by Lucy Diamond
‘Oops,’ said Sophie.
‘Yeah, massive oops,’ Anna sighed. ‘And it’s all my bloody editor’s fault. She and the designer thought it would be hilaire to put that photo of Joe in and big-up this whole romance angle – which doesn’t even exist – and now he’s furious with me and I feel like I’ve lost a friend. Pete, obviously, couldn’t give a toss. Probably too busy shagging his new bird to look at anything as boring as a newspaper.’
‘Oh no,’ said Catherine.
‘Oh yes,’ Anna echoed. ‘Honestly, it’s been a complete nightmare, the last few days. Joe’s girlfriend has got a massive cob on apparently, accusing him of doing the dirty on her – which he didn’t. And he’s got a cob on with me, because he obviously thinks I’m some kind of stalkery maniac who is desperate to drag him into bed with me. When …’ She hesitated ever so slightly. ‘When I’m so not!’
‘That is a nightmare,’ Catherine agreed.
‘Can’t you explain to him?’ Sophie asked. ‘Like you’ve just done to us?’
‘I’ve tried. He won’t listen. He’s been really cold and off-ish with me, says I’ve made him the laughing stock of the office. And the worst thing is, this total bitch we work with who usually does the restaurant reviews thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, and will not shut up about it. So yeah, the thought of leaving the country is pretty appealing right now, I have to say.’ Anna shuddered.
‘Men,’ Catherine said with surprising vehemence. ‘Why do they have to make life so bloody complicated?’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Sophie, who still hadn’t done anything about the Dan Collins conundrum. Then she registered the ferocity of Catherine’s tone. ‘Hold on – I thought you were a happily married woman?’
Catherine snorted. ‘Yeah, I thought I was too. Right up until he went off with some blonde dolly bird who …’ She clammed up. ‘Never mind. But that’s why I bolted from your lesson that time, remember, when you were teaching us Sei sposata? I didn’t know how to reply.’
‘Oh Catherine, I’m sorry,’ Sophie said.
‘It’s not your fault.’ Catherine swirled her wine around in her glass. ‘I thought about asking you to translate, “Yes, but my husband’s just left me”, then decided it was probably a tad dramatic for an evening class. Which is why I just said, “Yes” and left it at that.’
‘Is it definitely over?’ Anna asked. ‘It’s not just a mid-life crisis or …’
‘It’s over,’ Catherine replied. ‘He said he’d never really loved me at all. It’s kind of hard to come back from a statement like that. Besides …’ Her mouth twisted in a grimace. ‘After what I’ve found out about him, I wouldn’t want him back anyway.’
‘Why, what’s he done?’ Sophie asked, then felt nosey. ‘Sorry. None of my business.’
Anna leaned forward. ‘Does this have something to do with what you were asking me about the other week? The dodgy payments thing?’
Catherine nodded, twisting her hands in her lap, but said nothing else. Sophie glanced from her to Anna, not following what was going on. Dodgy payments?
Now it was Anna’s turn to apologize. ‘Sorry,’ she said in the next breath, seeing Catherine’s awkwardness. ‘I swear I wasn’t fishing. You don’t have to say anything.’
‘It’s all right. I still haven’t decided what to do about it.’ Then, after a deep breath, Catherine launched into the torrid story of her ex-husband who seemed to have been taking backhanders from a drugs rep. ‘What’s really awful is that I Googled Demelzerol, the drug he’s been prescribing, and discovered lots of internet forums where people were discussing how ill it made them feel,’ she said at the end. ‘I’m worried that he’s been talked into prescribing this drug when it doesn’t even seem to work properly.’
The name set a bell jangling in Sophie’s head. ‘Wait – did you say Demelzerol?’ It was familiar for some reason, and then she remembered where she’d seen it: on a packet of pills in the bathroom cabinet at home. The name always made her think of a girl called Demelza, who’d been at her posh private school. ‘Is it a betablocker? I think my dad was prescribed that after he had a heart attack.’ Her own heart was booming suddenly and she began to feel uneasy about the way this conversation was going. ‘Your ex isn’t one of the doctors at the Risbury Road Medical Centre, is he?’
