Where There’s a Will

by Beth Corby

  To maintain appearances, Judith kept up her attendance with the army wives, and coped much better knowing she had someone to relate it all to afterwards. There were of course occasions when her husband returned; his presence keeping us apart while he was in town. But as soon as he left, we resumed our courtship with all the gusto of parted lovers.

  But how long can such all-consuming passion stay hidden? A little over eighteen months, in our case, but as before in our village back home, I think it was inevitable that we would eventually be discovered, especially since Judith was now so much more content. The unfortunate part was that we were discovered by someone ruthless and very dangerous indeed: Mrs Jennings.

  My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her name, and I feel myself go cold, just as I always did at the entry of the Child Catcher in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang when I was a child.

  Like with Betty, we never did find out where she first saw us, but see us she did and that changed everything, because Mrs Jennings, though relatively new to London and Judith’s circle of wives, immediately understood the nature of our relationship. And what’s more, she knew exactly how she wanted to make use of this information.

  The first we knew of it was when she called in on Judith one afternoon, just as if she were calling on a friend. Over tea and cake Mrs Jennings genteelly informed Judith that she knew exactly what was going on. She confided that of course she quite understood and would stay silent, but the price for her silence was for Judith to share!

  I wasn’t at this first meeting, so I’ll never know how Judith reacted. My reaction was one of horror – Judith was my one and only, and the idea of sleeping with anyone else left me cold. But Judith begged me. She told me that her marriage and her social position depended on it. I listened, dumbfounded, unable to believe she could bear to ask this of me. The more she pleaded, the more I felt I didn’t know her at all; her being able to share with so little thought for me. She argued that it was the same as me sharing her with her husband. She said that this way Mrs Jennings couldn’t blackmail or tell on us. I kept my opinions over the blackmail issue to myself.

  Unfortunately, before we could discuss the matter further, Judith’s husband arrived unexpectedly and whisked her off to their country residence. I was left alone in London with Mrs Jennings, and she was very determined.

  She found me wherever I went, presumably on Judith’s information, and began flirting, persuading and cajoling. Perhaps unsurprisingly for someone willing to blackmail, Mrs Jennings was very charming. It’s true that she made it clear that I had no choice if I wanted to keep Judith’s marriage intact, but she told me that she also wanted me to be happy about it. She wanted me to be, at least partly, sleeping with her of my own volition.

  In the end, having been wooed and flattered, I received a panicked letter from Judith telling me she was pregnant, that it wasn’t mine, and that I had to sleep with Mrs Jennings or risk ruining everything she had worked for. I will spare you the tortured details of that letter, but it drove me to drink. Mrs Jennings, who I suspect had been having me followed, found me in a bar, took me to a hotel and persuaded me, in my drink-addled state, that I should take revenge on Judith. She convinced me that Judith would be horrified if I actually went through with it. Mrs Jennings said Judith would feel betrayed, and at the time her words made perfect sense. But afterwards, in the sober light of day, I realised I had done exactly what both Judith and Mrs Jennings wanted. The only person I had disappointed was myself.

  But once it was done, there was no going back. Mrs Jennings, being very happy with the service, paid me handsomely for my attentions. She decided that, not only was I worth every penny, but that I would be more available if I didn’t work. So that put me into a very specific category.

  Do I shock you, Hannah? Well, wait, there’s more.

  Mrs Jennings, as previously described, was dangerous, and although she never linked me to Judith, over time she began to tell of her ‘gigolo’. Word got out, and Mrs Jennings dangled me in front of her friends with the information that she had a hold over me, and could keep me to heel. At which point, I became the toy boy of the wives that Judith so despised. I became their pampered pet with ever-growing financial means, while Judith lived in the country and had babies. And using me, Mrs Jennings gained power over an increasing number of women.

  Of course there were drawbacks. There were women who were not to my taste, theatre visits where only half the play was watched before I was expected to perform. There were the hours of dull conversation, before being pounced on as if by a ravenous panther.

