by Susan Lewis
Well, what was the harm? She unlocked the door and opened it a fraction.
“Bye,” she said, and started to close it again.
He jammed his foot against it. “Is that all?”
“Is that all what?”
“All that I’m going to get?”
“Exactly what else did you have in mind?”
“Well, I thought perhaps a kiss.”
She let go of the door, and turned back to the bath. She knew she was being weak, but she couldn’t help herself.
Joel watched her as she leaned over to turn off the taps. He was sorry now for having been so abrupt with her. He turned her to face him. “I think I’ll call a taxi,” he said. “So how about that coffee before I go?”
“There’s a phone beside the bed,” she snapped. “I expect you noticed it when you were in it, last night.”
“Kate, come on, don’t be like that. I thought we had a good thing going here.”
“Oh really?”
“Didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“Look, I’ll give you a call over Christmas. Arrange to meet up when you get back to London. How’s that?”
“How the Almighty doth bestow favours,” she mumbled.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. I’ll write my number down for you. When will you ring?” God, did she have no pride?
“Tomorrow, wish you Happy Christmas, eh?”
“Promise?” This was called grovelling.
“Promise,” he said, and tipped her face up to his. “Do I get a kiss then?”
She smiled, and put her arms round his neck.
“I’ll go and call a cab,” he said as he let her go.
She followed him into the bedroom, and jotted her parents’ number onto a piece of paper.
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll make the coffee.”
“A man in the kitchen. What one’s always wanted.”
He hardly had time to drink it before Mrs Adams was at the door asking if she could borrow some milk. She forced her way into the flat in her usual inexorable fashion, and looked disapprovingly at Joel as he lifted the entryphone to speak to the taxi driver who had arrived downstairs.
Kate almost pushed Mrs Adams out of the flat. “Here’s your coat,” she said to Joel, slipping her telephone number into the pocket.
Joel swallowed the remainder of his coffee and put the cup back on the table. “Thanks for a great time,” he said, brushing his mouth against hers.
“Bye,” she said. “Don’t forget to ring me tomorrow.” But he had already gone.
Ellamarie rang Ashley at the office to tell her how Maureen Woodley had shown up at the Ritz after she’d left, in a dress that was two sizes too small, and a slit up to her waist.
“Cellulite, darling, she looked like a Jaffa.”
Ashley laughed, but she sensed the misgiving in Ellamarie’s voice when she told her that Maureen Woodley had decided after all this time to let it drop that she knew Bob’s wife.
“You don’t think she’ll do anything though, do you?” Ashley asked.
Ellamarie was graphic in her explanation of what she would do to Maureen Woodley if she did, and then changed the subject to Kate who had taken Joel back to her apartment, “desire bursting from every orifice. And I’ve just called Jenneen, and you’ll never guess who’s there with her? Matthew. Matthew Bordsleigh.”
“But I thought it was all long over between those two.”
“Didn’t we all? But he’s there all right. He answered the phone.”
“Well, I’m glad,” Ashley sighed. None of them knew how Matthew had been ruthlessly blackmailing Jenneen for the past year.
“Everything OK your end?” said Ellamarie.
“Oh, perfect,” said Ashley, knowing she sounded bitter.
“That reminds me, Julian’s friend, or partner, whoever he is . . .”
“Blanche’s cousin,” Ashley interjected.
“Blanche’s cousin. Well, he took Maureen Woodley home last night. At least I think he did. He chose the right person of course, – if that’s what you can call her – Maureen’s a helluva good massager of egoes, and with one the size of his they were probably at it all night long.”
Their conversation was brief as Ellamarie was in a hurry, but she had wanted to make sure Ashley was all right after her early departure from the Ritz the night before.
Ashley managed to assure her that she was, then when she rung off went back to the media plan she had been studying. Half an hour later she was through and gathered up her things to leave. She looked around the office. It was in this room that Julian had first . . . No! Stop it! Just get out of here before you start again. Quickly she picked up her coat and left the room.
“Merry Christmas!” she called to Amanda, as she passed her office.
“Merry Christmas, Ashley!” Amanda called back. “Have a great time!”
“You too,” said Ashley. She turned to walk on, and someone crashed into her, sending her bag and the files she was carrying cascading all over the floor.
“Can’t you look where you’re going?” she heard a voice growl.
She whipped round. “Well, of all the . . .”
“Of all the what?” said Conrad Frazier, a flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“Nothing,” she said, slamming her eyes at him. She stooped to gather her belongings, but not before she had noticed his dishevelled appearance and the growth on his chin. So, Ellamarie was right.
To her amazement, he walked right on past her. “Aren’t you at least going to help me pick this lot up?” she called after him.
“No,” he said.
She was so shocked by his rudeness, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. And then suddenly, with no warning whatsoever, she burst into tears.
“What’s all the noise out here?” said Julian, coming out of his office. He didn’t notice Ashley. “Conrad,” she heard him say. And then he chuckled. “Well, by the look of you, old chap, it was quite some night last night.”
“I’ve known worse,” Conrad answered.
“Ashley!” Julian suddenly cried. She froze. Please don’t come over. Please don’t say anything, she begged him silently.
