“WHY AREN’T YOU GOING to this sixties thing yourself?” Millie smiled brightly at Hettie as Stephanie poured out coffee.
“I’m staying to look after the children,” Hettie gestured vaguely around the kitchen. “Someone’s got to.”
“I have been trying to find another sitter,” Stephanie put two mugs down on the table. “But my usual girl is away at college now. I’d ask Mrs Becket from over the road but she’s getting on a bit. Charlotte is staying over with Emma but there’s still Toby. Three is quite a handful for anyone else but Hettie.” She winked at Millie.
Millie stirred her coffee. “I’ll do it!”
Steph looked at her. “I thought you were coming with us.”
Millie shook her head. “I’m not bothered about going and it would be nice for you to have a night out, Hettie. I can bring Ben over and I’ll look after all of them.”
“But what about…” Hettie looked anxiously at Joshua asleep in his rocker.
Millie laughed. “Ben was that age once you know! I can still remember how to change a nappy.”
“And Erica’s a bit funny with people she doesn’t know. ”
“We’ve just met!” Erica had taken one look and buried her head under a cushion.
“Well if you’re sure…” Hettie said doubtfully.
“We can’t let you do that. You don’t want four kids all evening.”
“They’ll be in bed won’t they? Millie looked meaningfully back at Stephanie. “I’d like to. Really!”
“Fine.” Stephanie nodded, her face neutral. “There you are Hettie – you can come!”
She closed her mind to the expression on George’s face.
“And there’s a spare packet of baby wipes on the dressing table in my room.” Hettie hovered at the front door pulling anxiously at her electric-blue caftan. Millie smiled. “Everything will be fine, Hettie. I’ll have them all in bed in a moment.”
“Well, Erica might –”
“Are we going?” George jiggled the car keys. “We’ve been standing here for ten minutes.”
“It’s just you know how sensitive Erica is.” Hettie allowed herself to be led along the path to the car. “It takes nothing to give her nightmares.”
“She’ll be fine,” Stephanie said again soothingly.
“But if Millie reads her an extra story…”
“I’m sure she will,” Stephanie said, knowing Millie’s main agenda would be to get them all out cold double quick before Alex turned up. She checked her mobile was in her bag. She had to alert Millie as soon as she knew they were leaving the club. Part of her wanted to warn Millie generally. Wanted to shout: Don’t Do It! But she tried to remind herself that her friend’s situation was more complicated. That she really needed Alex.
“I’ve just got to see him,” Millie had said with feeling, when Hettie was out of earshot. “I’ve had no chance all week.”
“Well for goodness’ sake make sure they’re all asleep,” said Stephanie picturing Hettie’s face if Erica spilled the beans.
Millie laughed. “I will. Even if I have to take a mallet to them. It will be such a relief to be out of the house. Things have been pretty grim with Patrick.”
Stephanie had squeezed her arm sympathetically, grateful that she herself was feeling very much better. She still felt embarrassed at how badly she’d fallen apart in front of Sue but there was no doubt it had been a turning point. Afterwards she’d felt cleansed, empty, new somehow. As though the whole Troy thing could be put behind her.
He was still texting and her heart still twisted every time, but she’d had a narrow escape. “He showed me what it would have been like,” she said to Millie. “I got out just in time.”
George might be grumpy about having to don purple cords and a psychedelic shirt but she knew where she was with him. He was her husband and she loved him. They were going to enjoy tonight, get Hettie packed off home early in the morning, go to his favourite restaurant for his birthday lunch tomorrow. She knew she was lucky.
The car park at the squash club was nearly full. “And half of these will still be here in the morning,” said George reversing into one of the last spaces. “We’ll get a cab home too, shall we?” he asked Stephanie. He grinned suddenly and reached out and squeezed her fingers. “Don’t think I can cope with this on orange juice.”
“Of course not,” she squeezed back. “Though you know what the wine’s usually like.”
“And the food,” George pulled a face at her as he opened the back door for Hettie. “Mrs P’s spread…”
Stephanie giggled.
