‘How nice.’ He must have taken her comment as interest and after a lengthy account of the new baby’s progress, proceeded to tell her how difficult it was to get out to this part of town by public transport. Sarah looked at her watch although she could see the clock on the wall behind him quite clearly. She knew she was going to feel a heel for the rest of the day for not volunteering to run the old boy back into town, but, after all her recent inefficiencies at work, she didn’t want to add lateness to her rapidly tarnishing reputation.
A face appeared as the counter window.
‘I’m sorry the postman doesn’t appear to have brought it back yet.’
‘It’s a pity he couldn’t have left it next door.’ The previously languid voice became fractious. ‘It would have saved me the trouble…’ Sarah forced herself not to start tapping her foot as the pensioner repeated the account of his problems.
‘Don’t worry,’ interrupted the receptionist, catching Sarah’s scowl and ill-concealed sighs, ‘I’ll make sure we get it sorted for you. You won’t have to come back. And if it ever happens again just tick the box on the back of the card here saying when you’ll be in and we’ll deliver it.’
Sarah pushed over her card as soon as the man moved away from the window, resisting the temptation to snap. No doubt the woman had to take the brunt of everybody’s complaints about the inconvenience of undelivered mail on a daily basis, so adding her two pennyworth would get Sarah nowhere.
The woman was back almost immediately. With a quick, ‘Thank you,’ Sarah took her parcel and hurried back to the car.
As she tore off the wrapper, three books, “A Chinese Odyssey”, “Treasures of Beijing” and “A History of Imperial China”, slipped onto her lap together with a glossy brochure advertising The New History Book Club. She remembered looking through the same literature several times – a copy fell out of the colour supplement almost every Saturday. She had even toyed with the idea of sending for some of the books but she could not work out why she had been selected to be sent books on spec. She scrabbled for the accompanying paperwork.
‘Please find enclosed the three books you selected on our introductory offer. If you are happy with your choice please forward the sum of…’
Her eyes went no further. She reread the first sentence. A brief moment of panic took hold of her. Although the books were ones she might well have selected, Sarah had no recollection of filling in any form. Reason returned. She had not yet been reduced to a state where she did not know what she was doing. Her anger was mixed with a tinge of unease. This was more than some silly prank at her expense. Someone was intent on making her life a misery. Perhaps they were trying to make her think she was losing it. And if you don’t pull yourself together right now they’ll damned well succeed, she told herself. But who? That someone appeared to know all about her fascination with ancient Chinese culture.
Chapter 8
Sarah sighed. Saturday afternoon was not the best time to visit the main library. Half the population of Swindon seemed to want to change their books after the weekend shop. Though the mobile library that served the village had the advantage of being less crowded, it carried only a small selection of books and was always the last in line for the latest acquisitions.
After a dismally chilly week, the unexpected late summer sun appeared to have attracted the emergence of an army of elderly folk to add to the general tumult. Sarah tried to peer through the crowd gathered around the just-returned shelves only to find herself skilfully elbowed to one side by an old dear armed with a lethal assortment of carrier bags. As Sarah reached over the knitted woollen hat for the latest P D James, a deft swing with the woman’s package-laden armoury caught Sarah on the shins causing her swift retreat. When she turned back to her prize, she saw her assailant already had it firmly tucked under her arm.
Feeling more than a little aggrieved, Sarah decided to abandon her quest and hobbled to the exit. Manoeuvring her way round the corner of the travel section, she came upon a familiar face.
‘Hello, how are you?’ His voice was full of surprised delight.
‘Apart from just being assaulted by a geriatric mugger, fine,’ she replied rubbing her complaining leg.
‘As I’m out of uniform, I’m not in a position to make an arrest, I’m afraid,’ he responded with an easy smile.
They waited together for the queue of people to file through the detector gates of the security system by the door.
‘You off to do your shopping?’ he enquired.
