Sally Wentworth

by Semi-Detached Marriage (lit)

  'You're smoking too much,' Sue told her.

  'I know.' Cassie looked at the cigarette distastefully and ground it out. 'I don't even like the things.' She glanced at Sue. 'You're smoking too,' she pointed out. Sue didn't say anything and after a moment Cassie asked rather uncertainly, 'How's Chris? Is he still doing that extra work?'

  The younger girl didn't answer straightaway, sat looking at the smoke rising from her cigarette, then, her voice over-bright, she said, 'Oh, he's fine. He's still working late a lot, only…' her voice broke, 'only I don't think he's working at all, I think he's found another woman!' And tears spilled down her cheeks.

  'Oh, God!' Hastily Cassie pulled a hanky out of her bag and thrust it into Sue's hands. 'Come on, let's get out of here.'

  She led Sue into a nearby park where they found an empty bench, and there Sue poured it all out; her growing suspicions, the telltalc hairs on his jacket and smudges of lipstick on his shirt. 'And then-and then,' poor Sue sobbed on, 'I walked into the bathroom one night while he was showering and he had scratches down his back and-and a bite mark on his shoulder.' 'Did you-say anything to him?'

  Sue shook her head. 'No, I couldn't.' She looked at Cassie. 'Why do you think he did it? I know I'm not very experienced because there wasn't anyone before Chris, but I'm not frigid, or anything. And we've been married such a short time.'

  'I don't know.' Cassie shook her head grimly. 'I'm the last person you should ask. What arc you going to do?'

  Sue sighed. 'I don't know. But I'm not going to let him 'go on deceiving me,' she added with sudden strength. 'I'm going to tell him that I know. Then he can either give this woman up, whoever she is, or leave.'

  'And if he chooses to stay,' Cassie asked, 'will you be able to forgive him?'

  Her eyes dark and troubled, Sue thought for a moment, then answered slowly, 'Yes, I think I'll be able to forgive him because I love him and need him, but I don't think I'll ever be able to forget what he's done.'

  Cassie could think of nothing else but her conversation with Sue all day, it pushed everything else to the back of her mind. The poor girl had been so unhappy, her whole life shattered. Oh, God, why did men have to be such swine? She sat at home brooding about it for a long time, staring at the phone as she'd sat and stared for so many nights, then she slowly picked up the receiver and dialled Simon's number.

  For a few minutes, when he answered, she couldn't speak. It had been so long since she'd heard his voice, such a long time.

  'Who is that?' Simon demanded, then, his tone altering, 'Cassie? Is that you?'

  'Yes.' Somehow she got the word out, though her voice was ragged.

  'How are you?'

  'I'm—I'm fine. You?'

  'I'm very well.' There was a pause in which Cassie's throat was so tight she couldn't speak or even think of anything to say, broken when Simon said, 'Did you want me for anything special?'

  Cassie's heart cried out, oh yes, for something very special, my darling. I want you to come home, to take care of me and love me again. But just as she opened her mouth to pour it all out, she heard another voice, a woman's voice on the other end of the line. The woman started to speak and then stopped abruptly.

  Simon said urgently, 'Cassie? Look, I…' She interrupted immediately, her tone cold and impersonal. 'No, not really. I've had a letter from the tennis club wanting to know if you're going to renew your subscription. And there are letters from your insurance company and your old college about a reunion dinner. Do you want me to deal with them or shall I send them on to you?'

  'Perhaps I'll be able to deal with them myself. I might be able to get down to London next weekend.'

  `Come by all means,' Cassie agreed briskly. `I'll leave the letters in the desk for you. I shan't be here myselfi I'm going on a buying trip to Italy. Goodbye, Simon,' she added, putting the receiver down before he could say anything else.

  A thousand times during the following week Cassie cursed herself for a fool for having made that phone call. It had been a cry for help that had rebounded to slap her in the face. Now she was tortured by pictures of Simon with another woman, and the idea made her feel physically sick. But it was just another misery to add to the generally wretched tide in her life. Nothing seemed to go right at work; goods didn't arrive or were found to be below standard and had to be sent back, Sue was upset most of the time, which made Cassie, knowing that Chris and Julia had met at her house, feel responsible.

