‘I didn’t know you’d burnt your jeans.’ A look of concern crossed Teri’s face.
‘I didn’t. It missed my jeans and burnt a hole in the ironing-board cover. I swear I’ll buy you a new one though. Just as soon as I get paid.’
Teri closed her eyes. She could feel a headache coming on. A severe one. ‘It’s not about the ironing-board cover either.’
‘I can’t think of anything else I’ve done.’ Clare tried to sound innocent and failed.
‘I can,’ Teri replied tetchily, ‘but it isn’t anything you’ve done either.’
‘Then what is it?’
Teri took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think this is working out.’
‘What?’
‘Us—sharing.’
‘Oh really, Teri, it’s fine,’ Clare said soothingly. ‘You’re so considerate. I hardly notice you’re here.’
Teri put the bath gel on top of the toilet. ‘That’s my point, Clare. You hardly notice me and it’s my house.’
‘But I’m in and out all the time. I’m not exactly under your feet. I’m the perfect lodger.’
‘That, unfortunately, is a matter of opinion.’ Teri rubbed her temples. ‘I never know when you’re in or when you’re out or when you’re likely to be back.’
‘You sound like my mother,’ Clare said testily. ‘And what’s more, it isn’t attractive.’
‘You come in at all hours of the day and night and drink my milk.’
Her friend’s eyes narrowed. ‘I knew this was about the milk!’
‘The milk’s just one of many irritating little things, none of which add up to the sum of the whole.’ Teri sighed heavily. ‘I need my privacy back.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Clare put on her Sister Mary Bernadette look. ‘I get it now. You mean you need somewhere to bonk!’ A superior expression spread over her face. ‘This is about him, isn’t it? This Jamie. This married man.’
‘Partly,’ Teri conceded reluctantly.
‘How can you do this to me? I thought you were my best friend.’
Teri spoke very quietly and rationally, although it was a struggle to do so. ‘We need somewhere to spend some time alone together.’ She put her hand on her chest and patted it for emphasis. ‘This is my house.’
Clare was indignant. ‘I have been abandoned by my husband, but you don’t give that a second thought. You want me to move out so that you can move someone else’s husband in. Is that what we’re talking about here?’
‘Pretty much,’ Teri admitted. ‘Though it sounds much worse when you put it like that.’
‘This isn’t very nice, Therese Carter, is it? Is it?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ she agreed. ‘Happy now?’
‘Happy! You’re kicking me out into the streets with nowhere to go and you ask me if I’m happy.’
‘I love him, Clare. I want to be with him. I thought you’d understand, but all you do is make snide comments about him.’
‘Don’t talk to me about love, Teri. I know all there is to know. It’s like a nasty dose of bindweed that spoils the garden of romance—it creeps in innocuously, obliterates everything in sight and is an absolute bastard to get rid of.’
‘For a brief moment I thought you were quoting Shakespeare,’ Teri said derisively.
‘No, this is pure Clare Owen. Educated at the university of life and much better use to you than some poncey old bloke in tights.’
‘I can’t stand your disapproval any longer.’ Teri could feel tears prickling behind her eyes. ‘I thought you’d be there for me.’
‘I’ve always been there for you, Teri.’ Clare also sounded close to tears. ‘I was there for you when Michael Lacey poured our playtime bottle of milk on your head in Mrs Whittle’s class. I told on him for you.’
‘It was you that dared Michael Lacey to pour it on my head in the first place,’ Teri reminded her.
Clare paused to think about it and then continued, ‘I was there for you when Janet Starkey tied you by your plaits to your front gates and left you there.’
‘Clare, you came and cut all my hair off. It took months to grow. My mother wouldn’t let me out of the house for three weeks.’
Teri waited while Clare sorted through the various files in her brain. She was getting red in the face, and Teri was sure it wasn’t just the temperature of the bathwater—although she wouldn’t mind betting a pound on the fact that she’d probably be washing the dishes in cold water again tonight. Finally Clare said, ‘I’ve been there for you lots of times.’