The food looked as bad as it always did. Mrs P’s idea of catering hadn’t wavered in ten years. Sausage rolls, scotch egg cut in half, a whole dried-up-looking salmon decorated with hundreds of flaccid cucumber circles and for that money-no-object look dozens of enormous head-on king prawns which dangled over the edge of practically every dish. Whatever plate you approached there was a pair of manic black eyes above a set of pink whiskers. Even over the pine nut pate – the one concession to those who wouldn’t eat “proper food”.
Stephanie picked tentatively at a breaded mushroom which turned out to be a rubbery piece of chicken. Ken wandered past in a pair of silver flares.
“Are you all right?” he asked as she buried the offending article in somebody else’s leftovers.
“Yes, thank you!” The wine was something indeterminate from a carton but already she seemed to have drunk several glasses. The beads wrapped around her forehead kept slipping down over her nose.
“Good do eh?” Ken nodded towards the crowd of cheesecloth-clad would-be hippies guffawing around the bar. She could see George in the middle waving a pint about and Hettie deep in conversation with another bra-less earth mother.
“Where’s Madeleine?” she asked Ken, not sure what else to say. “She’s here,” he said jovially. “Not wearing much of a skirt!”
Not much of one at all but you had to hand it to her – she looked terrific. Most women of her age wouldn’t have dared go out in a tiny leather mini, scoop-necked top and long black boots – Stephanie shuddered at the thought of her own legs on such display – but Madeleine stalked about looking a million dollars and all the male heads at the bar swivelled.
“Having a good time?” she asked Stephanie. She looked at her searchingly.
Stephanie nodded. “Sorry about missing work last week. I’ll be back on Monday.”
Madeleine shrugged. “Not a problem – you’ve done a good job getting me up to date again. Got on top of it.” She lit a cigarette.
“Carolyn’s got some bloody bug and I’ve had to give Jo the night off so I’ve left Samantha on her own.” She inhaled deeply. “I’ve told her to keep me informed. Lucky it’s a really quiet night – Saturdays often are – all out where they should be for once I guess.”
“Didn’t bother dressing up, then?” she said sharply, as Patsy came up to them.
“I don’t intend staying long,” Patsy ran a hand down the hips of the plunging, clinging sheer dress that must have cost a fortune.
“You look very nice,” said Stephanie, feeling ridiculous in her own long beaded creation. One of her false eyelashes was already coming loose. She put a hand to her eye. “Just popping to the ladies.”
Patsy joined her a few minutes later. She stood at the next basin, carefully blending in her lipstick as Stephanie wrestled with the little tube of glue.
“Isn’t it all stupid?” said Patsy. “I’d like to leave right now.” She pouted into the mirror. “I can’t be bothered to circulate. I almost don’t care whether Dave thinks I’ve been here all night or not. Just want to go and have a shag, frankly!”
Stephanie smiled. If George didn’t drink too much and Hettie didn’t spend the entire night pacing the landing singing “Five Little Piggies” she might even be in the market for one herself. She’d looked at him as they’d got changed that evening. He was still attractive. Once their love-making had been good. She was going to try.
“All going well?” she asked lightly. “With your…er… friend?”
“Mmmm.” Patsy licked her lips. “It’s all rather special, actually. You know I think I might finally be getting monogamy.”
Stephanie nearly choked. “But –”
Patsy laughed. “Well not with Dave, obviously!” She put her lipstick down and perched on the edge of the basin next to Stephanie.
“Normally I’d have had enough by now and be telling myself I’d never do it again,” she said unexpectedly. “You know when the excitement goes and you start to worry that your home will be lost and the children upset? I’ve always got to the point where I think it’s not worth it any more.”
“Well it often isn’t,” said Stephanie with feeling. Her eyelashes fell off again and lay in the sink like a sat-on spider.
Patsy pulled a packet of Marlboro from her tiny jewelled bag. “But then it happens again – that buzz, the anticipation, the thrill of strange skin against mine.” She looked thoughtful and quite un-Patsy like. “That’s what it’s about. I’m addicted to the newness of things…”
“I’m not” thought Stephanie. It was familiarity that had drawn her back to Troy – the warmth and comfort of things forgotten. It was the way Troy would hug her so she was lost in him, the way he watched her intently while she spoke, put his head slightly to one side to properly consider her words. She felt a stabbing in her stomach – part loss, part anger at her own stupidity.
