The Thursday Friend

by Catherine Cookson

  The next moment he was lying beside her and stroking her face tenderly as he said, ‘This is the beginning, Hannah. If I could marry you tomorrow I would do so, but I will one day. Oh, yes, I will. There’ll come a day when we’ll be man and wife, you’ll see, but until then we must be together as often as we possibly can, night or day; it doesn’t matter which as long as I can see you and know that you love me.’

  ‘Oh, David. David. This feeling I have for you, if it’s not love I don’t know what name to give it, because it’s partly pain – at least, a constant ache; and you know something? A few moments ago I was extremely nervous. If it had not sounded like something out of a bad play I’d have said, “I’m not used to doing things like this.”’ They both laughed a little and their bodies fell together; and then as his lips were about to meet hers she said, ‘You know something more? I seem to have been like this with you before. At this moment, David, you are neither new to me nor strange, but it seems like a continuation of something. That might sound silly, but . . . ’

  ‘No, my love; there’s nothing silly about it; it only confirms what I thought those few short days ago, that we had met before. I’m a firm believer in reincarnation and if ever I wanted proof of it I’ve had it in the feeling I had that morning and what has grown on me ever since . . . ’

  Their love swept them both into realms neither had hitherto experienced, and she knew that she was loving, and being loved; for the first time in her life; also that it was something unbearable and could be endured for only a matter of seconds. When again she was resting in his arms, her breathing coming in gasps and her face strewn with tears, he became alarmed, saying, ‘Hannah! What is it? I’m sorry.’ And at this she put her wet fingers across his mouth as she murmured, ‘Never, never say that word to me, David. Never be sorry for loving me. I’m . . . I’m so happy, it became unbearable, and I know that my tears have washed the last four years away as if they had never been.’

  At half-past eight next morning, when Peter awoke them with a bedside tray of tea, it was as if he were carrying out his usual morning routine. ‘Good morning, madam,’ he said.

  Hannah opened her eyes, blinked, was about to sit up, then realising she was naked she pulled the bedclothes under her chin and answered, ‘Good morning, Peter.’

  ‘Tea, sir?’

  ‘Oh! what? Oh.’ David blinked, shook his head, then said, ‘Oh, hello, Peter. What time is it?’

  ‘Just turned eight-thirty, sir. It’s a very nice morning: the sun is shining and it promises to be a warmish day. May I ask if you will be in to lunch today, sir?’

  David pulled himself up on the pillow, ran his hand through his hair, then thought a minute before turning to Hannah and asking, ‘Shall we eat out?’ and she, unable to find words with which to meet the situation, simply nodded her head.

  ‘Very well, sir. Very well. Drink your tea while it’s hot.’

  ‘When the door had closed on him they turned to look at each other; then quickly he bent and kissed her, and she said, ‘Is he used to seeing strange women in your bed?’

  His expression serious now, he replied, ‘It appeared like it, didn’t it? But I can assure you, my darling, that even when I was married I can’t remember his bringing us tea, and never, never at any other time. He’s a card, is our Peter.’

  Turning quickly on his side, he pulled her into his arms, asking softly, ‘How d’you feel?’

  She answered as softly, ‘Believe me when I say I don’t know. I can only tell you that I don’t belong to the person I was yesterday at this time. No; it’s true I can’t tell you how I feel because I feel neither embarrassed nor awkward, and I certainly don’t feel sinful; in fact, I suppose I’m really feeling wonderful.’

  He pushed her on to her back, and now his hands were running through her already tousled hair, and he was laughing as he said, ‘You’re wonderful, simply wonderful.’

  This was followed by another long kiss, and when he turned from her to get the tea she heard that voice loud in her head saying: ‘When are you going to wake up? because wake up you must. There is still Humphrey, and there is still David’s wife. Of the two, the more awesome is his wife. You must get him to talk about her.

  Oh, why? Why couldn’t her conscience leave her alone on this wonderful morning of all mornings? Anyway, whatever might happen, nothing would be able to separate them now, so why worry?

  Yes, why worry?

