First Friends

by Marcia Willett

  ALEX HAD TO BE content with the days Kate spent in the shop. He missed her very much and felt it very hard that his feelings must be put on a back burner. He knew quite well that it was the only way and, being far more intelligent than Stephen, was prepared to wait patiently for the time being. Kate’s surprised gratitude for his love, his patience, his good humour and concern for her well-being gave Alex a very good idea of what she had been used to with Mark and he experienced, from time to time, a desire to seek him out and wring his neck. Alex, who liked women and made a great effort to understand them, knew that Kate would put the twins first all the time that they were dependent on her for their happiness and he was trying not to make her feel guilty about it. He did not approve of emotional blackmail and since he saw that Kate was always ready to take guilt to herself—as he suspected Mark had been quick to notice and very ready to exploit—he made every effort to keep their relationship free of it. At least the boys were away at school. They must be grateful for what they had.

  IN THE NEW YEAR, the ripples had turned into little waves big enough to rock a few boats.

  When Tony got back from sea there was a letter waiting for him from Liz asking if he would get in touch. He was faintly surprised for it was generally he who did the running but he turned up at the flat a few days later, on a mild February afternoon, and Liz let him in. It was a very pleasant flat in an Edwardian terrace: one big bedroom, one big living room, a small kitchen and a bathroom. It was on the ground floor and there was a little courtyard area outside the French windows. The decorations were simple, almost austere, and in her favourite colours, white and a sharp lemon with touches of cool green. It was a very restful place. Tony sank into the corner of the big white sofa and looked at her. She looked pinched and tired but she poured him his favourite Scotch and smiled at him.

  ‘Good trip?’

  ‘So so. What’s all this about? You look a bit fagged.’

  ‘I am a bit.’ She rested an arm along the white-painted mantelshelf and stared down at the electric fire that had been fitted into the grate. ‘It’s no use prevaricating. I’ve been practising how to say this and there’s no easy way. I’m pregnant.’

  From the corner of her eye she saw his shocked reaction. After a moment Tony set his drink carefully on the low glass coffee table.

  ‘Is it mine?’ he asked and immediately felt ashamed.

  Liz straightened up and looked directly at him. ‘I’ve only ever been with you,’ she said simply.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at once. ‘That was unforgivable. It’s just a bit of a shock. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It was after Cass’s party,’ she explained. ‘You may remember that we . . . well, we got a bit carried away and we didn’t use anything.’

  ‘I remember.’ Tony felt a savage blast of bitterness against Cass, followed by remorse for having used as her stand-in the girl who stood before him. ‘Well, we must think about this, mustn’t we?’

  If she had hoped for more from him, she didn’t show it but continued to look at him. ‘I shan’t have an abortion,’ she said quietly. ‘I just want to tell you that. I haven’t told my parents yet. I thought that it was only fair to tell you first.’

  Tony looked quickly at her to see if there was any hint of blackmail but she continued to regard him steadily.

  ‘Yes.’ Tony thought about her father, a serving Rear Admiral who, much against his will, had set Liz up in her own little flat so that she could finish taking her accountancy exam’s in peace and quiet and without too much travelling. Tony felt his heart sink and the bars begin to close in. ‘Look, can you give me a minute or two to think this over? Get my bearings, as it were?’

  ‘Of course. I realise that it’s come as a dreadful shock to you. I’ve had time to think it over.’

  Tony imagined her, all alone, coming to terms with it over the past weeks and his heart smote him. What a bastard he was! He’d used her as a smoke screen through the long hot summer of his affair with Cass and again afterwards in his hurt at Cass’s defection. She loved him, he knew that, giving everything that she had and asking nothing in return. He stood up and went to her and gathered her rigid body into his arms.

  ‘We’ll get married,’ he said. ‘If you’d like to? If you’ll have me?’

  And, as she burst into tears of relief and he held her closer, he thought of Cass and felt despair and anger and cursed himself for a fool.

  TOM, TRAVELLING DOWN FROM London on the train, looked out over the Exe estuary. The early-March evening was cold and the reeds rustled in the wind. A heron stood motionless in the rising tide whilst waders bustled over the pale gleaming mud at the water’s edge. Waves slapped at the sides of the few moored boats and a handful of rain dashed itself against the carriage window. On the other side of the track, Powderham Castle stood remote and withdrawn in the darkening deer park and the travellers peered from the warm lighted carriages for a sight of the graceful forms that browsed beneath the trees.

