by Gemma Fox
‘Ouch,’ whined Adie. ‘Don’t bite.’
‘Play nicely, you two,’ hissed Netty.
Carol found herself looking backwards and forwards between them, spectator to their verbal tennis match. She had completely forgotten the little needly thing between Jan and Adrian.
‘I don’t take any notice, she’s always like this,’ said Adie.
‘I’m not.’
‘Are too. Last Christmas you bit me.’
‘You were the one feeding people grapes.’
‘No one else bit me.’
‘Is there any chance we can carry on fighting over a sandwich and pint?’ asked Netty, stubbing out her cigarette on the windowsill. ‘Only I’m dying upwards from hunger over here.’
‘Great idea,’ said Adrian. ‘Everyone coming? We can always unpack later.’ He looked pointedly at Jan who was busy arranging two small, embroidered cushions. ‘It’s a shame that I’m not bunked down in here with you lot, re ally.’
‘Not a chance,’ said Diana wearily, although Carol wasn’t sure whether she meant Adrian sharing a room with them or heading off down to the pub. ‘I’ve got to stay here and meet people as they arrive—but you lot go. It’s not far. You go out of the back doors of the hall, follow the path down through the vegetable garden,’ by this point Diana was pointing and directing with her hands, ‘out through the gates and there you are. Pub, post office and a Spar shop with an offie.’ She paused, looking pleased with herself. ‘Everything a girl could want.’
‘You live in the country, don’t you?’ Netty said, eyeing Diana thoughtfully as she attended to her lipstick in a tiny silver mirror. ‘What about you, Jan, are you coming or are you planning on a complete makeover to the whole place before everyone else gets here?’
Jan, busy fluffing the cushions with care, wasn’t at all put out. ‘I just like to be comfortable, that’s all. I’m curious about who is going to show up. What time does this shindig officially kick off?’
‘Five o’clock,’ said Diana, glancing at her watch. ‘Informal high tea in the dining room and then dinner at eight. I thought I might say a few words. Adie, is there any chance you’d be master of ceremonies? I’ve got a programme of events and rehearsals printed up for everyone but if you could maybe read it through, say something clever, be funny, whatever.’
He groaned theatrically but didn’t actually say no as Diana handed him one of her photocopied sheets.
‘And I just want to say I’m re ally glad you all got here early. I was worried—well, you know, it feels like you lot are the vanguard—the inner circle—and it means that everyone else will probably turn up as well, and if you don’t mind the bears and the bunk beds then maybe nobody else will either.’ Diana reddened furiously, eyes all bright. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’
Carol could see that the nostalgia virus had infected Diana too.
‘For God’s sake, stop going on about the bloody bears,’ snapped Netty. ‘Unless you glued them up yourself they’re not your fault.’
‘Everyone be here for tea and buns?’ asked Adrian, looking down at the paper.
Diana shook her head. ‘No, not everyone—some people have said they won’t be able to get here until later. Sheena Mason, Phillip Hudson—Gareth Howard.’
As if on cue, everyone, including Adrian, turned to look in Carol’s direction. Carol felt a little flurry of something in her belly but, pretending to be totally unconcerned, she carried on unzipping her suitcase.
‘Have we got a cupboard each?’ she asked casually, hanging a towel over the rail at the end of the bunk to stake her claim, not that she was fooling anyone. There was a pause; she could feel them all still looking at her. ‘All right, all right, so it will be great to see Gareth again—is that good enough for you?’
Adrian lifted an eyebrow. ‘We don’t know yet, do we? What else had you got in mind?’
Carol slung a pair of socks at him. ‘Nothing, nothing at all. Besides, Gareth is probably happily married with half a dozen kids, a fish farm and a bloody Labrador by now. It will just be lovely to see him—to catch up, to catch up with everyone—but come on, a lot of water has flowed under the bridge since…since…’ She couldn’t quite find the right words to describe exactly since what.
Adrian came to her aid: ‘Since you and Gareth slipped off to God knows where with a sly grin and a packet of three?’ he suggested helpfully.
Carol felt the heat roar through her. ‘I did no such thing,’ she protested furiously.
