POLLY HAD NO IDEA where Cass lived on Dartmoor. Had she been visiting Harriet, she would have taken the A30 to Okehampton and turned on to the Tavistock road across the moor. As it was, Cass left the city and drove to the A3 8 where she followed the signs to Plvmouth.
Polly, sticking firmly on her tail, was terrified lest she should lose sight of her rear lights and wished she’d asked Cass for directions. In the gathering gloom it was difficult to distinguish one car from another and Polly heaved a deep sigh of relief when the indicator light on Cass’s car started winking and she followed her off the main road. Through Ivybridge they went, past the farmland behind the town and, finally, on to the moorland road.
Now Polly was well and truly lost, her headlights showing up stone walls, stunted trees and the white coat of the occasional sheep. Just as she had decided that she and Cass would be crossing the moor for the rest of their lives—rather like two terrestrial flying Dutchmen—the indicator in front of her started to wink once more and she found herself passing between two stone pillars and following Cass up a bush-lined drive. Cass drove past the house where the light over the door glowed welcomingly after the endless darkness of the moor and round to some outbuildings where she parked. Thankful, Polly pulled in beside her and switched off the engine.
Cass was already out of her car and hurrying round to Polly shouting words of praise and encouragement, as though Polly had been first past the chequered flag at Le Mans instead of having driven probably less than forty miles in fairly normal conditions. Polly liked it. Rarely did she have her achievements viewed with anything more than a tepid tolerance and Cass’s approbation was a very pleasant change. She preened a bit and shrugged off her cleverness.
‘It was nothing,’ she said modestly. ‘I just followed your rear lights.’
‘Even so'—Cass was helping to gather her case and belongings— ‘some people are very nervous of driving on the moor in the dark if they’re not used to it. No street lights and the narrow roads, not to mention the sheep and the ponies leaping out at you. You were rattling along behind me like an old hand.’
Polly felt that perhaps, on reflection, she had been rather brave. Fearless, even. Her spirits rising, she followed Cass down the path and up the steps of the large Georgian house.
‘It used to be the Rectory'—Cass opened the front door which didn’t appear to be locked-’but the Church Commissioners sold it off and the Tanners live in a ghastly modern place in the village, poor old things. I feel really sorry for today’s clergy. The only perk they had was being able to live in lovely old houses. Now they live in horrid modern boxes.’ She shut the door behind them. ‘It’s a bit big when all the children are away but when everyone’s at home we really need the space. It’s a devil to heat, of course. I hope you’ll be warm enough.’
Polly, still feeling rather brave, took in the square hall with its well-proportioned staircase and murmured that she was sure she would be.
A door opened and a man emerged into the hall. ‘So there you are!’ he exclaimed. ‘I was beginning to worry.’ His eye fell on Polly. ‘Hello, there,’ he added in a different tone. ‘Who’s this?’
He came forward and Polly recognised the dark, rather stocky man she had met at Harriet’s wedding and again at the christening.
‘It’s Polly.’ Cass made it sound as if she had produced a delicious delicacy for his tea. ‘You remember, Harriet’s friend. I met her at Tony’s. She’s all on her own for the weekend so I persuaded her to come to the party. Isn’t that nice?’
‘It certainly is!’ Tom took Polly’s hand and smiled at her. ‘D’you know, I couldn’t place you for a moment.’
‘That’s because she’s had her hair cut and she looks quite different,’ explained Cass. ‘Now she’s got to unpack her things. No, I’ll take the case, Tom. You go and put the kettle on whilst we sort out a bedroom and then we’ll have some tea.’
Tom gave Polly another smile. ‘See you later,’ he said and she followed Cass up the stairs.
‘In here, I think.’ Cass opened one of the doors on the large landing and, going into the bedroom, turned on the bedside lamp. ‘It’ll probably be the warmest one and you’ve got the bathroom next door. You’ll have it to yourself. We turned one of the small bedrooms into a connecting bathroom for ourselves and Gemma’s got a tiny one off her room. Well?’ Cass looked round the room. ‘What do you think?
‘I think it’s lovely.’ Polly spoke quite truthfully. The room glowed with warm soft colours: the velvet curtains a dark ruby, the carpet a mixture of faded blues and reds, the patchwork quilt thrown across the wide bed a brilliant spot of colour. Old, well-polished wood gleamed dimly and the brass bedhead shone in the lamplight. ‘It’s really super. And it feels quite warm to me.’