  Tom reached for a cigarette and gazed unseeingly into the gathering dusk. The conversation that he’d had with Mark II in the bar of the Red Lion that lunchtime had seriously upset him. Mark had been very pleased with himself. It seemed that he had been offered the submariner’s job at the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth and he was bragging about his luck to Tom.

  ‘Well, if it’s what you want, good luck,’ Tom had said, shrugging. ‘I wouldn’t want it. Too bloody social. And all that business about having to be smart when you’re around in the town when you’re off duty, and church every Sunday. Good promotional job, though. Felicity will be delighted. Still, rather you than me.’

  Mark flushed a little.

  ‘I doubt you’d get the chance, old chap. Not with your Cassandra in the background.’

  Tom, who was finishing his pint, lowered his glass and looked at him. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Oh, well.’ Mark shrugged, still angry at Tom’s belittling of his new job and his dig at Felicity. ‘They’re not too keen on gossip at the College, are they? Everybody sees everything there. Cass would really have to clip her wings.’

  Tom stood his glass on the bar and took a step closer. ‘You’ll have to explain that remark,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘Oh, come on, Tom.’ Mark felt uncomfortable. His anger was evaporating and he knew he’d gone too far. Damn Felicity, always going on about Cass! ‘You know there are always rumours about Cass: Tony, George and now Stephen, it seems. Nothing in it, I dare say. It’s the price you pay for having a beautiful wife. You must have got used to having men falling for her. Come on, have another pint?’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Tom, rather mechanically. ‘I think I will.’

  Some others had come into the bar and Mark, rather thankfully, was able to move away a little. Tom had finished his pint and sandwiches and Mark had taken care not to bump into him again.

  I shall have it out with her, Tom thought now, staring out over the inky sea at Dawlish. I’m not going to be made a laughing stock. I’ve had enough of sly digs and innuendoes. I shall ask her outright.

  He felt a bleak depression settle on him at the thought of it and jumped as someone spoke his name.

  ‘Harriet!’ he exclaimed.

  She was standing smiling shyly down at him. She wore a long flowing navy blue corduroy coat and a navy blue beret on her cap of dark shining hair.

  ‘Where did you spring from?’ he asked. ‘Sit down.’ He caught her by the wrist and pulled her down into the empty seat beside him, glancing sideways as the coat fell open exposing her long lovely legs in their sheer dark stockings.

  ‘I got on at Exeter,’ she was saying. ‘I’ve been shopping and then I went to a visit a friend in hospital. You were looking very severe. I was almost afraid to speak to you.’

  Tom laughed, realised that he was still grasping her wrist and dropped it quickly. “Rubbish! I was just feeling a bit low.’ He suddenly felt very sorry for himself and experienced a great desire to unburden himself to her but she was
already speaking.

  ‘Perhaps this evening will cheer you up.’

  ‘This evening?’

  ‘Aren’t you coming? I thought Cass said you would be. Perhaps you’ll feel too tired to turn out again once you’ve got in? I shouldn’t blame you. It will be a terrible rush for you but the Elliots give such good parties, don’t they? Almost as good as yours!’

  ‘I’d completely forgotten.’ Tom smote his forehead with the palm of his hand. ‘I must be getting senile. Are you and Ralph going?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘In that case I shall certainly be there as long as you promise to have a dance with me.’

  She smiled shyly, not looking at him. ‘I expect that could be arranged.’

  ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ His depression had lifted and he felt cheerful again but whether it was due to the relief of knowing that there would be no time, after all, for his showdown with Cass or the pleasure of the thought of dancing with Harriet, he didn’t trouble to analyse.

  CASS HAD NO IDEA that she had received a reprieve. The weekend started with the Elliots’ party and then moved into an exeat which coincided with Oliver’s ninth birthday. He had had a party on Saturday afternoon and on Sunday the General had come to lunch. By the time the following weekend came round, Mark II’s remarks had been put to the back of Tom’s mind.

