by Rachel Hore
Kate explained about the friends she’d made, Debbie and Louise, and about looking for somewhere to live. ‘I work a bit, do the domestic stuff, look after the kids. I don’t know,’ she shrugged. ‘The time just seems to disappear. Oh, but I’ve found some family nearby.’ She went on to explain about Miss Melton. ‘It’s curious, but she’s become a very good friend. I wish I’d met her before, before she was ill, I mean. She doesn’t seem old – she feels things so deeply. She’s a very strong person but she is very vulnerable, too, as if a lot of sad things have happened to her. We connect. And she lives in this amazing house stuffed with antiques and interesting ornaments and books. I’d love to have a proper look round one day if she ever goes home and invites me.’
‘I think Kate would like us to put in an offer for her house,’ joked Simon, obviously trying to restore normality to proceedings. But his attempt was foiled.
‘I think Kate would like you to put in an offer for any house,’ said Claire, her face pale. ‘And live in it.’
Liz looked at her. ‘Claire,’ she said, ‘what is the matter with you this evening, darling? You’ve hardly eaten anything and now you’re being bitchy. That’s not like you, sweetie.’
Claire turned pale suddenly and gasped. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I guess I’m just upset about something. Oh, about Alex. Excuse me a minute.’ She got up and rushed off in the direction of the toilets.
‘Well,’ said Laurence, ‘this definitely isn’t our usual cool Miss O’Brien.’
‘I’ll just go and find her,’ said Kate, and squeezed behind Simon’s chair. ‘You go on and order coffee.’
When the door to the Ladies swung shut behind her she was confronted by the sight of Claire being copiously sick into a basin.
An ageing matron shut her handbag with a loud click and bustled past. ‘Well, that was a waste of a cordon bleu meal,’ she muttered to Kate, shooting a disgusted eye at the mess.
Kate watched her leave, stunned into silence by such tactlessness. Then she went over to the towel-holder and started pulling out wadges of paper towel.
‘Here,’ she said. Claire seemed to have stopped being sick for the moment. She buried her face in the tissue while Kate swilled out the basin.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Claire sobbed, her pale face tragic and running with mascara. ‘I couldn’t help it, about Simon. I was so angry for you. I should have told you on your own, but I haven’t seen you by yourself. It’s . . . you see, when I saw him at the theatre he was kissing her. Really kissing her, I mean. I didn’t know if I should say anything, but this evening, playing Happy Families like he does, with you sitting there unhappy, I just saw red. Perhaps I should blame the wine. And I feel so ill all the time.’
‘Why, Claire, what’s the matter?’
‘I’m pregnant, aren’t I? I didn’t want a baby. And Alex doesn’t want it. I don’t know what to do. I love him – I’ve not felt this way about anyone before. I think I’m going mad.’ And Claire threw herself into Kate’s arms, sobbing wildly.
Later that night, Simon and Kate lay side by side, not touching, in the darkness. The silence between them was like an electric charge. Each seemed to be waiting for the other to speak first.
Kate had no idea how she had forced herself through time and place to be here. Back in the Ladies at the Crown, she had tried to comfort Claire, but her mind was in shock about Simon. It was almost as though she hadn’t really believed it until it had been confirmed by somebody else. And seeing Claire, who had always been so strong and independent and honest – though her honesty had not been the best part of her tonight – now so lost and vulnerable, Kate felt like going to pieces too.
After a moment, the door to the toilets had creaked open and Liz had appeared. She took in the scene in a moment. It was she who bullied the gist of their stories out of them, mopped up their tears and told them to pull themselves together.
‘I’ll deal with Claire when we get back to the cottage,’ she whispered fiercely to Kate as they filed back to the table behind their friend. ‘You and I can have a chat tomorrow morning.’ She stopped and gripped Kate’s arms and studied her face. ‘You OK?’ she murmured. ‘Oh, that stupid, stupid boy. I could kill him for you!’
Kate managed to curve her mouth in a smile. ‘I’m OK,’ she breathed, meeting Liz’s gaze. Liz’s anger was definitely as good as a shot of Scotch and certainly better than sympathy at this moment.
