Fate Is Remarkable

by Betty Neels

  ‘I think perhaps I had better say I won’t be in for dinner, Sarah. I’ll see you later.’

  He lifted his hand in a vague goodbye, leaving her to pour her solitary cup of tea and vow that on no account would he see her later. So she went to bed early after telling Alice that the doctor had an important engagement and she herself couldn’t face another morsel after the wedding reception. Alice listened and nodded, and presently when Sarah was in bed, she appeared with a nice hot drink. Sarah drank her Horlicks under her motherly eye, aware that nothing short of a blow on the head with some heavy instrument would ensure sound sleep for her that night, but she yawned to give Alice the satisfaction of seeing that her remedy was taking effect, and asked her to put out the light as she went away.

  It was barely half past eight—the night was going to be long. She heard Hugo come in about ten, and closed her mind firmly to the vivid picture of him and Janet dining together somewhere quiet, where they weren’t likely to be seen. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, trying to decide what to do for the best. Should she go to him and say ‘Look, Hugo, do you want a divorce?’ She frowned, trying to remember if there wasn’t a law about getting divorced before a certain length of time; but what length of time? She didn’t know. Perhaps that was why Hugo had said nothing; perhaps he was waiting for her to say something. She remembered how he had kissed her when he had gone on his lecture tour, and how he had telephoned her; but that of course was before he had met Janet again.

  It was very quiet in the house. Hugo was still downstairs, for she had heard the front door open and shut and the dogs scuffling in the hall, and a little later, she heard Timmy’s low cacophonous grumble at her door. He usually slept with Alice, but it would be nice to have company. She let him in and got back into bed, holding his elderly furry body close. He fidgeted around for a bit and finally went to sleep, and later, much later, Sarah went to sleep too.

  She overslept the next morning; by the time she got downstairs, Hugo had been out with the dogs and was already at breakfast. He wished her a pleasant good morning and she was shocked at the white weariness of his face. She said ‘Hugo’ before she could prevent herself, then stopped, because his expression would not allow her to ask him anything at all. There was no need, anyway, she knew how he must feel. To meet again the woman he had loved for so many years and not be free to marry her … it must be awful for Janet too. She drank some coffee and he said, ‘You’re not eating anything, Sarah. Alice tells me that you had no dinner. Do you feel all right?’

  She said sharply, ‘Yes, of course. I’ve a headache, that’s all. A walk with the dogs will cure that.’

  After he had gone, she went and sat at the little desk under the window and made out her shopping list. She would shop first, then come back for the dogs—it would fill an empty day. She put on her outdoor things and collected a dress for the cleaners and was reminded that there was a suit of Hugo’s to take as well. She went to his room and found it, laid it upon the bed and began to go through the pockets—though she didn’t expect to find anything; he wasn’t given to hoarding bus tickets or bills. She remembered the inside breast pocket just as she was folding the jacket and swept a rather careless finger within it. There was a small box there—a red velvet jeweller’s box. She looked at it for a long moment, then opened it. There was a ring inside; a gold ring set with precious stones—seven of them. Sarah frowned, for there seemed no pattern in their arrangement at all. She took it out and held it in her hand, looking at them. A diamond, an emerald, an amethyst and then a ruby, another emerald, a sapphire, and lastly, a topaz; a peculiar colour combination which struck a chord in her memory. She was putting the ring carefully back when she remembered. Such rings had been popular in bygone days—a man would give such a ring to the girl he loved; the gems spelled ‘Dearest’.

  There was a folded paper which had fallen out of the pocket at the same time as she had found the ring. She picked it up, and stood looking at it, and then very slowly opened it. It was a letter written in Hugo’s handwriting—there was no address and no date. She folded it up again and then just as quickly, opened it again and began to read.

  ‘My dearest darling,

  It seems strange to write to you, for it is a long time since I have done so—and I shall be seeing you again very soon now, but in the meantime perhaps this ring will tell you a little of how I feel …’

  Sarah read no further, but folded the letter and put it carefully back in the pocket, and the little box with it. She put back the odds and ends she had turned out of the other pockets too, and hung the suit back in the closet. She did it all mechanically, reflecting that she had got her just deserts for a mean and despicable action. When she had tidied everything away she went down to the kitchen where Alice was standing at the table, making a cake. She stopped her whisking when she saw Sarah and asked anxiously:

  ‘Madam, are you all right? You’re as white as a ghost.’

