Society Girls

by Sarah Mason

  Atta boy, James. You tell him.

  “Whatever the reason, thank you for coming. Have you seen Martin Connelly?”

  “Yes, I have. He is here and he is determined to find Emma.” I look at James with interest. Is he just going to announce Emma's infidelity?

  “He didn't follow you up here?”

  James looks witheringly at Sir Christopher and I make a mental note never to make him cross. “No, I made sure of it.”

  “I apologize if I appear to doubt your abilities, but I love my daughter very much and I need to know that she'll be safe here.”

  “There might be something that could guarantee her safety.”

  Sir Christopher looks taken aback for a second and then leans forward eagerly. “Is there? Do you know something?”

  “I think I need to speak to Emma first. Privately.”

  Sir Christopher looks none too keen on this idea but James stands up decisively and turns expectantly to Emma, who has added nothing to the conversation so far.

  She stands up too, looking less certain, and says, “We can go out by the swimming pool.”

  She leads the way and James follows. We all hesitate for a second until my mother, Holly and I can bear it no longer. We unite in an I'll-be-buggered-if-I'm-missing-this group and all scurry after James. My father, being the extremely polite man that he is, stays to chat with the family.

  Emma leads the way through French doors to a patio area next to a large, inviting, turquoise pool. She sits down on the edge of a wooden lounger and looks inquiringly at us all.

  “Emma, I don't feel you have been honest with us,” says James. I might be mistaken but I think there is a very wary look in her eye.

  “Oh really?” she says.

  “Yes. You see, Holly and Clemmie have done a great deal for you. I know they shouldn't have got mixed up in this whole thing in the first place, but since they learned the truth I hope that you will admit that they have done their hardest to try and put things right. They have put their own necks on the line with regards to their jobs and personal lives in order to right what they acknowledge as a wrong. I am surprised, therefore, that you would prey on other people's good natures and lead them astray so badly.” Holly and I weren't actually very good-natured about any of it but I am absolutely with James all the way. “You see, I spoke with Martin Connelly yesterday and was very surprised to find out that he is infertile.”

  Emma looks puzzled for a moment and then her face clears. Far from being perturbed, she looks absolutely thrilled. “You mean he can't have children?”

  “No, he can't.”

  “I don't believe it! Martin Connelly can't have children? So he's not the father?” she breathes. “God, I can't tell you what wonderful news that is! Mr. Colshannon said these things have a way of working themselves out and they have!”

  “He is apparently sterile. He had mumps as a child. I take it you didn't know?”

  “No, I didn't. But this is wonderful news! I'm not carrying his child! Does he know I'm pregnant? Do you think he's trying to find me because of that?”

  “No, I don't think so. But if you tell him you are pregnant, and it's a decision you'll have to make with your father, I think he will leave you alone because you will have well and truly scuppered his revenge plan. He thinks you are overwhelmingly in love with him and yet all the time you were sleeping with someone else. Who is the father, by the way?”

  Emma looks down at her feet. “It's not as you think. I was very much in love with Martin. But one night we had a row, about my father and the wedding ironically, and I was staying in Bristol with an old friend. A very old friend. He didn't know anything about Martin, like all my friends who knew my father quite well. And I was upset. We had a bit to drink, he was trying to comfort me about something he thought had happened at work . . .” She shrugs and looks down at her feet. “One thing led to another. But I never dreamt he could be the father. I only slept with him the one time and Martin is so much younger than . . .” She falls silent.

  She can't just stop there. “So who is it?” I demand. Emma glances up at me. “I think you owe us that much, Emma. Just tell us.”

  “I can't. He's—”

  “Married?” inquires my mother eagerly. “Gay? From Belgium? What?”

  “No, he's quite well known. It wouldn't be right to tell you.”

  I'm quite tempted to pin her to the ground and sit on her until she tells me but James gives me a look and I shut up.

  “Just one last thing, Emma. I was curious when Holly told me how she found you. You had told Martin Connelly, the man you were going to marry, all about your family and friends?” Emma nods. “So why hadn't you told him about John Montague? I presume you hadn't otherwise your father would never have hid you with him?”

  “No, I hadn't told Martin about John.”

  “Why not, Emma?”

  A slow blush starts to creep up Emma's cheeks and she won't meet James's eye. I watch it all feeling slightly confused. Is James getting at what I think he is getting at? Has he known all along who the father of Emma's child is?

  “John has actually asked me to marry him,” she says quietly.

  “John Montague?” asks Holly, absolutely open-mouthed. “The MP for Bristol? Are you going to?”

  Emma lays her hand protectively across her stomach and then looks back up at us. “I think I should, don't you?”

  She starts to walk back toward the sitting room.

  “I don't understand,” says my mother. “Can someone explain exactly what is going on?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It is good to be back in Cornwall. It is raining but it's good to be back nonetheless.

  My mother made me promise that the first thing I would do would be to collect Norman from Sally's house. So after the taxi has dumped me and my wheely case at the house, I immediately start off down the hill to see Sally.

  “So how was it? Did you have a lovely time?” she asks after she has squealed with excitement at the sight of me. I don't know if this is because she is pleased to see me or pleased to see the back of Norman.