‘I’m on my way home. I only came in to replace the library card that disappeared with my handbag and, because it’s all computerised, they couldn’t issue me with new one on the library van. Such is progress!’
‘If you’re not in a rush, do you fancy a coffee?’ The invitation came as a surprise. ‘Why not?’ Sarah replied after only a second’s hesitation.
The nearest reasonable café was in Theatre Square only a couple of minutes’ walk away. As they crossed the pedestrianized area at the top of Regent Street, he asked, ‘I’m glad I bumped into you, I’ve been meaning to get in touch. Are you still getting those calls? Did you know BT has special nuisance call advisors?’
‘Actually, your suggestion about the answerphone seems to have done the trick. I’ve heard nothing for a week now. I was thinking only this morning that I should write and thank you.’
So that was the reason for the invitation. Sarah felt vaguely disappointed. Perhaps she should mention the incident with the mail order books. She decided to wait. Best not to seem completely helpless. She could always drop it into the conversation later.
‘That’s good. I’ve been looking into it and, if they do start up again, ring the phone company straightaway and they can put a block on that number so they can’t ring your phone anymore.’
Should she feel flattered that he had bothered to chase it up on her behalf? She had not requested police action.
When he straightened up, which he did only rarely, Sarah realised he was taller than she had remembered him. Out of uniform, the slightly dishevelled air was even more marked. His tie was askew with the knot loosened a fraction from the collar. As they sat down at one of the outside tables, he leaned back in the chair opposite and she could see the badly-ironed shirt, though clean, gaped a little as it stretched over the stomach bulging slightly over his low slung, faded brown cords.
The sheltered corner of the square formed a pleasant suntrap and, as they sat sipping tea and munching on toasted teacakes, the conversation flowed easily about all manner of inconsequential things. They were soon on first name terms and Sarah could not help being flattered by the way the smiling eyes never left her face and seemed to hang on every word she uttered, even though she kept telling herself it was all part of the natural technique of his job.
As she sat looking into the warm, sympathetic face, she wondered, not for the first time, why it was that eyes held such fascination for her. While other girls had swooned at his rugged good looks, it had been the unusual light golden brown of Nathan’s eyes, fringed with long ginger lashes, which had first attracted her to him. Matt’s were a greeny-blue and changed colour as he moved his head.
He did not probe, there were no intrusive questions, and in fact, he said very little. Soon Sarah found herself telling him about Nathan and how they had met at Bath University. She’d gone back to complete her PhD and he was in his final year of a Science degree. Although the mature students on postgraduate courses didn’t go in for a great deal of socializing, the Student Union wanted to put on a summer production to raise money for charity and Sarah was talked into taking part in one of the choral pieces.
‘Bit of a whirlwind romance really. We were married six months later. A rather bleak November day, as I recall. Perhaps I should have taken that as an omen! Anyway, we both loved the West Country and had friends in the area so we decided to find jobs locally, which is how I come to be here.’
The warm eyes never left her face. What has possessed her to
reveal so much of herself to this comparative stranger? ‘I can see why you’re so good at your job,’ she said with a laugh as she poured out another cup of tea. ‘Ve hav vays of making you talk! I bet it takes you no time at all to get people to part with all their secrets. Now it’s your turn. Tell me something about you.’
‘Not much to tell,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m a real local. Born and brought up in Swindon, never lived anywhere else. Been in the Force for over twenty years now. A widower. I live with my son, Paul, in the next street to my mother who helps bring him up. That’s about all there is.’
‘How old is your son?’
‘Thirteen, with a birthday coming up in a couple of months. He’s a good kid.’
‘It must be difficult for you bringing him up on your own.’
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how long his wife had been dead but decided that if he had have wanted to talk about her he would have brought up the subject. Sarah struggled to think of something to fill the sudden uncomfortable hiatus in the conversation.
Sarah stared across the square at the prominent poster on the wall of the theatre advertising the coming production of “The Way of the World”.
