‘“Till death do us part” was your vow. I will never release you, Alex. Divorce is out of the question.’
She swallowed. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. The blame is clearly mine. I want more from my marriage.’
‘If it’s children, I —’
‘It’s not. It’s . . . it’s everything, Matthew.’
‘I will not, repeat not, give you a divorce.’
‘Then you truly don’t love me, not even as a friend.’
‘Accept it how you wish. It won’t change the outcome.’
‘So now I’m your prisoner?’
‘No, you are my wife and you should start behaving accord-ingly.’
‘Or what, you’ll tell my parents? Go ahead. And when they ask I’ll let them know how ignored I am.’
‘Do you think he’s going to call off his wedding for you?’
‘You keep bringing Harry into the conversation. I guess it makes it easier for you to blame anyone but us. Let’s not talk about this any more or we’ll go in circles. I need time to think about your odd position.’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing to think on, darling. Just make the best of your situation. I never promised anything but my name and my indulgence of your freedoms. You have both.’
She knew he was right.
The trip home was as frigidly silent as the winter landscape . . . as the lonely life that was spreading out before her. Arriving at the house, she noted her car was already parked in the garage and there was no sign of Harry.
‘He’s probably inside,’ Matthew said, as if answering a query.
‘I doubt that.’ This was their first exchange in more than half an hour.
‘I won’t be needing dinner,’ he said, sounding chillier than the air that enveloped them as they emerged from the vehicle.
‘No surprises there,’ she remarked, no longer able to keep the sour note hidden. ‘I’m not hungry, anyway, so I’ll let Norma know. Are you coming inside?’
‘No, I think I’ll warm up at the club. It’s all a bit frosty around here.’
‘Suit yourself. I have a telephone call to make. I should at least keep the promise that I would investigate the elusive Kitty a bit further.’
He gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m sure you should.’
‘Will you stay at the club tonight?’
‘Only for a drink or two – there’s someone I have to see. I shall be home later. Perhaps I should knock on your door?’ The suggestion arrived on a sarcastic tone.
‘Not tonight, Matthew. Not any night, in fact.’
He shrugged, feigning confusion. ‘Don’t say I don’t offer,’ he said over his shoulder, easing back into his car. He drove away before she’d even entered their house.
22
The telephone was jangling as she was pulling off hat and gloves and unwinding her scarf in private frustration. The housekeeper emerged.
‘I’ll get it, Mrs Britten-Jones. You go in. There’s a fire on.’
She mouthed a thank you as the woman lifted the receiver. Alex hoped it was Harry but she could tell it was a call for Matthew when she heard Norma reply that ‘Mr Britten-Jones is not yet returned to the house’. Alex kept moving, seeking the soothing quiet of the salon where just two nights previously Harry had kissed her for the first time. So much had happened in forty-eight hours . . . not only falling in love with someone but realising she had never got past liking the man she’d married and in fact disliked him deeply in this moment. Nevertheless, she’d chosen him and she was now more trapped than ever.
There was a knock and Norma entered. ‘It’s Mr Britten-Jones Senior. He wondered if he could have a word.’
‘Of course.’ Alex moved towards the telephone. ‘My husband will be home only much later. Don’t worry about food. I’ll just have a cocoa and biscuits, if that’s all right?’
‘As you wish,’ the housekeeper replied, lips pursing to show her concern.
‘Thank you.’ It was a dismissal. She picked up the receiver. ‘Chetwin, hello, it’s Alex.’
‘Alexandra, my dear, it’s been too long.’
‘Yes, I was only saying that to Matthew today, in fact.’ She lied because she liked his parents and despite constant urging, couldn’t persuade her husband to visit or have them over. ‘I haven’t thought far ahead enough yet, but let’s plan on all being together for Christmas, shall we?’
‘Splendid idea. Why don’t you all motor down here?’
‘I’ll talk to my parents, but that sounds lovely.’ Even as the gracious words rolled off her tongue she realised this was how her life would be from now on. Polite. She would have to enjoy family and let that be the source of all her affection. She was going to have to learn afresh how to live around Matthew and his absences now that she knew what she was missing out on. ‘How are you both?’
‘Oh, fine, fine. The usual nags at our age.’
‘Yes.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sorry Matthew’s not here. He —’
‘No need to make any excuses, my dear. He was supposed to attend a meeting in London but didn’t show, and I’m in Leeds right now so I can’t be there in his stead. That’s why I’m chasing him.’
‘Oh . . . he was in London, though, surely. I mean, he rang me from there two nights ago.’
‘I see.’ Chetwin sounded aggrieved.
‘Or at least —’ She stopped. Irrespective of her mood, she didn’t think it wise not to be loyal.
‘It’s all right, Alexandra. My wife would cover for me too. Listen, my dear, you said you’ve seen him, so he’s obviously back in York?’
‘Yes. We arrived only a few minutes ago from Harrogate.’
‘Harrogate?’
‘I ran into him, to tell the truth.’ She hadn’t meant to spill this but she did like Matthew’s father and the kindness in his tone was undoing her. ‘I had no idea he was back up north.’