  Chapter Ten

  Hannah was to remember the following six weeks as an oasis in which she neither looked back nor ahead, living only for Thursdays and the weekends. Thursday night seemed as important as the weekend, for it bridged the empty days from Sunday evening, when he set her on the train, until about seven-thirty on the Thursday evening, when he himself always opened the door to her. Only once had they taken lunch together, and that was in the week following their first lovemaking.

  She had reached the stage when she didn’t care whether or not Humphrey was aware of her escapade; but on that particular night, when he came home in a kittenish mood and started to tease her about her double, she knew she would be unable to bear the thought of him knowing about her relationship with David.

  He had hardly got his coat off when, wagging his finger in her face, he had said, ‘Aha! What is this I hear? A beautiful girl lunching out with a handsome man. Could it be Mrs Drayton? No, no; of course not, I said to Brown. Well, it was her double, if ever he saw one, he said.’ Now it was his head that wagged at her. ‘There you were, in a well-known restaurant dressed up to the nines. In style, he said. And let me tell you’ – his head was still wagging – ‘your double must be of some import because the proprietor came out and spoke to her and her escort, and they had a reserved corner to themselves. He saw them leaving, too. The only difference, he said, between you and your double was that she was a little taller, but he’d never seen such a likeness and he swore you could have been twins. Of course, it made food for a lot of chaffing. You know what they are, but I quashed that: I told them it just possibly could have been you, as you were having lunch with your publisher. Oh’ – his head really was wagging now – ‘that changed the whole situation. My wife’s publisher, well! well! She’s having a book published? Yes; yes, she is. Dear, dear; they didn’t know that my wife was an author. I said there were lots of things that they naturally didn’t know about my wife. One of them was that she could wear haute couture when the occasion demanded it.’

  She could not prevent herself from saying, ‘Did they not wonder where I got the money from for French fashions? or were they putting it down to your generosity?’

  His expression changed, as did his voice as he said, ‘Now now! you know that I couldn’t possibly afford to dress you that way. Anyway, you, being an author, would make your own money.’

  ‘Out of a silly little children’s book – because that’s all it is, isn’t it, Humphrey?’

  ‘Don’t be nasty, Hannah. I thought you would see the funny side of this.’

  ‘Well, to tell you the truth, I don’t see the funny side of it, Humphrey. I’m only jealous of a woman who looks like me who could be enhanced by a fancy outfit. It makes one think.’

  And it certainly made Humphrey think, because he watched her march away towards the kitchen; and she was marching: her head was up, her back was straight, and her step was very firm, noisy in fact, on the parquet floor. What was the matter with her these days? She’d been acting somewhat oddly, but then . . . His eyelids blinked rapidly, he rubbed his forefinger hard across his lips, and said to himself, ‘She’s used to it by now. Couldn’t be that.’

  Towards the end of September Hannah received a phone call of the most surprising kind.

  ‘Hello! Hello?’

  ‘Is that Mrs Drayton Junior?’

  Hannah actually pulled her face back from the mouthpiece: she recognised the voice and it was som
e seconds before she said, ‘Yes, this is Mrs Drayton . . . Junior.’

  ‘Oh. Good morning, Hannah.’

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Drayton.’

  She was about to ask if anything was wrong when Humphrey’s aunt said, ‘No doubt you will be surprised that I am phoning you.’

  ‘Well, it is a little out of the ordinary.’

  ‘Yes; yes, you could say that, but it is important to me and my husband. We are seeking some facts.’

  ‘Facts?’

  ‘Yes, facts.’

  It was as well Mrs Drayton Senior could not see Hannah’s expression, because she was thinking: ‘Well, here it comes, and, after I’ve told her to mind her own business, I shall tell her what I really think of her and her dear boy.’

  ‘Hannah! are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Drayton; I’m still here.’

  Mrs Drayton’s next question startled her. ‘Have you any idea, Hannah, where Humphrey is this morning?’

  Hannah’s face was a picture as she replied, ‘I can only say that I expect him to be where he is every Saturday and Sunday and sometimes on a Friday, too. He should be with you by now.’ Her tone had become tart.

