younger.’
‘Right,’ Jamie said. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’
She smiled. ‘I’m not trying to make you feel better.’
‘No,’ Jamie said wistfully. ‘I didn’t think you were.’
She almost laughed but she said sternly, ‘Jamie, this is important! Do you think your father and Eva will get back together?’
‘I have no idea and I don’t care.’
‘You should do. We’re talking about your father. You should ring him.’
‘You’re right. I will. I have things on my mind at the moment. The TV lady has got back to me. She wants to do it!’
‘Oh, Jamie, that’s brilliant!’
‘It’s better than that,’ Jamie said. ‘I might just have got you a job.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I told her I have a beautiful, photogenic castle with a violent, dramatic history and that I also have a beautiful, photogenic girlfriend who is an authority on Sir Walter Scott and the Borders.’
There were various disconcerting assumptions in his response. For now, Tess focused on the last of them. ‘I’m not an authority on the Borders! Why did you say that? Why did you even mention me?’
‘I wanted to impress her. I did impress her. I showed her that photo of you with Sir Walter at Abbotsford. She likes it. She likes you. When I told her you were a natural speaker…’
‘Jamie, I’m not a natural speaker. How can you possibly know if I’m a natural speaker?’
‘You have a great voice and, to be honest, if you can make me interested in Walter Scott, you are clearly a born teacher. I know you’d be brilliant. Don’t start worrying yet, though, the whole idea may well fall to dust. She’s sending one of her minions to look at the castle. I’ll give you a ring afterwards. I think we can afford to be a little excited about this.’
‘I’m glad it went well. At least, I think I am.’
‘You’d be mad not to be. Imagine if you could go on television and talk about Sir Walter. You’d have publishers queuing up to commission books from you.’
‘What would your cousin Susan say if she saw me pontificating on television about Border history?’
‘She’d be incandescent. If for no other reason, we must make sure you do it.’
‘I can’t think about this now. I’m way behind on my marking. I’d better go.’
‘All right. I miss you. I’ll see you in October.’
I’ll see you in October. It was like a mantra. It reminded her of Chekhov’s three doomed sisters forever going on about moving to Moscow. She felt almost nostalgic about her life pre-Jamie and pre-party. It seemed so simple and straightforward. Now, her emotions were all over the place and she felt like a rudderless boat, veering first one way, then the other.
Jamie rang again on Thursday evening. ‘The minion is keen,’ he told her. ‘They want to do a series of documentaries. Thank heavens for the referendum. “Scotland is hot,” she said. She said that a lot. Your Sir Walter was a great fan of the Union. Did you know that?’
‘Well, of course I did. I told you that…’
‘You see? You’re an expert. You’d be on hand to provide the scholarly context. You could wear some floaty dress and sit with your hand caressing that marble bust of Sir Walter in Abbotsford…’
‘I wouldn’t be seen caressing Scott’s head for a million pounds. And I certainly wouldn’t wear a floaty dress, it would be quite unsuitable.’
‘You’re right. Perhaps you should wear a suit and have some glasses. You’d look terrific in a suit…’
‘I don’t have a suit. Why are you obsessing about my wardrobe?’
‘It stops me obsessing about you. October seems too far away. Incidentally…’
She loved the way he pronounced every syllable. ‘Incidentally what?’
There was a new awkward tone in his voice. ‘Have you spoken to your mother today?’
‘She won’t pick up the phone. Why?’
‘I tried to ring my father last night. You made me feel guilty. I couldn’t get him so I rang Rory. He said Dad met your mother off the train and took her out to dinner. Rory seemed to think she was coming up to stay in the flat.’
‘But that’s crazy. She knew Dad was coming back. Why would she do that? Why would she want to stay there?’
‘I have no idea. Rory treats the place like a dustbin. He might be wrong, of course. Rory often is wrong.’
‘I’d better make some calls. I don’t understand anything. This is all such a mess!’
Rory had to be mistaken. She tried ringing her mother again and left a number of questions on voicemail. ‘Where are you, Mum? What’s going on? Can you ring me?’
She put the phone down and almost immediately it whirred into action. She picked it up and took a deep breath. It was her father.
‘Tess,’ he said, ‘how are you?’
‘I’m well! Hi!’ She soun
ded like a children’s TV presenter, her voice ready to explode with enthusiasm, while she desperately played for time. ‘How was Madrid?’
