by Anne Bennett
There was another besides Kenny who worried and watched over Simon, and that was Sandra, who worked at the desk beside his in the office. She’d worked with him since he joined the firm and had fancied him from the start, but Janet Travers had already been a fixture in his life. Now it appeared she’d blown it. Kenny had been quick to spread the tale around the office, and Sandra had overheard the telephone conversation Simon had had with precious Janet when he’d told her in no uncertain terms to ‘sod off’ back to her Yank. Sandra reckoned Janet Travers was a bloody fool to throw over such a great guy as Simon. She understood him and what he was doing, and knew it wouldn’t last. He was hurting, but one day he’d be over the Travers bitch and then she’d be waiting. She made excuses and covered for him when he was late, and made him black coffee when he came in in a bad way, which was most mornings.
Simon was grateful to Sandra for her understanding, and occasionally wondered why he’d never asked her out. But he knew that if he was to do that she’d want more than a good night and a quick lay. Sandra wanted commitment, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.
When the post came round on Tuesday morning, Simon, as usual, wasn’t in, and Sandra was intrigued by the letter marked ‘Private and Confidential’ on his desk. She picked it up in surprise. He’d never had a personal letter before – she didn’t know anyone who had – and she could make a good guess as to who the one in her hand was from. She recalled Kenny telling her how badly Janet had treated Simon in the past, and yet he went back over and over for more. If the letter was from her, it could all begin again, which would hurt and humiliate Simon and scotch her plans totally. Without a moment’s hesitation she popped the letter into her handbag.
Simon came in later, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, hardly able to hold his head up it ached so much. Sandra was furious with Janet Travers, who’d caused her man to punish himself like this by her behaviour. That morning, as she made coffee for Simon, she steamed the letter open. She scanned its contents briefly and knew immediately that no way was she going to let him see it. She could tear it up and bin it, but what if it was spotted by someone? No, it was safer to take it home with her, and she pushed it right to the back of her desk drawer, intending to deal with it later.
Janet knew she could do nothing now but wait for the outcome of the letter. Knowing that it might arrive in the office on Tuesday or Wednesday, and wanting to be around the flat from then in case Simon called or rang, she went to her mother’s on Monday evening after school. She tried to eat to please Betty, but it was difficult. Her appetite had all but disappeared and she was sick most of the time.
She knew her mother was worried about her, but it was Breda who actually asked her if she was all right and urged her to see a doctor. Janet knew she would have to come clean with her aunt and tell her the whole story about her second encounter with Ben, because she wasn’t one to let a thing drop. But even while she was furious with Janet and shouted at her for her naive stupidity, she was still convinced that all was not right. Janet ate so little and was sick so much, Breda was worried to death about her.
And though she pooh-poohed her aunt’s concern, Janet stood in front of the bedroom mirror that night and surveyed himself, and knew her aunt had a point. Her arms and legs were like sticks and her shoulder blades and ribs stuck out. Her face was pasty white and her hair was a mess. Never mind, she thought, cosmetics could help with the face and the right clothes disguise the thinness. The hair, though, definitely needed a professional touch, and she decided to see if she could get an appointment at a hairdresser’s the following lunchtime. She had to be at her best to face Simon.
She now expected a response of some sort by Thursday. By Friday she was in a fever of excitement and wondered if he would phone first, or just turn up. She stayed glued to the flat all weekend, waiting for him to respond in one way or another.
Perhaps he’s going to write back first and suggest a meeting, she told herself on Sunday night, and on Monday and Tuesday she raced home from work to examine the mail. By Wednesday that hope had died, and by Friday Janet faced the fact that Simon was not prepared to forgive her and she had to look to a future without him.
Her parents had to be told by that weekend, she decided. No point in letting them go on and on with their wedding plans. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do, even though Breda was there for moral support. Betty and Bert gaped open-mouthed as she told them that she and Simon had split up. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, and willed herself not to cry. ‘I’m sorry for all the trouble you’ve gone to and all the expense. I’m really sorry.’
