by Gemma Fox
The curtains opened one more time; the cast took a final bow and then at last the applause died away, the curtains closed and there was the sound of people getting up and shuffling out of their seats.
A traditional strawberry tea was scheduled to take place in the dining room—a time for family and friends to mingle with the cast and crew and to which everyone was cordially invited, was what it said in the programme.
Carol looked up at Raf; he grinned. ‘I thought you were magnificent, my lady,’ he said, with a sweeping bow.
‘You too,’ she replied. ‘I had no idea you had got it in you.’
Raf shrugged, looking a little sheepish and self-effacing.
‘Come on, you have to admit that Gareth had it coming,’ said Netty as she passed by, hand in hand with Peter Fleming.
Carol slipped her arm through Raf’s. ‘I love you,’ she said.
Raf nodded. ‘I’m glad. For a while there I thought that I’d lost you. It wasn’t a good feeling.’
Carol’s eyes filled up with tears. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you.’
He nodded. ‘No, you’re right, you don’t—but I’ve got nothing better planned at the moment,’ he said, eyes alight with mischief.
FOURTEEN
Leonora and Jasmine had run Gareth to ground in the dining room, and had got him cornered when Carol and Raf arrived. Still a little confused and bloodied, he stood openmouthed, his eyes moving backwards and forwards between the two women as if he couldn’t quite get his head round how it was that they had found him, or, come to that, found each other, and what the hell he was going to do next now that they had? He blinked over and over again as if there was some possibility that they might be a trick of the light. Over at one of the tables Ollie and Jake were busy playing peeka-boo with Patrick and Maisie.
‘We need to talk about all this,’ said Leonora firmly.
‘OK, OK, I can understand that,’ said Gareth, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. ‘But surely this isn’t really the time or the place.’ He was still looking very pale and a little unsteady from his encounter with Macduff’s alter ego. ‘Couldn’t we go outside?’ Carol noticed that he had stemmed his bleeding nose with a pile of paper serviettes but it looked as if he might end up with a black eye. ‘We don’t want to air our dirty linen in public, do we, darling?’
Leonora glared at him; it was painfully obvious that she was in no mood to back down, and a million miles away from being placated by casual terms of endearment.
‘Don’t we? Why on earth not?’ she said in a low menacing voice. ‘Here seems to be as good as anywhere else, as far as I’m concerned. God alone knows where you’ll scuttle off to once today is over. And besides, I haven’t done anything that I’m not prepared to talk about in public, Gareth. Let’s be straight about this. I’m not the one who walked out on his wife and kids and it’s not me that’s a total and utter two-timing cheating little arsehole.’
Carol nodded; she couldn’t have put it better herself.
Gareth winced as if Leonora had hit him and then, struggling to regain his composure, said in a conciliatory tone, ‘You’re upset, I can understand that. And you don’t really believe those things, Leonora. I know you don’t. I’ll come home, and we can talk it through, sort things out. To be perfectly honest, I can’t believe you came here at all. It’s hardly dignified.’ He looked around as if to check out who was watching them, although he was careful not to catch Carol’s eye. ‘You know that you’re making a spectacle of yourself, don’t you?’ Leonora’s jaw dropped while Gareth continued, ‘Mind you, I suppose I ought to have guessed you’d pull a stunt like this. It’s just like you to want to make a scene; you always did enjoy a sense of the melodramatic.’ He laughed grimly and looked up, addressing no one in particular in a jokey laddish tone, although Jasmine was hanging on his every word. ‘I’ve got no idea what she’s told you or why but I’ll lay money it’s all high-octane stuff, highly emotive stuff.’ And then to Leonora: ‘And why on earth did you bring them?’ He waved towards Patrick and Maisie, who were busy giggling and cooing with Carol’s boys. ‘It’ll scar them, you know, your attitude—is that really what you want your children to think of me—that their father is an arsehole? If it hadn’t been for the two of them things could have been so different between us. You know that, don’t you? You drove me to this. There was no place for me, nothing left.’ He paused as if struggling to hold back tears. ‘I’m depressed. I know it’s not very mature but I feel left out. You just don’t have any time for me any more, Leonora. No time for us as a couple.’ He sniffed miserably, swinging between appeal and accusation.
Carol was amazed. Gareth’s passionate little speech was a masterly scattergun exercise in blame, fault and excuses.
Leonora’s face flared scarlet. ‘Really?’ she said, voice dripping with venom. ‘So you’re saying what, Gareth? That I’m a hysteric and that all this is really my fault? You didn’t give me any reason to believe that you would be coming back to discuss anything, in fact quite the reverse—and everything I’ve found out since you left convinced me that you had gone for good.’
He nodded, looking all hangdog and hard done by. ‘Oh, that’s it, pile it on, why don’t you? High drama. Make it into a big scene. It’s always me, me, me with you, isn’t it, Leonora? Can’t you see that it’s been really difficult for me these last few years? I feel totally marginalised, left out. Pressured. Useless. Depressed.’
Close by, Jasmine sniffed; Carol thought she looked as if she was torn between heartbreak and fury, but still she stood her ground, wringing the neck of a napkin held tight between her hands.