‘It’s a lovely city. There’s so much to see. Unfortunately, I was holed up in conference rooms most of the time. Tess, I’m trying to get hold of your mother. She’s not at home and I can’t seem to get her on the phone. Do you know where she is?’
‘I’m not quite sure.’ Tess picked up the pack of spaghetti she’d bought and then put it down again. ‘I think she might be in London. She might be staying with… She might be with the Lockharts.’
‘The Lockharts? They’re the couple who had the party on Saturday? So you both went along to it?’
‘Yes. Yes, we did.’
‘That’s nice. And your mother stayed on with them?’
‘No. I’m pretty sure she did go back home. But I think she might be with Mr Lockhart now, with him and his son.’
‘That would be your friend from the Borders?’
‘No. That would be Jamie’s younger brother, Rory.’
‘I see. So Mrs Lockhart’s gone away?’
‘Not exactly. Mr Lockhart’s moved into Rory’s flat.’ Tess sat down at the table. She had no idea what to say. ‘There was a disagreement at the party. Between Mr and Mrs Lockhart.’
Her father sounded understandably confused. ‘I thought it was their wedding anniversary.’
‘It was. But they had an argument.’
‘That was unfortunate.’
‘Yes,’ Tess said feebly. ‘It was rather.’
‘So why would…?’
‘Dad, I don’t know much more than you. Jamie told me on the phone that he thought Mum might be at Rory’s, that’s all.’
‘I see. Well, it’s a great mystery but…’
‘Dad, I think I should tell you… Mum told me what you said to her before you went to Spain.’
‘Did she?’ There was a brief silence and then, ‘I’d better get on, Tess, I have some soup boiling on the cooker. If you hear from your mother, tell her I’d love to know what she’s been doing. Goodbye now!’
Tess put the phone down and pushed her fingers through her hair. What was it with her parents? They were both as mad as each other. She prepared her supper and flung saucepans on the hob in a frenzy of frustration. How could either of them get anywhere when they wouldn’t talk to her or each other? On the whole, she preferred her mother’s silence to her father’s jolly conversation.
She was eating her meal when her mother rang.
‘I thought I’d left my charger at home,’ she said. ‘I found it in my case and now I’m listening to my messages. How are you, Tess?’
‘Dad rang. He wants to know where you are. He’s tried to ring you but…’
‘He has not! You may tell him I’m staying with Neil Lockhart.’
‘Can’t you tell him yourself? He wants you to ring him…’
‘I wanted him to ring me!’
‘But, Mum, what do I tell him? Are you… Are you with Mr Lockhart?’
‘He’s collecting a takeaway at present.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘I don’t think I do, Tess. I know you and your sister hate intrusive personal questions. You may tell Felix I’m happy. If he wishes to know anything else, he can ring me.’
The phone went dead. Tess stared at it in stupefaction. She had never heard her mother talk to her like that before and, actually, she felt she deserved the rebuke. ‘One last call,’ she said aloud, ‘and then that’s it.’
Her father picked up almost at once. ‘Hi there, Tess.’
‘I’ve spoken to Mum.’ Tess spoke with brisk efficiency. ‘She says you haven’t rung her. She is staying with Mr Lockhart and Rory. She says she’s well. If you want to know more, I suggest you ring her. I can’t keep acting as go-between.’
‘Of course you can’t. I only wanted to know where she was. That’s all I needed to know. I won’t bother you again.’
‘It’s not that but… Look, why don’t I come and see you? I can’t make this weekend but I could come down the next.’
‘That’s very kind but I’m visiting a friend…’
‘I could come the weekend after.’
‘Can I ring you next week? We can sort out something then. I’d better sign off now. I have some soup boiling on the stove. I’ll speak to you soon.’
The mixer tap was dripping slightly and Tess walked over to the sink and tightened it. She wondered where he was going and who his friend might be. Surely he couldn’t be seeing someone else? It was inconceivable. But then, everything about him at the moment was inconceivable. She took her half-eaten pasta and tipped it into the kitchen bin. She felt in need of caffeine and put the kettle on. How could he sound so normal when he knew that she knew what he’d done? Perhaps he was normal. And yet, if he hadn’t tried to ring her mother why would he pretend he had? She spooned coffee into her mug and frowned as she remembered his soup. It had been boiling on the cooker for a long time.