There was another weighty silence and then Carol’s composure and outrage deflated. ‘All right, all right, so maybe I did, but that doesn’t mean that anything like that is likely to happen again—not at all. Is that clear?’
‘OK, well, as long as we’ve got that straight,’ said Adie wryly. ‘So are you coming down to the pub? Only I’m desperate to get all the gossip and, let’s face it, we’re going to need all the time we can get if we’re going to catch up on twenty years each.’
Carol hesitated, unsure whether she ought to stay with Diana. After all, hadn’t she made some kind of rash promise to pitch in? Also Carol wasn’t sure she could stand up to too much close questioning about her motives when it came to seeing Gareth again.
‘Go,’ said Diana, waving Carol away before she could offer to stay behind. ‘This lot will need someone to ride shot gun on them.’
Carol picked up her handbag. ‘If you’re sure…’
‘I’m sure,’ Diana said. ‘Go.’
‘Oh, by the way, is Fiona coming?’ asked Netty as she got to the door.
There was a fraction of a second’s pause. Fiona Templeton, the girl for whom the phrase ‘drama queen’ could well have been invented.
Diana nodded. ‘Yes, well, at least she said she would be here.’
‘I can’t imagine that Fiona would miss it,’ said Netty. ‘Any chance for a little limelight and adoration.’
‘Just as long as she doesn’t bring her mother,’ laughed Adrian.
‘That’s not funny. That old stoat used to make my life hell. Lights out, fags out, boys out. God, the woman was such a pain in the arse,’ snapped Netty. ‘Her and her precious little kitten.’ She mimicked Fiona’s mother with spiteful accuracy for someone whom she hadn’t seen for years.
‘Oh, come on, Fiona has done well for herself,’ said Diana pleasantly.
‘What do you mean well?’ said Jan. ‘First road kill in Casualty?’
‘I saw her in an ad on telly for Boots last Christmas,’ said Netty.
‘Third bunny on the Emmerdale Easter special,’ laughed Carol.
‘And first drownee on the Titanic,’ continued Adrian, topping the lot of them.
‘Oh, I didn’t know that she was in Titanic,’ said Diana innocently, at which point Netty and Jan keeled over giggling.
‘You pair are bloody horrible,’ growled Diana as the penny dropped, although she did say it with a certain affection, which made them laugh all the harder.
‘So Fiona is definitely coming?’ asked Carol.
‘She said she would, although apparently there was a chance she might be called back for filming, in which case it could make things a bit tight.’
‘Oh, she was just saying that to impress you. Of course she’ll be here,’ said Adrian. ‘Understudy to Mrs Macbeth, Lady Macduff—if there was ever a woman who needed stabbing…’ He hesitated and then said to Carol, ‘You want to watch yourself on these steep stairs, you know. I don’t think she ever forgave you for stealing the lead out from under her retroussé nose. She’s probably still out for blood.’
Carol smiled grimly. ‘She was always out for blood.’
Netty nodded. ‘She was re ally pissed off with you, you know—you getting the leading role and the leading man.’
‘Come off it, it’s a long time ago now. Let’s go. I could murder a drink,’ said Carol uncomfortably.
‘Poor choice of words,’ said Jan. ‘I remember she was livid when the reviews came out; didn’t get so much as a
word.’
Carol laughed. ‘That’s only because you three stole the show. Madam here,’ she waved towards Diana, ‘and her magic wart.’
‘Anyway, Fiona said she might be delayed,’ finished Diana, determined to bring the conversation round to something a little less anarchic.
‘So that’s her and Gareth,’ said Adie archly. ‘Right, well, let’s go and find this pub then.’
The gang moseyed out with Adrian in the lead.
As they fell into step Carol let thoughts surface that hadn’t come to the fore since she left school: why was it Gareth hadn’t been interested in Fiona instead of her? Perhaps it was that he couldn’t stand the idea of sharing the limelight. Two egos that big would probably have sent the place up in smoke.
‘And Gareth said he had a few things to sort out before he left,’ said Diana to their backs.
‘And what did you say?’ asked Carol, turning back but trying hard not to sound too eager.
‘Nothing much—God, you have got it bad, haven’t you?’