“What are you doing down there?”
“Picking up the things that Mr Frazier knocked out of my hands,” she said, not looking up.
“Let me help you.” Julian crossed the room.
“No, no. It’s all right. I’ve got everything now.” She stood up, running the back of her hand across her eyes.
Julian saw straightaway that she was crying. He turned to Conrad. “What’s happened?”
“She came crashing into me,” he said. “Though what she’s crying for I can’t imagine.” And then, for the first time, he got a good look at Ashley’s face. “Oh God,” he groaned, as he recognized her. “Look, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“You’re damn right you weren’t!” said Ashley, tears streaming down her face. “But then, I suppose someone as self-important as you never has to.”
“Now hang on a minute,” said Conrad, taking a step towards her.
“Don’t come near me!”
“The woman’s hysterical!” he snorted.
“Look, leave this to me,” Julian interrupted, and turned his back on Conrad. “Are you all right, Ash? Are you hurt?”
“What the hell do you think,” she shouted, and stormed off.
“Are all the women who work here like that?”
“Leave it, Conrad.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I need some coffee,” he said to Amanda, whose eyes were fixed on him with an expression of slavish devotion, and he disappeared into Julian’s office.
Julian stared down the corridor again, but Ashley had gone. What a bloody mess everything was turning out to be. Damn her! And damn Blanche too!
TEN
Ashley arrived home around seven. Alex was waiting, hardly able to contain his
excitement, but nevertheless he insisted on going to bed almost immediately, believing the sooner he did the sooner Christmas Day would arrive. Ashley tucked him in, and had to swallow hard against the lump in her throat as he threw his arms around her neck and smacked a wet kiss onto the corner of her mouth.
When she went downstairs again she found her mother in the kitchen preparing the turkey and her father sitting at the table. They were laughing about something as Ashley walked in, but stopped when they saw her. She noticed their quick exchange of looks before her mother asked her if everything was all right. Ashley smiled, perhaps a little too brightly, and said yes, of course it was, then picked up an apron. She had just slipped it over her dress when there was a knock at the door. Her father went to answer it. When he came back it was to tell her that there was a Mr Caffin at the door, asking for her. Ashley looked at her mother, but her mother only shrugged her shoulders.
Ashley listened to Mr Caffin for several minutes before what he was saying actually began to sink in, but even then she was too stunned to speak. It seemed that the gleaming white Mercedes sports car that was parked in the driveway beside her father’s Rover, was hers. She walked over to it, and to her further amazement there was a tiny Labrador puppy sitting in a box on the front seat. The puppy, she discovered, when she read the note from Julian, was for Alex.
That night Ashley cried as if her heart would break. The gifts had told her, more than anything he had said or done before, that Julian was never coming back to her. He had paid for her love, and now they were even. In the early hours of Christmas morning, she crept into bed with Alex, and held her son until morning.
A few miles away, in another part of Surrey, Kate and Ellamarie drank too much red wine with Kate’s father, while Kate’s mother busied herself in the kitchen, preparing lunch for five. She would keep Jonathan’s warm, she had said, as he was sure to be late. Kate and her father no longer tried to persuade her that Jonathan was never coming back, they just let her go ahead and do things for him as if they too believed that he would come. Every time the phone rang, both Ellamarie and Kate held their breath, silently praying that it would be for them. But Christmas Day passed with neither Bob nor Joel calling.
Then on Boxing Day, when they returned from the hunt, Joel arrived. Kate couldn’t believe her eyes. He hadn’t rung to say he was coming, he had just turned up. It never occurred to her to be cross with him for taking her for granted, she was too happy to see him.
Ellamarie stayed at home with Mr Calloway while Joel and Kate took a stroll around Frensham Ponds. They were gone a long time and Ellamarie was beginning to be embarrassed, able to read the thoughts that were going through Mr Calloway’s head, when they finally turned up again. Kate’s cheeks were flushed; it was confirmation enough of what they had been doing.
Joel stayed for dinner, then returned to London.
Ellamarie tried to fend off the waves of longing and fear that swept over her. Hour after hour passed, and she willed Bob to call her. He didn’t. Unable to stop herself, she picked up the phone and rang him. His wife answered; hurriedly Ellamarie replaced the receiver. After that she kept torturing herself with images of him at home with his wife. The Christmas tree, the gifts, the togetherness. It was easier when she drank, so she kept her glass full, and longed for the time when she could go back to London. He would have told his wife everything by then. He had promised.
Matthew had begged Jenneen to let him stay at her flat. Not knowing what else to do, and so confused and horrified by what she had already done in letting him stay even one night, Jenneen had tried to refuse. Matthew was persistent, and in the end she had given in and left for Yorkshire. She would deal with him when she got back. Right now she just needed to get away.
Her parents were welcoming, and she was pleased, and sad, to see them. She loved their simplicity and warmth. The steamy kitchen, cluttered and clouded with the mouthwatering aromas of chicken and roast potatoes. The coal fire burning in the grate was flanked by two old armchairs that had been there ever since she could remember. One of them was always offered to her when she was at home. It was like being in another world, and hard to imagine that it was only a couple of hundred miles from London. Jenneen felt out of place in her parents’ home. She didn’t like the feeling, but neither did she regret it. Her life was different now.
