Forgotten

by Susan Lewis

  ‘They no doubt wish someone was willing to cover us in such glory,’ Lisa replied. ‘It’s all to do with the Foreign Secretary wanting David back on board at the next reshuffle. The guy who’s most likely to lose his job is clearly fighting dirty to try and hang on to it.’

  ‘Charming. And what does David say about it?’

  ‘I haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet. I’ve only just found out myself.’

  ‘Well, if anyone’s after any dirt on you, and I think it’s despicable if they are, by the way, then it’s Tony they should be looking to. He’s got more skeletons in his closet than half a dozen graveyards …’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, they’re on to him, but I’ll have to tell you about that another time. I’ve got more calls to make before I go for yet another fitting for my dress.’

  A few minutes later she was relating her conversation with Miles to Amy, ending with her parting words about Rosalind needing to pull herself together and grow up.

  ‘Good for you,’ Amy declared. ‘Let’s hope he passes the message on. She is so manipulative – at least she’s trying to be. Are you going to tell David?’

  ‘I don’t know. Probably not unless I have to. He’s seemed quite down, or distracted, this past week, since the train incident actually, and what I’m more interested to find out right now is where the heck he actually was.’

  The sunlight on the lake was like a glittering mass of diamonds floating on ink. The trees around the shores, limes, beeches, horse chestnuts and maples, swayed and rustled as a gentle breeze moved through them like a whisper, while the sky overhead formed a still, cerulean backdrop for the occasional white cloud that journeyed past. David was sitting amongst the clover and daisies of the meadow that sloped down to the water’s edge, his eyes following the skittering progress of a dragonfly as it hovered and buzzed amongst the powdery flowers of cow parsley. All around him birds were chirping and whistling, a hidden musical chorus spread randomly amongst the leafy branches of their summer homes. Lawrence could name most of them, in Latin as well as their more common terms. He spent hours in the bird keeps dotted all around the lake, waiting and watching silently for his quarry. Today, however, he was more interested in throwing sticks for Lucy, who David had collected from Amy’s on his way back from the Radstock surgery.

  The bonding between dog and small boy was as touching to watch as it was amusing, since it was debatable which of them would tire of the repeated throw and fetch first. Lucy couldn’t have wanted for a more steadfast companion; Lawrence had never known anyone, or anything, able to maintain his own single-minded level of absorption. Why, David wondered, had they never thought to get him a dog before? During the hours they spent together David had watched Lucy and wondered how she knew that Lawrence wouldn’t welcome her wet nose pressing into his hand, or her large, furry body rolling against his. What instinct was telling her that this small person was different to most others she knew, and what had made her decide that he was every bit as worthy of her devotion?

  He smiled as once again Lawrence sent the stick soaring through the air like an ungainly bird to plop soundlessly into the grass some twelve or fifteen feet away, where Lucy, who could move even faster, was already waiting to scoop it up and bring it back, tail wagging, eyes bright with eagerness for more. Back and forth, back and forth, a ritual whose end would probably only be found in exhaustion – or perhaps when it came time for David to take them home. There was no rush, though. Rosalind was at the company offices in town, and Amy wasn’t expecting him back with Lucy until around seven.

  ‘Will you be staying at Amy’s tonight?’ Lisa had asked when they’d spoken half an hour ago.

  ‘No,’ he’d replied, ‘I’ve already promised Rosalind I’ll stay with her, but I’ll be at Amy’s with you tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s good. I mean, I’ll understand if you want to spend more time with Rosalind, but I think … Well, we need to talk and …’

  ‘… the weekend will be a good time,’ he’d assured her, summoning a warmth and sincerity to his tone that he hoped had masked the tremors of unease in his heart. He didn’t want her to think, even for a moment, that his feelings for her were any less than they were, or that his desire to be with her had in any way altered, other than to grow. What was happening to him was no fault of hers, and the last thing he wanted was for her to share this torment of worry. Soon, perhaps in less than a minute, hopefully in no more than ten, his phone would ring and he would receive some answers, or at least an understanding of what was happening to him, and, more specifically, what had come over him after he’d left the train last Thursday night.