‘But, lass, I don’t understand,’ Betty said. ‘Have you quarrelled or what?’
‘We’ve quarrelled, yes.’
Betty sighed in relief. ‘Lass, we all quarrel, sometimes I think life’s one big quarrel. If everyone called off their wedding because of some foolish argument, there’d be very few married, I can tell you. You sometimes row more as the days draw near. Wedding nerves, that’s all it is.’
‘No, Mom.’ Janet’s voice was firm. ‘This was more serious.’
‘No.’ Betty refused to accept it. ‘Only a couple of weeks ago he phoned, distracted because he couldn’t get hold of you.’ But even as she said it, she remembered how she’d known that something was wrong the following day when Breda had brought Janet home, and she felt her heart sink.
‘That was the start of it,’ Janet said. She paused, reminding herself there’d been something before that, then went on, ‘I don’t want to go into it, but Simon doesn’t feel the same about me any more.’
The tears were standing out in her eyes, and only her iron will prevented them pouring down her cheeks as her dad burst out: ‘So this is his doing! Bugger ought to be horse-whipped.’
‘Hush, Bert,’ said Betty, who’d seen Janet biting her trembling lips, and the pallor of her face.
‘I’ll not hush. A few years ago he could be sued for bleeding breach of promise. Upsetting my lass like that. The house upside down for weeks for a sodding wedding that won’t now take place.’ He paced the room and began again, ‘Who does he think is going to pay for it? I mean, a father’s happy to pay for his lassie’s wedding, but when the bugger jilts her, what then? All that material to be paid for, the bridesmaids’ dresses and Janet’s, cut out to fit them now so no good to any other bugger. And the woman who sewed them to be paid, and I bet we won’t get the deposit back on the catering.’
‘For Christ’s sake, shut up,’ Breda said, for Janet was sitting rocking backwards and forwards in deep distress. ‘Can’t you forget about money for two minutes and think of your daughter?’ she demanded of Bert.
Bert was nonplussed. ‘I was thinking of her.’ He patted Janet’s shoulder self-consciously. ‘I’m not blaming you, pet. It’s that Simon who’s responsible for all this. But don’t worry, he’ll not get away with it. I’ll go and see him and he can tell me face to face why my girl’s not good enough for him.’
The ‘No!’ burst like a strangled yelp from Janet’s throat, and then she faced her father. ‘You’re not to see Simon and demand anything. None of you have the right. I’m a big girl now and I can organise my own life. If you are going to lose a lot of money on this wedding, I’ll try and pay you back, but Simon is not to be held responsible or blamed. It’s not his fault.’
‘But you said he doesn’t love you any more,’ Bert said, puzzled.
‘That’s right. People change, feelings change.’
‘Not overnight they don’t,’ Bert said.
‘Couldn’t you discuss it, lass?’ Betty asked pleadingly.
‘I’m afraid not, Mom,’ Janet said. ‘The time for discussing is past and I don’t want to talk about it to anyone, not now, not ever.’
The whole family was bemused. Only Breda knew the reason for the cancellation of the wedding. Neighbours shook their heads and said it just went to show that brains weren’t everything; others went further and said they didn’t think Janet would ever marry. ‘Twenty-
three she is, after all, and men don’t really like clever girls like that, makes them feel useless.’ ‘Pity, though,’ others commented, ‘for she’s a nice girl and pretty enough, and men are supposed to like them thin.’
As the weeks passed, Janet felt her life to be dull and meaningless. She seldom smiled and never laughed; the sparkle had gone out of her. The children she taught wondered what they’d done to make Miss Travers be so sharp and look at them so sternly. She was never amused any more by things they told her. She avoided her colleagues. She knew they were relieved, as they didn’t know what to say. Against her better judgement, as she never met them socially, she’d invited them to the evening do of her wedding because her mother had insisted, and now she had to tell them the wedding was off. One of the other teachers, Amy Plashelt, had planned her own wedding for the first Saturday of the summer holiday, and so she in particular found it embarrassing and kept out of Janet’s way as much as possible.