  ‘It’s only a headache, Alice—a brisk walk will cure it. I was going to take some things to the cleaners. I’ve put a dress out, but I haven’t gone through the doctor’s suit—the grey one. Would you do it for me and take them down to the cleaners? I meant to do some shopping, but I won’t bother now. I’ll take the dogs and have lunch out somewhere. Have the afternoon off, Alice—I’ll get myself some tea when I come in.’

  Sarah walked until she was exhausted and even the dogs began to flag. But she felt better for the exercise, and when she got home she was glad to see that she had some colour in her face again. Alice was still out; Sarah had tea and went upstairs to change her dress. She was downstairs again, in the kitchen with Alice, when Hugo returned. She had got into the habit of going into the hall to meet him, but now she stayed where she was, the kitchen slate held before her rather in the manner of a shield, but when he came into the kitchen, he said merely:

  ‘Hullo. Something smells good,’ and accepted the slice of cake which she cut for him, and went to sit on the kitchen table to eat it. He had eaten most of it when he asked, ‘Has my grey suit gone to the cleaners?’ giving her at the same time such a piercing look that she very nearly told him about the ring and the letter, but she could see his worried frown and the strained look around his mouth. She returned his stare with an innocent look of enquiry. She said, ‘Yes—today.’

  He still stared. ‘Was there anything in it?’

  She was saved from perjury by Alice, who answered for her.

  ‘Yes, there was, Doctor. It’s in the top drawer of your bureau—a little …’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Alice,’ he interrupted her swiftly, got off the table, went to the door and held it open. ‘Come and have a drink,’ he invited, his eyes still upon Sarah. She went, perforce, with him, and went and sat by the fire while he fetched their drinks before coming to sit down beside her. She was more or less prepared when he asked, ‘I thought you usually went through my clothes before you sent them to the cleaners, Sarah.’

  She said with a sangfroid which secretly pleased her, ‘Yes, I do. But just this morning, I decided I’d go out with the dogs—my headache, you know’—she reminded him, ‘and I askedAlice to do it for me. Do you mind? Was there something important?’

  He said coolly, ‘Yes … but only to me. I don’t object to Alice doing such things; why should I? She always did, you know, before we married. Did you have a good day?’

  She was at some pains to tell him just how good the day had been. When she had finished he made no comment but said:

  ‘We haven’t been out for quite some time, have we? Supposing we take Janet down to Rose Road one evening, and the four of us go out to supper afterwards?’

  She agreed at once, for what else could she do? ‘Shall it be tomorrow?’ she wanted to know. ‘Because it’s Kate’s wedding the day after that … and we’re going to the Coles next week … or will Janet need more time?’

  ‘I think not,’ he answered carelessly. ‘I mentioned it to her the other day and she thought it was a good idea.’ H
e was staring at her again, waiting for her to make some comment. She said brightly:

  ‘Well, that’s settled, isn’t it? Is Janet happy at St Kit’s? I hope she’s made some friends. Why don’t we have her to dinner one evening? Saturday perhaps—if she’s free?’

  ‘By all means,’ Hugo said smoothly, ‘if you would like that.’

  ‘Will you ask her when you see her?’

  ‘Yes, of course. What makes you think I shall be seeing her?’

  She flushed and avoided his eye; they were getting on dangerous ground again. ‘Well, you know. The grapevine—and people …’

  ‘Ah, yes, that grapevine,’ he said evenly. ‘And people—do you believe all you hear, Sarah?’

  She shook her head. ‘No,’ and was taken by surprise when he asked then, ‘Do you still love Steven, Sarah?’

  She got up, making rather a business about putting her glass down on the little work-table beside her. She didn’t know what to say—there were pitfalls whichever way she answered. She had better not say anything. ‘I’ll see if dinner’s ready,’ she said breathlessly, and sped from the room.