Carol shook her head, reluctant to commit herself. ‘Not re ally, I just wondered…’
Diana grinned. ‘You don’t fool me. You’d better head off and catch up. We can talk later.’
Carol nodded, while somewhere deep in her heart she felt a sharp little stab of betrayal for Raf.
Meanwhile in a large semi-detached town house in an unfashionable suburb of Hemel Hempstead, Gareth Howard was pulling on his jacket.
‘About these…’ Leonora began, as she and Gareth arrived together at the front door. She held a sheaf of bills in her hand.
Gareth leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips and then each cheek. ‘I’ll miss you, sweetie,’ he purred.
‘What about th—’ she began again, but wasn’t anywhere near fast enough.
‘My God is that the time?’ he said, looking down at his watch. ‘I re ally need to be gone, darling.’ As he stepped through the door Gareth took a small box from his jacket pocket, on top of which was an intricate curl of scarlet ribbon.
Leonora pulled a face, trying very hard to sustain the emotion that had propelled her downstairs after him. ‘What on earth is this?’ she snapped.
He grinned. ‘Something to remember me by.’
‘What do you mean, remember you by? I thought you said you would be back on Sunday evening?’
As she lifted the lid Gareth was already stepping out into the street. Inside the box was a pair of black silk stockings, not unlike those he had tied Leonora to the bed with the very first night they had slept together.
‘Gareth?’ she said, looking up, but he was already gone.
‘Mummy?’ Patrick tugged at her cardigan. ‘Where’s Daddy gone?’
Leonora shook her head. ‘I’ve got no idea,’ she said, taking his hand and scooping the baby up from the pram just inside the hall door. ‘No idea at all.’
THREE
‘Callista? Callista Haze?’
Callista Haze looked up from a battered copy of Macbeth and her thoughts. Although it took her a moment or two to focus on the face she would have known that voice anywhere. George Bearman, former head of Drama and English at Belvedere High School, stood beside the pub table, looking down at her and smiling nervously.
George, it seemed, was not quite so certain that he’d got the right person. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ he asked.
She laughed. ‘Of course it is, George. Who on earth did you think it was? How many women looking like me do you think there are going to be at this reunion?’
‘I just wanted to check. Actually, I was thinking how very little you’d changed,’ he said quickly, colouring up to crimson.
‘Been watching me long, have you?’ she asked, raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow.
George’s colour deepened. ‘Good God, no, of course not. Well, all right, maybe a few minutes, if that,’ he blustered. ‘I was up at the bar and I couldn’t help noticing. You look wonderful, actually. You don’t mind if I join you, do you?’ He indicated the seat alongside hers. He was cradling a pint of beer, a packet of crisps and a pie on a plate. Tucked into his top pocket were a knife and fork wrapped in a checked napkin.
‘No, not at all,’ said Callista, half-rising to greet him.
George set down his drink and makeshift lunch and then, catching hold of her elbows, pulled her towards him and kissed her clumsily on each cheek. He smelled of pipe smoke and shaving cream, his skin all rough and ruddy against hers.
‘Have you been up to the hall yet? I dropped my bags off. They said their dining room and some sort of little café place they run was closed until later and recommended the pub; thought I’d come and grab a pint and a bite before the off.’ George paused, suddenly all dewy-eyed. ‘I’m gabbling, aren’t I? It’s just that it’s been so many years. You know, I didn’t think that I would ever see you again. Isn’t it wonderful? I’ve been trying to imagine what it would feel like, you know, to meet up again after all this time,’ he said.
‘And how does it feel?’ Callista asked, her expression held very firmly in neutral.
George considered for a moment or two, lips pursed, face set and then he said, ‘Rather odd, actually. I felt quite nervous driving down—but it’s good—a little unnerving—but it is wonderful to see you again. I wondered whether you might have changed—I mean, one never knows. But you look re ally, re ally…’
Callista could see him struggling to find the right word. ‘Wonderful?’ she teased.
‘Yes, exactly, wonderful,’ he said.