  I follow her into the kitchen. I notice Norman's beanbag in the corner. “It was fun,” I say simply.

  “You look different. Coffee? Tea?”

  “Tea please. Holly bought me some new clothes.”

  Sally pauses to look at me and tilts her head thoughtfully. “No, I don't think it's that. You look different different.”

  “Well, we've had a bit of a time down there.”

  “What happened? Has something been going on? I knew something was up when your parents suddenly announced they were going away!”

  I open my mouth to begin telling the story but realize that Sally is still in the process of making my tea and that I'm unlikely to get it if I start now.

  “I'll make the tea. You sit down. I don't really know where to start. Do you remember that girl who was staying with us last week?”

  Forty minutes later, I have drunk two cups of tea and eaten half a packet of Jaffa Cakes. Sally has two cups of tea sitting in front of her, both of which are completely untouched and stone cold.

  “So you mean to say that you have all been out in the south of France protecting this girl?” she asks in astonishment. It makes me sound positively noble.

  “Well,” I say modestly. “Not exactly protecting her.”

  “And this bloke . . .”

  “Martin Connelly,” I put in helpfully for her.

  “That Martin bloke was actually here in the village, looking for you?”

  “On the day of the cricket match. In fact, he must have asked someone local where we lived in order to find the house.”

  “My God, Clemmie. And tell me about this MP character, the one who got Emma pregnant.”

  “Well, he's about twice her age and slightly bald. She's gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. Martin was, at least, completely gorgeous.”

  “But totally cracked.”

  “Yes, totally,” I ag
ree, biting into another Jaffa Cake.

  “And Emma is going to marry this MP?”

  “So she says.”

  “Did he ask her before he knew he was the father?”

  “Yes! And before he knew that she could come back to England.”

  “Well, he must really love her. So that's nice.”

  “And as James says, she can go back to Bristol now because she doesn't need to be on the run from Martin Connelly anymore. They're going to announce a hasty wedding between John Montague and Emma, Emma's condition will soon become apparent and Martin Connelly can put two and two together by himself. At least Holly has got something for her ‘High Society' page now. Emma has promised her exclusivity if she doesn't reveal too many other details. And it couldn't have come a moment later, she had to file copy yesterday.”

  “So where's everyone else?”

  “My parents are coming back on the overnight train tonight. Morgan needed to have tick treatment or something so he could get back into England. Otherwise he would have had to have spent six months in quarantine.” More is the pity.

  “What about the others?”

  “Barney said he would try to catch a flight later today or tomorrow morning and I think Sam and Charlotte might spend a couple of extra days out there and fly back later in the week. I don't know, they didn't really say.” I keep my voice very light as I tell Sally this in order not to betray my feelings. Charlotte announced to everyone that she and Sam would be staying a few extra days and then she looked pointedly at me. And not for the first time I felt sick to the stomach at my behavior. I had dismissed her as a boring, plain actuary who couldn't possibly be going out with Sam, whereas she's actually disarmingly pretty, charming and very intuitive in that she immediately picked up on the rather strained atmosphere between Sam and me. I really do think this is why I disliked Charlotte when I first met her—I was starting to like Sam. I know all these things but it doesn't seem to make the heartache any easier to bear. Sam didn't speak to me at all except when we were in general company, and it wasn't until Charlotte announced their plans that the penny finally dropped. Sam and Charlotte are perfectly happy going out together and any small flirting indiscretion had been a mere foolish act on his part.

  “So you traveled back by yourself?” asks Sally.

  I nod.

  “Poor love.”

  “Worse than that. I had to share a couchette with a female potato farmer from Scotland. Where's Norman, by the way?”

  “Oh, he's out in the garden. I thought he might want some fresh air.”

  “Any chance he might have flown away?” I ask hopefully.

  “Absolutely none. I wondered if he might try to copy the other seagulls but he just sits on his beanbag and watches them.”

  I look at her sternly. “I do hope you haven't been indulging him, Sally.”

  “Of course not! But I have noticed that he likes sardines warmed through with a squeeze of lemon.”

  “I'd better take him home, but I am not warming his food for him so don't be surprised if you find him on your doorstep tomorrow morning. I've got to get back because I need to see Mr. Trevesky later this afternoon. How have the rehearsals been going?”

  Sally looks down at her hands. “Oh, pretty well.”

  “Who've you had standing in for Catherine since she's been away?”

  “Various people. Charlotte did it for the first few nights. She's lovely, isn't she?”

  “Hmmm, yes.” Moving on.

  “And then my mum did it but she wasn't particularly keen on the kissing scenes with Matt.”

  “Ahh, how is our illustrious vicar?”

  “Gorgeous as always.” Sally's eyes twinkle. “In fact, neither Matt nor I were particularly keen on his kissing scenes . . .” she says slowly.

  “Sally, are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Only that we're keen on our own kissing scenes.” She grins at me.

  “You and Matt? Shut. Up.”

  “No, it's true,” she giggles.

  “When did all this happen?”

  “While you lot were away in France, and Catherine was away in the Lakes.”

  “He's the vicar, Sally!”