George seldom met her eyes when she was upset. But then they’d so rarely spoken about feelings these last few years. She could not imagine telling him the kind of thoughts she’d so frequently spilled out to Troy. George baring his own soul was unheard of. Or it had been until Agatha’s. Maybe they could start talking after all.
Patsy flicked her lighter and lit up. “But I really think it’s different this time,” she said. “For the first time I feel like I’ve found the one who would be enough. It’s always just been good sex before – and that high of someone different, the excitement of all those first little secret meetings.” She blew the smoke out in a long stream. “But very soon it all wears thin. They’re all the bloody same underneath. That’s why I’d never thought about leaving Dave. I mean what for? Another Dave. A bit of a different shape with a different name, a different line in snoring, farting and falling asleep in front of the telly…”
“How many have you had?” The question was out of Stephanie’s mouth before she could stop herself. Too much to drink on three prawns. She giggled. “Sorry.”
Patsy was unabashed. “Oh Christ knows. Lots!” She laughed. “Not as many as Monica Marchant! Mind you, you’d have to go some to beat that woman,” she added admiringly. “I’ve known her have two different ones either side of breakfast!”
“But this time…” she stopped laughing. “This time I’ve got it bad. I’m walking around talking to him in my head all day long. I’m not even thinking about the sex – though Jesus, that is fantastic.” Her face lit up again. “It’s just him – his voice, his hands… Oh Steph what am I going to do? I think I might be in love.”
“Well, that’s –” began Stephanie and then Madeleine walked in.
Patsy snapped open a compact and became her usual self. “That’s the best I can do,” she said, dabbing bronze powder on her cheekbones. “Quick hello to all the old farts and I’m off!”
“You be careful.” Madeleine shook her head as Patsy’s red dress retreated through the door. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she said.
Stephanie looked round in surprise. “Even with twenty-four hour cover?” she asked with a smile.
Madeleine did not smile back. “Do you know who he is? He’s the one who needs an alibi.”
Hettie pulled Stephanie away into the corner, caftan flapping. “I need to tell you something.” Her breathing was even more censorious than usual.
“What is it?” Stephanie looked at Hettie’s mouth turned down in disapproval. “Has something happened?” Her imagination leapt into overdrive.
Had Hettie phoned home checking on the children, and heard Alex in the background? Or – worse – had Alex actually picked up the phone?
“I don’t know,” Hettie said shortly.
For God’s sake – what was Millie thinking of? How had she explained it? Old friend? Second cousin miraculously returned from the outback? Passing Jehovah’s Witness invited in for a drop of Horlicks and a spot of lively debate on the afterlife?
Then she saw her mobile in Hettie’s hand.
Oh bloody hell.
“I couldn’t hear a thing in here,” Hettie was saying. “I just wanted to call to see if Erica had had her strawberry milk.” Her eyes were boring into Stephanie’s. “So I went out to the car park and was about to dial your number…”
Another text from him must have come through. And bloody Hettie must have bloody read it.
“Obviously,” Steph would say to Hettie when she got a word in edgeways, “it must be a mistake – intended for someone else entirely.”
Unless it mentioned George. Or – oh God – something rude about Hettie herself.
She found herself gibbering. “Trouble getting through? I get so many wrong numbers these days! Texts I don’t understand! Crossed lines too. Think I’m talking to Millie and someone else answers altogether.”
Hettie frowned. “What?” She looked at the phone in her hand. “Oh no – I haven’t called Millie yet.”
Jack must have called. Hettie had suddenly found out he was a lying, cheating philanderer and her heart was about to break.
Stephanie put her hand on Hettie’s arm and spoke gently. “It may not be as bad as you think…”
Hettie stared hard at her. “I do hope you’re right,” she said coldly. “Troy’s outside.”
* * *
He was leaning against the wall, wearing a patchwork suede jacket that wouldn’t have looked out of place inside. He started forward as Stephanie approached. “Oh babe! I really need to see you.”
“George is in there!” She jerked her head back at the club.
“I know, I won’t stay.” He tried to take her hands. “I’ve been calling and calling and it just goes to voice-mail, you haven’t answered my texts…”
She shook her head, “There’s no signal in there.”
