David Webb 13 - One Is One and All Alone

by Anthea Fraser

  ‘A penny for them,’ he invited unsmilingly. How much had he read into her study of his father? That last, disconcerting admission?

  ‘Save your money, Tim!’ she answered lightly. ‘How’s business going? Plenty of crowns and other lucrative treatments?’

  Tim was junior partner in a dental practice. ‘We’re managing,’ he said stolidly. ‘What about you? You must be busy, if you even have to work late on Dad’s birthday.’

  Una hid her annoyance at the implied rebuke. ‘We are busy, yes, but it was a domestic matter that delayed me. Domestic to the office, that is.’

  ‘Someone get the chop?’

  Una flushed. ‘Not exactly.’ Unwilling to discuss her problems on this social occasion, she turned from him to his wife.

  ‘How are the children, Jenny? We don’t seem to have seen them for a while.’

  ‘Fine, except that Lisa’s playing up a bit. She decided she didn’t want to go to nursery school and threw a tantrum when I insisted. She was fine once she was there — I phoned later to check — but we’ve had the same performance every morning. And of course each time Lisa cries, Sara-Jane joins in. It’s like a parrot house.’

  Una smiled. Jenny was her favourite member of the family, the only one who treated her normally.

  At the far end of the table, Malcolm put down his spoon and leaned back.

  ‘A lovely meal, dear. Thank you. In fact, I’ve done very well today; I had lunch with Dave Webb — did I tell you? We went to the Grill House in Carlton Road. Have any of you tried it yet?’

  They shook their heads. ‘How is Mr Webb?’ Jane asked. ‘Mummy always liked him, didn’t she? She was sure he had a girlfriend, but could never find out who it was!’

  ‘Your mother was an incurable romantic,’ Malcolm said with a smile. There was a slight, uncomfortable pause, then he added, ‘Dave’s fine — and if he has a girlfriend, he certainly keeps her well hidden.’

  ‘What was his wife like?’ Sally asked curiously.

  ‘Susan? Lord, I’ve almost forgotten. OK, I think, though she could be sulky if she didn’t get her own way. We saw quite a bit of them in the early days.’

  ‘He came to school last year,’ Barbara commented, ‘during all that cult nonsense. He handled it very well, I thought. I was quite impressed.’

  ‘And it takes a lot to impress Auntie Barbara!’ Jane declared impishly.

  Everyone laughed, but Una was remembering the tall, lean man at her wedding. His appraising eyes had made her uncomfortable, and she recalled being glad their meeting was a social one. It would, she’d felt, be difficult to keep anything from him.

  ‘So you went swanning off to lunch, did you?’ Neil said unpleasantly. ‘All right for some!’

  ‘Oh, it wasn’t purely social. We’ve had a sudden increase in shop raids, here and in Shillingham. Same MO each time, so we’re doing a spot of liaising.’

  ‘Over lunch at top restaurants; that would please the tax-payers!’

  Malcolm held up his hands with a laugh. ‘I’m sorry I mentioned it! The Grill’s hardly a “top restaurant”, but if you must know, I invited Dave to lunch to celebrate my birthday, and the Brown Bear, which is our usual haunt, didn’t quite fit the bill. No pun intended!’

  The family groaned. ‘You’re getting worse, Dad!’

  Una could feel her smile becoming fixed. This casual family banter was a closed book to her and she was out of her depth. To put an end to it, she pushed back her chair.

  ‘If everyone’s finished, shall we go through for coffee?’

  In the sitting-room the groups re-formed and she found herself unavoidably next to Barbara. Being of an age, they should have been friends, but Una was aware it wasn’t only the fact that she’d married Malcolm which prevented this. Something in her manner had alienated Barbara at their first meeting, and their relationship remained formal. Now, however, sipping her coffee, Barbara turned to her.

  ‘I see the Choral Society’s giving a concert in Steeple Bayliss. Are you taking part?’

  Gratified by the unexpected interest, Una nodded. ‘Yes, it’s quite a big work, so the two societies have combined. We’ve been rehearsing for months.’

  ‘Which means,’ grumbled Malcolm good-humouredly, ‘if she’s not working late at the office, she’s out singing. This was the first decent meal I’ve had in weeks!’