‘I know.’ Teri tried pleading. ‘And I’m asking you to be there for me now.’
‘No, you’re not. You’re asking me to not be there for you. You want me to leave. How much more not being there do you want?’
‘I’m sorry.’ It was all she could think of to say.
‘We could work out time constraints—a rota.’ Clare looked completely crestfallen. ‘I’ll make myself scarce when he’s here.’
‘It wouldn’t work,’ Teri said firmly. She had decided on this days ago; it was just a matter of breaking it to Clare. ‘I want him to be free to phone me without hearing you tuttutting in the background.’
‘You’re wasting yourself on him, Teri,’ she warned. ‘This will end in tears. The trouble with married men is that they promise you the earth and all you end up with is a handful of poxy little pebbles.’
‘He hasn’t promised me anything,’ Teri said defensively.
‘Then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.’
They looked away from each other. Clare stared at the yellow-veined tiles on the wall by the side of the bath, and Teri stared fixedly at the ones in front of the toilet. Several of them were cracked. It was Clare who spoke first. ‘I don’t know where to go,’ she said quietly.
‘I’ve bought the local paper. I thought we could look through it together. You might be able to get somewhere closer to the airport.’
‘Damn it,’ Clare snapped. ‘You’re all heart.’ She kicked the duck out of the bath and it landed with a startled look on its face on the bath mat. ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for this, Therese Carter. You’re a tart, a harlot and a ruthless adulteress. Now get out and let me have some privacy.’
Teri stood up and slowly left the bathroom. She leaned with her back against the wall at the top of the stairs and let the tears roll down her cheeks to drip unhindered on the front of her blouse. At this moment, she didn’t think that she would ever forgive herself.
‘It’s me.’ His voice was familiar at once.
‘Oh, Jamie, thank goodness you’ve called. I’ve just had a blazing row with Clare. I asked her to leave, and she’s actually packed her stuff and gone tonight. She’s taken it really badly.’ Teri sniffed. ‘She was in a terrible state when she left. I shouldn’t have let her go.’
‘Why did you ask her to leave?’
‘She’s been so awful about you. I couldn’t stand it any longer. And I wanted my house back to myself so that we could, perhaps, spend some time together.’ There was a long pause at the end of the phone. ‘Jamie? You do want that, don’t you?’
There was a heavy sigh before he said, ‘Of course I do.’
‘Where are you ringing from?’
‘The phone box just down the road from the house. I’m out with MacTavish.’
‘MacTavish?’
‘The dog.’
‘I wish you were here,’ Teri blurted out.
‘I wish I were there, too.’
Teri’s throat was tight and she could feel herself starting to cry again. ‘I’m going to do something really silly and take advice from British Telecom’s latest advertisement. If they think it’s good to talk, we’ll see how it works.’ She took a deep and unsteady breath. ‘I think I’m falling in love with you, Jamie,’ she said hesitantly.
There was another long silence. Too long. Uncomfortably long. ‘I think I love you, too,’ Jamie eventually replied. He sounded sad rather than elated, she thought. ‘Look, I’ve got t
o go,’ he said rather too briskly. ‘MacTavish has only so much patience, and he’s starting to do his starving hound impersonation. I’d better get back and feed him. I only phoned to say that I’ll see you in the morning.’
They saw each other every morning, so when he managed to phone in the evening it was entirely superfluous and, therefore, all the more welcome.
‘I love you,’ Teri said. It was easier the second time round.
‘I love you, too.’ It didn’t sound as if it had been any easier for Jamie. The phone went dead.
Teri sat with her head in her hands staring at the wall. Damn, she had blown it. What a stupid thing to say. The guy phones for a few minutes’ illicit chat at great personal expense and she comes over all heavy and gives him the complete heebie-jeebies. Why did she never learn to keep her big trap shut when she was tired and emotional? What a jerk. Why on earth did she ever think that British Telecom knew what they were talking about? She was going to throw a brick at the television next time that bloody chirpy advert popped up on it.