  She couldn't sleep at night, lying awake for hours on end and feeling like death when she dragged herself to work in the morning. Tom, too, was pushing her to make a decision because he would have to go back to the States soon. Added to which the weather was continuously wet and cloudy, typical London weather when it seemed that summer would never come. All in all, Cassie just wanted to stop the world and get off, feeling that if she had to cope with anything else she'd end up having a nervous breakdown.

  As the week went on she felt so beset on all sides that she knew she just had to get away and be alone. There was no way she could go to Milan and buy clothes for the store; she would probably order all the wrong things and give Mrs. Nichols a weapon to hold against her. So she offered the trip to Sue, who jumped at it, eager to get away from her own problems for a

  few days. Cassie had already told Tom that she was going to Italy and was on the point of phoning him to tell him of her altered plans when she changed her mind. Perhaps it would do her good to be by herself for a while, to get right away from the flat and all its memories and go somewhere where she could think things through without any outside influences.

  So early on the Saturday morning, Cassie packed a holdall with a few essentials and took a train out of London towards the south coast. There were a lot of people on the train heading for the seaside, but she got off at Taunton and caught a bus headed inland into Somerset, which took her on an unhurried, meandering mute through sleepy villages of stone and thatch cottages until it pulled up outside a small hotel that looked as if it was still in the last century, where Cassie got off and booked a room.

  The plumbing, too, seemed pretty ancient, but Cassie didn't care. She spent the whole two days walking round the countryside or sitting on a wall gazing at the view, and, in the evening, lying on her bed, watching the moon through the little dormer window set under the eaves. It rained most of the time, but that didn't matter either, in fact it seemed to wash away many of her doubts and uncertainties, leaving only the bare essentials, so that for the first time in many weeks she saw her way clear before her.

  At first she had been filled with anger about Simon and the woman he'd been with, but then she tried to put herself in his place and realised that he must be feeling exactly the same way about her and Tom, and perhaps with more cause. She had turned to Tom out of loneliness, and might not Simon, too, be feeling just as lonely, as much in need of love and companionship, the things which she had bluntly refused to give him?

  And Tom? Did she love him enough to divorce Simon and marry him? She tried to foresee a future with him and couldn't, it just wasn't there! The only future she could ever envisage was with Simon, and God help her, she had been on the point of throwing it away. But perhaps it wasn't too late; their love for each other had been very strong, perhaps it was still strong enough to overcome what had happened.

  On Sunday evening Cassie began the journey back to London, phoning Tom before she caught the train at Taunton and asking him to meet her at the station. He was waiting for her at the end of the platform, casually dressed in jeans and sweater and looking so masculine and virile that he drew every female eye in the place. Cassie knew now that she didn't love him, but as she walked towards him she realised the power of his attraction and how, for a while, it had gone to her head to be loved and wanted by such a man. But what girl's head wouldn't be turned by him? He was everything a woman could want-but he wasn't Simon.

  And that was, more or less, what she told him as he drove her home through the wet streets.

  He didn'
t take her refusal without a fight, at first trying argument and persuasion to make her change her mind and then abruptly stopping the car and taking her in his arms to try and persuade her that way, but she held out against it all, her determination strong enough to withstand all his arguments. At last Tom had to accept it and started the car again to drive her home. He pulled up outside the block of flats and sat looking bleakly out of the windscreen, his hands tight on the wheel.

  'I guess this is goodbye, then?'

  'Yes. I'm sorry, Tom. What will you do?' she asked tentatively. 'Go back to America?'

  'I guess so.' He turned his head to look at her. 'What if Simon doesn't want you?'

  Cassie winced at his bluntness but answered steadily.

  'It doesn't make any difference. I'll just-live by myself.'

  'He'll take you back, he'd be a damn fool not to.'