“But you didn’t answer them yesterday. I can’t lose you Steph. Not again.”
Stephanie looked nervously round. “I have to go back in.”
“Steph!” He pulled her towards him, eyes searching hers and she realised he was drunk. “Steph, we have to be together.”
“No Troy. I have to be with George and my children and you have to get yourself and your family back to Norwich as soon as you can. I want my life back to normal. I want this over.”
“Tanith wants to move here.”
“What?”
“She says it’s quiet and clean and she likes being nearer the sea. Thinks we should move into Mum’s till we find somewhere bigger.” He was slurring slightly. “It’s a chance for us to move up the property ladder and it’s a good place to bring up children.”
Stephanie’s stomach had gone into a tight knot. “She can’t…”
“We’d be able to see each other all the time…”
“No!”
Troy looked hurt. “I thought that’s what we both wanted. Really, deep down. We were meant to be.”
“I’m not having an affair with you.”
“What do you think we’re doing now?”
“We’re not. It’s finished.”
It was frightening and bizarre. He thought he could just sleep with both of them. She wanted to be back inside with George. She wanted Troy far away.
“Steph!” He was trying to hug her, his breath smelt of whisky, “I love you Steph.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” She pulled back. “Go home.”
“I want to talk about it now!” He was beginning to shout.
Hettie was standing in the doorway as Stephanie tried to walk back into the building. Her face was stony. “What’s going on?”
“He’s drunk, that’s all. He’s been a bit emotional since his mother died.”
“Does George know?”
“There isn’t anything to know.”
“Troy told me he loves you.”
Tell me you love me…
“Let me tell you something,” he said, slowly licking Patsy’s stomach. “You are the most amazing woman…”
His hands moved over her thighs. Her body stirred again, despite the fact that they’d been at it like rabbits for the last two hours. She was aware for the first time in her life she wanted more.
For once the slow movement of his fingers and tongue was not her main priority. She wanted him to move up next to her, hold her in his arms, pull her head into his shoulder, wanted them both to sink into the pillows, under the quilt, to be safe and warm, protected from the world.
Last night they’d sat in his car in the dark, under the trees near the PAs office. He was telling her about his morning. She watched the movement of his jaw as he spoke, the shine of his dark eyes, his hand carelessly running through his hair as he laughed and she had suddenly longed for something she couldn’t quite name. It was a warm soft night. “We could walk,” she’d said, wanting to wander along with him holding hands, like a couple.
“Better not!” He’d given a small nervous smile, hand patting her thigh. “Not here.”
Not here. Not here where he was so well known. Where anyone might spot him. Not in London either where any other illicit couple could sink into anonymity. It had to be in this carefully-chosen hotel, or in a dark street away from prying eyes.
And soon he might begin to balk at that too. Already he said he was worried about being followed. Patsy had laughed. “By who?” But he’d looked troubled. “I’m not sure. Just a feeling I’ve had.”
“Come here!” she sat up now holding out her arms. But he winced as he shifted position.
“Still don’t feel right, a sort of pain…” His hand went to his ribcage.
“You just had too much lunch.” Patsy pulled him towards her. She imagined how he would react if she offered to leave Dave. He’d be horrified. Would pull back in alarm – as she had done so many times before when over-ardent lovers had wanted too much. There was so much for him to lose. Whole career in one move! She slid a leg over his. “All that rich food. You need a bit of exercise…”
Ken was jigging away to the strains of “A Hard Day’s Night”, his hands firmly clamped to Stephanie’s shoulders. She tried to jig with him.
“This brings it all back,” he shouted in her ear.
She smiled and nodded. She wanted to go but they were stuck here till the end. George seemed to be enjoying himself, Hettie was tucking in at the food table, but Stephanie couldn’t relax. She was terrified that Troy would come back and she just longed to be home in bed, safe from him, away from Hettie’s probing.
“You must have encouraged him,” she’d said, accusingly as she loaded her plate. Stephanie had walked away.
Patsy came out of the bathroom and up behind him as he stood by the window looking down into the street. “More champagne?”
He shook his head. “No, I still feel… keep back!!” He dived onto the bed in the centre of the room, pulling her with him.