All the colour leached from Catherine’s face. ‘Yes,’ she said hoarsely, her eyes huge and anxious. ‘Yes he is.’ They stared at each other for an awful moment loaded with accusation and apology. ‘Oh God, Sophie. Is your dad all right?’
Sophie swallowed. ‘Well, he is now,’ she said, ‘but the doctors at the hospital took him off Demelzerol the other week because he had a second heart attack.’
Catherine looked as if she was going to throw up. ‘So it didn’t work for him,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘No. In fact, it might even have caused the second heart attack which he had at Christmas. He was really ill for days, he’s only just been allowed back to work.’ Tears brimmed in Sophie’s eyes. If her dad’s health had been put in jeopardy because of one greedy doctor thinking only of his own pocket, then she’d … she’d …
‘Jesus,’ gasped Anna. ‘That’s awful.’
Catherine’s eyes were also glistening. ‘It’s horrible,’ she agreed. ‘Sophie, I’m so sorry. I hate Mike for doing this. I’ve got to stop him. I promise I will.’
‘You must,’ Sophie said, still lightheaded with shock. ‘Dad might have died. We thought he was going to …’ She choked on the words. ‘We thought we’d lost him.’
Catherine took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m so truly sorry that you’ve been through this,’ she said. ‘Honestly I am. And I’ll be straight with you: I’ve been scared to confront Mike about what I’ve found out because … Well, he’s always been a bit of a bully. I knew he’d be angry with me for poking around and …’ She waved her hands. ‘Whatever. But now I know about your dad, there’s no way I’m going to keep quiet any longer. No way.’
Even through the strong feelings churning inside her, Sophie could see that Catherine looked terrified at the prospect of confronting her ex. ‘Do you want me to come with you when you speak to him?’ she asked. ‘For a bit of moral support?’
Catherine seemed tempted by the offer then shook her head. ‘I need to do it alone,’ she said. ‘But thank you. I’ll let you know what happens.’
As Sophie waited for the bus back to her parents’ house, her heart was still pounding. She felt very much like tracking down this Doctor Evans and giving him a piece of her mind – not to mention a piece of her fist. Catherine might be scared of him, but she wasn’t. She was livid. How could somebody do that? How could they live with themselves afterwards? Doctors were meant to be good guys, the saviours of others, not out for what they could get at the expense of their own patients.
The bus arrived and she paid her fare and found an empty seat on the top deck. It took her a moment to realize that her phone was ringing in the depths of her bag. An unfamiliar number showed on the screen. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi, is that … Sophie Frost?’
A male voice, not one she recognized. ‘Yes?’
‘Hi, I’m sorry to trouble you in the evening. My name is Max Winter, I’m calling on behalf of the Sheffield Players Drama Group.’
‘Oh.’ That took the wind out of her sails. Geraldine didn’t waste any time, did she? ‘Hello. Listen, I’m sorry if Geraldine has been badgering you about …’ Then she stopped herself. Let the man say his bit.
‘Not at all,’ he said easily. ‘She said you were looking to join a drama group and that you might be interested in our one.’
‘She did? I mean – excellent. Yes.’ Sophie couldn’t remember actually saying such a thing, but now didn’t seem the time to start quibbling.
‘We’re rehearsing Monday, Thursday and Sunday evenings at the moment, so maybe the best thing is for you to come along to our rehearsal tomorrow and we can have a chat. How does that
sound?’
‘That sounds …’ Sophie hesitated, feeling that all of this had been very much thrust upon her, without her having much of a say. But it was only a tiny speaking part in a play – it wasn’t as if she was auditioning for a Hollywood production. Go for it!, she heard Anna and Catherine say in her head. ‘That sounds great,’ she said eventually. ‘Thank you.’
As she finished the call, she sat on the jolting bus, wondering what on earth she was letting herself in for. For all she knew, the Sheffield Players Drama Group was a bunch of bossy old biddies like Geraldine and the play would be absolutely awful. But then again, it might just turn out to be the best fun ever.
Screw your courage to the sticking-place, she thought to herself, remembering her old lines as Lady Macbeth. And we’ll not fail.