‘I wouldn’t mind seeing that,’ Matt said following the line of her gaze. ‘I quite enjoy Restoration comedy.’
‘It should be good. The company are doing a pre-London run. I think Nathan and I saw something by the same director three or four years ago although I can’t remember which play.’
‘You like the theatre?’ he asked casually.
‘We used to go regularly but I haven’t been in ages.’
It was one of the things she missed most after the break up. Though the Wyvern Theatre did not have a lot of drama on offer, with several cities within an hour’s drive, such trips had been a regular treat, what Nathan laughingly called their one extravagance. It never seemed the same going on her own. She had tried once but felt so out-of-place standing about staring at the paintings on the wall while sipping the poor quality white wine during the interval that she’d never repeated the experience. Plus there was no one to discuss the play with afterwards, which was part of the enjoyment.
When she glanced up, he was looking at her thoughtfully.
‘Would you think me very forward if I suggested we see it together?’
The invitation came out of the blue, but why not? Apart from the regular get-togethers with Elizabeth, it had been a long time since she had spent an evening out in pleasant, undemanding company.
‘I think the box office opens around four o’clock. We could wander over now, if you like, and see if they have any seats?’ He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Sarah picked up her bag and, with all the bustle of signalling the waitress and paying the bill, the slight tension disappeared.
Inevitably, the seats for the next week’s Friday and Saturday performances were already fully booked but the girl in the kiosk managed to find something to offer them for the Thursday.
‘Could you make it?’ he asked tentatively as if expecting her to find an excuse to claim she was already busy.
‘That would be fine.’
He brushed aside her tentative suggestion that they should go Dutch. It was a strange situation with the two of them dancing around one another in the attempt not to make too much of spending an evening together.
‘We could meet downstairs in the bar before the performance.’
‘Only on condition that you let me buy the drinks,’ she said, trying her best to sound suave and at ease.
Neither of them seemed quite ready to bring their chance encounter to a close, and they wandered over to look at the production stills and read the reviews displayed on the wall.
‘I love all the costumes and wigs. They’re certainly very colourful.’ It was time to go their separate ways. ‘Still,’ she said, looking at her watch, ‘I must be getting back. Thank you for the tea.’
‘My pleasure. See you next Thursday.’
At the big glass doors, Sarah turned back and gave a wave. He returned a broad smile then continued studying the reviews. Anyone would think they were gauche teenagers rather than professionals who spent their working lives dealing with people, she thought as she walked briskly back to the car park.
Chapter 9
Having worked her way through the half dozen sections of The Sunday Telegraph, Sarah picked up the general knowledge crossword from the previous day’s paper and half-heartedly attempted to fill it in. She managed most of the history and literature questions but she could not be bothered to get up from her comfortable position, feet up on the settee, to check the atlas for the couple of geography teasers that lay teetering on the edge of her memory.
It was the Sunday between the Italian and Luxembourg Grand Prix. Perhaps, she thought to herself ruefully, her enthusiasm for Formula One was as much because it took up most of the endless afternoon as anything else. It certainly did not have the appeal it used to back in the days when races were won by drivers making daring overtaking moves that had your heart in your mouth. The most exciting thing that had happened in the last race was Ferrari’s Technical Director, Ross Brawn, eating his mid-race banana while Michael Schumacher continued to lead the pack around the circuit as he had been doing all season.
When the rest of the world was busy playing happy families, there were times when Sunday afternoons stretched interminably. Was it any wonder that so many single career women became obsessed with work? She had made a pact with herself when she moved into the flat that, barring genuine emergencies, she wouldn’t allow herself to even think about anything to do with college on Sundays.
The sky was a uniform drab grey as she turned to look out of the window, and the sudden gust that spattered noisy spots of rain against the pane put the final damper on any idea of braving the cold and going for a walk.