‘You’re above the kitchen, vou see.’ Cass crossed the room and pulled the curtains across the blackness of the night. ‘We never let the Aga out so this wall is always warm. I’ll get you an electric radiator, though, just to give it a boost. Shall I leave you to unpack?’
‘Thank you. Cass?’ Polly hesitated and Cass paused at the door. ‘Shall you tell Tom about Paul?’
‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ replied Cass promptly. ‘But if people know what’s happened you won’t have to behave as though nothing’s wrong.’ She smiled. ‘Everyone will be nicer to you. And if you behave badly, they’ll make allowances.’
Polly began to smile, too, remembering the gin at lunchtime. ‘What makes you think I’ll behave badly?’ she asked.
‘My dear!’ Cass looked shocked. ‘I don’t think anything of the kind. I just believe in leaving all one’s options open.’ She gave Polly a tiny wink. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Perhaps you’re right. OK. I’ll leave it to you.’
‘You can trust me. Come down when you’ve finished and we’ll have tea by the fire.’
The door closed quietly behind her and Polly slipped off her outdoor coat, heaved her suitcase on to the bed and snapped open the clasps. As she passed between bed and wardrobe she caught sight of herself in the looking-glass inside the wardrobe door and experienced a little shock of non-recognition. Going close, she peered at her hair, turning her head from side to side. Yes, it certainly suited her and she wasn’t at all surprised that Tom hadn’t recognised her. She put the empty suitcase in the bottom of the wardrobe, picked up her sponge bag and towel and, opening the door, stepped outside. The landing stretched away, dim and shadowy: the closed doors blank-faced and secretive. All was quiet. Slowly she became aware of the stately ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall below and some measure of panic returned. She went into the bathroom, laid her things out, had a pee, washed her hands and hurried downstairs.
COLD EARLY-MORNING LIGHT POURED into Harriet’s bedroom where she lay dreaming. Max had just had puppies. He was staring in consternation at these bear-cub-like creatures—they all seemed to have been born at a full six weeks old—and then turned a reproachful gaze upon her.
‘You should have warned me,’ he seemed to say, ‘that this sort of thing could happen to an elderly dog.’
‘It’s amazing!’ Harriet said to Michael, who had now appeared in the dream with them. ‘Max has had babies! It’s incredible! Fancy us not realising after all this time that Max is a bitch!’
‘Honestly, Harriet!’ Michael, for one reason or another, seemed to be a bit impatient. ‘For goodness’ sake!’ His voice was getting louder. ‘Harriet!’ Now he had her by the shoulder and was shaking her. ‘Harriet! Wake up!’
‘What? What is it?’ Harriet woke to find Michael bending over her. She clasped his arm convulsively. ‘Oh, Michael, where are the babies?’
‘Babies?’ Michael stood upright. ‘Only one baby, I hope. And that’s where it was when we went to bed last night. I think I’d have noticed if you’d had it in the night. What are you talking about? If you’ve been keeping it from me that you’re about to drop twins, Harriet, I shall be very upset.’
‘Oh, Michael.’ Harriet, struggling into a sitting position, began to laugh. ‘I dreamed that Max had had puppies. You should have seen his face!’
‘I can imagine it only too well. Poor old Max. And at his great age, too! I woke you because Polly’s been on the telephone. Apparently she’s staying with Cass.’
‘With Cass? What’s she doing with Cass? They hardly know each other.’
Michael shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. She didn’t confide in me. She’s there for the party tonight and she phoned to see if you were going to be up to it. She said that the house is in an uproar and Cass suggested that she pop over to see you. That’s why I woke you up. I said that you’d phone back.’
‘Oh.’ Harriet looked puzzled. ‘How strange. I didn’t realise that she was so friendly with Cass. Well, it’ll be lovely to see her. I think we’ll go tonight, don’t you?’
‘If you feel up to it.’ Michael helped to haul her into a standing position. ‘But not for too long.’
‘It’ll be good.’ Harriet gave him a kiss. ‘1 11 get dressed and be right down. Good grief! It’s nearly ten o’clock!’
‘Well, you’ve been sleeping so badly I thought a lie-in would do you good. Everything’s under control. I shall pop into the office later on but there’s no hurry. I’ve even given Hugh his breakfast. Need any help?’
‘No, I’ll manage. Bless you, darling. I’ll be down in a sec.’