  The next week, Cass herself had a narrow escape. Two things conspired to undo her. The first was the unexpected arrival of Stephen Mortlake. He came after lunch, just as Cass had put Gemma to bed for her afternoon sleep, and, seizing Cass in his arms, he had vowed his undying passion and begged that she reconsider her decision to stay with Tom. In the hope of quietening him down, Cass let him drag her clothes off and make love to her until he was too exhausted to talk. Relieved, she was about to get up again when she heard the kitchen door open and Saul’s voice calling her. She sat stock still for two seconds and then, leaping from the bed, dressed in record time, dragging the recumbent Stephen upright and trying to make him get dressed. It occurred to her that, now the situation had presented itself, he might consider forcing the issue by letting her children see him and she felt so angry that she caught him by the arm and dug her nails into his flesh:

  ‘If you let them suspect a single thing,’ she hissed, ‘I’ll never speak to you again, I promise. Get dressed!’

  She left the bedroom and went downstairs as Saul was about to come up to find her.

  ‘Hello, darling,’ she said. ‘What are you doing home so early? Aren’t you well?’

  Charlotte appeared in the kitchen doorway and Cass shooed them gently back into the kitchen, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  ‘He’s got a sore throat,’ Charlotte was explaining. ‘Mrs Beard asked if she should phone but I said that if you weren’t here we could go to Grandfather’s. I was looking for the gargling stuff you gave me when I had one.’

  ‘Poor Saul.’ Cass gave him a hug, one ear cocked for Stephen. ‘Did you look in the pantry?’

  ‘Yes, I did. I’m sure it’s not there. Oh! I know where it is.’ She whirled round. ‘It’s upstairs in the bathroom cupboard.’ And, before Cass could stop her, she was across the kitchen and opening the door. Stephen stood just outside. Charlotte gave a little squawk of alarm and at the same time, upstairs Gemma woke and began to grizzle loudly.

  ‘Hello, Stephen. What on earth are you doing here?’ Cass’s voice was light and social. Her eyes were cold and wary. She saw that Charlotte was staring at him, less alarmed than she might have been since he was in uniform, dressed in his navy jersey with his stripes on the epaulettes. ‘Go up and see to Gemma, darling,’ she said to Charlotte and turned back to Stephen. ‘I’m afraid Tom’s not here,’ she said in the same light, carrying voice. She walked towards the front door and he was obliged to follow her. Saul appeared in the hall. ‘So sorry, I’ll tell him you called.’ She almost pushed him out of the front door and turned back to Saul. ‘Come on, my darling. Let’s go and find that medicine.’

  On Friday, Tom travelled down with Tony, who had been to see the Appointer and had been told that he was being appointed to Faslane. They spent some time in the bar getting very mellow and, after a while, Tom said, ‘What’s all this about you and Cass, then?’

  Tony stared into his glass, ‘All over now. I’m getting married. I expect you heard.’

  ‘No. No I hadn’t heard. There was something then? Between you and Cass, I mean?’

  Tony suddenly felt terribly depressed. Liz was a sweet girl but he didn’t love her. He didn’t want to marry her. He didn’t want to be a father. He didn’t want to go to Faslane. Why shouldn’t other people have some grief too? Why should Cass get off scot-free? A glance at Tom’s face made him hesitate. Perhaps it might be a little unwise to admit to his own affair but he could still drop Cass in it.

  ‘Oh, I’ve always been in love with Cass,’ he said. ‘Everyone knows that. She knows it. You know it. It’s a hopeless passion. Christ knows why I’m marrying Liz! Well, I do know. It’s because of the bloody baby. If it hadn’t been for that party you gave and seeing Cass carrying on with that wanker, Stephen Mortlake, there wouldn’t have been a bloody baby!’ He glanced up at Tom slyly. ‘I think I’m drunk, old boy. Take no notice of me.’

  ‘Not as drunk as we could be,’ said Tom. ‘Let’s have another.’

  When Cass picked him up at the station, she gave Tony a lift too and so the moment of confrontation passed again. When they had dropped Tony, she told Tom that Saul had a bad attack of tonsillitis and that the doctor was calling in after surgery to see how he was and so it wasn’t until the Saturday morning that the moment presented itself.