  Hannah was now about to say, ‘Are you there?’ in her turn, when Mrs Drayton’s voice came to her: it was changed and rather small – a cross between a whisper and a whimper, she would have said: ‘You are telling me, Hannah, that you think your husband spends most weekends with us?’

  ‘Not most, Mrs Drayton, but all, as he has now for years.’

  There was a short silence, then the voice said, ‘And what do you do with yourself, Hannah?’

  Again some seconds elapsed before she answered, ‘I’ve filled up my weekends with writing and shopping, and have often just passed the time with window-shopping. That is on a Saturday; but on a Sunday I have a lie-in; sometimes I then go to my sister’s for lunch. Not too frequently, though, because I consider it their family day; it’s the only day my brother-in-law is off work. There are other times when I babysit for them. This may be on a Saturday night.

  ‘Anyway, Mrs Drayton, I’m sure you registered my surprise when you asked me where I think my husband is: of course, I assumed he was with you. And I may tell you truthfully that I’ve at times felt bitter at being left alone, not for the last weeks or even months, but for the past two and a half years, because you and your husband were demanding his attention. I know that you brought him up from a boy, but I’ve always considered it very high payment that I, too, have had to pay in order to recompense you and your husband for the kindness you showed him then.’

  When there was no word from the other end of the line Hannah thought, with slight panic, Oh dear me! I’ve said too much, and she’s an old woman. Or is she an old woman? How old is she? Seventy? Well, that isn’t really old today.

  ‘Mrs Drayton?’

  ‘Yes, Hannah?’ The voice was still small.

  ‘I . . . I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.’

  ‘No, no, Hannah; you haven’t upset me. I mean you’ve not upset me, not at all, in fact I feel I owe you an apology; both my husband and I owe you an apology. At the present moment we are in the nursing home: my husband’s leg needs constant attention and so we have taken a suite of rooms here. I . . . I’d like to talk further with you. Would you be able to come here one day next week? I must ask if you could make it as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Mrs Drayton, I could come and see you.’

  ‘I would ask something further of you. On no account . . . on no account,’ the words were repeated, ‘will you mention to your husband that I have phoned you.’

  It wasn’t ‘dear Humphrey’ now, Hannah noted, and she said, ‘I’ll do that, Mrs Drayton; and I’ll be pleased to come and talk with you, because I think there’s something here that needs clearing up.’

  ‘Indeed. Indeed it does, Hannah. Indeed, indeed it does.’ The voice was no longer weak nor that of an old woman; it was strong and full of bitterness.

  ‘Can you give me the address and at what time you’ll expect me? I have a notebook here.’ As she listened to the voice on the phone it was as if someone else were speaking, for there was no trace of the tentative old lady.

  After she had taken down the address she repeated it: ‘Pine Nursing Home, at eleven o’clock, Monday.’

  ‘Thank you, Hannah. I’m looking forward to your visit. Thank you again. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Mrs Drayton.’ Hannah sat back on the hall chair. To say that she was amazed was putting it mildly. Could she tell Mrs Drayton where Humphrey was this morning?

  My God! She found herself now on her feet and walking up and down the hall. All those years and her lying alone while he was having it off – for there was no other way to describe it – with someone else. What else would he be doing with his time? She couldn’t wait for Monday.

  She couldn’t even wait until she saw David, and that would not be until eleven o’clock. She was already dressed for outdoors, and within another five minutes she would have left the house and missed that call. Yet such was the state of Mrs Drayton Senior that she would definitely have had that call sooner or later.

  At quarter-past eleven she was seated on the couch in David’s flat, and he was saying, ‘Come on; come on, tell me what it was impossible to tell me outside.’

  ‘Well’ – she swallowed deeply – ‘I was afraid that in the telling I might shout.’

  ‘Shout? With pleasure or . . . ?’

  ‘No; certainly not at the moment. I’ve only been told the mere outline of the story. I’ll know more on Monday, and I can’t wait till then.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders, saying, now, ‘Can you take time to kiss me?’