  For now he was referring to those lost hours as an aberration that had left him in the station car park, sitting motionless behind the wheel of his car which he’d only found by pressing the remote control on his keys next to each vehicle, until finally the locks on a silver Mercedes popped up and the hazards flashed. Even then he’d been uncertain about getting in, but aware of some suspicious glances slanting his way, he’d opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. Then he’d sat there, briefcase on his lap, keys still in his hand, time ticking by, moving on, vanishing into a distance and seeming to leave him behind.

  He’d thought about Catrina a lot as he’d tried to decide what to do, and Rosalind; he’d wanted to call them but there was no power in his phone. He knew there was a way to charge it, but for some reason he hadn’t done it. He knew he should drive away, but it was as though years had passed since he’d last driven a car, so he’d stayed where he was, afraid if he attempted it now he’d cause an accident, or lose his way. For a long time he hadn’t even been able to remember where he should be going.

  He recalled muffled voices calling out from somewhere, but they were either too broken, or too far away for him to understand them. Were they coming from his subconscious, his instincts, or somewhere outside? At one point he jumped, thinking someone had tapped on the window, but when he looked no one was there. He felt as though he was suspended in a void, neither falling nor fearing, only knowing that he was there with no way out.

  How long had it taken him to collect himself? Long enough for him to realise, when he came to, that he’d either fallen asleep, or possibly even lost consciousness for a while. He’d known, when he’d registered the time on his watch, then checked his diary, that he’d let people down badly, and that Lisa, Rosalind, Miles would be frantically trying to contact him by now. He hadn’t been able to speak to them right away; he needed to sort out what he was going to tell them, come up with a story that wouldn’t alarm them, not because he wanted to lie, but because he had no idea how to explain the truth.

  Karen Knoyle, his GP and an old family friend, had chided his gloomy outlook last Friday when he’d requested an emergency appointment. She’d even managed to tease him out of it for the time he was with her, but her sunny forecast that there would turn out to be nothing wrong with him that a little less stress and a relaxing honeymoon wouldn’t put to rights, hadn’t managed to keep the clouds from gathering during the ensuing days. He’d found it increasingly hard to concentrate as he’d worried about those he loved and how they would manage without him if his worst fears, that a tumour was developing on his brain or that he had somehow contracted some debilitating virus, were proved correct.

  Now, as he sat in one of his favourite spots, warmed by the sunshine as he watched Lawrence and Lucy playing together, he was worrying about how devastated Lisa would be if he had to call off the wedding. If it turned out he really was as sick as he feared, he couldn’t allow her to commit herself to him. It wouldn’t be fair, she deserved so much more. Would life really be that cruel, to bring them together at last, only to wrench them apart like this?

  A bolt of nerves collided with his heart as his iPhone started to vibrate with an incoming call. Feeling as though the world around him was slipping into another dimension of receding sound and fading colour, he tried to brace himself as he slipped the mobile from his pocket t
o read the screen.

  It was Karen, and before his courage could fail he quickly clicked on. If she asked him to come to his surgery he’d know right away that the news was bad.

  ‘Sorry I’m a bit later than promised,’ she said, ‘it’s been a hectic day and unfortunately it’s not over yet. However, you don’t want to hear about my problems, you’re only tuned in for these words, I hope – it’s good news, my friend. You’re all clear. Everything’s working perfectly, no nasty intruders or weird infections to baffle the eggheads of medical science. Your blood pressure might be a little on the high side, but I’m putting that down to the same stress that caused the aberration which was all about stress. In other words, vicious circle.’

  ‘So that’s all it was,’ he said, hardly daring to believe her. ‘Nothing more than stress?’