Leonora’s voice was stony when she spoke. ‘And how exactly were you planning to deal with all this pressure and depression then, Gareth?’
He looked up at her expectantly. ‘I was going to go and see the doctor. I need help,’ he said. He tried out a tiny fragile smile on her but Leonora was not so easily swayed. ‘I appreciate that it can’t have been easy for you either but surely there has to be some way that we can work our way through this.’
Leonora leaned a little closer so there was no chance he would miss what she was saying. He followed suit and leaned closer too.
‘If any of that were true, Gareth, then you’re right, we could probably work it out—but it isn’t true, is it? Not one single bloody word of it. There’s no way back from this and, whichever way you look at it, that’s most definitely down to you.’
He looked at her quizzically but she hadn’t quite finished.
‘And the reason that there is no way back, in case you are in the slightest doubt, is because what you did, when things were supposedly going bad because of the children, was go out and get someone else knocked up.’ She spoke slowly, enunciating every word. ‘The same man who blamed me for ruining his entire life by having children that weren’t planned or wanted, went out and did the same thing all over again.’
Gareth’s colour drained away. ‘You know about that?’ he said in amazement, looking from face to face of the two women. He swung round and glared at Jasmine. ‘You told her? I told you not to say anything to anyone,’ he said to Jasmine.
Jasmine glared at him. ‘You are a total shit,’ she snarled. ‘I wish I’d never clapped eyes on you.’
Meanwhile, Leonora shook her head in disbelief. ‘You amaze me, Gareth. What on earth do you think we talked about, for God’s sake? The weather? The price of bloody fish? Of course I know about the baby. God, you make me totally and utterly sick, you really do. We talked about a lot of things—like how you told Jasmine I was crazy and tried to make it sound as if the children weren’t even yours. You’re despicable.’
Alongside Leonora, Jasmine swallowed back a great flood of tears. ‘How could you do this?’ she said, her high-pitched voice close to breaking and so poignant that Carol was tempted to go over and punch Gareth herself. ‘You knew exactly what you were doing all along. You tricked me and you tricked Leonora too. I don’t know how you can live with
yourself. I thought that you really loved me. I can’t believe that you lied to me. I hate you,’ she sobbed, no longer able to hold back the tears. ‘The special thing I thought we had—it was just all lies, wasn’t it?’
Carol’s eyes filled with tears too; Leonora looked magnificent, pale and angry, statuesque and totally in control of herself, while Jasmine, in her overstretched crop top and pedal pushers, hair scraped back off her milk-pale face, looked about twelve. Carol’s heart ached for the two of them but she also knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had had a lucky escape.
Gareth said nothing, but then again what was there that he could possibly say? Before he had the chance to gather his thoughts or muster any kind of defence, Fiona appeared in the mêlée, elbowing her way in through the crowd of family and friends who were gathered around the tea tables and the urn, all postperformance smiles, warmth and excitement.
‘Hello,’ she purred, waving a hand in greeting. Fiona was still in her cloak and was flanked by an elderly woman in a large pink hat and summer suit, both of which looked a little the worse for wear, and a small grumpylooking man wearing a flat cap and sports jacket.
‘Gareth, darling,’ she cooed. ‘You were absolutely wonderful. Everyone’s saying we really ought to do another performance. I thought you’d like to see Mummy again. I’ve told her all about you, and this is Uncle Harry, Mummy’s friend. Mummy, you remember Gareth, don’t you? We used to be at school together? He came round for tea once.’ And then as an aside to Gareth, ‘I’ve told her that you were very keen on me…’ Fiona giggled. ‘You know, Mummy is always saying that it’s high time that I found myself a good man and settled down.’
Carol stared at Fiona; she sounded like something out of a 1950s Doris Day film, not to mention being way off target in her choice of men.
‘What about last night, the storeroom—’ Carol began, quite unable to stop herself.
Fiona looked down her nose at Carol. ‘Jealousy is the most dreadful thing, although quite understandable in someone like you, obviously. But we’re bigger than that, aren’t we, Gareth?’ She peered up at him adoringly.
At least Gareth had the decency to blush.
‘What?’ gasped Carol in astonishment.
‘I don’t think we need to dwell on the sordid details of your little assignation, do we? We’ve put all that behind us, haven’t we, Gareth?’
Fiona fluttered her eyelashes in what she presumably thought was an appealing way and then, appearing to see the rest of the group for the first time, looked at Leonora and Jasmine in some theatrical show of surprise.
‘Hello,’ she said coolly and then, sliding her arm through his, said to Gareth, ‘would you like to introduce me to your friends?’
Gareth’s face was a picture. There followed a long and painful silence. Finally Carol, smiling, stepped into the breach and with an open hand moved slowly around the group. ‘Fiona, I don’t think you’ve met Gareth’s wife, have you? Leonora, this is Fiona. And this is Gareth’s girlfriend, Jasmine—oh, and over there are his children—that’s Patrick and baby Maisie.’