  But there were also compensations. The exhilaration of evading returning husbands, for example – yes, I really did hide in wardrobes and climb down drainpipes half-naked. In fact, a policeman caught me once and said that, considering how little I was wearing, he could tell I wasn’t a burglar. He allowed me on my way with the smirk of a man composing a vastly exaggerated tale for his colleagues.

  In truth I spent several years in these pursuits. I was thirty before anything changed, and in the intervening years I rarely saw Judith. She either travelled with her husband or stayed at home with her children. But life was good, and contrary to expectation I soon owned a flat in one of the more affluent areas of London – which suited everyone.

  More after your next task, for which I would request that you join Jane for lunch.

  Surprisingly yours,

  Uncle Donald

  At last, the truth. A gigolo. Forced to be one, but a gigolo nonetheless. It’s almost too far-fetched to believe. I tap the letter against my lips, going back over all my memories of Donald: his manner, his life choices, his lack of family – and it all starts to make sense. Jane’s warning about Mrs Jennings also slots into place. Mrs Jennings must have dirt on plenty of people – and given what she did to Donald and Judith, she has no qualms about using it to her advantage.

  But how is Jane involved? Is she at risk? I’ll have to ask tomorrow, but if she is, I have to convince everyone to turn down Donald’s will, and I have no idea how I’m going to do that without explaining why.

  Still, first things first, Alec needs to know what the next task is, and I’m not going to let Lauren make me stay up here all evening.

  Taking care to hide the letter in the window seat with the others, I brush my hair, surprised by how my first few brush strokes fly off at the end as I get used to my new shorter style, and use a wet wipe to remove a little of the eye make-up. I stare at my reflection trying to get used to my new look, loving how my hair’s still sleek from the hairdressers. It’s been a day of revelations, but I’m not about to let that faze me. I turn out the light and head downstairs to the drawing room.

  I’m about to push open the drawing room door, when Lauren barks out, ‘You can’t be serious!’

  My hand jerks away from the door as if it’s electrified. I should walk away, but I hover a fraction closer to listen.

  ‘I’m perfectly serious,’ Alec says, his voice calm and quiet. ‘No means no. You’re just refusing to accept it.’

  ‘Is this still about the kiss, because I told you in the pub, she’s just saying I didn’t explain. She’s the liar, not me. You know that, don’t you?’ My hand reaches for the doorknob, but with great restraint I manage to swallow back my derisive snort and stay put.

  ‘I know when someone’s lying to me,’ says Alec evenly, and even from here I can hear the certainty in his voice. ‘And my answer is still an emphatic “no”; even more so than when you kissed me, in fact.’

  ‘Oh, I see. You’ve fallen for her little act – “Lauren’s so mean”,’ she says, mimicking me unflatteringly. ‘But Hannah lies to get what she wants, you know. She plays the goody two shoes, then paints me as the bad guy. It’s a means to an end, and it obviously worked on Donald, but I didn’t realise you’d been taken in by it, too.’

  I grit my teeth at the injustice.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t fallen for anything and I haven’t been taken in,’ says Alec, an edge to his
tone now.

  ‘Well, good, because I’d hate for you not to know the truth.’

  ‘Thanks, but I’m perfectly aware of the truth.’

  Hang on, what? What truth? Blood courses through my body as a suspicion nudges me.

  ‘Now, would you like some wine,’ Alec asks Lauren, ‘because I believe this conversation has come to its natural conclusion,’ and his voice changes as he gets up.

  I pull back and run to the kitchen on tiptoes, take a plate from the cupboard, and just manage to open the plastic strudel box before Alec comes in.

  ‘Strudel? It’s delicious,’ I offer, lifting out a slice. I take a large bite, breathing heavily and puffing pastry crumbs everywhere.

  Alec watches me, looking amused as I struggle to chew. I don’t think my guilty flush helps.

  ‘Mrs C’s apple strudel is legendary,’ he says, with a smile that shoots a shiver down my spine. ‘Glass of wine to go with it?’ he asks, holding the bottle to his forearm like a wine waiter.