  ‘Far be it from me to say I told you so, but, I told you so. It can be a monster when it’s got something to sink its teeth into, and let’s face it, you’ve had a lot going on these last few years. Looking after Catrina wasn’t easy, I know that better than most, and losing her hit you hard. In a nutshell, my friend, you’ve got a royal battlefield of emotions going on inside you, ranging all the way from grief to bridegroom elation, with liberal dashings of professional pressure, constituency problems, grandson issues, house moves, and trying to please all of the people all of the time … Wow! I’m starting to need time out myself just reciting it.’

  Laughing more freely than he’d managed for days, he said, ‘I’m not sure whether seeing my life through your eyes is comforting or scary, but if you’re telling me that I’m not cracking up, or about to haul my boat down to the Styx, I might pop round there to sweep you off into the sunset.’

  Chuckling, she said, ‘Alas, I’m at least a stone heavier than your fifty-three-year-old spine can support – sorry, but that’s true, for both of us – and you have a lovely lady waiting patiently in the wings to become your wife.’

  ‘Yes, she is,’ he said softly.

  ‘You did right to come in,’ she went on, ‘if only so’s I could tell you to stop tormenting yourself with guilt, because that’s what I think is at the bottom of it all. If it had happened more than once, or over a sustained period of time, I might have been more worried, but from what you told me it hasn’t, so all you have to do now is take my advice and start easing up on yourself.’

  After thanking her again and promising to keep in touch, he ended the call and then, amazingly, there was the sunshine again, as rich and bright as if dust had been wiped from its face; and the birds as lively and melodious as though an orchestra had struck up an accompaniment. Butterflies fluttered around him like confetti, and he wanted to laugh out loud.

  As he got to his feet he felt more gladness and relief pouring over the remaining currents of unease in his heart. Soon they would disappear altogether, he was sure of it, because there was no reason for them to create an undertow to his happiness. Now that Karen had told him there was nothing to worry about, he was free to look forward again. He just couldn’t help wondering, as he, Lawrence and Lucy began the trek up the hill, how long Karen had meant by a sustained period of time.

  Chapter Ten

  IT WAS A hot and sultry Sunday afternoon. Everything in the valley was sleepily quiet until Rosalind suddenly shouted, ‘Jerry! Jerry!’ Running down into the hall as though there were a fire upstairs she burst into the TV room, where he was slouched on a sofa watching the cricket.

  ‘Where are they?’ she cried furiously. ‘What have you done with them?’

  Picking up the remote, he lowered the sound before saying, ‘If you’re referring to the boxes of your mother’s things, I’ve put them in the attic where they should have gone months ago.’

  ‘I’m the one who gets to make that decision,’ she seethed. ‘I told you last night I’d do it …’

  ‘You say that every night, and I’m sick of them sitting there cluttering up our room like a bunch of damned ghosts, watching my every move …’

  ‘Deal with your paranoia another way. Not by moving things around that don’t belong to you.’

  ‘Rosalind, when you’re ready to go through them I’ll bring them back down. Now, is that OK?’

  Her temper was still at boiling point, but there was no reasonable objection she could make to that. She managed to force a brief nod before starting to leave the room.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ he asked.

  Not being entirely sure, she had no reply.

  ‘I have to leave in a couple of hours,’ he reminded her, ‘so if you’ve got some time free, why don’t we spend it together?’

  She swallowed hard, keeping her head down. She wanted to, more than anything, but she still wasn’t finding it easy to say yes.

  ‘We could go for a walk down by the lake,’ he suggested. ‘Or take a drive up to Priddy.’

  ‘What about Lawrence?’ she finally uttered, turning around.

  ‘I’m sure he’s fine where he is, but if there’s a problem, we’ll have our mobiles with us so Sally or Dee can get in touch.’

  She still looked worried. They both were, because they hardly knew what else to be when Lawrence wasn’t with them – or even when he was. Today, Dee and Sally had taken him to the cinema with a group of other children, including Sally’s twelve-year-old daughter Gemma, who usually had more patience with him than the others.