“What?” she asked, startled.
“Over there – it’s the same young chap I saw earlier. He’s trailing me.”
“Are you sure?” Patsy looked doubtful.
“Yes, he was there when I arrived. He probably got a picture of you coming in as well. Oh my chest! Burning…”
“Well he won’t know what I was doing here,” she said calmly, though a frisson of alarm had run through her.
“I think I saw him the other day too. He might have seen you getting out of my car.”
They were lying down now; she kept her eyes on the ceiling. “And if he did?” she said carefully.
“Well, they’ll splash it everywhere, won’t they. Tabloids will have a bloody field day. Me! Mr Fidelity screwing a married woman. Your husband will probably kick you out. We’d be forced to…”
“What?”
He gave a grunt.
“Would it be so terrible?” she asked lightly. “You might find new opportunities came along.”
He didn’t reply, just made another peculiar noise. She sat up and turned to look at him, afraid she had said too much. His skin was grey – sweat lightly beaded across his forehead and upper lip. He was clutching at his chest, his eyes crumpled in pain.
“What’s the matter? Patsy leant over him as he gave a small groan. “Oh Christ, what is it?”
He rolled on to his side, arms crossed over his front and shook his head soundlessly. Then let out a low strangled cry and clutched himself. His face had turned from grey to red.
“My – heart… ” he gasped.
Patsy stared at him aghast. Heart attack! Her own was pumping so hard she felt she might be next. She looked wildly around the room, trying to remember diagrams she’d seen of the recovery position. He was writhing on the bed. Should she give mouth to mouth?
“I’ll call an ambulance!” He was doubled up, his hands still grasping his body, his breath rasping in and out. He seemed to be shaking his head. Thinking of his job? If he got found in a hotel room with another woman…
She looked at his naked body. Imagined the ambulance crew’s faces. For a moment she dithered, then his eyes closed.
She grabbed at the telephone.
Samantha sat alone in the sound room drinking Coke. The answering machine in Jed’s flat was still switched on and his mobile switched off. He hadn’t told her he was going out. But perhaps something had come up. She’d call him again in an hour. She curled into the chair with her magazine and waited for time to pass.
Suddenly phone five rang making her jump. She scanned the cards in front of her, flicking the switch for seventies music and a jumble of middle-aged voices to flood the room.
“Who?” she shouted convincingly above the noise. “Hold on!” She waved the receiver towards the speakers.
“Anyone seen Barbara?” she yelled in her deepest voice. She laid the receiver down making it clatter as she waited a moment. Then she picked it up again, “Sorry love, she’s here somewhere, Elaine was just talking to her she says. Expect she’s in the loo. Shall I get her to call you? Yes we’re having a great time. Nearly all the girls managed to get here…”
Samantha’s fingers moved rapidly across the keypad, calling up Barbara’s mobile. There was an anxious squawking at the other end as it was answered. Samantha spoke soothingly to the older woman. “Just phone him back, say you’ve had to go into the garden because the noise is so loud. If it gets awkward tell him your battery’s running low. Give it a minute and cut him off. He sounded OK as soon I said you were there.”
She sat back feeling pleased with herself. She did have acting skills. She could cope. But she wished she hadn’t told Jed about what went on here. She’d felt ill in the morning as well and he’d been a bit distant since. It wasn’t such a bad job after all, she thought uncomfortably, imagining Madeleine’s wrath if she knew what Samantha had revealed.
The second phone rang almost immediately. What was that? Oh – tricky one. Calls to her mobile diverted here to be dealt with. Samantha grabbed it, almost forgetting to turn the train noise on.
“Hello?” the male voice at the other end sounded irritated. “Jean is that you?” Samantha reached for the little device that generated conversation-stopping crackles on the line and then slammed down the receiver as phone line four burst into life. Samantha felt herself grow hot. Madeleine said it would be quiet. What was this one? Fundraising committee? Just a voices tape then. “Hello?” she said at her plummiest.
But the number flashing up on the computer screen wasn’t listed for today.
“Hello?” she repeated cautiously.
“Get Madeleine!” Patsy’s voice was shrill. “For fuck’s sake get her now!”