When they got back to the table it was to find that the men had paid up and were ready to go. No one said anything on the way back to the cars.
When they pulled out of the tiny hotel car park, Simon asked in an uncertain voice, ‘So what was that all about then?’
‘I think you know what it was all about,’ spat Kate. ‘Meredith.’
He looked at her but said no more. They followed the Longmans’ car the few winding miles towards Blythborough where the great church of the marshes towered above the borrowed cottage. Joyce’s cleaner, Michelle, had been babysitting the Longman children and Kate and Simon had promised to drop her off home.
They pulled up behind Laurence and Liz’s car and Liz got out and hurried up to Kate’s car window. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’ll just get Michelle. I’ll give you a ring when we get up in the morning.’ She nodded at Simon but did not speak to him.
Lying in bed, Kate turned over phrases in her mind. In the end, the one she selected was, ‘Is it true, Simon?’
‘Is what true?’
‘That . . . you’re having an affair with Meredith. That’s where all the money’s gone, hasn’t it? On her.’
Silence. Then, a strange barking sound. Kate was astonished. Simon was crying.
‘Such a mess,’ he said in a cracked voice. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He rolled over and tried to hug her but she shoved him away. The action unleashed her anger.
‘How could you?’ she shouted. She hammered blows on him. ‘I hate you, I hate you. You’ve spoiled everything.’ She was crying herself now, great uncontrollable sobs tearing her insides out. He lay there curled up, his arms protecting his head, waiting for her to stop. Suddenly exhausted, she rolled back over and buried her head in her pillow, crying and crying.
‘I love you, Kate,’ came Simon’s muffled voice. ‘I’m sorry this has happened but I do love you. And Daisy and Sam. But I’m so confused. It’s so powerful. I’m just overwhelmed. I feel I’m being torn in half.’
‘But you let it happen. How did it start, Simon, eh? Did she force herself on you, drag you away to her lair and lock you up? And she knew you were married and had children – I met her, remember Liz’s party? How could she do this to us?’
‘She’s very intense, Kate. She just fills you up. It’s difficult to think of anything else. You can’t understand. Oh, I’m not putting this right . . . Our banks were working on a deal together. We’d been talking, working together for weeks. And then the deal went through. It was brilliant, so exciting. The gang went out to a restaurant to celebrate. I suppose we had a lot to drink. It was late and she and I shared a taxi. And it sort of went on from there . . .’ He trailed off.
‘When?’ was all Kate said.
‘Huh? I don’t know. Three, four months—’
All that time and she hadn’t known – or had she? Already her mind was whirling back. Suddenly she was seeing so many things in a new light – his grumpiness, his reluctance to make love, his lack of interest in finding a home . . .
‘What are we going to do now?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know, Kate, I don’t know. I’m in such a muddle.’ Again he reached out to her, but again she shoved him away.
This has happened before, thought Kate suddenly. Something made sense now.
It was back when Daisy was tiny and she’d been so ill. It had seemed to go on for months, Kate wrapped up in the needs of this tiny baby who cried all the time. She knew now she had pushed Simon away; when she saw him, it was like through the wrong end of a telescope. She hardly noticed the effect sh
e was having on him, so absorbed was she in herself and Daisy. He still couldn’t find work, but he would be out of the door at eight o’clock every morning, going to see the headhunter, using the desk facilities he’d rented, going round the agencies. There were a couple of months when he got some contract work and then he’d stay late or go out with his mates. Often he didn’t come in until after she was asleep. He would climb into bed to find his wife sleeping and baby Daisy lying between them, her big eyes staring at him in the light from the street-lamp outside.
A business trip, he said. The job meant he had to go to Singapore for a week to see some customers. Funny to send someone new on a short-term contract, Kate thought, but she wasn’t interested enough to ask.
Looking back now, she wondered. Had he really gone by himself? And why couldn’t she speak to him at the hotel? There was no one there of that name, they said. She had pushed her suspicions out of her mind – she couldn’t cope. He came back and he seemed quiet. But then he often was at this time. Then his father died and Kate woke up to the fact that Simon needed her. It was the start of her recovery and the renewal of their relationship.