The book about Chloe was finished, to Janet’s extreme relief, and now there was no reason to go to Ruth’s. Janet seldom phoned her friend and was brusque if Ruth phoned her. Ruth knew she was upset about the wedding being cancelled, though Janet never gave her a proper explanation and Ruth felt she couldn’t ask. She wanted to offer her support but Janet couldn’t accept it, for in a way Ruth was responsible for what had happened. If she’d never met Ruth, she wouldn’t have met Ben and she wouldn’t be in this mess now, she told herself, and she tried to forget Ruth and their years of friendship.
With Lou and Shirley, she had no such constraint. Their love and concern often moved her to tears. They descended on her every few days, sometimes separately, sometimes together. Some nights they’d bring a takeaway, which Janet could only pick at, and sometimes they’d drag her out and she’d pretend to enjoy herself. Janet was grateful, but worried that their husbands might get fed up but she needed their presence too much to make more than a token protest.
Janet also wrote to Claire to tell her the wedding was no more, but she offered no explanation to Claire either, saying only that she and Simon had proved incompatible and agreed to part. Inside and alone, however, she grieved for the loss of Simon, as if he’d died.
Three weeks after she’d posted the letter to Simon, Janet got a call from Mark Taplow to say that the programme featuring her and Ruth was due to be broadcast the following Wednesday evening, and did she want to come into the studio to watch it. Janet didn’t care whether she watched it at all and declined the offer, but phoned her family and friends as she knew they’d never forgive her if they missed it.
They all urged her to come and watch it with them, but she elected to stay in the flat. She wasn’t at all sure she’d tune in at all, but in the end curiosity got the better of her. It was unnerving watching herself on television, and she noticed herself displaying mannerisms and gestures she didn’t know she had. But all in all it wasn’t bad, thanks to the skill of Mark Taplow and the editing team, and she settled back to watch the programme on the units.
As for the family, they were most impressed. Betty had thought she knew all about mongol children, for she remembered such a boy, almost grown, from when she was still a child. He was big, fat and ungainly and went by the name of Fred, and his mother would lead him about by the hand. Saliva would drip from his wide, gaping mouth to his chin, and green mucus trails seeped from his nose, and the children would mock and make fun of him. Occasionally he would escape the vigilant eye of his exhausted mother and lope after the children, uttering strange, guttural cries, while the terrified children would run from him, shrieking. Betty could never remember a time, through all her growing up, when she was not frightened of Fred, and when Janet had told her that Claire’s baby was a mongol, Betty had visualised a female Fred. She never saw Chloe, but she knew Janet loved her and imagined she’d exaggerated the claims she made about Chloe’s ability. Not, of course, that she would ever have been frightened of Chloe, but she would have pitied her.
However, the children she saw in the unit, working happily with the apparatus and talking with their teachers, did not inspire pity. The interviewer said it was a shame the television audience couldn’t see the bright colours of the unit, and one of the staff explained the beautiful colours they’d chosen for their paintings and other artwork that decorated the walls. Betty sat with her family and watched, aware that her ideas were being turned upside down.
Had she but known it, Simon was feeling the same way. He’d been late home every day that week, due to stocktaking, and he was in the little flat alone, because Kenny had a date. He’d brought a snack and couple of bottles of beer into the living room and turned the television on for company.
He forgot the food as he saw first Ruth and then Janet on the television. He was astounded, and wondered when they’d recorded the session – obviously after he and Janet had split up, he thought. As he watched, waves of longing washed over him, and he knew he loved Janet Travers as much as ever. But she’d made her choice and she was no longer his. He wondered if she was returning to the States with Ben – if indeed they’d already gone – and his hand hovered over the phone. But he told himself not to be such a bloody fool. Whatever she said, she didn’t want him, she wanted Ben Hayman, and the sooner he realised it and got over her, the better.