  She laughed shakily, and put her arms around him, and after they had kissed she pushed him away and said, ‘Humphrey’s aunt phoned me.’

  ‘His aunt? The old girl he visits every weekend?’

  ‘None other, she and her husband.’

  ‘Well, go on.’

  And so she told him all that had transpired on the phone. After she had finished he said, ‘I’m going to say this: I’ve known all along in my heart that it would be impossible for any normal man to lie next door to you when he had a right to your bed, unless he was being . . . well, what should we say, fed from other quarters.’

  ‘I feel wild inside, David.’

  ‘Oh, I can understand that, because I’ve heard nothing about him since we first met, other than how kind and thoughtful he is and that he must not be hurt.’

  ‘Hurt him! If I had him here this moment I would go crazy, I really would. I wouldn’t be able to resist hitting him with something that would leave a mark. He left a mark on me.’ From being bitter, her voice changed to almost a whisper now: ‘You’ve no idea, David, what it felt like to be rejected. How I filled in all those weekends I don’t know, except that the strain was beginning to tell on me. I was feeling old and, in a way, someone of little consequence, because I had a husband who didn’t want me.’

  ‘Oh, my dear’ – David drew her into his arms again – ‘it might seem strange to you, and I hate to think of those lonely years that I could have filled, but I’m glad that he acted as he did, otherwise you wouldn’t be here now. But if I could get my hands on him now I’d floor him. If only you’d brought your little book to Gilly’s much earlier. Although I have dear friends like Gilly and Natasha and, of course, Peter, and some acquaintances like Micky, the last few years have been arid for me too. Oh yes, I’ve known different women, but they’ve come and gone: met at a party or some such, a dinner or two, then goodbye. At times I’d feel a bit of a swine because they were nice women; but I seemed to be waiting for someone. I didn’t know who until, on Thursday the seventeenth of August, a young lady brought a children’s book to Gilly and wondered if it could be publi
shed. Well, the disturbance flared up immediately, and I couldn’t push it off. This was serious. Then I looked back and asked myself if this was as it was the first time too. The answer was a firm No! Then I was literally carried into marriage on the back of a horse, you could say.

  ‘Well, not quite literally, but very near it, because they were a mad family. Truly mad. Oh yes, truly mad. On her side, anyway; the boys are different. We call them boys although they’re men. The father and the three brothers lived in the stables, and she did too. Where horses were concerned, she was madder than they.’ He turned his head away now, saying, ‘And in her case, Hannah, I mean mad, insane mad. I can say this now, but then I did not know anything about the insanity in the family. That was kept secret until we’d been married some weeks, when she had her first tantrum in a hotel, and the cost of the breakages ran into hundreds. It was then I discovered that she had a sister in a psychiatric hospital in Wales. She’d been there since she was about five years old and was now in her thirties. Her mother, I knew, was delicate and had long spells in a nursing home. That’s the name they put to the private mental home; yet no ordinary person would have had an inkling of this, so I can’t really blame myself; and yet I can, because Peter tried to warn me. I can recall him giving me hints which I threw aside. After my father died, my wife’s family took him on, and they took me on too. They were so kind, so jolly, so full of hospitality, you have no idea.

  ‘But looking back, I know now, in my case anyway, there was method and preparation in all their madness, because they pushed Carrie at me. The idea, I think, was to shift some of the responsibility for her which had fallen on the shoulders of Tony and Max. Alex was in France, as Pilly said. And at that time, as I had very little money except that which I earned by teaching, I couldn’t set up a home of our own, so I lived at The Manor. Except for the hotel attack and one other, when there was a scene with a taxi driver, we got by for the first year. But then I became her personal target. And she was a big girl, a big woman, and often the result would be a wrestling match from which one or other of the brothers would try to extricate me. Oh—’ He turned his head to the side and shaking it slowly he said, ‘No-one knows, has any idea of what life was like during the next three years. Without Tony and Max I think I would have been in an asylum too. In any case I had a breakdown. I had said I wanted a divorce but she threatened to shoot me if I humiliated her through the process of a divorce, and she would be in her sane moments when she came out with that.