Jamie pulled MacTavish away from the crisp packet that he had hopefully buried his nose in and started to walk back home. It was a bitterly cold night with a full moon and the crisp whiteness of a hard ground frost, and he pulled his scarf up towards his ears. It was the beige cashmere that had been returned to him on the regretful demise of Frosty the snowman and he was eternally grateful for it—as Frosty had probably been.
His hands were cold and his heart was as heavy as a bowling ball—the heaviest one you could get. In fact, this was much like his first, and last, experience at the Megabowl Alley. It was like slithering down the highly polished lanes in smooth-soled shoes and being totally out of control, unable to get a grip with your feet and equally unable to let go of the ball, but knowing full well that before long you were going to smash headlong into the waiting row of bowling pins.
The only difference was that at the Megabowl, with a lot of luck and a following wind, he had eventually managed to chalk up—or log on the computer-aided display—an excruciatingly low score. With Teri he hadn’t managed to score at all yet. The really frightening thing was that this unfamiliar out-of-controlness wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.
Charlie was right. He had to end it before it became a way of life, before he turned into another Gordy. How could he be doing this to Pamela and the children? What sort of pathetic lech sneaked out of the house on the pretext of walking the dog to phone a beautiful, young, free and single woman who should be out on the town chasing young, free and single men—not sitting at home waiting on the off chance for him to call?
This sort of pathetic lech, whose stomach turned to ice at the thought of Teri with another man, yet who lacked the conviction or the courage to commit to her himself, Jamie concluded bitterly. How could it be possible for him to feel like this about Teri and still profess that he loved his wife? And yet he did. There was nothing inherently wrong with their marriage, they’d just got into a rut, a routine—that happened to everyone. But not everyone went round panting after some young bit of fluff—mental apology to Teri for the political incorrectness—like a lovesick teenager. It was highly probable that a man could love two women equally—but it just wasn’t on in practical terms. Not to mention the slight conflict with the marriage vows: there was nothing in those about ‘to love, honour, cherish and to chase skirt’. Perhaps he should become a Mormon. They were still allowed a dozen or so wives, weren’t they—or was it the Jehovah’s Witnesses? Jamie shuddered. Imagine a dozen wives! It was difficult enough trying to juggle two women.
And what kind of monsters were they both turning into? Teri had thrown her best friend out of her house, while he had done a totally unreasonable Evander Holyfield impersonation and had laid his best friend out for some petty little remark. Pamela deserved better than this, Teri deserved better than this, the kids deserved better than this, their friends deserved better than this and even MacTavish deserved better than this.
It would have to end. He would have to call on all his depleted reserves of willpower and walk away from this. It was going to hurt like hell, but it would be for the best in the end. He only hoped Teri would see that, too.
‘Come on, doggers,’ Jamie said, with a weariness that was embedded deep into his bones. ‘Let’s get you home, my true and faithful alibi, and give you a nice big bowl of Chum.’ MacTavish wagged his tail appreciatively. ‘Otherwise we’ll both be in the doghouse.’
Chapter 14
‘I still don’t know why you agreed to work late. You’ve never worked late before,’ Jamie said, belabouring the point. He was lying across the bed watching his wife as she got dressed.
Pamela fastened the buttons on her blouse. ‘I told you, it’s a new contract that’s come up. A big oil company’s moving into Milton Keynes, and they want us to quote. Tom and I need to discuss it.’
‘ “Tom and I need to discuss it”,’ Jamie mimicked silently behind Pamela’s back. Aloud he said, ‘Why can’t you discuss it during normal office hours?’
Pamela smiled sardonically. ‘Jamie, you’re a fine one to talk. If anyone should appreciate that there just aren’t enough hours in the day, it’s you.’
‘Well, I hope he’s paying you overtime,’ he said petulantly.
‘He isn’t. That’s why he’s taking me for a nice meal to make up for it.’ She wriggled her skirt over her stockings and, smoothing it over her hips, zipped it up.
‘Stockings?’ Jamie queried. ‘You never wear stockings.’