‘Harrogate, you say? What the devil was he doing there?’
‘I gathered he was working. He was with a colleague – they had a meeting at the Crown Hotel. Former staff member, too, I gather. You probably know the man, because he was from Bristol.’
‘Who was the colleague, dear?’ Chetwin’s tone was suddenly blunt.
‘A gentleman by the name of . . . oh, let me see now. That’s right, he was Mr James Feeney.’
There was a pause that despite its silence nevertheless generated a noise in her mind that sounded suddenly like danger. ‘Chetwin?’
‘Er, sorry. I was just trying to place the fellow. I know the man to whom you refer. Feeney, that’s right.’
‘He used to work for your family, I’m told.’
‘He did, yes. Er, look, Alexandra, um, I’ve got some business up in York myself. Maybe I’ll come up.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I’ve got some things to discuss with Charles anyway . . . that way I can give you a hug, my dear.’ He chuckled gently. ‘And Alexandra?’
‘Yes?’
‘Don’t mention this call or me coming up to my son, do you mind?’
‘Why ever not?’ Alarms chimed distantly in her mind.
‘I’d like to surprise him. Er, we’ve had a bit of a spat, you see. I’d hoped to talk it out, man to man, down in London, without his mother fussing around. I think he might head off if he knew I was coming.’
‘Oh, gosh, Chetwin. I’m sorry to hear this. Nothing too serious, I hope?’
‘Don’t you bother your pretty head with it, darling. Just a difference of opinion on business stuff. You know, the lion and the cub locking horns.’
She found a chuckle.
‘Yes, I realise I got my metaphors mixed up there, my dear, but you get my drift, don’t you? I promised his mother I’d smooth things over.’
‘Of course. I won’t say anything. I don’t even know when I’ll next see him, to be honest.’
‘I’ll see you soon. Big hugs from everyone here.’
She blinked as the line went dead. How odd that conversation was. Her thoughts wer
e interrupted by the shrill sound of the doorbell. That was fast. She hadn’t expected Matthew home for hours and he’d likely forgotten his keys . . . again. She waited, heard Norma answering the door, followed by footsteps across the hall. Her belly clenched in anticipation. She wasn’t going to argue with him again. Life would go easier on her if she simply accepted her lot, which was all her own making, and made the best of what most would consider an excellent life.
When the door opened she was surprised to see the housekeeper again. Her lips were not only pursed but also frowning with disapproval this time.
‘Yes, Norma?’
‘It’s your gentleman caller. Mr Blakeney.’
Alex’s heart felt as though it bounced on a trapeze wire at the mention of his name. She cleared her throat. ‘Er, please show him through,’ she replied, trying to sound slightly irritated by the interruption.
‘He says he’d rather not come in as he has a train to catch – he has his small suitcase with him. He wonders if he might have a quick word. Said he wished to say farewell and thank you for your help.’
She stood quickly. ‘Yes, of course.’ Now it felt as though her heart was sinking into gloom. How had she created such a mess of her life? Alex took a deep breath and pasted on a smile for the benefit of the housekeeper. ‘I’ll be right out. Please at least show him in from the doorstep.’
Alex felt her body sag. She deliberately lifted her shoulders and then dropped them, breathing deeply. Come on, Alex, she berated. Be strong! She moved to the door with purpose, determined not to hesitate, not to weep, not to let herself down. Opening the door, she saw him, his back to her as he admired a painting in the lobby. She felt a prickle of yearning overlay her soft happiness that he found that particular artwork interesting.
He turned at the sound of her footfall. ‘Alex.’
She glanced to her right, where she suspected Norma lurked, probably listening; didn’t all housekeepers?
‘Good evening,’ he said, picking up on her warning. ‘Thank you for seeing me. I wanted to wish you and your husband farewell. I was glad to meet him today.’
‘Thank you. Won’t you come in . . . a warming drink or . . .?’
He glanced at the suitcase. ‘No. I won’t hold you up.’ He looked back at the painting. ‘This is lovely.’
‘My favourite piece in the house, and not just because my father painted it.’
He gave her a look of surprise.
‘It’s the view from our home in Argyllshire, just outside Inveraray. He’s not bad, is he?’
‘I’d hang that anywhere in my house, enjoy looking at it every day. Makes me feel . . .’ He searched for the right description.
‘Say it,’ she urged, desperate to hear his view.
‘Safe.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, as though I’d never need to look for anywhere else.’
His notion prompted the feeling that a basketload of butterflies had taken flight from within her chest, soaring skywards in a triumphant flap of joy to be released. If she had been asked to choose one word to describe how her father’s watercolour made her feel, it would be that word: safe. She loved Harry for saying it, for seeing beneath the near luminous green of the glen as dying light hit, the smudges of heather clambering up to the rockier heights while the bowl of the loch shimmered a brooding blue-grey. Shafts of the setting sun shone determinedly through some billowing clouds . . . to what her father was capturing . . . a place she would love to call home. It was remote, peaceful, safe.
‘Is that where . . .?’
She smiled kindly. ‘No. That was a different loch. I’m glad you like it. I like to keep it close.’
