All in the Mind

by Judith Cranswick

  Sarah smiled. Lucy was not only an excellent secretary and a hard worker, but also, more to the point in that place of intrigue and cutthroat ambition, unswervingly loyal to her boss. Though the rest of the staff appeared to regard her as the formal and remote Principal, she and Lucy had a very relaxed relationship. Although Sarah would never discuss her private life with Lucy, they had been known to have lively discussions over their mutual interest in Formula One racing. Lucy was a Schumacher fan but Sarah refused to forgive him for the time he deprived Damon Hill of the championship way back in ’94.

  ‘I’m going to pop into town. Can I get you anything?’ Sarah was not being helpful. It was her excuse to get Lucy chatting so she could seemingly casually drop Sir Richard’s name into the conversation. ‘He seemed very convivial today; did he stop to talk with you?’

  ‘Funny you should say that, he did ask me about that stuff for the printers that went missing from your desk the other week. Heaven knows how he heard about that. He wanted to know where it turned up.’

  ‘So what did you say?’

  Lucy gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘I told him you found it in your room and one of the cleaners must have moved it when they were tidying up.’

  Dear Lucy. She knew exactly where it had been found. Even if she thought Sarah was going doolally she would never let on to anyone else. ‘You’re an angel.’

  ‘I also pointed out that Miss Robinson should’ve made sure she gave it to one of us personally if she wanted it back in a hurry.’ Sarah looked at her in surprise. ‘If she’s sneaky enough to go telling tales to Sir Richard behind your back, it’s only right that someone point out that the whole mix up was her fault in the first place.’

  Sarah’s mind was working overtime as she went out of the building. So many silly, little things had gone wrong in the last few weeks with files misplaced, and mistakes in her documents, that she simply could not explain. The really worrying thing was that Sir Richard seemed to know about all about them. He must think she was beginning to lose her grip, but she could hardly tell him that she was being subjected to a hate campaign. It sounded so ludicrous that he was bound to think she was having a nervous breakdown of some kind.

  Perhaps she ought to see her doctor after all. She was not getting enough sleep, waking in the small hours then tossing and turning until dawn. At two o’clock in the morning, the mind plays odd tricks. Even the wind outside seemed to echo that awful sibilant whisper calling her name. Several times, she had got up to check the security locks not only on the door but also on the windows, which, as she lived in a first floor flat, would prove a difficult mode of entry for any intruder. On a bad night, she still woke bathed in sweat, trembling at the image of the shadowy face coming closer and closer to her own, and the feeling of hands fondling her cringing body.

  Chapter 11

  The doorbell rang as she was stepping out of the shower. Swathed in a bathrobe and a towel around her wet hair, she padded down to the half landing and peered through the window. Sarah groaned inwardly as she recognised the dark blue BMW parked on the road. Nathan was invariably late. It had been one of the little niggles that she had found so infuriating. Trust him to break the habit of a lifetime and arrive before she was ready! For some reason she could not adequately explain, she had planned to give him no excuse to come up. She had wanted her flat to be a Nathan-free zone, a place with no associations with the painful past.

  Downstairs, she pulled open the door, trying to keep out of sight of any possible passers-by.

  ‘You’re a quarter of an hour early,’ she snapped.

  ‘I’ve missed you too,’ he laughed. He bent to give her a quick peck on the lips before she had a chance to step back out of reach.

  As she looked up into the familiar face, a shiver went through her. She’d forgotten just how good-looking he was. Just keep reminding yourself how much he hurt you, she told herself fiercely. He’s history. You’ve both moved on! Don’t weaken.

  ‘I suppose you’d better come up.’ Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing her confusion, she turned and hurried to the stairs, angry with herself for the effect he was having on her.

  ‘What a magnificent staircase! You could walk six abreast up here.’ In a few easy strides, he’d caught her up and they mounted the final flight side by side. ‘I didn’t realise you’d moved into a stately home.’