Michael returned to the kitchen where Hugh had arranged assorted toys under the table and was kneeling amongst them, talking to them in a low monotone. Max lay stretched out before the Aga. Ozzy was asleep in the utility room but, in his old age, Max had begun to appreciate the warmth and comfort of the kitchen. Michael bent to stroke him and he opened one eye and sighed deeply.
‘I hate to tell you this, old chap,’ murmured Michael, ‘but you’ve just become a mother.’
AS POLLY, CLOSELY FOLLOWING Cass’s instructions, set out across the moor to Harriet, fitful gleams of sunshine lit up the craggy landscape. At the end of several weeks of nearly continuous rain, Dartmoor was looking exactly what it was: a giant sponge. Things dripped and squelched and even the sheep looked deeply depressed. They stood in clumps looking like so many sheepskin rugs that had been left out in the rain for weeks.
Poor old things, thought Polly, steering her way carefully between several who had taken up positions in the middle of the road and showed no disposition to move. It looks as if it would be a kindness to put them out of their misery and have them for lunch!
She reached the Princetown road and looked with awe upon the gloomy aspect of the prison, grey and forbidding. A working party moved to and fro in one of the fields and Polly shivered and set her foot more firmly on the accelerator. She turned left out of Prince-town and headed towards Tavistock. Once through Merrivale, she kept her eyes open for the turning off on to the narrow road across the open moorland which led to Lower Barton and on to a farm.
Minutes later she was driving up the track to Harriet and Michael’s cottage. It was, in fact, a converted barn standing in an isolated position at the side of the track which wound on past the little garden to another open-fronted barn which Michael used as a garage and wood store. As Polly parked by the gate into the garden, the front door opened and Harriet was hurrying out to meet her.
Polly sprang from the car and hugged as much of Harriet as she could get her arms round. ‘Goodness, Harriet!’ she cried. ‘It looks as if it could be at any moment. Are you sure you ought to come tonight?’
‘Another week yet,’ said Harriet comfortably, kissing her old friend. ‘You’ve had your hair cut! Looks great! And what on earth are you doing with Cass? Come and tell me all and say hello to your godson.’
She led the way through to the kitchen where Hugh was kneeling beside the recumbent Max with a row of toy animals perched on Max’s furry side. A large teddy bear, wearing a fetching tinsel scarf, sat astride his neck.
‘They’re all on an outing to see Father Christmas,’ explained Harriet. ‘Max is the coach and teddy’s the driver.’
Polly crouched to give Hugh a hug and Max a pat. ‘Don’t get up,’ she said quickly to Max, who had shown no signs of expending such a vast amount of energy, ‘or there’ll be a dreadful accident. Hello, Huge.’
Hugh gave her a sidelong glance. ‘Sing!’ he commanded and Polly looked taken aback.
‘We were having a singsong on the coach,’ explained Harriet. ‘We went up to Exeter to see Father Christmas with the playschool and everyone sang songs. So now it’s the in-thing. Tell you what, Hugh, I think the coach has stopped so that everyone can stretch their legs and have some coffee. Why don’t we have something, too, and then Polly can sing afterwards when she’s wet her whistle?’
Hugh looked doubtfully at the passengers and then at Polly, who smiled at him. ‘Shall we do “row, row, row your boat” while Mummy gets the kettle on?’ she suggested. ‘And then we’ll all stop and have a coffee break. The coach must be getting pretty exhausted, too.’
Hugh’s face cleared. ‘Sing!’ he shouted.
They sang. When, or so it seemed to Polly, they had rowed the full length of the Thames, Harriet announced that coffee was ready and the passengers were allowed off the coach to stretch their legs. Max pulled himself into a sitting position and rolled an eye towards the biscuit tin.
‘Looks like the coach needs some petrol,’ said Harriet, giving Max a biscuit. She sat Hugh in an armchair near the Aga, piled in the passengers and gave him his feeding mug and a small bowl with some biscuit and a few nuts and raisins in it. ‘There you are. Share them round,’ she told him. ‘And now,’ she said, subsiding at the table, ‘tell me how you come to be staying with Cass.’
‘Oh, Harriet,’ Polly sighed. ‘You simply won’t believe this.’
Harriet stared at her aghast, as the recital proceeded. ‘Gone off with Fiona? Left a note?’
