Natalie clattered her dishes as she angrily put them into the kitchen cupboard. Why had she been so rude to Clive Podmore? He was only trying to be friendly, if a bit too friendly. She had noticed the way he looked in her direction with those sad eyes and it made her blush. Mel hadn’t missed a trick when teasing her about him. He was quite handsome for an oldie, Mel had said. ‘I like his beard and he’s fit for his age. You could do far worse.’
‘I’m not interested in relationships of that sort. Have we got enough plates?’ Natalie was desperate to change the subject. Was it obvious to the rest of the choir? Cruel to be kind was the order of the day. He was offering her friendship and a chance to meet up, not a proposal, but she’d thrown it back in his face for his own good. If he knew her history, he’d not be so keen to ask her out. Tum-ti-tum-ti-tum, she hummed. It was too late at night to go down that dark Memory Lane. She was tired and feeling guilty about rebuffing him.
Natalie knew how much Clive missed his wife, living alone with his dog. She’d seen how joining the choir had brought him out of his solitary shell. He had a good strong bass voice, the sort that anchored the beat of the choir. Mel was right. For a man of nearly sixty he was in good shape and she had just knocked him back. How could she face him again?
What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you let this opportunity blossom whichever way? He was right that those black and grey colours did nothing for her looks, but it felt like a good disguise. Tonight she had pulled the pretty Masai dress out of her wardrobe and made an effort. Look where it had landed her! Compliments, an escort and an offer of a nightcap!
Some women of her age would have taken his hand off for such attention… and a sneaky part of her had wanted to respond.
Now Natalie lay in her cold bed, wide awake. No amount of mountain tea would make her relax. She sat up and put the light on to reach for her journal. If she wrote it all down, it might put her worries on the page and stop them racing round in her head.
*
She had met Rick Fletcher at a disco. The girls from the office had a night out each month when they dressed up to the nines and danced round their handbags. One by one they were picked off and Natalie found herself dancing the night away with a guy in jeans and a leather jacket, who drove her home on the back of his Honda.
He worked for his father’s business. He had the darkest eyes and there was Greek somewhere in his family gene pool. Friday nights with him, and her life was changed for ever. They became inseparable. He liked to see her dressed up, bought her earrings and other presents. Rick liked to help her choose her outfits. Looking back at the photos, she saw an overdressed doll with shoulder pads, big hair and Princess Di-style dresses with flouncy collars. But, then, it was the eighties.
Everyone liked Rick. Her parents thought him kind and generous and were happy when he put a diamond solitaire on her finger. The girls at the office in Preston were envious, now her future was secured. He didn’t like her going out with them too often, and once Craig was on the way he preferred her to stay at home. They didn’t entertain much, or mix with the neighbours in Glenholm Close, so with two small children, Natalie sometimes felt isolated in her own home.
Rick would phone her during the day to check where she was. They did the big shop together at the weekend. Natalie was glad of playgroup meetings and a chance to chat to other mums, but she felt as if her brain was rotting away.
There was an evening class at the local college called Entertaining: Cookery for Beginners, which appealed, but Rick wasn’t keen. ‘We don’t entertain,’ he argued. ‘A waste of time.’ But she replied she needed some time to do something for herself.
‘You’re home all day by yourself,’ he said.
‘That’s not the same, not with Candy and Craig at my heels. I can’t even go to the loo without them banging on the door. I’d like a chance to do something different for myself.’
She wore him down, but he sulked when she signed up for the course. Then, when she tried to get to the class, he was late home from work, pleading a delay because of extra paperwork. This meant she had to get the children to her mother, pushing the pram for miles and getting a bus back, just to be in time for the class.
Natalie loved those classes, learning Cordon Bleu techniques, pastry with fancy French recipes. She shared a bench with Martin Fox, who was a teacher at the secondary school. They had a laugh when their dishes collapsed and sometimes the group went to the Red Lion for a drink afterwards, but that had to stop when Rick found out. One night she was late coming home. He lost the plot, yelling and waking the children.
‘What’s so wrong?’ she said. ‘I’m doing this for us. You like the dishes I bring home.’
In response he smashed the plate on the kitchen floor in a tantrum. ‘I forbid you to go again. A wife should be here with her family.’
‘Rick, it’s only one night a week. Can’t I do anything without your say-so?’
‘You are my wife and you promised to obey.’
‘Those are just words in the prayer book. Surely today men and women are equal partners in a marriage.’
‘My mother never left home, except to shop and go to church.’
‘I’m not your mother, Rick. This is not the 1950s. Times have changed.’ It was then she saw the rage in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry to be late, but I do enjoy the classes.’
‘Who is this Martin you work with?’
‘Just a teacher from St Mary’s. He’s a very good cook.’
‘Is he married?’
‘He’s a bachelor and lives in Haig Street.’
‘So you’re pally with him. Does he buy you a drink?’
‘Oh, Rick, please, I’m tired. I just go to improve my cooking. It relaxes me. Don’t begrudge me a night out. I’m stuck in all day. Let’s go to bed.’
That night he was rough with her, as if he was taking out his frustrations on her body. After that there was little finesse in their lovemaking. He did let slip, though, that Fletcher’s Automotive Accessories was struggling. The competition was undercutting their prices. His father was considering retiring, leaving Rick to salvage what was left of the business or join another firm. No wonder he was on edge.
Natalie found the classes a lifeline and Martin a shoulder to cry on. He was calm and a good listener. There was never anything sexual between them, which she found puzzling at first. He was like a big brother and she loved the after-class drinks, until one night she found Rick in the bar, staring at the group in fury.