  She listened for the note of mockery in his voice but he seemed to be genuinely impressed. He stood stroking the mahogany balustrade and surveying the broad expanse of the landing larger than the main room in the majority of modern houses. His reaction softened her antagonism. Her home meant a great deal to her. Brought up in a small, cramped terrace, sharing a bedroom with a much younger sister where the only quiet place to do homework was on the drop-down flap of the kitchen dresser, she’d learnt to appreciate space.

  ‘It’s part of the original house. Late Victorian with delusions of grandeur. Apart from dividing off the stairs from the flat below and putting in a modern kitchen and bathroom, they made very little alteration when they did the conversion.’ She led him into the living room. ‘You can wait in here while I get dressed.’

  As she watched him taking in the room’s elegant proportions, she realised how much she wanted him to approve. She stayed just long enough to catch the expression on his face. Like everyone else who came for the first time, he was drawn to the enormous picture window that looked over the Vale of the White Horse.

  The original house had been built on the crest of the ridge; no doubt the pride and joy of some up and coming merchant eager to demonstrate his success by having a fashionable villa built in the Queen Anne revival style.

  Looking down, below the narrow strip of terrace that was now the garden of the downstairs flat, it was just possible to see the road before it snaked round the slither of mid 1960s development extending from the main village, on what had once been the old grounds to the side of the house. Looking north, beyond the wooded slope that marked the precipitous edge of the escarpment, you could see for miles. The view alone was worth the exorbitant cost of the place and, though the high ceilings made her heating bills a nightmare, it was a price worth paying.

  Her clothes were laid out ready on the bed and she was back within five minutes.

  ‘That was quick, even for you!’ It’d been a standing joke that, despite makeup and putting in her contact lenses, she was always ready long before him. ‘That emerald suits you. You should wear bold colours more often.’

  She could tell he was trying hard. He had remembered that effusive compliments embarrassed her, although, despite herself, she was pleased that he approved of her choice. The dress had been a wildly extravagant purchase, not only because of its cost but because the striking colour was a major departure from her usual subdued blues or bland neutrals. It had been a rash decision, not even bought with a special occasion in mind. She’d caught sight of it on a model as she was walking through the store and had fallen in love with it there and then. Feeling vaguely sinful, she had tried it on and when she discovered that it still looked wonderful with her inside it, the temptation was too great.

  ‘The table’s booked for eight so we’ve plenty of time. I thought we’d go to that new French place out at Lechlade. Have you tried it?’

  She shook her head. Trust him to choose somewhere outrageously expensive.

  She had to admit that the place had a wonderful setting. Because they were early, and the evening was mild for late September, they took their drinks out onto the terrace and sat looking across the river. Sarah found herself sneaking a look at his left hand as he, no doubt, did hers. Like her, he was still wearing his wedding ring. She wondered what his current girlfriend thought of that.

  The menu was exotic. She glanced at it and reverted to old habits. ‘You choose.’

  ‘You look as though you could do with a decent meal. You’ve lost a lot of weight.’ It was said lightly but he looked her up and down appraisingly. ‘I bet you’re
not eating properly.’

  She had lost a good stone, much of it in the last six months, which was the last time their paths had crossed. Most nights she worked late and by the time she got home rarely fancied eating a proper meal. There did not seem a lot of point going to a great deal of trouble just for one. If she bothered at all, it was chilled meals from the supermarket.

  ‘So how’s work?’ he asked, tactfully changing the subject in response to her scowl.

  ‘Fine,’ she answered noncommittally.

  ‘Which means it’s bloody awful. Are the greenfly still chomping all the foliage?’

  She could not suppress a smile. Nathan had always referred to her senior staff as tiny-minded insects intent on devouring any creative ideas she came up with. He knew better than anyone how George’s pedestrian attention to the minor details, Barry’s plastic charm and Eunice’s constant carping at the failure of teaching staff to concern themselves with the pastoral needs of students drove her to distraction. It had been a wonderful release to be able to vent her venom at the unreasonable behaviour of so-called-professional colleagues when she got home each evening. The ridiculous word pictures Nathan painted of their antics had always helped put the petty sniping of inter-faculty rivalry into perspective.