What had gone wrong this time?
She remembered her conversation with Claire, the week they left London. Perhaps she and Simon had grown apart. But was it her fault? It was she who had given up everything to move here, her job, her friends, all that was familiar to her. She who was holding the fort, bearing the brunt of the childcare, keeping them all together. And she had failed even to do that. What on earth was she going to do now?
‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ advised Liz the next morning. Laurence and Simon had taken the children out and Joyce had gone off to fetch Bobby. She and Kate and Claire were sitting in the sparsely furnished front room of the Blythborough cottage. ‘It might all just blow over.’
‘I can’t bear to think that it won’t,’ Kate answered. ‘It’s like I’m staring into an abyss. He’s hardly looked at me this morning. Or talked to me. Daisy knows something’s up, I’m sure she does. She won’t do anything I say and keeps being rude to me. And Joyce keeps giving me these looks. I’ll have to tell her. I’m sorry,’ she choked. ‘I can’t stop crying. Sorry, Claire.’
‘No, it’s me who’s sorry,’ said Claire. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did last night. It’s just made things worse, hasn’t it?’
‘It’s right that it should come out in the open, though. And I know you were trying to support me.’
‘My over-developed conscience. I always thought telling the truth was best, but it isn’t always, is it? It’s more complicated than that . . .’ She trailed to a halt and fumbled for a tissue to blow her nose.
‘Claire and I had a long talk last night,’ said Liz.
‘I’m going to have the baby.’ Claire put her tissue down and smiled shakily. ‘I couldn’t not, could I?’
‘Not you, Claire, no.’
‘I don’t know what Alex will say, but then it’s not his decision,’ she said fiercely. ‘It’ll be my baby. I won’t ask him for anything. We’ll look after ourselves.’
Liz sighed. ‘And we’ll help you. Come on, let’s go and get a bit of fresh air. Then we’d better go and meet the others.’
After a walk on the heath, Liz and Claire went back to make some more coffee while Kate took a look at the church. The morning service was long over, though one or two elderly ladies were piling up hymn books and notice sheets and removing wilted blooms from the flower displays. There was a narrow stone spiral staircase at the back by the south door and Kate made her way up. She found herself in a tiny chapel with large windows and rush matting on the floor. It smelled of damp, but it was warm in the sunlight and peaceful.
Kate sat on one of the wooden benches and focused on the simple altar. She could hear her watch ticking, it was so quiet. Here she was somehow relieved of her anxiety. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
All will be well and all manner of thing will be well.
Somehow, she would get herself through all of this.
Chapter 17
The rest of Sunday passed in a confused blur. After saying goodbye to their visitors Simon and Kate went back to Paradise Cottage for one of Joyce’s huge high teas. Simon was trying very hard to behave normally to Kate, while she could barely bring herself to look at him. At one point he muttered to no one in particular that perhaps he ought to go back to London this evening, but the children’s wails and Joyce’s indignation put paid to that. He and Kate would have to endure another night of agony alone together.
During the evening, Kate had a phone call. It was Dan.
‘Miss Melton’s asking for you, Kate. She’s not too good at the moment, to be honest. A bit depressed about going onto the ward. I think something’s on her mind, too. Anyway, I said I’d give you a call.’
‘Dan, thanks. I’m a bit tied up here, to be honest. I’m not sure I can. Oh, and there’s a problem. The car’s in the garage and they’re waiting for the part.’
‘Well, I do have to take something in for her Tuesday, so I could give you a lift in the afternoon, if that would help.’
Frankly, Kate didn’t feel like doing anything or going anywhere at the moment. ‘Look, that’s really kind of you, but I don’t know. I’ll ring you, OK?’
There was a silence at the other end. Then, ‘I’m sorry, it seems I’ve called at a bad time,’ he said softly.
‘No, it’s not that. Well, yes . . . It’s a bit complicated, Dan. Just things here.’
That night, as they undressed for bed, Kate tried to talk to Simon, but she just kept crying and crying.
‘Do you want me to come back tomorrow evening?’ he asked, trying to put his arm round her. She pushed him away.