  ‘Will you be going to the concert?’ Barbara asked him. ‘Lord, no! Music’s not my line, as you know.’

  ‘He prefers football, which isn’t my line,’ Una said. ‘Still, we wouldn’t want to live in each other’s pockets.’

  Barbara carefully did not raise an eyebrow; it must have taken an effort. ‘All the same,’ she countered, ‘it’s nice to have shared interests.’

  ‘We both enjoy walking,’ Malcolm put in quickly, ‘don’t we, dear? At weekends, if I’m not on duty, we often make a day of it — set off cross-country and have a pub lunch somewhere.’

  Una smiled agreement, but his words reminded her that it was some time since they had in fact done so. Most of those invigorating outings had taken place in the early days of their marriage. She thought suddenly, Oh Malcolm, you really should have married Barbara — she’d have been much better for you. Did he regret his choice? It was a question she could never ask.

  The evening wore on and eventually Jenny looked at her watch. ‘We’d better be making a move; the baby-sitter’s rates go up at midnight and it’ll take us a good half-hour to get home.’

  Reluctantly everyone got to their feet. Sally went to collect her three-month-old son from the spare bedroom, returning with him still asleep in his carrycot. ‘With luck, we can transfer him to his car-seat without waking him,’ she said, looking fondly down on the small, red face.

  Una surreptitiously stepped to one side. Young Jamie had a distressing tendency to bawl every time he laid eyes on her, a practice of which his father, judging by the smug expression on his face, heartily approved.

  They moved in a body into the hall, coats were sorted out, thank yous and goodbyes said. Malcolm, who had drunk more wine than he was used to, was in mellow mood, and with a sinking heart Una knew how he proposed to end his birthday. Possibly because she’d come to it late, she found the physical side of marriage both ludicrous and embarrassing.

  He closed the door on the last of his family and put his arm round her, confirming her fears. ‘And now,’ he murmured, his breath hot in her ear, ‘I have you all to myself.’

  *

  ‘Enjoy yourself?’ Tim asked abruptly as they turned on to the Shillingham ring road.

  ‘Yes, it went well, didn’t it? I’m glad your dad liked his present.’

  ‘Stepmamma was in good form when she finally turned up. Probably because she’d given someone the sack.’

  ‘Oh darling, that’s not fair!’

  ‘She’s so bloody sarcastic,’ Tim said resentfully. ‘“Plenty of crowns and other lucrative treatments?”’ He savagely mimicked Una’s precise accent.

  ‘She was only showing interest.’

  ‘Interest my eye. She hates having us there. That’s the only reason I keep going.’

  ‘Tim! What about your father?’

  ‘There are plenty of opportunities of seeing him without trailing out to Lethbridge. Anyway, it doesn’t feel like home any more, since that woman revamped it.’

  Jenny wisely kept silent. Before her marriage, Una had embarked on what she termed a ‘facelift’ of the house, which had involved complete redecoration, several pairs of new curtains, and a wholesale reshuffling of furniture.

  Some of the pieces she’d dispensed with altogether to make room for her own, infuriating Tim and his sisters, even though they’d acquired the cast-offs. Carol’s piano had caused the most upset, but she’d been only a mediocre player who, for years, hadn’t touched it at all, whereas Una, like it or not, was a talented pianist. It was natural she should want her own instrument, though none of the others would see it.

  Privately, Jenny co
nsidered the house much improved by Una’s ministrations; not only had she some lovely furniture but she’d an eye for colour and, when all was said, the pale shades which predominated in Carol’s time had been uninspired. It would be unwise, however, to express this opinion.

  ‘She always asks after the children,’ she said now, hoping to divert Tim from his spleen.

  ‘Angling to see them, no doubt, but tonight’s duty visit is more than enough to be going on with.’

  ‘They’re quite fond of her, you know, and she’s very good to them. That toy piano she gave Lisa must have cost a bomb.’

  ‘The oldest trick in the book,’ he said scornfully, ‘buying her way into their favour. I’m surprised you fell for it.’

  Jenny gave up and, settling back in her seat, resolved to say no more.