  ‘That’s the price of management,’ she said.

  When the coffee arrived, he started probing again. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing wrong? You sounded strained when you answered the phone.’

  She must have had too much wine. Before she realised what she was doing, she was telling him about the mysterious phone calls. A voice in her head told her to stop but she could read the real concern in his eyes and he knew better than to fuss. It was enough to know that he still cared.

  ‘I expect it’s the same person who’s been filling in all these requests for all sorts of brochures in my name. I’ve been inundated with catalogues for book and record clubs and every exotic holiday going. Mind you,’ she went on with a laugh, ‘I thought it was a bit much when I found the stuff about orthopaedic beds, stairlifts and walk-in baths when I got back this evening.’

  ‘That sounds like a student with a warped sense of humour.’

  ‘I doubt it! It’s someone with a good idea of my taste in literature and music and general interests. Still, the catalogues I can put up with but the special offers are getting to be a damned nuisance. Having to write back to explain that I hadn’t sent for the books, jewellery or whatever, is a real pain. Yesterday, I had to traipse all the way to the Post Office to send back two boxes of bedding plants. Apart from causing me hassle, heaven knows why he’s doing it.’

  ‘Probably some sad individual, jealous of your success.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she laughed, ‘but don’t ask me to waste any sympathy on the creep. I’m too busy feeling sorry for myself.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like you.’

  Trust him to pick up on the undercurrent in what she’d intended as a flippant remark.

  ‘I’m not all Steel Queen,’ she said, still trying to keep the whole thing casual.

  He raised an enquiring eyebrow and despising herself for it, she suddenly realised she wanted his reassurance.

  At first, he said all the right things, but then he spoilt it all. ‘You’re working yourself too hard.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me,’ she gave a warning growl.

  The last thing she wanted was sympathy. She needed him to shake her out of her self-pity, to tell her she could cope and was not coming apart at the seams. He flashed one of his ‘sorry’ smiles with all the old charm. ‘You still go jogging at the crack of dawn?’

  Although he despised weight training and dismissed those who went to the gym as trendies, Nathan played squash regularly for love of the game. He had developed his spectacularly muscled torso as a consequence of being a keen, competitive swimmer. Neither activity interested her so she had taken up gentle running. It helped her clear her head and she preferred to exercise alone.

  ‘I try to manage three times a week but it’s not so much fun as the mornings get darker.’

  A frown crossed his face. ‘You want to take care up there where you are now. It’s not as safe along those deserted country lanes as it was where we used to live.’

  ‘If you say so.’ There was little point in getting drawn into an argument about something so trivial.

  ‘You look tired. Are you getting enough sleep?’

  She glowered at him across the table. If he dared to suggest she see her doctor, she would get up and walk out on him there and then. This was not what she wanted from him of all people.

  ‘You ought to take a break. I bet you didn’t have a holiday this summer.’

  She could hardly deny it. It was not just because she’d been busy but as Nathan, of all people, ought to have appreciated, she’d no one to go with. Most of her friends were married, and the only one who wasn’t could not afford the sort of holiday that would interest her. The thought of going alone did not appeal.

  ‘And where did you get to this year?’ she asked, as much to steer the conversation away from her affairs rather than from any genuine interest.

  Nathan became uncharacteristically reticent and busied himself topping up his already half full glass of water. ‘I had a couple of weeks away with Mother.’

  Sarah smiled in spite of herself. ‘I bet that was nice. And how is Geraldine?’

  To say that she and Geraldine did not get on was something of an understatement.

  When Nathan rang his parents to tell them they’d just got engaged he was immediately summoned home. Nathan never told Sarah the details of that conversation but she could imagine it. Geraldine would have been in floods of tears.