‘I don’t know.’ She looked up at him. Suddenly rage surged through her. ‘No, don’t bloody bother,’ she hissed.
He flinched but nodded. ‘I’ll definitely be back on Friday. It’s Sports Day, isn’t it? I’ll try to get back during the week, but we need some time to think.’
‘To think. That’s what you call it, is it? I suppose you’ll be seeing her.’
‘No. I don’t want to see anybody. I just want to think and I bet you do too. Kate, I’m sorry, I know it’s hard for you, but it’s hard for me, too. This whole last year has been hard for me, if only you knew.’
Like hell, thought Kate. She banged her hairbrush down on the chest of drawers and glared at him, her expression murderous.
Simon went out to the bathroom. When he returned he was carrying some blankets. He picked up his pillow and his clothes for the morning. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa. Otherwise neither of us will be good for anything,’ he said, looking away.
When a puffy-eyed Kate went downstairs at seven o’clock the next morning, he had gone.
‘It’s a perfect summer’s day,’ said Joyce, coming in from the garden, having unlocked the shed for Mr Brierly from the village to retrieve the lawnmower. Kate was too down to notice the weather when she left for school with the children at half past eight. When they arrived, the little huddles of parents round the gate seemed larger than usual. She hugged Sam goodbye – Daisy just tore off yelling ‘Bye, Mum,’ over her shoulder – then looked round for Debbie, but she must have missed her. She waved at Louise, who was ambling across the playground towards her, looking even more distracted than usual.
‘You’ve heard, have you?’ she said.
‘Heard what?’ Kate asked.
‘Apparently Mrs Smithson has had a letter from the council about the building repairs. They’re going to look at closing the school.’
‘No!’ Kate must have paled suddenly, because Louise grabbed her arm to steady her. Not this on top of everything else.
‘I suppose you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about.’ It was James Galt, father of Sam’s friend Sebastian, a slight, dapper man with a neat greying beard. ‘Can you believe it? I’ve just been to see Mrs S. She’s in an awful state. Says it oughtn’t to have got out like this.
She was going to write to parents.’
‘But that’s terrible. Why shut the school? It’s so good. Sam and Daisy are so happy here. And they’d been building up the numbers, hadn’t they?’
‘Not fast enough, apparently,’ went on James. ‘I suppose we ought to have seen it coming. The authority has been looking at one or two other village schools and reaching the same conclusion. We’ll have to get the children into Halesworth.’
In her misery about Simon, Kate was quick to anger. ‘But we can’t just let them tell us what to do! What do they know about the school and the way it works – its importance to Fernley.’
‘Probably nothing,’ sighed Louise. ‘It’s just numbers, isn’t it?’
‘Like the way they closed the library three years ago,’ said James. ‘There was some consultation, but in the end it came down to pounds and pence – it was either the library or one of the local museums, they said. I suppose the museum folk all shouted louder than us, not that I can blame them.’
‘This sort of thing is just killing our communities—’ started Louise, but they were interrupted by the appearance of Mrs Smithson herself.
‘I know, it’s simply dreadful,’ she said. Kate had never seen anyone actually wringing their hands before. ‘Out of the blue like this. They say that someone will be down to talk to us and listen to our suggestions, but I didn’t like the tone of the letter. Very peremptory. We’ve been telling them about the terrible state of the roof for years, but I never thought it would come to this.’
‘We can’t let it happen,’ said Kate. ‘We must be able to do something.’ She looked around at the circle of faces in disbelief. The mood seemed to be of defeat already. ‘You are going to fight it, aren’t you?’ she said to Mrs Smithson.
‘Well, we’ll do what we can.’ She shrugged. ‘We’re having a governors’ meeting tonight. It’s just that one feels so powerless. The buildings are very old now, and I can’t argue with the fact that we need a new roof. It’s ridiculous to have buckets in Miss Hawkins’s classroom every time it rains. I’ve seen this happen to other schools, but I thought we were safe, with our numbers. What can we do? At least the children will get educated somewhere, and I expect the staff will find new jobs. After all, they’ll need to take on new teachers at Halesworth because of us.’