  The Wivenhoes had just finished breakfast when Kate arrived. She came into the kitchen carrying a large covered basket and she had just set it on the table and Tom had just pushed the kettle on to the hotplate for more coffee when Charlotte electrified them all by saying, ‘Did you tell Daddy that that man came to see him, Mummy? The one who was standing in the hall when we came home early? What was his name?’

  Kate saw the expression on Cass’s face a split second before Tom turned round and hastily removed the cover from the basket. Out struggled a fluffy golden retriever puppy with floppy ears and huge paws. Charlotte gave a cry and Cass exclaimed and got up to look at him.

  ‘Oh, he’s so lovely. Oh, Daddy, look! Oh, is he for us?’

  ‘He is.’ Kate was still watching Tom whose face was darkening by the moment.

  ‘What man?’ he asked.

  ‘Look, Gemma.’ Charlotte tried to lift her up to the table. ‘Can you see him? Isn’t he beautiful? What shall we call him?’

  ‘His name’s Augustus,’ said Kate firmly. She simply couldn’t bear for her puppies to be called by unsuitable names. ‘Gus for short.’

  ‘What man?’

  ‘He’s too beautiful for words. What? Oh. Just Stephen Mortlake, darling. He popped in hoping to see you. Put him down on the floor, Kate, so that Gemma can see him properly.’

  ‘Why should he do that? He knows I’m away.’

  ‘I’ve no idea, darling. He’s perfect, Kate. Bless you.’

  Tom turned to Charlotte. ‘Take him upstairs and show him to Saul. It’s unfair to leave him out when he’s not well. It will cheer him up. Take Gemma, too.’ He picked the puppy up and put him in Charlotte’s arms. ‘Off you go.’ He waited until they’d gone. ‘You too, Kate.’ He didn’t turn round and for once Cass was silent. Kate hesitated and she looked at Cass.

  ‘Out, Kate,’ said Tom again, his eyes on Cass’s face.

  Behind his head, Kate put two fingers against her temple, miming a gun, and, grimacing helplessly at Cass, slipped out into the garden.

  ‘Well?’ said Tom.

  ‘I couldn’t say this in front of the children, darling, but Stephen Mortlake is a bore and a nuisance and if he goes on like this you’ll have to have words with him!’

  Taken aback, Tom stared at her and Cass was quick to follow up her advantage. />
  ‘Ever since we gave that party he’s been pestering me. He phones up and sometimes he calls in. That’s what he did on Thursday. He says he’s fallen passionately in love with me and God knows what!’ Cass folded her arms and shook her head. ‘He’s driving me mad! Could you speak to him?’

  ‘Well . . . Well, I don’t know . . . He looked so ludicrously wrong-footed that Cass had great difficulty in restraining herself from bursting into hysterical laughter.

  ‘Oh, well, never mind.’ There was a touch of impatience in her voice. ‘Thank God he’s going back to Gosport so it should all die a natural death. It’s probably best that way, I wouldn’t want his wife upset.’

  ‘D’you mean you haven’t . . . ’

  ‘Haven’t what?’ Cass looked surprised and then incredulous. ‘With Stephen Mortlake? Come on, Tom, have a heart!’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ He felt that the ground was being cut from beneath him and he made an effort to regain his foothold. ‘I travelled down with Tony yesterday as you know . . . ’

  ‘Well, if he told you about Stephen you can forget it. Tony’s been in love with me for years and now he’s gone and got that rather dim girlfriend of his up the spout and he’s got to marry her. He’s very bitter at the moment. You can’t believe anything that Tony says. He likes to think he’s the great lover. You know that. And he likes to boast about his conquests—real and imaginary. I’m very fond of old Tony, he’s great fun, but to tell you the truth I’m delighted that he’s getting married. All this devotion can get you down a bit.’

  ‘But he said . . . ’ Tom paused and changed direction. ‘Mark II was saying that you and George . . .

  ‘George?’ Cass burst out laughing. ‘Oh, it really is too much. Me and old George! There really is no end to what Felicity will say about me! And Mark II repeats it all like a parrot! Of course George has got a soft spot for me. Everyone knows that. But you know very well that Felicity’s tongue has been dipped in poison.’ Suddenly she looked rather hurt. ‘And you’ve just been taking it to heart, I suppose, and believed everything they’ve said?’