  I swallow with difficulty and grin. ‘Do you two want company?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘Yes,’ he says, frowning back up the corridor towards the drawing room.

  ‘In that case, yes please.’

  He waits for me to finish my slice of strudel, and we stroll back together, taking an extra glass for Lauren. On seeing me her eyes narrow, but she quickly recovers herself and smiles.

  ‘I’ll be leaving in the morning,’ she says, faking an airy tone. ‘I’m going to stay at Mum and Dad’s. It’s far more convenient for my flat.’

  Not sure what to say, I hold out the glass. ‘Wine?’ I offer.

  She looks from me to Alec. ‘No, I’ll have an early night. Good night, Hannah,’ she says, completely ignoring him. ‘Did you know you have pastry crumbs all down your top?’ and giving me a haughty look, she walks out.

  Frowning slightly, I brush off the crumbs. ‘Well, she’s not happy.’

  ‘No. I think that’s down to me.’ Alec looks into my eyes, and I smile ruefully.

  ‘You can’t take all the credit. There’s some sibling rivalry mixed in there too – she’s angry that Donald chose me.’

  ‘But that’s not your fault.’

  ‘From her standpoint, it is. She’s still annoyed I was born. I reckon my parents should have prepared her better for my arrival.’

  Settling into an armchair, Alec stares thoughtfully into his wine. ‘Which begs the question of whether it’s nature or nurture that turns siblings into rivals.’

  I think of Cain and Abel, Grandma Betty and Uncle Donald and even Mum and Aunty Pam, who wouldn’t voluntarily spend any time together. ‘I guess it depends on whether you are talking about specific people or siblings in general?’

  Alec nods, watching me over his glass. ‘When Donald was telling me about Betty, he said there was always an undercurrent of enmity between them, but that they might have weathered that if there hadn’t been an unforgivable deed on Betty’s part.’

  I nod slowly, knowing the deed he means. ‘I think that’s true of me and Lauren, too.’

  Alec’s eyes meet mine. ‘So did you get on when you were small?’

  I pull a face. ‘Not really, but it got worse in our teens.’

  ‘Was there an unforgivable deed?’ He looks at me with an intensity I’m not used to. ‘Of course, you don’t have to tell me,’ he says, and smiles.

  ‘I know. It’s just that I’ve never told anyone,’ and oddly, I want to tell him. I take a sip of wine, and tuck my feet up under me. ‘When I was seventeen I wrote a book – right through from beginning to end. It took me months and I was very proud of it. I thought it was raw and genuine and well . . .’ I can’t help laughing, ‘. . . I would think that now that I can’t check.’

  ‘What happened to it?’

  ‘Well, to understand that, you need to know what happened just before.’ Alec nods for me to continue. ‘It was my parents’ anniversary. Lauren came home from university for a special dinner they’d planned at a posh restaurant. It was meant to be the four of us, but that morning Lauren bumped into an old flame outside our house, and he invited her out. I saw the whole thing, so it was no real surprise when she put on a show of being virtually at death’s door with the worst headache ever, begging to be left at home.

  ‘We went without her, but dinner was miserable because Mum began imagining Lauren might have meningitis. Dad and I tried to say it was probably a migraine, but she’d heard that students had a higher chance of contracting meningitis and couldn’t relax. So, I weighed up the alternatives and decided honesty was the best course of action. I told them about Lauren’s date, vainly hoping we could laugh about it and have a nice evening, but Dad was furious. He insisted we leave immediately, and of course when we got home, Lauren was nowhere to be found.

  ‘It was a tense, frosty evening, with the three of us sat waiting in the living room and Mum and Dad glaring at me because I’d covered for Lauren. Then, when Lauren arrived home, dressed to the nines and trying to pretend she’d just been out for medicine, all hell broke loose. I couldn’t even look at Lauren, but I knew her eyes were burning holes into me.