“More gravy, dear?” her mother asked. It was Boxing Day night, and the aunts and uncles had gathered round the table in Jenneen’s mother’s best room, the room that was only ever used on birthdays, weddings or at Christmas – and, now that her brothers were getting older, when a young lass was brought home for tea.
Jenneen nodded and watched her mother’s veined and roughened hand as she poured the gravy over her dinner. She caught her eye, and as her mother smiled and Jenneen saw the pride in that smile, the dams around her heart broke, and she allowed the love, the same love she had felt as a child, to flood in. No matter how much her life changed, no matter what the future might hold, her mother would always be the most important person in the world for her.
Later, when their meal was finished, they took a stroll down to the working man’s club at the end of the road. Jenneen’s father was especially pleased that she had agreed to come, he liked nothing better than to show off his famous daughter. Jenneen began to relax and enjoy herself. Soon she found herself dancing with Jim Woodruff, her childhood sweetheart and now the manager of the local supermarket. He had married Jenneen’s old school friend Lindsey. She was at home looking after the children, Jim told her, but he knew she would love to see Jenneen if she could find the time to drop round before she went back to London.
It was during their third dance together that Jenneen whispered something in his ear then, without a word to anyone else, left the club and returned home. Once there she took out her make-up and painted her face. Then she stripped, put on her fur coat and boots, and went back to the club where Jim was waiting in the shadows. She drove him out onto the moors. When she took off her coat and presented her naked body to him she could see that he was shocked, but she didn’t care. Mrs Green craved satisfaction, anyone and anywhere would do. It was cramped in the back of the car, but Jenneen sat astride the bemused Jim Woodruff and rocked him to orgasm.
The bitter shame that followed was the worse she had known. Her mother’s face, kind and sad, kept forcing its way to the front of her mind’s eye. Her father, brusque and awkward, yet so trusting of his daughter and proud of her success, made her cry scalding, merciless tears of remorse and shame. What would it do to them if they knew? She shuddered and looked at herself in the mirror. Dear God, what vile spirit lurked in the shadowy recesses of her soul?
It was almost ten o’clock on Boxing Night when Ashley pulled up outside her parents’ house. She recognized Keith’s car immediately. Even after all this time her heart still leapt to think of seeing her ex-husband.
It wasn’t that she cared for him still. She had got over that a long time ago. Her feelings for Keith now were proof indeed that time did heal. No, it wasn’t because she still loved Keith that her heart beat faster at the thought of seeing him, it was because he still loved her. They had had so many awkward scenes over the past year, when he had all but begged her to go back to him. If not for their sakes, then at least for Alex’s. He had offered her so many promises, so many ideals, but she knew she could never have gone back to him. She had loved Julian, and Keith was part of her past.
As she carried a sleepy Alex in through the door, she wondered if her mother had told Keith about Julian. She hoped she hadn’t, but Keith would have been bound to ask, and her mother wouldn’t lie to him. Ashley felt annoyed with Keith for coming early. He wasn’t expected until the next day, when, following the usual routine, he and his family would come for Saturday dinner. If he had kept to their plans, she would have been here to meet him.
“Is that you, dear?” her father called, coming out into the hall and turning on the light.
“Yes, it’s me. Keith here,
is he?”
“In there with Mother. I’ll take him on up to bed, shall I?” he said, taking Alex from her arms.
She handed over her son then looked around for the puppy. “Think I’ll go and put the kettle on before I go in. Come on, Caesar.”
Caesar looked torn for a moment. Alex was going one way, and he was being beckoned another. But Ashley caught him by the collar, and his decision was made for him.
She filled the kettle, and stretched lazily. She would just like to go on up to bed, but she had better say hello to Keith.
“Hi, Ash.” He was coming into the kitchen.
She turned round. “Oh, hello.”
“Belated Merry Christmas,” he said. “I’ve brought a present for you. It’s under the tree.”
She smiled. “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to. Did Alex like his?”
“He loved them. The train set is rigged up in his room, you’ll be able to see it tomorrow. Dad’s just taken him up to bed now. He’s dead beat.”
“Where have you been?”
“Over to Kate’s. Ellamarie’s staying there too.”
“Oh.” His annoyance showed. Her friends were part of her new life, one that he didn’t belong to, and he resented them.
“Did you have a nice Christmas?” she asked.
“Yes, not bad. Mum’s a bit under the weather, but Dad’s as fit as ever.”
“What’s the matter with your mother?”
“Touch of flu, I think, nothing serious. And what about you? How are you?”
“Oh I’m fine, just a bit tired.”
“Your mum told me about Julian,” he said, after a minute or two. “I’m sorry.”
Ashley looked at him, and wondered if he was; his face was serious, and there was a look of genuine sympathy in his eyes. “Oh, well,” she shrugged, “I’ll get over it, I suppose.”
“Yes, I suppose you will,” he said. “It just takes time.”
There goes that phrase again, she thought. The kettle boiled, and Ashley turned away to pour the water into the pot. “Where were you planning to take Alex tomorrow?”