CHAPTER FIVE
IT was several weeks before Cassie began to fully realise that not only the work and home pattern of her life, but also the social one, was changing. She and Simon had entertained quite a lot and been asked out in return, and they often went to parties and discos, less often to night clubs, but always with some of their contemporaries. They also had various friends, couples they would make up a four or six with to go to the theatre and ballet, both of which Cassie thoroughly enjoyed. But now that Simon was in Scotland she found that the social invitations had come to an abrupt stop. At first her new responsibilities had kept her too busy to take much notice, but when she ran into a couple of friends in the local supermarket one Saturday, she gathered from the gossip that several things had taken place among the crowd she usually mixed with to which she hadn't been invited.
Her first feelings were of indignation and resentment, but when she thought about it rationally she realised that an odd woman stood out at most gatherings like a sore thumb. Since her marriage-no, before that even-since she had first started dating steadily with Simon, all their social life had been with other couples, and she felt a pang of guilt when she thought of all the not-so-lucky girl friends that she used to go around with that she had almost immediately dropped.
Now most of them had dropped from sight completely, and the two or three others she met perhaps once or twice a year or just exchanged a letter with the annual Christmas card. And Cassie could understand why she wasn't invited along by the usual crowd; there were far too many single girls or divorced women in London already, looking for a man, and not loath to look at someone else's if they couldn't find one that wasn't attached. And with a jolt Cassie realised that that was virtually what she was now; a single girl during the week and a wife on the few weekends that her husband could get home and claim his rights, she thought cynically.
Deciding that she wasn't going to sit back and passively let her social life die, she made the effort to get herself tickets for a ballet she had wanted to see and for the new play at the National Theatre, but although she enjoyed the evenings, it just wasn't the same without Simon. The disruption of her home life, even an intermittent sex-life, she could stand, but the fact that her social life was going to be virtually non-existent for three years nagged at her constantly, especially when she did get invitations which she had to turn down virtually at the last minute as she hoped that Simon would get home but then he couldn't make it. One or two of the people were annoyed, and Cassie didn't blame them; she would be annoyed herself if one of her dinner parties was spoilt at the last minute, and she knew it was unlikely that the people would invite them again while Simon was in Scotland.
Her phone calls to Simon started to become less than lover like as she demanded to know exactly when he was coming home.
'I've told you, darling,' he would explain patiently,
'most of the stuff has to be brought in by sea, and the gales over the North Sea for the past month have delayed everything.'
`There aren't any gales now,' Cassie pointed out irascibly.
'No, which is why everyone's working flat out to get the ships unloaded and to get back on schedule.'
`Can't you at least get Easter off?'
'I'm afraid not, everyone's working seven days a week at the moment.'
`But you don't have to, surely? You're the boss, Simon, you're supposed to delegate, for God's sake!'
His voice grew cold. 'This is my baby, Cassie. I've taken the job on and I have to be on hand to 'see it through its teething troubles before I can take any length of time off.'
'Oh, for heaven's sake. Your baby!' Her tone sharpened with sarcasm. 'Anyone would think it was a real baby, the way you fuss over that site!'
Even over the phone Cassie could hear the withdrawal in his voice as he answered, 'I wouldn't know about that.'
'And what's that supposed to mean?' she snapped.
'It doesn't mean anything. Stop trying to pick a fight.'
'I am not trying to pick a fight. I'm…'
'No?' His voice was sneering. 'You're certainly giving a good imitation, then.'
'As I was saying,' Cassie went on through gritted teeth, 'I'm merely trying to find out if there is any possibility whatsoever of us having even a semblance of a social life. Do I accept this invitation to Anne and David's party or not?'
Simon sighed. 'I've already told you, love, I just can't leave here at the moment. Look, why don't you come up this weekend and I'll meet you in Glasgow and we'll…'
'No, I won't,' Cassie retorted angrily. `I've seen enough of Glasgow hotel rooms to last me for a lifetime. If it's too much effort for you to try and get home, then why the hell should I bother?' And she slammed down the phone.