On Friday evening, Tess met Anna for a conference over a pizza. The weather had been beautiful all day and the evening air still retained its warmth. They sat at a pavement table. Anna was at her most business-like. ‘Let’s lay out the situation. Mum’s moved in with her new boyfriend…’
‘We don’t actually know he’s her boyfriend…’
‘His wife throws him out because he’s all over Mum. Then he invites Mum to stay so she can sleep on the sofa?’
‘If you put it like that…’
‘Good. We agree. And meanwhile Dad is quite happy.’
‘Or he wants us to think he’s happy.’
‘I offered to go down this weekend but he’s visiting a friend.’
‘I offered to go down next weekend. He said the same thing.’ Tess picked up her glass. ‘I think his friend might be a woman.’
Anna shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it. There’s something very odd going on. I think we should both go down tomorrow, whatever he says. I bet you he’s there.’
‘I can’t do that. Rachel is moving out.’
‘Is she? Why?’
‘She’s moving in with her boyfriend and the new flatmate arrives in the afternoon. I have to be there.’
‘What’s the new one like?’
Tess shrugged. ‘I have no idea. We advertised on Gumtree.’
‘She might be horrific. Then what would you do?’
‘I’d move somewhere else, I suppose.’
‘I’m sorry. I’d hate it if Olivia left. How long have you known?’
‘About Rachel? It’s been on the cards for weeks. I can’t say I blame her. Our flat’s dark and depressing. Her boyfriend’s place is lovely.’
Anna stared at Tess. ‘We should see each other more often.’
‘I’m all right,’ Tess said. She was touched by her sister’s comment. ‘Will you go down to see Dad on your own? What would you do if he is away?’
‘I have a key. If the weather continues like this, I’ll sit out in the garden all day. It’ll be good to get away. I’m fed up with London at the moment.’
A couple walked past them, their arms slung carelessly round each other’s waist. ‘So I told her,’ the man said, ‘if that’s the way you feel, I couldn’t agree more!’ Their laughter hung in the air. Tess said, ‘Are you still not talking to William?’
‘William’s still not talking to me. I didn’t think I’d miss him so much. Isn’t that pathetic?’
‘No, not at all.’ Tess raised her glass and smiled at her sister. ‘Here’s to us,’ she said. ‘We should see each other more often.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It was quite something to be a sex-goddess at fifty-three, especially when one’s husband had gone elsewhere for physical satisfaction. On her first night with Neil, they made love three times. Three times! She and Felix had always prided themselves on their thriving sex life. They would usually manage it twice a week, though in the last few months… Don’t go there, she told herself, d
on’t even think of going there.
Neil said he could not get enough of her. On Thursday, she was in Cromwell Road, outside the Society of Genealogists, when he rang. ‘Freya,’ he told her, ‘you’ve bewitched me. I had a client this morning. We discussed a complex land search and all I could see was my head between your silky white thighs…’
‘Neil, stop it!’ she laughed. ‘How can I concentrate on anything when you talk like that? I hope none of your colleagues can hear you.’
‘I’m out on the pavement,’ he assured her. ‘And I ache for you. Don’t imagine you’ll sleep tonight.’
That suited Freya. It had been a week since Felix dropped his bombshell and bombshells were not conducive to nocturnal tranquillity. Sex with Neil was the perfect antidote. When they’d finally fallen apart, spent and exhausted, she had slept like a child. In the morning, she woke at dawn and was consumed by panic. Why was she here? Why hadn’t she waited to hear what Felix would have to say? What would become of her? And then there was Neil, his hand tracing her breasts and then moving down, his fingers touching, probing, stroking. He was like a magician, deleting her fears with each caress until all that mattered was this moment, this ecstasy.
She barely needed his wicked midday phone call. Every time she thought of Felix she had only to recall Neil’s love-making to recover his magic. Felix had torn apart her sanity and now Neil kept it together.
On Friday evening, he drove her to a small country hotel just outside Oxford. Rory was hosting a party on Saturday and escape, Neil said, was imperative. The next morning, they missed breakfast. They walked along the river and stopped for lunch at a pub with wooden floors and pine tables. The weather was perfect – it was more like summer than autumn – and they sat outside, their eyes squinting in the sun.
‘I can’t believe I’m here,’ she said. ‘This time last week, I was walking in London, an abandoned, angry wife and now I’m…’
‘You’re here with your red-hot lover,’ he said. ‘Feel free to agree with me.’