Well, she wasn’t sure about that, but it was worth a try, wasn’t it?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Coraggio – Courage
The last time Catherine had felt so apprehensive was when Matthew and Emily were collecting their A-level results. But that was nothing on the dizzying, almost paralysing cold-sweat fear that gripped her as she walked into the Plough two days later to meet Mike. Here we go, round one, seconds out. Not literally, of course, although Penny had advised her to ‘twat him one, for God’s sake’. Still, she would say her piece if it was the last thing she did. She had to.
On the phone beforehand, she’d been deliberately vague, telling him that she wanted to meet up to discuss ‘the future’. ‘Fine, I’ll drop by after work,’ he’d said in that curt, too-busy-to-speak-to-you manner of his. No doubt he thought she was going to start weeping and begging to stay in the house again. Think again, Mike.
‘Let’s meet in the pub,’ she’d suggested, and he’d agreed, thank goodness. She figured he wouldn’t be able to go completely ape at her in a public place, although she wasn’t taking anything for granted.
He was already there when she arrived, halfway through a pint. ‘So what’s all this about?’ he asked as she slid into the chair opposite him, clutching a glass of wine.
Hello to you too, Mike. How are things, Mike? Whatever. They didn’t have to bother with pleasantries, they could cut straight to the main event. She took a deep breath and dumped the pile of paperwork – bank statements and conference brochures – on the table. ‘It’s about this,’ she said, adding Rebecca’s business card on top with a final flourish.
He looked at the pile in front of him and then up at her, alarm in his eyes. Then, after a split-second of naked panic, a mask slipped back across his face. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘And why the hell have you been going through my private papers when you have no right?’
‘I mean, I know what you’ve been doing. All this money, the sweeteners from Schenkman,’ she said, trying to keep her cool. She had never been good at confrontation and her instinct was to bolt, to scurry away, apologizing for poking her nose in. Then she thought of the anguish on Sophie’s face and remembered how important this was. ‘And I think it’s disgusting.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, making a grab for the bank statements. ‘I’ll have those back, thank you very much.’
‘I think you do know,’ she said. It was like playing chess, she thought, her heart thumping. Advance and block, advance and block. Mike had never been one to lose an argument willingly. ‘I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.’
‘Catherine … You’ve come out with some stupid things in the past, but this – this really takes the biscuit.’ He was rattled, she could tell. She could almost see his brain whirring behind his eyes, trying to compute a feasible excuse. Forget it, sunshine, she wanted to say. There’s no way you’re sliming out of this one.
‘Really? And how’s that, then?’
‘Because you’ve got it completely … You’ve jumped to the most insane conclusions,’ he snapped. Any pretence of civility had vanished now. ‘Thought you’d go snooping around, did you? The woman scorned and all that bollocks.’ He glared at her. ‘This is about the house, isn’t it? You getting your knickers in a twist because I want to sell it.’
‘It’s not about the house,’ she replied, trying to keep her tone even. She wished now she’d taken Sophie up on her offer to come along too and back her up. ‘It’s about you doing the wrong thing. Thinking of yourself before your patients. Nearly killing Jim Frost on Christmas Day.’
He jerked his head so fast he was in danger of giving himself whiplash. ‘What do you know about Jim Frost?’ he said, gripping her wrist.
‘Enough to know that it’s no thanks to you he’s still alive,’ Catherine said. ‘Let go of me.’
‘Is this some kind of blackmail?’ he hissed, his fingers tightening. ‘Is that what it is? Trying to play dirty, are you? Trying to get some of my money?’
‘I don’t want your stinking money,’ she said, struggling to get her wrist free. ‘Let go of me, I said.’
He shook his head, eyes narrowed. ‘My mum always reckoned you were a gold-digger,’ he said. ‘To think I used to stick up for you!’
‘I’m not a gold-digger,’ she said, but her voice was wavering. Damn Mike. Damn his rotten mother. He could always push her buttons in the worst kind of way.