It rang again almost immediately and she sat looking at it resentfully, seething with anger, knowing it was Simon and determined not to answer it. But the strident rings kept on and on and eventually she shot out her hand and picked it up.
'Well?' she demanded belligerently.
'Hey, we're both in the same union, remember?' Simon's voice said softly, forcefully, and suddenly her temper was gone, the anger disappeared.
'Oh, Simon, what an idiot thing to say!' And she laughed despite herself.
'But true,' he insisted.
Cassie was silent for a long moment, then said, 'I'm sorry. I was beastly, wasn't I?'
He laughed, his voice back to normal. 'A temper is to be expected along with green eyes and chestnut hair.'
She wrinkled her now. 'I do try not to lose it.'
'I know.' He paused, then added, 'You want to have it both ways, Cassie; to keep your job and to have me with you, but you've got to realise that you can't have both. I'll get home when I can, you know that.'
'That sounds a very reasonable attitude,' Cassie answered, her voice prickly again.
'But you don't feel reasonable?'
'No, I feel randy.'
Simon gave a laugh that was half a groan. 'When you say things like that you tempt me to just throw up everything and take the first plane home.'
'Then do it,' Cassie pleaded urgently. `Come home and take me to bed, darling. I'm tired of conducting my sex life at the end of a telephone line.'
He groaned again. 'Cassie, for God's sake! Do you think I don't want to?'
'But you won't?' she said flatly, dully.
' I can't.'
She was silent for a long moment, then merely said bleakly, 'Goodnight, Simon,' and put the phone down again before he had time to say anything more than her name in protest.
He didn't phone back a second time. Cassie half hoped he would, but they both knew that it wouldn't do any good, they would only tear into each other again, widen the gap that was beginning to open between them.
During the next few weeks Cassie felt as if she was on a roller-coaster; the weekdays were the downhill parts where everything happened very fast and the adrenalin flowed like mad, and the evenings and weekends were the everlastingly slow, dragging climbs up to the next peak of activity. She didn't see Julia at all for shopping trips now, but once or twice she spent Saturday afternoons with Sue Martin, whose husband was still busy doing extra work for his company, and they drew some comfort from being able to commiserate with one another and grumble about their husbands' jobs.
One Friday evening, with only an empty weekend ahead, to cheer herself up Cassie tried on a new outfit that she'd bought on her staff discount in the store. It was the new buccaneer look with soft wine velvet knickerbockers, a white blouse with lots of cascading lace at the front and on the cuffs, and a beaded sash which she put across her shoulder and knotted at the waist. To amuse herself she tried out a different way of doing her face, using more colourful and rather bizarre make-up. Her hair she arranged into tightish waves at the ends, and then pulled back from her head on one side, clipping it in place with a big ornamental hairslide with a colourful butterfly on it. Then she sprayed on some of the French perfume that she'd brought back on her last trip to
Paris and stood back to study the effect in the mirror.
At first she looked at herself with the critical eye of a fashion buyer. This was the image that she had decided to promote in the Top Togs department for this season, and already it was beginning to catch on. But the important part was how it was put together, every accessory to give the complete look had to be available in the store so that the average girl would be able to picture herself in the outfit and buy everything there and then while she was still full of enthusiasm. A buyer had to decide on what her fashion statement for that season was going to be in each particular department and then had to be careful not to go outside the season's image.
Then she looked at her reflection, knowing that the clothes weren't really her scene, but seeing that she looked attractive in them and thinking of the way Simon would have reacted, raising his eyebrows and laughing at her, but liking the change all the same.
And he would have taken her out to a disco somewhere, probably one of the 'in' places in the West End, happy to show her off, his eyes proud as he looked at her, and then he would have taken her home and carried her into the bedroom, and said, 'Now, this is what I do to pirates.'