  ‘You need to relax,’ Jerry told her. ‘You’re so wound up these days that I’m starting to worry about you going off the deep end and not coming back – and if I’m not here to dive in and save you …’

  An unsteady smile started to soften her eyes. ‘Why don’t we go and sit in the garden?’ she said. ‘No talking, no rowing, no anything, just us being the way we used to be?’

  Turning off the TV, he got to his feet, and taking her hand he led her out to the swinging hammock that looked down over the lake. As they sank into it, their hands still linked, they began to sway gently back and forth.

  When eventually Rosalind felt some of the knots starting to unravel inside her and sensed that he was relaxing too, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. If only it could be like this more often, with nothing to fear and no one to come between them. Sometimes their closeness seemed to her like a ghost wandering further and further away, soon to vanish over a far horizon. She didn’t want to let it go, she desperately wanted to hold on to it, but having put her trust in him so completely once, she simply couldn’t find the courage to do it again.

  Feeling him move closer, she allowed him to slip an arm around her and rested her head on his shoulder. She wondered what he was thinking, if he was feeling happy to be here, relieved that they were able to share this time before he left for his next trip. Then, because she couldn’t help herself, she began wondering if he was being affectionate because he knew that at some point in the next twenty-four, or forty-eight hours, he was going to betray her again. She tried to smother the suspicion and make herself believe that his motives were innocent and worthy with no artifice attached, but it was hard, so very hard.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he whispered softly.

  ‘Mm,’ she murmured, making herself sound sleepy.

  It was comforting to know that his next trip was taking him to San Francisco, where they’d spent part of their honeymoon before flying on to Hawaii. How perfect everything had seemed then, how easy and true.

  Why had he done it? What had made him turn to another woman, and how could it have gone on for so long without her even suspecting? It was that, more than anything – her own naivety – that continued to unnerve her, because if he’d been able to deceive her so convincingly once, what was there to say that he wasn’t already doing it again?

  She shifted to lie more comfortably against him, and brought his hand into her lap.

  Last night, when she’d told him about her father’s visit to Karen Knoyle, they’d ended up rowing again. It hadn’t started out that way, of course, in fact he’d been quite concerned at first.<
br />
  ‘Is he all right?’ he’d asked.

  ‘Apparently, yes, but the real reason he didn’t turn up for Question Time was because he had a kind of aberration, was how he put it, brought on by stress.’

  Jerry looked baffled.

  ‘He didn’t go into much more detail than that, apart from the fact that he’s had some tests which have shown that he’s fine, physically.’

  ‘Well that’s good. Isn’t it?’

  ‘Of course, but it’s what’s causing the stress that’s bothering me. No, don’t look at me like that, please hear what I have to say. I spoke to Miles this morning, who told me that she’s lost her job. This is obviously putting a lot more pressure on Dad …’

  ‘Rosalind, you are jumping to conclusions …’

  ‘And,’ she cut in forcefully, ‘there are things coming to light about her that could cause Dad some serious problems.’

  ‘You told me that before, and I’ll say the same again … Your father’s not a child, or an imbecile. He’ll know how to deal with the problems …’

  ‘How do you know that, when you don’t even know what they are?’

  He threw out his hands. ‘Do you?’ he challenged.

  ‘No, Miles still won’t tell me, but if this information gets out …’

  ‘If it does you won’t need to worry, because no one will be able to accuse you of leaking it. Think of it that way,’ and snatching up the paper he’d stormed out of the room.

  She hadn’t gone after him because there was no point. He didn’t understand how she felt about Lisa Martin, any more than he understood how devastated she still was by his affair. He seemed to assume that because he’d told her it was over she could forget about it now, and carry on as though it had never happened. He’d even suggested they try for another baby, presumably to show how committed he was to staying. Though she wasn’t entirely against it, she still couldn’t decide whether it would be good for Lawrence to have a brother or sister, or if it would end up making him feel left out. Nor was she wholly convinced it was the right thing to do for them. What if the baby turned out to have the same problems as Lawrence? Could Jerry stand to have another child he was unable to get close to? Could she? And was a new baby really any guarantee that he wouldn’t stray again?