At the end of the lecture to herself on indulging in blatant self-pity, a trend to which she seemed to have become pathetically prone of late, the phone rang. Her body tensed, even though the last menace call had been over a week ago. The pre-recorded message kicked in.
‘It’s me. Only rang to see how you are. I’ll try and catch you later.’
As soon as she heard a normal voice, she put out her hand and lifted the receiver before even registering that it was Nathan. Had she realised, she might have left it and given herself more time to compose herself. Over the couple of years since the separation, mutual friends had passed on news of his welfare, but it had been a good six months since they had last spoken to each other.
‘I’m here,’ she interrupted, uncertain of how to continue.
‘I’ve only just heard about your dreadful ordeal, I’d have got in touch sooner…’
Sarah cut him off, dismissing it as a minor incident she had almost forgotten about. He even knew about her being taken to the hospital and she had to explain that as well.
He seemed reluctant to hang up and asked after her family. ‘How’s Todd? Did the specialist come up with anything?’
She gave him the latest news. Her eight-year-old nephew had been ill for several months with bouts of high temperature and stomach upsets. He had changed from his normal happy, highly active state to mooching around complaining of feeling generally unwell. At first, the doctor had talked about some vague infection but no amount of antibiotics seemed to make any difference. Diagnosis was proving difficult and Todd’s poor state of health was inevitably a cause of great concern to all the family.
‘How did you hear about Todd’s latest tests?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘Your mother told me.’
‘Why did she contact you? Was it to tell you about the attack on me?’ Sarah was beginning to feel betrayed on all sides.
‘No.’ She could hear the surprise in his voice. ‘She happened to mention your mugger when I rang. She thought I’d already heard. You know we still keep in touch.’
‘Of course. I’d forgotten.’
Though Sarah had never been persona grata
with her in-laws, surprisingly Nathan had always got on well with her parents. His privileged, public school background had proved no barrier and there were times when she had felt he was more eager to make the trek across to Norfolk to see them than Sarah had been. Even now, she thought ruefully, he probably found it easier to find things to chat about with her mother than she did. She loved her parents dearly, but they shared so few interests. She’d never been able to persuade them to come and stay in the new flat and her visits back home only seem to underline the growing distance between them.
‘Thanks for getting in touch.’ She tried to bring the conversation to a close.
‘Actually, Sarah, there was something else,’ he hesitated. ‘I wondered if we could get together, perhaps have a meal somewhere?’
‘I am very busy,’ she answered apprehensively.
‘You have to eat.’ Trust him to think that she’d been referring to work rather than a hectic social life. ‘Please. There’s something I want to ask you. How about Tuesday?’
‘There’s a prize-giving at one of the schools that I can’t get out of.’ She felt rather smug that he’d chosen the one evening she couldn’t make.
‘Sounds fun.’
‘It involves several of my students who are going back to get their exam certificates and I’m presenting the prizes.’ She could hear the testiness in her voice and resented the way he had managed to put her on the defensive. The picture of a crabby old spinster with no life of her own that he’d made her portray, was too close to home.
‘How about the week after?’ There was an urgency in his voice that made her feel cold.
‘All right,’ she agreed grudgingly.
‘I’ll pick you up at your place at half seven.’
He put the phone down before she could change her mind. ‘Damn you,’ she said to the dull ringing tone and replaced the receiver with a bang.
Nathan still had the power to upset her. The break-up had been entirely her doing. She was the one who had thrown him out. For months afterwards, Nathan would phone or turn up on the doorstep pleading with her to forgive him. She even had him in tears, begging her on his knees. It had taken a long time to convince him that there was no going back. Neither of them had wanted to remain in the house they had shared, so they agreed to sell the place and go their separate ways although neither of them brought up the word divorce. Her staunch Catholic views may have taken a jolt, but for her, it still was not an option although she could hardly expect Nathan to see things the same way. After two years, he probably wanted to make it final.
All in the Mind Page 5