Abruptly Cassie turned away from the mirror and strode into the sitting-room. What the hell was the use in having new clothes if there was no one to see them? She was too young and full of life and energy to just an at home alone every night. She poured herself a drink and took a long gulp of it, then picked up the phone and searched through her address book until she found the number of one of her single girl friends. Several phone calls later she put down the receiver and bit her lip, close to tears of frustration; either there had been no reply, or the girls already had dates, or they were washing their hair in readiness for a date tomorrow. Cassie suddenly felt more lonely than she had ever been in her life, and she took another long swallow of her drink. It was too late now to go to the cinema, too late to do anything except go to the pub for a drink or to a restaurant for a solitary meal. But she'd already eaten, and, even in this enlightened day and age, she didn't care to go and sit in a bar on her own. For a moment she contemplated going to visit her parents for the weekend, but couldn't stand the thought of her mother's inevitable cross-examination. So all that was left was another evening alone watching television or listening to music. Miserably Cassie poured herself another drink and turned on the set just as the doorbell rang.
The man standing in the hallway was a stranger. He was about thirty and tall, almost as tall as Simon, with thick dark blond curly hair and one of those moustaches that came down on either side of his top lip. He had a deep suntan that made his hair look lighter and pale blue eyes that widened appreciatively when he looked her over. He lifted his broad shoulders from where he had been leaning against the wall and said in an American accent, 'Hi. You must be Cassie?'
'Why-why, yes.' She looked at him in surprise, wondering how he knew who she was. She'd certainly never met him before, she was sure of that; he was the type of man that if you'd met him you wouldn't forget.
He grinned. 'It's okay, you don't know me. The name's Tom Rydell. Simon and I worked together a few years back, and he told me to look him up whenever I was in London.'
'Oh. Wel ler-how do you do.' Lassie's hand was taken in a strong grip that hurt her fingers. 'You'd better come in.'
She led the way into the sitting-room and then turned to look at her visitor. 'Can I get you a drink, Mr. Rydell?'
'Sure, Scotch on the rocks would be fine. And I said my name was Tom.'
Cassie smiled at him, liking his open friendliness. 'All right Tom.'
She gave him his drink and gestured to a chair. 'Do sit down.' She sat opposite him and said, 'I'm afraid Simon isn't here. Mullaine's have put him in charge of an oil terminal they're building in Scotland and Simon is living up there until the job's finished.'
'Hey, that's too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing him again and rehashing the old days over a few beers. But maybe I'll be able to get up to Scotland to see him.'
'I'm sure he'll be pleased if you could. Where did you work with Simon?'
'Over in the States. He was over there for six months in the New York office of Mullaine's.'
'Yes, that's right. But that was before I met him.'
'Yeah, but we kept in touch for a while. He even seat me an invitation to your wedding, but I couldn't make it because by then I'd left Mullaine's and decided so go it alone.'
'You mean you started up your own company? That was very enterprising of you. How's it going?'
He gave her a wide grin, showing white, even teeth. 'Just great. As a matter of fact I'm over here to open up a London branch.'
He talked for a while about his company, then said, 'But how about you? Why aren't you with Simon in Scotland?'
His eyes ran over her again as he spoke, openly liking what he saw, and Cassie reacted instinctively to his admiration, putting up a hand to her hair and sitting up a little straighter so that the material of her blouse tightened across her breasts. 'Oh, I have my own career.' She told him about it and then suggested she phone Simon so that they could at least speak to each other. Tom thought it a great idea, and the two men talked for quite some time while Cassie sat quietly in a chair with a magazine, pretending not to listen to Tom's half of the conversation. It appeared that the two of them had had quite some times together in New York, and she made a mental note to ask Simon one or two pointed questions next time she saw him when she saw him.
Tom was still chuckling as he put down the phone. 'Say, it's a real shame Simon isn't here. I was kind of depending on him to show me my way around London.'
'Haven't you been here before?'
'No, it's my first trip.'
`Would you like another drink?' Cassie got up to get his glass.