  Una did not sleep well that night. The memory of Malcolm’s fumbling embrace alternated continuously with scenes from the evening — Barbara’s cool voice and Neil’s arrogant stare. Those were the two, she reflected, who caused her most disquiet. Barbara was at least civil, but Neil made no attempt to hide his dislike. He was a thoroughly unpleasant young man, and, whether fairly or not, she held him largely to blame for the attitude of the others.

  She sighed, wishing she could toss and turn as she longed to, but reluctant to disturb her husband. How had she arrived at this pass? she wondered despairingly, though she knew the answer. Malcolm had thought her solitary air mirrored his own loneliness, thus creating what she now recognized as a false bond between them.

  Still, they co-existed amicably enough most of the time, and she was fond of him, even if that fondness was mixed with impatient exasperation. If only the family lived farther away, they would have more chance of making a success of their marriage.

  At last, uneasily, she slept.

  2

  When Una woke the next morning, her mind instantly switched to the problem of Pat’s replacement. She couldn’t simply phone a secretarial bureau; all her girls were hand-picked and proficient in at least four languages. It might be months before she found a suitable candidate. Oh, blast the woman — why did she have to be so touchy?

  She showered and dressed quickly and ran downstairs. Malcolm, seated with the paper at the kitchen table, was just finishing his breakfast. Since Una had only coffee in the morning, there was no point in his waiting for her.

  He pushed back his chair. ‘Well, duty calls. What time will you be back this evening?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she answered distractedly. ‘There’s a rehearsal, so I’ll go straight on from work.’

  ‘Back to the TV dinners, eh?’ Malcolm commented, but there was no rancour in his voice.

  ‘There are some vegetables left from last night, and half the fruit pie. No duck, I’m afraid — it all went.’

  ‘I’ll survive.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘See you eventually, no doubt.’

  Una nodded, pouring her coffee, and moved to the window to drink it, staring unseeingly down the narrow garden, where spring shoots were pushing through the soil and thrushes hopped over the grass. Possibly in the short term they could make do with someone who simply spoke French—

  Her deliberations were interrupted by a knock on the back door. She opened it to find a small, sharp-faced woman on the step, and stared at her blankly.

  ‘Morning, mum.’

  As Una showed no recognition, the woman added awkwardly, ‘I’m the new cleaner, like. Mrs Jones.’

  ‘Oh, of course. Forgive me. Come in, Mrs Jones.’

  In fact, Una had engaged her herself, some two weeks previously when May had broken the news that her husband’s firm was moving him up north. With little interest in domestic affairs, she’d forgotten Friday had been May’s last day. Now, watching as Mrs Jones removed her coat to reveal a skinny frame encased in a flowered overall, she wondered if she’d made the right choice. The woman didn’t look strong enough to heave furniture about. She was older than May, too, thin-faced, with a sharp nose and mousey hair. But she had spun some hard-luck story — widow, son out of work — and Una, anxious to get to the office, had weakened and agreed to give her a trial.

  Quickly she now showed Mrs Jones where the cleaning equipment was kept. ‘Tuesdays and Fridays, I think we said? Upstairs one day, downstairs the other. I’ll leave your wages on the side on Friday mornings, if that’s all right. Now you must excuse me — I’m late as it is. Don’t forget to lock up when you go. The front door’s on a Yale, so you only have to pull it shut behind you.’

  And with an absent-minded smile, Una left her to it.

  Malcolm Bennett made a point of always walking to and from the police station. It was virtually no distance, and if he needed a car during working hours, his sergeant was always there to drive him.

  Normally, he made use of the ten-minute walk to clear his mind for the day ahead, and many was the problem that had painlessly resolved itself during this interval between home and office.

  Today, though, domestic worries persisted and he could see no way round them. He might as well face it, he told himself wearily, his second marriage had been a mistake.

  When he and Una had met, both of them relaxed and in holiday mood, they’d got on well together and enjoyed each other’s company. Admittedly he’d never felt any deep love for her, but he’d ached for companionship and assumed that she did, too. He’d hoped — confidently expected, in fact — that life together would ease that loneliness for both of them.