  ‘The next day I went to school. While I was out Lauren rummaged through my things, looking for some way to pay me back, and found Dad’s old laptop. I hadn’t told her about my book, but she’d seen me typing away often enough, so she opened it up and read the start.’ I glance at the floor and take a deep breath. ‘Then hit delete. When I got home there was a space on the screen where the folder had been. I confronted her about it, and she said she’d read the start of my “poisonous little diatribe”, saw that my main character didn’t like her sister, and erased the entire thing. We both knew it was an excuse. This was all about payback and she’d been thorough. She’d deleted it from the computer’s recycle bin and even wiped the backup copy from the memory stick I’d left carelessly on my desk. I was devastated.’

  I finally look at Alec. His jaw is slack with horror.

  ‘The irony is that there was only one mention of my character even having a sister in the entire book.’ I try to sound casual, but even now, the memory stings.

  ‘Did you tell your parents what she did?’

  ‘There didn’t seem much point. We were already in enough trouble, and Lauren would have claimed I’d written a three-hundred-page attack on her. I couldn’t prove I hadn’t, so . . .’

  ‘Did you rewrite it?’

  ‘I tried, but it all seemed so pointless after all that hard work going down the drain. I found it very hard to write anything for a long time. But like anything you love . . .’ I think briefly of Donald and Judith, ‘. . . you come back to it.’

  Alec shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe she did—’ he stops with a slight clenching of his jaw muscles. ‘Actually, scratch that, I really can, but I don’t know how you didn’t pull her hair out by the roots and kick her down the stairs. Honestly, if it had been me . . .’

  I take a deep, cleansing breath. ‘I was furious,’ I admit. ‘I screamed I’d never forgive her, like in Little Women.’ Alec looks at me questioningly. ‘You know, when Amy burns Jo’s manuscript?’ but Alec shakes his head, so I wave the reference away. ‘And, if I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever have really forgiven her.’ I shrug. ‘Anyway, that’s what happened between me and Lauren.’

  ‘Enough to break any sibling bonds. But I admire you for still writing. Donald would have, too, though something tells me he already had a fair idea about your strength and determination.’

  I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I haven’t got anywhere with it – I’m not published, despite sending stuff off,’ I explain. He surveys me speculatively, a slight smile on his lips, and I feel a sudden need to change the subject. ‘I actually came down to tell you about the next task.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘It’s lunch with Jane.’

  Alec’s eyebrows flick up. ‘Donald said that was a task, but didn’t you do that today?’

  ‘We did, but I have a feel
ing this one’s slightly different.’

  He nods. ‘Well, I’m not invited, so I’ll research Mrs Jennings while you swan off and have lunch with Jane.’ His tone is teasing, but his eyes are still intense.

  ‘A PA’s work is never done,’ I say lightly.

  He smiles and looks at his empty glass. ‘It will be over all too soon,’ he says sadly, but before I can ask him what he means he gets up. ‘Time for bed?’ he asks, holding out his hand. I stare up at him, my pulse quickening.

  ‘Aren’t you tired?’ he asks, and I almost laugh. He’s just offering to help me up.

  ‘Yes, I am.’ I get to my feet, pluck his wine glass from his hand and carry them through to the kitchen. But as I rinse the glasses, I rest against the sink for a moment, thinking about Alec researching away tomorrow. I can’t help feeling guilty about not being able to reveal the contents of Donald’s letters, but what would Alec think if he knew? Would it ruin his opinion of Donald? I can’t be responsible for that, not after everything he said in the study the other night.

  I upend the glasses on the draining board, and watch the water drain back to the sink.

  No, it has to be Donald’s choice. I turn out the kitchen lights and go to bed before I change my mind.

  Chapter 23

  It’s very quiet at the breakfast table. Lauren left first thing without saying goodbye and after everything I told Alec last night, I’m suffering from a distinct sense of having over-shared. I smile shyly at him as I pour cream over my porridge. He nods, cradling his coffee, and I dig in. As soon as I’ve finished, I get up and call Jane to let her know about the task. She’s comfortingly relaxed about it.

  ‘Of course,’ she says. ‘I’m meeting someone at the racetrack today, but we could have lunch there, if you’re OK with that?’

  I look down at my trousers and top. ‘Isn’t it all Pimm’s and big hats?’