'Well, thanks, but…' He looked up at her as she reached out a hand to take it. 'Hey, were you going out or something before I called? I'm not keeping you, am I?'
Cassie smiled slightly. 'No, I wasn't going out.'
'Then,' he hesitated, 'how about you coming out with me for a drink? I don't know any places in London and I'd sure be grateful if you could show me round a little,' he added with a grin.
Cassie, too, hesitated, but only for a moment, then she tossed her hair back and said, 'Okay, why not?' She smiled back at him; that grin was infectious.
She guessed that he'd like some typical English atmosphere, so took him to an old-fashioned pub near Highgate Hill before going on to one of the new discos in the West End. Then, nearer breakfast than supper time, they went on to a salt-beef bar and watched the assistant expertly carve thick slices from a huge roast of meat, brown at the edges but still pink in the middle, and place them between two slices of crisp white bread.
They munched the delicious sandwiches, talking as they ate; they hardly seemed to have stopped talking since the moment they met.
By the time she got home at about four in the morning, Cassie felt like a different person, the boredom and frustration was gone and she felt young and alive again. It had been fun to show her kind of London to someone new, to someone who appreciated and enjoyed the places she took him. And, she had to admit it, it had been a great boost to her ego to have an escort as good-looking as Tom, to have other girls watching and envying her. Especially when she could be completely at ease with Tom because he was just a friend, there were none of the nerves she'd felt when she'd been single and had gone out with a new boy-friend for the first time: would he ask her out again, would he try and proposition her or take her back to his place? Until she had met Simon it had always been like that, but it was amazing how quickly she'd forgotten, how glad she was that she didn't have to go through it again. Tom saw her safely into the flat and somehow, despite her weak protests, she found herself promising to take him on a sightseeing tour round London the next day.
From then on life became full and hectic again, with Tom monopolising every minute of her spare time. At first she tried to make a determined ef
fort to protest about him wasting his time with her when he could be escorting more eligible girls, and offered to introduce him to one of her unattached friends, but he laughed the idea away.
'Aren't you enjoying showing me around, Cassie?' 'Well, of course I am, but…'
'Then why try to push me off on one of your girl friends?'
'I'm not trying to push- you off, it's just that… well, I'm married to Simon and you're free, and you might want-er-might want to have more from-era relationship than I-er…' She stopped, floundering and then realised that Tom was openly laughing at her. She flushed and gave him a mock punch in the ribs. 'Oh, hell, you know what I mean.'
They had been walking along the street, but now Tom stopped and pulled her arm through his. 'Hey, you blushed!'
'No, I didn't,' Cassie denied, her cheeks flaming more than ever.
Tom put a finger up to touch her face. 'Sure you did. Say, you English girls are really something. I haven't met a girl who blushed in years.'
'Well, if you like English girls why don't you let me introduce you to…'
He moved his finger to put it over her lips. 'I like you. Why should I take a chance on dating some strange girl when I already have the prettiest one in town to show me around?'
'Oh, but…'
'No buts. And I know what you're thinking, but I'm quite capable of taking care of my own sex life. Okay?' Cassie looked up into his amused blue eyes, found herself starting to blush again and hastily looked away.
'Okay.'
'Now,' he kept a firm hold on her arm, 'didn't you promise me a ride on top of one. of your London buses?'
From that moment on their friendship altered subtly, became at once both easier and yet more binding. Cassie didn't again suggest that he date another girl, and she didn't draw away when he kept hold of her hand after helping her down some steps or across the street, or when he gave her a friendly kiss of greeting or farewell. And being American, he was very solicitous, making sure she was always comfortable and had everything she wanted, buying her small, crazy surprise presents as well as the flowers that he always brought whenever he called at the flat to pick her up. And Cassie sparkled under his attentions, loving being made such a fuss of, especially as there were no strings, knowing that he valued her for her friendship. It was a heady feeling, like old wine.
Semi-Detached Marriage Page 9
