AFTER KAT HAS gone, Jerry clears up the lunch things and then goes to make the bed. He still is not used to these random acts of lovemaking; this ability to please himself and be responsible to nobody.
‘What’s your problem?’ Kat asks, wrapping her arms around him. ‘Lock the front door and turn your phone off,’ and he is delighted to do as she says, though part of him imagines that he can still see Vee’s face; her expression as she watches them together.
He goes into the sitting-room, opens a window and picks up the cushion from the floor. It is the cushion that precipitated the lovemaking. When his daughters visited the flat, one of them had come out of the little spare room with it in her hands.
‘Where did you get this, Dad?’ she asked. ‘I don’t recognize it, do I?’
‘It’s sweet,’ said her sister. ‘I love the little dog. A bit kitsch for you, though, Dad?’
‘It was a house-warming present,’ he said, ‘from Sandra.’
He has no qualms in telling them. Sandra has made a big hit with the family. When he suggested that he’d like to host a lunch for them, and that a friend had offered her house and garden, they’d been enthusiastic. Probably they saw an opportunity to check out their father’s ‘friend’ but any suspicions they had would have been immediately set to rest. Sandra behaved impeccably. She helped Jerry prep the lunch he’d brought with him, suggested a few extra treats from her own cupboard as well as a cake she’d made just in case they stayed on until tea time. There was something familiar, rather comforting, about working with her in the big kitchen and he was unexpectedly aware of how much he missed feminine company and the daily round. Once the family arrived, and they’d all been introduced, she effaced herself, making certain that it was Jerry who was running the show; staying in the background but always available to help out. The grandchildren were delighted by the small bedroom full of toys and books and with the swing and the slide in the garden.
When his daughters expressed their pleasure at her kindness, Sandra merely said that her own grandchildren were regular visitors, that she loved having them and that it was great fun to be able to share the toys with Jerry’s grandchildren. His daughters relaxed with her and by the end of the afternoon she was one of the party. At one point she even fetched some books and read to the two youngest children when they became overtired so as to give Jerry more freedom and time with his girls.
‘What a nice woman, Dad,’ they said. ‘This has been such a lovely afternoon.’
And afterwards, helping her to clear up, he tried to express his gratitude and to pass on his family’s pleasure.
‘It’s difficult for a man on his own,’ Sandra said, ‘and I thought it would be nicer for you to see them all in a family setting. I can see why you don’t want to keep a big place going just for occasional holidays so I’m very glad it worked out. It’s different for me. Two of my sons live locally so I often have the children staying over so that their parents can work, and it makes it all worth it.’
‘Well, it was really kind of you,’ he said. ‘I can’t thank you enough,’ and it seemed appropriate, even necessary, to kiss her cheek. She gave him a hug, quite a serious hug, and he felt a frisson of anxiety; he sensed her expectation. This little homely gathering had moved their relationship on to a slightly different level and all his natural caution sent out warnings to him.
To his huge relief her telephone began to ring and she went to answer it. By the time she returned he’d gathered up all his belongings and was ready to leave. He saw her disappointment but pretended to be occupied with getting his things out to the car. Then he drove away, torn with a conflict of emotions.
The cushion was still on the sofa when Kat turned up some days later after the family had left.
‘Good grief,’ she said, picking it up. ‘What a ghastly thing. Oh!’ Her expression of amused disdain froze into horror as she stared at him. ‘Oh, my God. Did one of your daughters give it to you? I am so sorry.’
‘No,’ he said, half laughing at her expression. ‘As a matter of fact they didn’t.’
He couldn’t quite bring himself to mention Sandra but as he took the cushion from her she put her arms around him, and pulled him closely to her.
‘I am such a horrid person,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t mean to be. I just can’t help it. You’ll simply have to forgive me, darling. You will, won’t you?’
He dropped the cushion and began to kiss her; he could feel her chuckling deep inside, which made him laugh, too.
Now, lovemaking over and Kat gone, he turns the cushion in his hands. He seems to be divided between the two women; between Kat and Sandra. Each appeals to different sides of his nature, but how is he to reconcile them? He makes as if to carry the cushion back to the spare room but some lingering memory of Sandra’s kindness to his children, the familiarity and warmth of being in a family home again, causes him to hesitate.
He tosses the cushion back on to the sofa and goes to take a shower.
The tea party in the courtyard is still going on when William arrives home. He’s glad to see them all, to have a diversion from his thoughts, from the phone call he received earlier from Fiona.
‘Are you very busy?’ she asked. ‘Can you spare just a quick moment?’
‘Of course,’ he said, still looking at the columns of figures on his computer, though he pressed the ‘save’ button. ‘What is it?’
‘Well, something rather exciting has turned up and I’d like to talk to you about it.’
William was silent: his brain darted to and fro, wondering where this was leading.
‘That sounds mysterious,’ he said after a pause. ‘So what does “exciting” mean exactly?’
‘I can’t tell you on the phone. I thought I might come down this weekend, actually, but I can’t get away on Friday,’ she said casually. ‘I really do need to talk to you, Wills. Just you and me. Are you OK with that?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed, wondering why he felt nervous. ‘I suppose so but I can’t quite see all the need for this secrecy and silence stuff.’
‘Just trust me. I’ll book myself in at the Cott. Perhaps I could buy you dinner?’
‘Well . . . why not?’
‘Try not to sound so keen.’ He could hear her laughing and he tried to pull himself together.
‘I’d like that. Sorry, Fi, only I’ve got a client due and I’m just the least bit preoccupied.’
‘That’s fine,’ she said at once. ‘I shouldn’t have called you at the office but it’s really quite important. Oh, and, Wills, just you and me. Tell the others it’s a payback for the barbecues. You can invite them if it makes you feel better, but they won’t come.’
‘How do you know that?’ he asked, confused, and heard her laugh.
‘Take my word for it.’
He was irritated by this smug female response: as if he, a poor simple male, couldn’t see what was so obvious to her.
‘OK,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday. I’ll be over seven-ish.’
He switched off the phone and sat for some moments wondering what this exciting news could possibly be and then put it aside and got back to work.
Now, as he goes to greet his family, he still feels equivocal at the prospect of Fiona arriving quite so soon. He suspects that some emotional crisis is approaching, some change in the dynamic of their relationship, and he can’t see how he should handle it.
‘What did she mean,’ he asks Kat later, when they are alone, ‘that I could invite you all but you wouldn’t come?’
Kat’s amused, pitying look is almost as irritating as Fiona’s remark.
‘The fact that she’s invited you to dinner at the Cott for the first time since you separated does rather indicate that she’s looking forward to a tête-à-tête. To begin with she must know that it’s very difficult for Charlotte. She’d have to find a babysitter and you know she only really trusts me and you. So if Charlotte can’t go I think Fiona would guess that I wouldn’t want to play gooseberry with the two of you and that I’d say that I’ve got a date with Jerry.’
‘What about Tim?’
‘I don’t think Tim would consider supper with Fiona and you and me a big night out. You could try it, of course.’
‘So why did she even mention it?’ he asks irritably.
‘Just in case you needed a reason to be having dinner with her. In case you didn’t want to say that it’s just you and her.’
‘But why take the risk? Any of you might have accepted.’
‘But we haven’t. Charlotte said . . . well, see above. And I’m telling you why I’m refusing. Fiona took a gamble on it. But it’s let you off the hook and nobody will be wondering how it went. Except me, of course, now you’ve told me the truth.’
He shrugs: it’s all too complicated.
‘And have you got a date with Jerry?’ he asks.
‘I have now,’ she says.