  Tom's hand came out to cover hers for a moment, then he abruptly got out of the car and came round to open her door for her. 'Goodbye, Cassie.'

  She looked at him uncertainly. 'Goodbye, Tom.'

  He shut the car door and looked as if he was going to walk away, but then he turned back and lunged for her, pulling her into his arms and kissing her with a compulsive passion. 'Cassie! Oh, God. If you ever need me… just remember I love you!' He kissed her again, then let her go so suddenly that she almost fell. The next moment he was in the car and pulling away fast out into the road.

  Cassie watched him out of sight, then turned and slowly climbed the stairs to the flat. It was late, she'd been with Tom a long time, and she felt tired, but pleasantly so. Now maybe she could start building her life again.

  The light was on in the hall and she blinked in surprise, then hurried into the sitting-room. Simon was there. He was standing at the uncurtained window that overlooked the entrance to the block of flats.

  'Simon!' Cassie's face lit up when she saw him and she started towards him, then stopped as he turned and she saw the cold, harsh look on his face. 'Simon?' she said again, her heart filled with uncertainty and foreboding.

  `Did you have a good trip?' His voice, too, was cold as the wind in winter.

  `Why-why, yes, I suppose so.'

  His eyes ran over her, taking in her casual clothes and the holdall. 'Was that all the luggage you took with you?' Cassie frowned, trying to work out why he was like this, what he was getting at. 'Yes, I didn't need very much.'

  A look of such savage fury came into his face that it frightened her. 'No, I don't suppose you do need much when you're spending the whole weekend in bed with your lover!'

  She stared at him, appalled as much by his assumption as his fury. 'No, I didn't. I…'

  'You bitchl Don't lie to me. I saw you out there with him!' He pointed savagely at the window. 'Do you understand? I saw you!'

  'It's you who doesn't understand,' Cassie put in desperately, but Simon hardly heard her.

  'I thought if I gave you enough time you'd come to your senses,' he swept on furiously. 'I thought that when you phoned me it was a way of saying that you were ready for us to talk things out, but now I see that it was just to lie to me about going to Italy, to make sure I wouldn't come down this weekend.' His mouth pulled back into a sneer. 'But why bother to lie, Cassie? And why bother to go away for the weekend? Surely, if you're going to behave like a cheap little slut, you're not too fastidious to do it here in our marriage bed!'

  Cassie stared at him, too shaken for a moment to speak, then anger ripped through her like a flame. She went for him with her fists and feet, hitting out at his face and trying to kick him. Simon swore savagely as one or two punches landed, then caught hold of her wrists, twisting them cruelly, then with disdainful case propelled her backwards and shoved her forcefully down on to the settee. He looked down on her for a moment as she lay winded, his face contorted by rage and disgust, then he wiped his hands as if he'd just touched something dirty, picked up his case and left her lying there.

  Staggering to her feet, Cassie called his name and went to run after him, but the coffee table had been knocked over in their fight and she tripped over it, cutting her hand on some broken glass. By the time she got down to the entrance of the block of flats it was too late, he was gone.

  The following night she again dialed Simon's number. When he answered it she said, coldly and without preamble, 'I want a divorce.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THERE was a long pause on the line, then Simon replied, 'Very well. I can't get down to London again for a while, you'll have to come up here and discuss it.'

  'I don't see why we have to discuss it at all,' Cassie answered baldly. 'Why can't we just let our solicitors handle it?'

  'Divorce can be an expensive business; why pay lawyers when we could probably save time and money by working out how we're going to set about it first?'

  'I don't care how much it costs. I just want to be free of you.'

  There was an almost tangible silence before Simon said coldly, 'As Tom Rydell's obviously paying your expenses I don't expect you do care about cost, but presumably you do care about the time factor, in which case you'll have to come up here.'

  'No.'

  'If you want a divorce you'll have to. And come alone, this is between you and me. I don't want Rydell here.'

  Cassie recognised that tone of voice and knew there was no arguing with it. After a few minutes she said,

  'All right, I'll come up on Saturday.'