  It was bad enough that Sarah was not Tanya, the daughter-in-law she’d always planned, but Sarah was far too old for him – six years his senior – and, the ultimate crime, she was a Catholic. Geraldine’s father had been a Freemason and she’d grown up with some very strange ideas. When she learnt that Sarah’s father worked on the assembly line in a factory, her mother was a school dinner lady and that they lived in a council house, the woman nearly had apoplexy. How on earth would she be able to hold up her head amongst friends and family at her only son’s wedding, when all the relations on the bride’s side would have no idea which knife and fork to use, and had probably never used a napkin in their lives and certainly wouldn’t know what it was for?

  Sarah must have given a wry smirk at the thoughts going through her head, which Nathan promptly misinterpreted.

  ‘It was very enjoyable,’ he said rather snootily. ‘We went on one of those accompanied tour things advertised in the Sunday supplements so we were with other people practically all the time.’

  ‘Where did you go?’

  ‘Well,’ He had the grace to look abashed. ‘China actually.’

  ‘Very nice,’ Sarah said with a fixed smile on her face.

  She wanted to call him all the names under the sun. How could he? He knew it had been her life-long dream to go to China. Her shelves were stuffed with books on all things Chinese and she had made him sit through the video of “The Last Emperor” three times so that she could enjoy the shots of the Forbidden City. A China tour was to have been their next holiday together. They had even started collecting the brochures.

  For the first few years after they were married, all their hard-earned cash went on doing up the old house. Luxuries had to wait until central heating had been installed and the rotten window frames replaced.

  Once things became a little easier and they could contemplate a holiday of some sort. Nathan had suggested they put off fitting the new kitchen and splash out on realizing her dream. She had been the cautious one and managed to convince him that they’d enjoy it all the more if they waited another year or so. There was no need to go without a break, she had argued, they could go camping. Never having had a holiday in anything less than a four-star hotel, Nathan drew the line at sleeping under canvas. In the end, they had a
pleasant week bed and breakfasting in the Lake District.

  ‘It was Mother’s idea. She was keen to see the Terracotta Warriors and the Great Wall,’ he excused himself.

  When his father died from a sudden heart attack not long after she and Nathan were married, it was only natural that Nathan, as an only child, should feel an even stronger obligation towards his mother. Sarah conceded that it could not have been easy for him with such open hostility between the two women in his life. But, when Geraldine sold the Surrey house and moved to be near her beloved son, life became far from easy for any of them.

  ‘You said on the phone there was something you wanted to ask me,’ Sarah said tersely before he could start telling her about all the magnificent sights.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied tentatively, ‘do you still have those books on Byzantine architecture?’

  This was the last thing she had expected. ‘I expect they’re around somewhere. I doubt I could lay hands on them straight away. They’re probably stashed in a box at the back of a cupboard somewhere but I’ll root them out for you if you want to borrow them. Since when have you taken an interest in that sort of thing?’

  ‘Oh it’s not for me,’ he said airily. ‘Veronica’s thinking of doing an Open University degree but she wants to find out a bit more on the subject before she decides exactly which course to opt for.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can find,’ Sarah said trying hard to keep the ice out of her voice.

  It was a bit rich expecting her to lend her things to the woman who had replaced her in his life though she was determined not to show that it bothered her. And there was no way that she was going to give him the satisfaction of asking about her.

  Angry with herself for being jealous, the last vestiges of pleasure in what had promised to be a pleasant evening drained away.

  Chapter 12

  She should never have agreed to have dinner with him. Just when she had begun to think she was over him at long last, she’d let him walk back into her life. That night, Sarah did not sleep well. She kept playing over the evening in her mind, going over every word he had said and reliving the plethora of emotions they had produced. It had been stupid to let down her guard. He had always been a charmer. She was putty in his hands and he knew it. The trouble was that however much the head knew that, the heart didn’t pay attention. He had caused her enough pain. She would be an idiot to go through all that again. Best not to meet up in future. Strictly phone calls from now on. Time to put the past behind her and move on.