  The following evening she met Hugo as she usually did, only this time they went to St Kit’s to pick up Janet. Sarah, sitting in the back of the car, couldn’t fail to see how Hugo and Janet suited each other, for Janet was big too—they looked wonderful together. She talked to Sarah over one shoulder on their way to Rose Road, but she talked a great deal to Hugo too with the ease of an old friend, and he answered her in like vein. Sarah was glad when they reached Dr Bright’s and she could go to Sandra’s little room, put on her overall and plunge into her work. She supposed Janet would stay with Hugo, and told herself that she didn’t care in the least. But Janet spent the evening with John Bright, and chose to sit in the back of the car with him on the way to supper afterwards.

  They went to a restaurant close to St Paul’s and ate delicious steak and kidney pudding which Sarah was quite unable to appreciate. Hugo had brought up an interesting case of septicaemia he had been dealing with that evening, and though she was included in the conversation, they occasionally forgot that she was there and she was completely out of her depth. The look of interest on her face became a little fixed after a time, and when Dr Bright turned to her and said, ‘Sarah, how quiet you are,’ it was quite an effort to smile. She said, so softly, that only he heard her, ‘Am I? It’s all a bit above my head.’

  He gave her a sharp look and to her consternation said loudly:

  ‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I must get home.’

  His words had the effect of breaking up the party, and although he didn’t speak to her again on their way back, she was surprised and touched when he bent and kissed her when he got out of the car. His simple action made her feel sorry for herself, which was perhaps why, when they reached St Kit’s, she was so gaily persuasive with Janet.

  ‘You simply must come,’ she urged. ‘Hugo will fetch you.’ She glanced at him and encountered a cold stare which she ignored. ‘We never do anything on Saturdays.’ And that was a lie—when they had first married, they had gone out to dine or to a theatre. ‘Come to tea and stay for dinner.’

  She talked with almost feverish gaiety all the way back to Richmond, pretending not to notice that Hugo’s responses were both curt and abrupt.

  It was Kate’s wedding the next day, a small affair compared with Anne Binns’ grand occasion, and yet a great deal more fun, for there were only family or close friends and everybody knew everyone else. Kate looked so beautiful that Sarah felt her own heart would break; she didn’t dare to look at Hugo beside her for fear her own feelings would show. Luckily there were so many people to talk to at the reception that she had no time to think. The wedding had been at two o’clock, but it was well after five before they left the pleasant house in Finchley where Kate’s parents lived. When they reached the Marylebone Road, Hugo turned left, and after she had waited a few moments for him to say why, she asked, ‘The hospital?’

  ‘No—I want to call at my rooms. I shan’t be more than a minute or two.’

  He went inside, leaving her in the car. She watched him cross the pavement and disappear inside, tall and elegant and distinguished and more of a stranger than he had ever been. She had Janet’s reappearance into his life to thank for that.

  He was back again within five minutes and as he slid into the seat beside her, she said waspishly, ‘I suppose you telephoned Janet.’

  She was horrified at herself the moment she had spoken, but he said mildly, ‘Yes—I forgot to give her your message.’

  She seethed silently. Presently, when she had her rage and her breath under control, she asked sweetly, ‘Was she able to change her free time after all?’

  He gave her a brief, unsmiling glance. ‘Yes.’

  Sarah took great pains with the dinner. Hugo had fetched Janet, apparently delighted to do so, and they had tea round the fire and Janet had been sweet—in any other circumstance, Sarah would have liked her very much. Now she went to the kitchen to make sure that everything was just so. They were to have oeufs Maritchu and Poularde Niçoise and an apple flan with clotted cream for afters. She went back to the sitting room, satisfied that the food, at least, would be a success, and found Janet and Hugo in earnest conversation which ceased abruptly as she entered.

  Dinner was the success she had anticipated, so, for that matter, was the rest of the evening. Perhaps it was the excellent Pouilly-Fuissé which Hugo had opened, to mark, in his own words, a delightful occasion; or the fact that he laid himself out to be charming and amusing and it was impossible not to respond. At ten o’clock Janet had made as if to go, but Hugo had said at once:

  ‘Not yet, Janet. There’s an article in last week’s Lancet I want you to see. There’s something in it I can’t agree with.’