As George settled himself into the seat alongside her, Callista prodded the slice of lemon down into her gin and tonic and said nothing. After all, what was there to say? Hadn’t they said it all before a long, long time ago? Her silence was a sharp contrast to the sounds of the pub around them.
‘So,’ said George, a little self-consciously, ‘how’s life been with you?’
‘Well, come on then, who’s going to go first?’ asked Adie, unpacking the round of drinks from the tray. ‘Truth or consequences,’ he continued, handing Jan a glass of white wine, whilst looking at the bemused faces around the table.
On the way down to the pub they had agreed to try to keep all the catching-up on what had happened to who and when and why until everyone was settled down and could listen properly. It had seemed like a good idea. Everyone had found it hard not to break into spontaneous reminiscing during the walk, but now they were all settled and ready, it seemed that no one wanted to be the first to start.
‘Oh, come on, for God’s sake, we’re all ears. Netty, come on—‘fess up,’ Adie said, taking a pull on his pint.
Netty shook her head. ‘Good God, no, not me. At least not until I’ve eaten. Let somebody else go first. I can only cope with my sordid past after a couple of stiff drinks and on a full stomach. How about our leading lady?’ Everyone turned to look at Carol. ‘Come on, off you go, petal. You’ve got as long as you need on your specialist subject, Carol Hastings,’ said Netty, doing a very passable impression of John Humphrys. ‘What I did with the last twenty years of my life, starting now.’
‘Oh no, not me,’ Carol protested, waving the words away, but Adie and Netty were insistent.
‘Stop being so bloody coy. Someone’s got to go first or we’ll be here all day.’
‘Why me?’
‘Why not?’ said Adie. ‘C’mon.’
Carol sighed. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘Everything. All the usual stuff. What you do, if you’re married. And if so, how many times. Are you happy?’ offered Netty.
‘Where you live.’ Jan.
‘Whether you’ve got kids, a dog, a cat, a goldfish.’ Adie.
‘And any strange personal habits, peculiar hobbies or bizarre sexual practices.’ Netty.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Adie, enthusiastically. ‘C’mon.’
‘The trouble is it’s all surface. I can tell you what I’ve done but that doesn’t tell you anything about who I am or what I feel or what I’m li
ke,’ said Carol, wriggling uncomfortably under their gaze.
Netty groaned theatrically. ‘Oh my God, you grew up to be a therapist, didn’t you?’
‘No, I—’ began Carol, but not quite fast enough.
‘We know who you are,’ said Adie encouragingly. ‘Or at least we knew who you were when we were at Belvedere, and you don’t seem to have changed that much. There’s a whole leopard-and-spot thing here that I don’t plan to go in to.’
‘No, I think she has changed,’ said Netty, waving a crisp in her direction. ‘Counselling, God preserve us—probably reads ink blots and facilitates group hugs with her inner child,’ she growled angrily.
Jan nodded in agreement as Carol, giggling, inhaled her shandy, and protested, ‘No, no, look, I’m not a counsellor. I’m a gardener—and before you start on about that, there’s no need to go the whole Charlie Dimmock, Netty. Trust me, if I’d have realised that taking my bra off was a good career move I’d have done it years ago.’
‘You think anyone would have noticed?’ asked Jan, deadpan. Netty choked.
‘Oh, me-ow,’ hissed Adie, slapping Jan playfully and indicated to an imaginary waiter. ‘Saucer of milk, this table, please. The thing is, we need something to go on, Carol. We need the facts, the dirt, the details. The whole enchilada. So, spill it.’
‘This feels like a job interview,’ said Carol, pulling a face.
‘Not for any job you’d ever want,’ said Adie.
‘You’d never get a job in my place with those shoes or that outfit—Cat boots, a rugby shirt and jeans—what were you thinking?’ said Netty.
‘What’s wrong with them? They’re comfortable to drive in,’ protested Carol, not at all offended.
‘You could have made an effort.’
‘I did,’ said Carol with a grin.
‘Come on, behave,’ growled Adie. ‘You look great. So, Carol, after three—two, three—and away.’
She paused for an instant, trying to collect her thoughts, painfully aware of how quickly the years had gone by. It didn’t seem so very long ago that they had been out buying their first booze together.