  “He is single.”

  “I suppose you are in the choir. Catherine is going to be gutted.”

  “I don't think so. I met her mother yesterday and she said she's taken up with a highly undesirable youth in the Lakes.”

  “Are there any undesirable youths in the Lake District?”

  “Well, that probably just means he votes Liberal Democrat or something.”

  I try to raise a smile but I'm thinking about Barney and how he is going to react to this news. It's great for the rest of us but I'm afraid that my darling brother might be brokenhearted. At least we can drown our sorrows together. “Anyway,” Sally continues. “Your mother wants Matt to organize a rehearsal for tomorrow night with all the extras. Will you and Barney be there?”

  “Absolutely. I'm not sure I'll be able to look Matt in the eye, but I'll be there.” I grin at her. “I'm really pleased for you. Are you happy?”

  She smiles back and I wonder how I didn't notice her loved-up expression before. “Yes, really happy. He's wonderful.” It chafes a bit against my own unhappiness but I love her so I'm truly thrilled for her. “Sam is on my list of extras too. I take it that he won't be there?”

  “No, Sally. I'm afraid he won't.”

  After I have deposited Norman at home with his beanbag, several tins of fish and a squeaky toy which Sally has bought him, I get changed for work and then make my way up to Tintagel. But it turns out that Mr. Trevesky has got someone in to replace me and only wants to give me my last paycheck and a jumper I'd left behind. My replacement's name is Sandra, she doesn't mix up her side orders at all and Wayne seems positively besotted with her. Actually Mr. Trevesky seemed quite upset to let me go but I daresay he'll get over it in due course.

  So I am at a loose end for the rest of the day and don't quite know what to do with myself. I'm halfway home when Barney calls me on my mobile to tell me that he isn't going to be home until tomorrow. I feel unbearably fidgety so I turn the car around and drive down to Trebarwith Strand. I pace up and down the beach and for the first time ever, I actually wish that Morgan was with me. He quite likes pacing, you know, and he always loves swimming in the little rock pools.

  My mind ranges over everything and anything. I think about Seth, I think about my trip abroad and I think about my job. But most of all I think about Sam. I look back over the years I have known him. I remember when Mr. Jefferson from the local shop told me off once and made me cry, and Sam and Barney crept down in the middle of the night and let all of the air out of his car tires. I remember when I passed my driving test and Sam took me out for lunch to celebrate. I remember all sorts of lovely things about him. I reexamine his past girlfriends and crushes and reflect on the fact that I haven't appreciated his presence at all. And now, just as we are all perched on the brink of branching off and making our own families, I realize how special he is.

  The sun is starting to set as I drive back home. My mother wants me to make up the guest room for Gordon because he is coming down to talk to her about her new play, and he wants to watch tomorrow night's rehearsal as well. So when I pull into the driveway and see a strange BMW parked in front of the house, I groan to myself. God, he's a day early and that's all I need. Just when I want to collapse into a hot bath and watch some telly. My mother has clearly got her dates mixed up again, but Gordon will no doubt blame me and then proceed to lecture me on where exactly I have gone wrong with my life, all while I run around trying to cook him a half decent supper and taking swigs of the cooking sherry when he's not looking.

  I get out of the car and walk very slowly round to the back door. But I am quite unprepared for the sight that greets me. Seth is sitting on the woodpile.

  I stop dead in my tracks and stare at him.

  “Hello, Clemmie, I'm glad it's you. I didn't kno
w who would be back first.” He attempts a friendly smile but it comes out somewhat nervously.

  “Seth, what on earth are you doing here?”

  “Aren't you pleased to see me?” My God, the arrogance. He's only been here five seconds. “I've been trying to get hold of you for ages. I've been calling you and coming by the house but your brother Barney told me you were away. You really need to speak to him, you know. He was unforgivably rude and told me to—”

  “Look, Seth, I'm very tired and very fed up. What do you want?” I interrupt him. It's ironic to think how much I had been dreaming of this moment but now I am simply not interested. I look at his urbane suit, neatly combed hair and highly polished shoes and only wish I could see Sam instead. How did I ever find him attractive?

  “I came to see if you are all right, Clemmie. I feel bad about what happened and I've been trying to speak to you to see if you need anything. How's work?”

  I hesitate. There is absolutely no way I'm going to tell him that I have just lost my job in a café where I was working as a waitress. “I've only just got back from my trip abroad,” I hedge.

  “Have you found any work yet? I know a lot of people now, you know. I could get you something.”

  God, that would be nice, wouldn't it? A new job handed to me on a plate. It would certainly solve a lot of problems.

  “Trying to appease your conscience?”

  He looks down at his feet. “Come on, Clemmie, try to be a bit grateful. I've traveled out here to the sticks to see you and it's taken me hours. I do feel bad about what happened, but one of us had to bite the bullet and it was better that it was you.”

  “Only better for you.”

  “Well, I can use my contacts to help you.”

  “No thanks, Seth. I'm doing something by myself actually. I might be sending you an invite.”

  “What to?”

  “A gallery opening.” Blimey, if I said it then it must be possible.

  “You're managing your own?” he says, looking suitably surprised.