He let his gaze linger on her before he softly cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, I was on my way to the railway station and I wondered if you’d care to join me for a coffee at the kiosk. Hardly elegant, but I didn’t get a chance to eat and I won’t now as I needed to see you before I left . . . to say goodbye and thank you for everything.’
‘I haven’t done much, really. In fact —’
‘More than you can know,’ he said as if to hush her protes-tation.
‘Let me get my coat. Do we have time to walk?’
‘Yes, of course. But are you sure? I could —’
‘I want to walk.’ She moved to the stand where her coat was still hanging from today. Norma hadn’t removed it yet to be hung up properly. She called out to the housekeeper that she was going out for a bit. ‘Let’s hurry, or she’ll interrogate me,’ she whispered.
They were both out of the door with Harry helping Alex to shrug into her coat while they were walking. She tucked the scarf around her neck and began pulling on gloves. ‘Harry, I’m so sorry about today.’
‘It’s not your fault, don’t apologise. Is everything all right?’
‘I’m fine, but there is something I have to explain to you . . . about the love letter. It’s been weighing heavy on my mind.’
‘Before you say any more, Alex, the reason I’m here is I have something to tell you as well. It’s important, or I wouldn’t bring it to you. I also think it will help to explain plenty. What you do with the information I give you is the challenge. I don’t wish to upset you but I also can’t leave you knowing what I do, and not helping you to understand something fundamental about your marriage.’
‘My marriage?’ All thoughts of Kitty fled. ‘You came here to discuss my marriage?’ She didn’t like the higher, breathless tone of her voice – she tried to convince herself it was just the cold but knew it sounded more like shocking disappointment just before it tips into despair.
‘There cannot be an “us”; we both know that.’
So he was going to be strong for both of them. Somewhere deep she resented his resolve, hating that he had the ability to take the near magical experience they shared as recently as this morning, which lifted her to a place of dizzying euphoria, allowed her to glimpse a life and loving that she’d never thought possible, and reduce it to such a sensible, entirely pragmatic utterance of nine unremarkable words.
‘Tell me what you’re thinking,’ he urged, clearly unnerved by her silence.
‘There’s no point. Tell me what you came to say.’
‘Let’s get to the station first.’
‘Why? Nothing else you say could upset me more.’
He halted, forced her to stop walking and turned her towards him; she shook her head, feeling hopeless. ‘It’s all right, Harry. My husband is no fool. He worked us out within moments.’
‘He knows?’ he asked, sounding incredulous.
‘He knew when I introduced you.’
‘He’s not what I expected in a man you’d marry.’
‘I don’t know how to respond to that. But I won’t deny he’s full of charm and smarts. He could sell chocolate bars to Rowntree’s, believe me; working out my infidelity was no great test of his intuition.’
‘And?’
‘I wasn’t going to lie.’
‘You admitted it?’ This time he simply frowned but she saw concern in the slanting shadows cast by the streetlights.
She nodded. ‘We’d better keep going or you’ll miss your train south.’ Reluctantly he moved and she continued. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m glad I could be honest about it.’
‘He didn’t hurt you or . . .?’
She made a scoffing sound in the dark. ‘Matthew isn’t physical at all. At least not with me. He’s also never been angry with me before – not once in all the time I’ve known him – but he was tonight. It wasn’t so much about the fact that I’ve had a fling with someone, but he seemed to mind very much that you and I had such a connection.’
‘That’s understandable.’
She shook her head as they walked. ‘No. I don’t get it. If I follow that train of thought, it means he’d be comfortable with me having a string of affairs but I mustn’t care too deeply about one person in particular.’
‘Why don’t you get that? I suspect there are countless marriages that work under the same unwritten rule
s of discretion and a certain amount of distance.’
‘Not mine.’
They’d arrived into the familiar station concourse and wended their way towards the refreshment room, not saying any more until they were both seated. It was cold so Alex kept her gloves and hat on.
‘So?’ she said. ‘Here we are back again in our strange little meeting place. I’d prefer to talk about us but why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind. How long do we have?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘About thirty-five minutes.’
A woman arrived to take their order.
‘Two teas please, with milk. Thank you,’ Alex said. When the waitress departed with a nod, Alex shrugged. ‘Publicly we’re still on rations for coffee.’
She watched him take a low breath as if steeling himself. She’d only known him a few days and already she was feeling the wrench of losing him. In half an hour she would walk to the platform and wave goodbye to someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with; instead she would hug him for the last time and wish him a happy life with another woman. It hurt to think on it but she suspected it was going to hurt a lot deeper when the reality hit and she was left behind in a cloud of steam as the train chugged out of York Station and evaporated like their relationship must from tonight.
He frowned in concentration. ‘I’ve wrestled with this since I met your husband. In fact, I struggled to even look at Matthew at Betty’s for fear of revealing a notion that I didn’t feel confident to air publicly. Alex, please understand I respect people’s rights to live their lives as they choose and I especially respect everyone’s privacy. It’s why I held my tongue until I was sure.’
The Chocolate Tin Page 31