  He got up and she with him, and Sarah watched them go, side by side, across the hall to his study. He had turned at the drawing room door and said quite charmingly, ‘You don’t mind, Sarah? We shan’t be long—it’s hardly a drawing room topic.’

  She nodded smilingly, longing to tell him that during the course of her nursing career she had listened to a great many topics that were decidedly not fit for drawing rooms, and had learned not to be squeamish about them either. She remembered quite vividly several particularly repellent subjects which he himself had discussed with her not so many months ago.

  It seemed like a hundred years of time before they returned, though it was barely ten minutes, and she said at once, ‘I’ll get some more coffee,’ so that it was another half hour before Janet finally said goodbye, and then only after Sarah had begged her to stay the night. She stood on the step, shivering in the night air, waving in answer to Janet’s cheerful goodnight. Hugo had called goodnight too. Presumably he would be back very late, or, she thought with a faintly hysterical giggle, very early.

  The weather had worsened in the morning and on Hugo’s suggestion she didn’t join him in their usual walk, although she had never allowed the weather to keep her indoors before. They were dining with friends that evening, which left the afternoon to spend in each other’s company. They spent it in the sitting room, reading the Sunday papers by the fire and discussing the news with a friendliness which wasn’t quite effortless. Sarah welcomed it, and responded eagerly, with the dim idea that perhaps, if they could get back on to their old footing, it would be easier for her to talk to him about Janet. She longed to ask him what he had meant when he had telephoned her from America—he had said that he would tell her why he went. Had it been to meet Janet? She couldn’t believe that somehow—meeting her had been one of those accidents Fate arranges from time to time. Rather desperately, she made one or two tentative overtures, to be checked by a blandness as effective as a high stone wall.

  It was much colder the next day; Sarah hadn’t intended to go out, but the day, viewed from the hour of half past nine, stretched endlessly, and Hugo had said he might be late home. She put on the mink coat and a littl
e velvet hat; she would go shopping for Christmas presents. She was actually in no mood for such a pleasant occupation, but it would fill the day until teatime. She was in Fortnum and Mason’s, having coffee, when Janet and Hugo came in. They didn’t see her, for she was at a small table set against a wall, almost out of sight, and in any case, they were far too deeply engrossed in talk, and went to a table on the far side, at an angle to her. She sat watching them, unable to take her eyes away. Hugo was talking earnestly; his whole attitude expressed concern, and when he stretched out a hand and took Janet’s, Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, knowing that she couldn’t go on any longer.

  She had already paid her bill, so she got up quietly, thankful that her table was so near the door. She went through it blindly and started down the stairs, to be almost swept off her feet by a man coming up at a great speed. He stopped his headlong rush long enough to set her upright, apologise with a strong American accent, raise his hat and smile rather charmingly before tearing on again, leaving behind him an impression of scarcely controlled excitement. She forgot him at once as she hurried down the stairs and outside, where she hailed a taxi. All the way to Richmond she sat in a corner of it, a look of deep concentration on her face. Presently she nodded to herself, by the time she alighted before her front door, she knew exactly what she was going to do.

  Once inside, she went first to the kitchen, to tell Alice that she would be out until the early evening, and there was no need to worry if she was a little late home, and then to her room, refusing Alice’s offer of a little something on a tray as she went. If she ate, she would choke; besides, she had a lot to do. She hung the mink carefully away and changed into a thick tweed skirt and a sweater, then packed a case with a modicum of clothes—more sweaters, slacks, a warm dressing gown and undies—before putting on the duffle coat she wore when she took the dogs out. This done, she went to the small locked drawer in her dressing table and took from it the diamond brooch and earrings in their boxes, added the pearls and then, after a moment’s hesitation, her engagement ring, before taking them across to Hugo’s room and locking them, with scarcely a second glance, in the top drawer of the tallboy there. Finally she sat down and counted her money. She had been to the bank that very morning and she still had a few pounds of her allowance, more than enough for her needs.