‘Don’t be silly. Of course I do. It’s just that you never look anymore.’ She slipped her feet into her high heels and hid a smile as she saw Jamie’s frown deepen. ‘We’re going to the new Thai restaurant.’ Pamela brushed her hair. ‘I believe it’s lovely inside.’
‘Well, it’d better be. Nice meals don’t pay the kids’ school fees.’
She turned and looked at him. ‘I do believe you’re jealous, Jamie Duncan.’
‘Bollocks,’ he said emphatically. He put the Thomas the Tank Engine he was toying with on the bed. ‘It’s just that, well, don’t you think you’re a bit kitted up for a business meeting?’
‘I thought you’d be pleased that I’m going out.’ She bent to clip her earrings on in the mirror. ‘I get precious little chance to dress up these days. The playgroup might be surprised if I turned up in sand-washed pure silk and pearls.’
‘You don’t think you might give him the wrong idea?’
‘I work for him, Jamie. We respect each other.’ She fastened her watch onto her wrist.
Jamie snorted. ‘Give him an inch and he’d take a mile. I know all about the Tom Pearsons of this world.’
‘Tom’s all right if you know how to handle him.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t handle him at all!’ He picked up Thomas again. ‘Don’t you think I should come with you?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Pamela turned to him. ‘For goodness’ sake, Jamie, it’s one night.’
‘Who’ll look after the children?’
‘It won’t kill you to look after your own children for one night,’ she said, exasperation making her voice sound harsh. ‘Jack’s already asleep and Frankie will be too, as soon as you read her a story. I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. I thought you came home early for me especially.’
‘I did.’ A scowl settled into his features. ‘I just don’t like you going out. You never go out.’
‘All the more reason for you to be pleased for me and give in gracefully.’ She kissed him lightly on the cheek. The sound of crunching gravel heralded a car pulling into their drive. Pamela peeped out of the window. ‘He’s here.’
Jamie got off the bed and strode to the window. ‘Typical. Why do all British businessmen drive German cars? Where’s their sense of patriotism?’
‘It’s very comfortable. Lovely and smooth and quiet,’ Pamela said, admiring herself in the mirror.
‘How do you know?’
‘He took me out to lunch in
it last week.’
Jamie stood open-mouthed.
‘Eternity or Passion?’ she said, holding up two bottles of perfume.
‘Don’t you think that’s a bit over the top?’ His eyebrows knitted together as he surveyed the perfume bottles.
She chose the Passion and sprayed it liberally over her throat.
‘You won’t need plates,’ Jamie said sarcastically. ‘He’ll be eating out of your hand.’
‘Then perhaps I’ll ask for a pay rise,’ Pamela quipped. She twirled in front of him. ‘Tell me I look nice.’
He hadn’t seen her so excited in years. There was a girlish bloom to her face and a pinkness to her cheeks that he didn’t entirely approve of. ‘You look beautiful,’ he said truthfully.
She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I won’t be late. I should be back by eleven.’
‘Have a nice time,’ he said reluctantly.
He heard Pamela skip down the stairs—yes, skip—and then the front door slammed, despite the fact that the kids were in bed. Pulling the curtain back, he watched as she slid her elegant legs into Tom Pearson’s Mercedes, and there was a sick and sinking feeling in his stomach. As he saw his wife kiss her boss on the cheek, he let the curtain drop. Slowly, he walked through to Francesca’s room, where he could hear her having a loud and exaggerated conversation with Barbie about the untimely demise of her favourite boy band.
‘How did it go?’ Tom said as Pamela settled herself into the luxurious surroundings of his car.
‘Like a dream. ‘Pamela looked totally perplexed. ‘If I hadn’t seen his face for myself, I would never have believed it. It was a picture.’
‘And not a pretty one, I’ll bet.’ The car crunched out of the driveway. ‘What did I tell you? There’s nothing like a touch of the green-eyed monster to give a flagging marriage that extra bit of spice.’
Let's Meet on Platform 8 Page 13