‘Look at you, sitting there with your self-righteousness and your “evidence”,’ he said scornfully, flicking his other hand at the pile of papers. ‘You thought you were so clever, coming here tonight, didn’t you? So fucking clever! Well, I’ll tell you something for nothing, Catherine. You’re nothing but a—’
A white-hot rage suddenly burned through her as he ranted on. She had come here prepared to be reasonable but within five minutes he’d resorted to playground bully tactics. Let’s put Catherine down again. Let’s make Catherine feel stupid again. And she had felt stupid and worthless, the whole time she’d been married to him. But she wasn’t with him any more – and she wasn’t stupid either. The only stupid thing she’d done was not sticking up for herself sooner.
‘One of my friends is a journalist,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘She already knows about this whole story. I’ve photocopied everything for her.’
That threw him off his stride. For about two seconds, anyway. ‘Friends? You don’t have any friends,’ he sneered. ‘Only Penny. And nobody in their right mind would ever take her seriously.’
‘I do have friends,’ she said quietly. ‘And all I have to do is call the one who’s a journalist and ask her to run this story. Now let go of me or I’m going to start shouting.’
He dropped her wrist as if it was burning him and her hand banged down on the table. The skin was chafed and red where he’d held it. ‘I’m not going to let you hurt me again,’ she said quietly. ‘Not ever.’
‘What? For crying out loud, Catherine. There’s no need to be so dramatic about all of this.’
She raised her eyes to his and met his gaze full on. How she hated him. ‘Oh, I think there is,’ she replied. ‘Now. Why don’t you just admit you’ve done something wrong? Then we can talk about how you’re going to put it all right.’
Mike hadn’t exactly capitulated and admitted his guilt in the way she would have liked, but Catherine still felt the most enormous thrill of pride whenever she played the scene back to herself afterwards. She had done it. For once, she had actually stood up to Mike even though, surprise surprise, he’d tried his usual trick of knocking her straight back down. This time she hadn’t let him, though. This time she’d won the battle.
‘You’ve got to stop taking their money and speaking at these conferences,’ she’d told him baldly once he’d realized that she was deadly serious about blowing the whistle on him. ‘What’s more, you’ve got to stop prescribing those bloody drugs! What if Jim Frost had died? You’d have blood on your hands, Mike. Is that what you want?’
‘I did what I thought was best,’ he said in a low voice, but she wasn’t having any of that.
‘You didn’t, Mike. What’s got into you? A few years ago y
ou wouldn’t have dreamed of prescribing drugs that you weren’t completely certain about. You were always a good man. What changed that?’
He put his head in his hands, seemingly penitent at last. ‘I don’t know what to do, Cath,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘I’ll call off the estate agents, tell them I’ve changed my mind. Will that be enough?’
She stared at him, appalled that he still appeared to think this was all about her. Enough? she felt like saying. Enough for whom? Not for Jim Frost or any of the other poor buggers he’d fobbed off. ‘Oh, wise up!’ she snapped instead. ‘Who’s talking about estate agents? This is about you doing the right thing. I think you need to have a word with your own conscience before you make any decisions.’
He raised his head. ‘And what about the journalist? What are you going to tell her?’
This was so weird. Mike – vulnerable? It had never happened before. ‘I haven’t decided yet,’ she replied. ‘Let’s meet again in a few days and you can tell me your plans. In the meantime –’ she got to her feet and picked up the pile of brochures – ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
And out she’d walked, head in the air, knowing he was watching her go. Knowing, too, that he wasn’t feeling quite so cocky any more.
Since then, the buzz of self-respect and go-girl attitude had stayed with her, fizzling around her like some kind of power-shield. For the first time ever, she’d been brave, she hadn’t let him trample all over her. It felt amazing.
Fired up with her new confidence, when she went to the garden centre the next day and saw a sign on the door advertising vacancies in the nursery, she didn’t hesitate to pick up an application form. Why not? Nothing had come from the snooty suits in the temp agencies yet, and grubbing around with seed trays and plants was far more her style than high heels and make-up anyway. Growing things made her happy.
While she browsed around for the bits and bobs she needed, she remembered what George had said about his guerrilla gardening exploits. Before she knew it, she’d chucked some extra sunflower seeds into her basket and was wondering where she could secretly plant them. It was astonishing what beautiful flowers could grow from one tiny seed, she thought, as she queued up to pay. She hoped the tiny new seed of confidence inside her would flourish and bloom, too.