  'I'll make arrangements with Mullaine's to fly you out in the firm's plane. There's one leaving at three in the afternoon.'

  'I'll make my own way up, thanks,' Cassie put in sardonically.

  'Suit yourself. But you'll have to take their helicopter here from Glasgow'

  `All right.'

  Cassie snapped the receiver down, her hand trembling, not trusting herself to talk any longer without breaking down.

  On Saturday morning she dressed with extra care, putting on a tight-skirted blue woollen suit and a cream silk blouse with ruffles and a bow at the neck. Her make-up and hair she made sure were as perfect as she could get them, because she was going to need all the confidence that looking good could give her when she met Simon. The journey up in the train was long and uneventful, giving her plenty of time to think about what she would say to him. All hope of a reconciliation had gone now, driven out by the unjust assumptions he'd made about her and Tom and the things he'd called her. What hope could there possibly be after that?

  She was too uptight and nervous to be able to eat when she reached Glasgow, so she hired a cab and went straight to the airport, sitting in the waiting-room with her hands clasped tightly together in her lap until it was time to get in the helicopter. Surprisingly, it wasn't raining as she was led across the tarmac, but the skies were grey and cloudy and there was no warmth in the air. The day felt as cold and miserable as her heart.

  There were very few passengers today, only another woman a few years older than herself who had a tiny baby in her arms and was being pushed towards the helicopter in a wheelchair, obviously fresh out of a, maternity hospital, and a man in a business suit carrying a bulging briefcase. They were led to a much smaller helicopter than the one Cassie had travelled in before; this one held only four passengers besides the pilot. They climbed aboard, the new mother being carefully helped out of the wheelchair and into her seat, the safety-belt being put round her and the baby. Then Cassie got in, followed by the male passenger.

  The other woman smiled at her as Cassie fastened her own belt and looked as if she wanted to talk, but Cassie gave only a perfunctory smile in return; she was too tense and strung up to be able to make small talk now. But luckily the noise of the engine and the rotor blades was so loud that talk was impossible anyway and she was able to sit back thankfully in her seat and lose herself in her own thoughts as the helicopter rose into the air and began the long flight up the coast to Kinray.

  It must have been at least half an hour later when Cassie realised there was something wrong. She had been so w
rapped up in her own problems that she had been taking no notice at all of what was going on around her, and it was only when the man next to her knocked her arm as he sat forward, his body tense, that she came back to reality. She looked round, wondering at first what was the matter, then saw that they were flying in a thick, swirling mist that enclosed them like a cloud. Cassie peered out of the window, but there was no sign of the ground, the mist was all around them. The pilot had the windscreen wipers going and was talking on the radio, his voice, although she couldn't distinguish the words, sounding urgent. On her other side the woman's eyes were wide and scared and she was holding her baby tightly.

  'What is it?' Cassie raised her voice above the noise of the engine.

  The man next to her shouted back, 'The mist came down suddenly and he can't see. And there's high ground ahead.'

  `But-but surely he's got instruments and things…' Her voice died in her throat as she realised just how little she knew about helicopters; they were just another of the machines-like car and planes that you always took for granted until something went wrong with them. And this time it looked as if there was something seriously wrong.

  By straining her ears she could make out the pilot calling over the radio, but he didn't seem to be getting any reply because he kept repeating the same things. They seemed to be going more slowly now, but it was impossible to guess at what height they were flying when she couldn't see the ground.

  The pilot turned round and gestured downwards with his thumb, shouting, 'Hold on I'm going down. It might be clear there.'

  The helicopter swayed to the right and then began to swoop downwards. Cassie felt fear grip her heart and she clutched the arms of her seat, gripping them till the knuckles showed white. Beside her the woman gave a sob of fright, then clutched wildly at Cassie's sleeve. 'My baby! Help me hold him.'

  Cassie stared at her, and it took all the courage she had to let go of the seat arm, turn towards the woman and put her arm across to help her hold the baby, which was crying now, either from being held too tightly or because it had sensed its mother's fear.