‘Come and join us,’ she called, but he refused to budge. His mother must be babysitting. Surely he hadn’t left the children alone. Natalie began to panic. Surely not! She shot to her feet. ‘I’m coming now. Who’s got the children?’ she asked.
‘They are fast asleep in their beds.’
‘You left them alone?’
‘If my wife goes gallivanting, why shouldn’t I?’
‘Rick, how could you? What’s got into you?’
‘I wanted to see this boyfriend of yours,’ he replied.
‘He’s not my boyfriend.’
‘You looked very pally to me.’
‘Surely I can have friends of my own. We’re not joined at the hip. How do you think up all this rubbish?’ Suddenly Rick felt like a stranger to her. This was not the man she’d married but a jealous lover who had left his children alone at night.
After that, how could she go to the class? It was then that Natalie felt trapped while Rick took every chance to check up on her. There was no one with whom she could share her misgivings. Was he having a breakdown? Where had the happy-go-lucky guy in blue jeans gone? She put it all down to stresses at work.
‘Let’s have a good holiday this year,’ she suggested. ‘We deserve it. Two weeks in the sun.’
For once he jumped at her idea, booking them an expensive package to Crete. Away from home, Rick relaxed back into the man she loved. Everything about the holiday was perfect, the food, the villa, the sunshine, far away from the grime of their home town. But holidays end, and another term beckoned for her evening class. Natalie signed up, without telling Rick, and arranged for her mother to babysit. If Rick was going to play tricks again, she was ready for them.
It was close to December and the end of term, and the gang of would-be cooks decided to hold a Christmas party at the college. Their lecturer decided who would cook what for the celebratory meal and they decided to invite friends or family to sample their delights. Natalie was proud of her decorated fruitcake, putting the finishing touches to it at home. ‘You will come, Rick, won’t you, to see what we’ve cooked for you all?’
‘I don’t want to spoil the party. You two lovebirds will want to be on your own.’
‘Oh, not that again! How many times have I told you? Martin’s just one of the gang. Stop making things up. You’re getting paranoid! Loosen up – come and meet everyone for yourself.’
‘All I can see is that on Thursday nights you dress up to the nines, let your hair down, put on make-up and it’s all for him!’
‘Rubbish! It’s the only time I get to take off my pinny and change out of dirty jeans after gardening. When I go to class, I’m Natalie, not mother, laundry maid, gardener, nanny, little more than a duster. I don’t think it’s a lot to ask, is it?’
‘You prefer them to home and family.’
‘When have I ever neglected you all?’
‘You’re not the woman I married,’ Rick said.
‘Nor you the man. You’ve changed. What makes you think I’m having an affair?’
‘Because I see no love for me in your eyes. You close your eyes when we make love. You’ve gone cold, saving your heart for this Martin.’
Natalie carried on dressing. She couldn’t take any more of his twisted arguments. ‘I’m not going to listen to this any more. I’m going out now and when I get back, we must sort this out once and for all.’
The party was fun. Natalie got them singing. Martin insisted on driving her home, because snow was falling. When she got through the front door, all was quiet in the darkness, but Rick was nowhere to be seen. She raced upstairs to check on Candy and Craig who were dead to the world.’ Rick!’ she shouted. He might be in the garden, having a smoke. It was then she smelt fumes coming from under the garage door. There was no light on in there.
‘Rick!’ She opened the side door to a waft of exhaust fumes and saw the pipe. The rest was a blur. Rick was in the car and it was locked. She smashed the window to release the lock, but she knew, in that moment, it was too late. What happened next was fumbling for the phone, dialling, rushing to a neighbour, knocking them up, carrying the children into someone’s car, away from the house. It was a policewoman who handed over the note on Rick’s lap. The writing was clear, then grew fainter, until there was only a dribbled line.
I know you’re going to leave me for that guy. I can’t live with the thought of you loving another man. I thought we would be together till the end of time. I hope you know what you have done to me. Then his script faded away.
Natalie sank into oblivion after the doctor gave her something to help her sleep. It was two weeks before Christmas. Presents were hidden in the wardrobe, and there were cakes, mince pies ready to share. Her mother took over the children, who were silent and confused. Natalie curled up in a ball, knowing she had killed her husband. It was all her fault. Why had she never told him that Martin was gay? His partner, Will, had joined the party that evening. They lived together in Haig Street.
‘If I’d told him, he’d still be alive today,’ she confessed to the local priest, Father Pierce. ‘It was my only bit of power. I was angry at how he controlled every aspect of my life. I wanted to make him jealous. How will I live with such guilt?’
‘Rick was depressed about his work and anxious to keep up your standard of living. He wanted to control everything around him. You mustn’t blame yourself.’
Natalie couldn’t agree. ‘I left out the one thing that would have made things right between us. I withheld it for my own satisfaction. I’m so ashamed.’
‘Ah, the sins of omission, the if-onlys that haunt all of us for the rest of our lives and blight any chance of future happiness. Don’t let this tragedy colour your life. It’s a closed door now and staring at it won’t change a thing. You run the risk of missing other doors that will open across the hall.’
Natalie didn’t want to hear his compassion. It was too soon for any forgiveness.
The coroner’s inquest made an issue of the letter’s contents. She denied everything, not wanting Martin’s name in the press, but the muckrakers made much of the news. Martin resigned and moved away. Natalie was left to sort out the mess and bring up the children as best she could. When they grew up and moved away, she fled to the sanctuary of the Greek island where no one would ever know the truth of her betrayal. Clive could be no part of her future, kind as he was. Her punishment must be to stay alone.