  But he’d overlooked an important point: for twenty years Una had been a career woman, whose free time was devoted to music — an interest he did not share. It soon became clear she’d no intention of changing her lifestyle to accommodate her marriage, and he’d had to resign himself to the fact with as good a grace as he could muster.

  Nor was that the only problem. Having previously enjoyed a satisfying sex life, he’d hoped they would be compatible in that area. They were not. He could almost feel her steeling herself to his touch, submitting to his — God knew — infrequent demands out of an old-fashioned sense of duty. Last night had been a case in point. ‘Close your eyes and think of England!’ he told himself with grim humour.

  Then there were the kids; admittedly he’d remarried too soon, and the old, close relationship with them had still not been restored. But it wasn’t just the timing; they obviously disliked Una, which upset him for all their sakes. Powerless to intervene, he could only watch helplessly as they rubbed each other the wrong way. Worse, through some cockeyed feeling of loyalty to Carol, he felt it was the children’s ‘side’ he should be taking rather than his wife’s.

  If only she’d relax, be more natural, let them get to know her as he had in Scotland. After all, she was bright and interesting and had an unsuspected but astute sense of humour. He guessed that her standoffishness was due to shyness and, despite her successful career, a feeling of insecurity. But it had all been so different with Carol. Oh God, my love, he thought on an agonized wave of grief, why did you have to die?

  He had reached the foot of the hill and brushed his hand impatiently across his eyes as he waited for a gap in the rush-hour traffic. And in a moment of rare self-analysis he saw that he’d had another reason for remarrying as soon as possible: he did not want to become a liability to his children. He’d been acutely aware that his bereavement had upset the balance. There was Tim and Jenny, and Sally and Neil, and Jane and Steve. And him. Poor old Dad. Have to ask him along — he must be lonely.

  Admittedly, there’d never been the slightest suggestion of anything other than a genuine desire for his company, but it had still been early days and he’d a horror of imposing himself on them, of their feeling they ought, rather than wanted, to invite him to the Sunday lunches which had become a routine after Carol died. Eventually it might even have degenerated into, ‘But it’s your turn to have him!’ Subconsciously, his second marriage had in part been designed to relieve them of responsibility.

  Then there was Barbara. Oh God, Barbara! He’d
realized too late that they’d all been expecting him to marry her. Had it not been for that coach trip to Scotland, he might well have done, in time. Not that he imagined himself ‘in love’ with her — how adolescent the phrase sounded! But, he now acknowledged wryly, she’d have fulfilled the position of pleasant, affectionate companion much more comfortably than did Una, and she was already ‘family’.

  ‘Cheer up, mate, it might never happen!’ said a voice beside him as a hand came down on his shoulder, and, turning, he saw DI Brian Stratton.

  He forced a grin. ‘Sorry, did I look that bad?’

  ‘Worse! What is it, a birthday hangover?’

  ‘Must be,’ Bennett agreed, and, finally shaking himself free of his worries, he turned with Stratton into the familiar entrance of Lethbridge Police Station.

  *

  Una drove into the private car park which her office shared with the rest of the building. Parking was at a premium in the centre of Shillingham and they were luckier than most to have this advantage. Having locked the car and set the alarm, she went into the building, along the tiled corridor to the mahogany-doored lifts and up to the second floor where her offices lay.

  Even today, with the prospect of a morning spent on the phone to staff agencies, she experienced the usual lift of pride and pleasure as she pushed open the glass door with the inscription Drew’s Translation Services. Shortly, they’d be celebrating ten years of its existence, and she had decided on an all-round salary increase and a staff dinner at the King’s Head.

  In the foyer, Rosemary, the receptionist, was on the phone. She nodded smilingly as Una passed. In an all-embracing glance, Una took in the fresh flowers, the pile of new magazines neatly arranged on the low table, the plumped-up cushions of chairs and sofas awaiting prospective clients.

  She had designed the layout of the offices herself. To the right of the foyer were three small rooms where foreign businessmen visiting the town could effect their transactions in private with the help of an appropriately speaking secretary. Facing the entrance was the manageress’s office and alongside it a short passage leading to Una’s own office on the right and, opposite, to the rest-room and small kitchenette. When business was brisk, the girls had the option of bringing their own lunch rather than having to go out for it.