The work in the units surprised him as much as it had Betty. He’d not thought much about mentally handicapped children before he met Janet, and if he passed one in the street, he felt a measure of sympathy, but also gratitude that no one he knew was afflicted that way. He imagined he was fairly typical of the average layman. Janet had told him about Chloe’s short life; about the exercises she and Ruth had helped Claire with when Chloe was a baby; and about the unit she’d attended from the age of three. But hearing about something and seeing it in action were two entirely different things. The programme showed handicapped children working happily in classrooms not so very different from those which ‘ordinary’ children attended – and better equipped than some – and he thought Janet had a point. The children were capable of learning and mastering many skills and shouldn’t be shut away in institutions.
He didn’t go out that night. Instead, he tried to imagine a life without Janet. He knew he couldn’t go on as he was, and he thought of Sandra in the office. She was a pretty enough girl and a good sort, and he liked her. He wondered at his reluctance to ask her out. He knew she was dead keen on him; she’d even asked him along on the fortnight’s holiday she was due to go on in the second week in July, but he’d refused. He knew it wasn’t fair to string her along, and he decided that he’d either have to ask her out properly, or else make it plain that he wasn’t interested in that sort of relationship.
He yawned, suddenly tired, and decided to go to bed. It would be the first time in ages he’d turned in before the early hours of the morning. Maybe, he thought, before he drifted off to sleep, maybe I’ll be in before Sandra tomorrow and it will be one day when she won’t have to make excuses for me.
Janet wondered what she was doing here in Fantails nightclub in Narborough, on the outskirts of Leicester, watching all the female staff from school gyrating in a circle with their handbags piled in the centre. She was restless and wondered how soon she could slip off home. She’d already sat through a crass and rather blue comedian who’d zoned in quickly on the fact that they were a hen party and directed jokes and innuendo at them.
Amy, who’d decided to have her hen night a whole week before the wedding, had simpered and giggled at the attention. Janet seethed and wondered why she didn’t find it amusing when everyone else seemed not to mind, even to enjoy it. Of course, Janet hadn’t gone with the intention of enjoying herself, and she told her mother and her aunt so. She knew that Amy had only asked her out of politeness. In fact, with Janet’s wedding plans in complete disarray, Amy had toyed with the idea of not inviting her to the hen night at all, wondering if it would be rubbing her nose in it a bit. Eventually, however, she decided it was kinder to ask her, though no one
would have been the least bit surprised if she’d refused.
However, Breda and Betty wouldn’t let Janet refuse. They said Amy might think it odd, and she had to remember that she had to work with her afterwards. Eventually, Breda saying they might think it was sour grapes on Janet’s part made her decide to go and show them all.
So she’d gone, and sat with a face like a wet weekend, red with embarrassment at some of the comedian’s jokes and remarks, and watched the girls ply Amy with drinks in the age-old tradition of getting the prospective bride off her trolley altogether. She listened to the shrieks and gales of laughter at things not remotely funny, and wondered whether there was something wrong with her, but no one seemed surprised at her attitude. Janet told herself sternly to stop putting such a damper on the evening – after all, it was Amy’s night, and she had no right to spoil it for her – but she wished wholeheartedly she hadn’t come.
It was easier once the comedian was off stage and the floor cleared. Janet had been urged to join the dancing circle but declined, saying she might later. She was quite mesmerised at first by the circling lights sending shafts of colour across the dance floor, lighting up areas with their brilliance and then plunging them into darkness again.
But after a while she was bored with her own company, and the pounding beat started a nagging ache in her head and she wondered whether to kill another few minutes in the ladies’ or slip away home. She was still undecided when a couple in the throes of a wild rock-and-roll number suddenly swung past her. They were illuminated for a second by the circulating orb, and Janet’s gasp of shock was audible.
‘Hello, Janet.’ After such brightness, the darkness was total for a second or two and Janet’s eyes took time to adjust, but she didn’t need light to recognise Simon’s voice. He stepped forward on to the carpeted area where Janet was sitting, and she felt a trembling throughout her whole body.