Polly looked at her in alarm. Harriet was beginning to sound Suzyish. If she suggested she bought a dog or offered her raspberry tea Polly felt that she might hit her with a blunt instrument, pregnant or not.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said and drank some coffee, smelling at it cautiously first.
‘I’m not surprised!’ Harriet sounded indignant. ‘What a perfectly foul thing to do. Thank goodness you met up with Cass. She’s just what you need in this sort of crisis. But do you really mean that you had no suspicion at all?’
‘Well, I didn’t. But you must remember, Harriet, that our married life isn’t like most people’s. Paul is often stuck in the laboratory or in his study and he’s not terribly social. I’m not complaining. I’m very happy doing my own thing and I’d hate always to be gadding about to parties and things. I’m useless, domestically, you know that. I like pottering about, reading and listening to music and going out for walks. We’re both very boring people, which is why we suit each other. We’re not what you’d call madly passionate but I hadn’t noticed any change in that respect or in anything else.’ Polly shook her head. ‘All I can assume is that, as he’s been working so closely with Fiona, they’ve fallen madly in love and it’s sort of sent him off his head. He’s probably gone off to assimilate the facts, examine the data and write a short treatise on it,’ she added morosely. ‘Then he’ll decide how to react. Meanwhile, I have to sit and wait for the results.’ Harriet stared at her across the table and then burst into an uncontrollable fit of mirth. ‘I’m sorry,’ she moaned. ‘I’m truly sorry. It was just the way you said it. Oh, God. Sorry, Polly.’ She mopped her eyes on a tea towel.
‘Don’t mind me.’ Polly finished her coffee. ‘I like to give people a good laugh.’
‘No, no.’ Harriet showed signs of breaking out again but controlled herself. ‘It’s not at all funny. And I’m really glad you’re here. But look, you mustn’t go home after the party. Come and stay with us for a bit. I certainly don’t think you should be sitting at home alone, waiting at the end of the telephone.’
‘Cass has told me I can stay as long as I like and, to be honest, Harriet, you don’t look as if you’re in a fit state to have guests. It’s not as if I’m wonderfully practical and could cook terrific meals and be helpful to you. I’d probably be a pain in the neck. I’m sure Michael would think so. Where is he, by the way?’
‘At the office. Ozzy’s gone with him. And that’s all rubbish and you know it. It would be lovely to have you. After all, Michael’s cousin Jon is supposed to be arriving at any moment. He’s in the Foreign Office and he’s been abroad so much I’ve never even met him. If I can cope with him I can cope with you. It might even be a help. Anyway, see how you feel after the weekend.’
‘Thanks. Huge has gone to sleep. What do you do with him when you go into hospital? Can I be of any help with that?’
‘Well, everything’s very well organised at the moment. Michael will simply take some time off from the office. He’s fantastic at a time like this. Not at all the helpless male and he’s super with Hugh. If there’s a problem I’ll shout. You’ll stay and have some lunch?’
Oh. Yes, please. Cass said that the longer I was out of the way the better. She’s nice. And Tom . . . ’ Polly paused. ‘You had a thing about Tom once, didn’t you?’
‘Oh, God. Don’t talk about it. It’s not a time that I’m particularly proud about. Yes, I did. I had an affair with him in the end. You probably remember. Why do you ask?’
‘Well, it’s just that they seem very well suited. Very easy-going and happy with each other. Didn’t they have a child that died?’
‘Don’t talk about it.’ Harriet stood up and went to the sleeping Hugh. ‘I still feel so guilty. Tom and I were having an affair and Cass was running around with a married man and nobody really knows whether Charlotte—that was the little girl—found out and killed herself. It was awful. I’ve never forgiven myself.’ She looked down at her sleeping son. ‘How terrible to lose a child.’
‘Well, at least it seems to have brought them back together.’
‘It was quite a few years ago.’ Harriet sighed and shook her head. ‘What a terrible price to pay. Tom adored Charlotte and she absolutely worshipped him. Gemma isn’t the same sort of child at all, very self-contained and aware of herself, and, of course, the boys are growing up and pushing out the boundaries, which is never easy for a father. He loves all his children and he’s very proud of them but he must miss Charlotte dreadfully. Oh, Polly! I’ve come over all melancholy. Get us a drink, there’s a love. You know where it is.’
‘Jesus,’ said Polly, getting up and going into the larder. ‘I can tell that it’s going to be one of those days. Thank goodness we’ve got a party to look forward to!’