There was a deathly hush. Fiona’s colour drained. ‘What?’ she hissed, rounding on Carol. ‘What do you mean Gareth’s wife? You don’t give up, do you? You really are a complete bitch. You’re making this up, aren’t you?’
Carol’s smile held firm. ‘Would you like me to run through them again?’
Fiona frowned and, turning back to Gareth, snapped, ‘What exactly is going on here? I don’t understand. I thought you told me that you were divorced?’ She paused for an instant; still Gareth said nothing. ‘Well?’
The silence thickened, everyone waited. Fiona’s eyes narrowed. ‘Gareth, I really think you owe me some kind of explanation, don’t you? You told me that you wanted to start a new life with me—you said you wanted to get a spaniel and everything. You told me that we would be a real family.’ Her voice was steadily growing louder and louder. ‘Tell me what all this is about,’ she demanded. ‘I want to know now.’
If Gareth had hoped to keep the situation to himself, Fiona’s arrival had blown that possibility right out of the water. As the volume increased people were turning to look at them. ‘You told me that you had always loved me,’ Fiona growled, her fists clenched, her face contorted with fury.
Gareth opened his mouth as if to speak but still no words came out.
Leonora took up the baton on his behalf. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? Is that what he told you?’ she said evenly. ‘You know, you should be very careful what you believe, although it’s taken me a little while to realise it. I’d got no idea what Gareth was like. All these years and I genuinely hadn’t got a clue. He’s treated me like dirt, made me feel guilty, undermined my confidence, bullied me, spent all my money, and left me with a pile of debts, having unsuccessfully, and it has to be said fraudulently, tried to borrow money against my house. Actually—’ Leonora paused, took a deep breath and then smiled beatifically—‘if you want him then you’re more than welcome to him, Fiona. It is Fiona, isn’t it?’
And with this Leonora turned on her heel and, trailed by Jasmine, headed out through the French windows into the garden. Gareth watched them go open-mouthed. Fiona was practically magenta with outrage.
‘Leonora?’ he called after her. ‘Wait, wait, please come back. We can sort this out. I know we can, sweetheart. There’s been a mistake. A dreadful mistake.’ But it seemed as if Fiona had taken Leonora at her word and, holding tight to Gareth’s arm, held fast while her mother and uncle closed in around him like hounds around a wounded animal.
‘So, tell me again, Gareth, what it is that you do exactly?’ Fiona’s mother asked loudly. Beneath her enormous pink hat with an ostrich feather, she wore coral-pink lipstick and had eyebrows that appeared to have been drawn on with a bright orange wax crayon.
Gareth looked down at her with an expression of bemused horror. It was difficult to work out whether she was deaf, drunk, mad or some unsettling combination of all three.
‘Fiona was telling me that you do something in computers,’ snapped Uncle Harry. ‘Lot of money in that, is there? Don’t understand them myself, but my niece has one.’
‘What did you say that you do?’ repeated Fiona’s mother.
Gasping for breath, Gareth tried desperately to shake himself loose, but Fiona was having none of it. ‘Gareth,’ she snapped petulantly, ‘Mummy was asking you a question.’
Diana, tidying things away in the wings, looked around the empty stage and smiled. The weekend had gone far better than she could have possibly hoped for—and in some ways far worse. One thing, it had made her realise that she didn’t want to lose contact with her friends again.
‘Well done, old thing,’ said a familiar voice.
Diana swung round to see Hedley was striding down the aisle towards her. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t catch it all but I didn’t want to miss your golden moment.’
Diana beamed. ‘Oh, Hedley, it’s so good to see you. But what about evensong?’
‘Got Godfrey Fielding in to cover for me. How did it go?’
‘Like a dream,’ she said, clambering down off the stage. Diana didn’t add that some parts had been closer to a nightmare.
Hedley leaned forward and kissed her. ‘Missed you,’ he said. ‘The place isn’t the same without you about.’
Diana laughed. ‘You mean you couldn’t find anything?’
He pulled a face. ‘I didn’t say that but now you come to mention it, do you know where my gardening hat is?’
‘Hedley,’ she said, pretending to be cross.
Hedley shrugged. ‘I know, I know—is there any chance of a cup of tea, only I’m parched?’
Diana nodded. ‘There certainly is. Come with me and meet the rest of the gang. Did you bring Dylan with you?’
‘No, I thought it would be nice to have some time to ourselves—I’ve left him in charge of catering and cat control.’
Slipping her arm through his, Diana led him off towards the dining r
oom. ‘So do you know where my gardening hat is?’ he said.
On the other side of the dining room George Bearman lovingly refilled Callista Haze’s teacup and offered her another chocolate éclair. ‘Well, my dear, all in all it has been a rather interesting weekend, wouldn’t you say?’ he asked.
Callista smiled. ‘It has been good, hasn’t it? I thought that the play went really well, although I’m not sure what happened at the end exactly. Who was that Irish chap who punched Gareth Howard?’
George Bearman laughed. ‘God alone knows. Just a bit of high spirits, I think,’ he said. ‘But no harm done. I thought it went down rather well, actually.’ And then he caught hold of her hand. ‘You know, I hadn’t realised just how much I’d missed you. It’s been damned good to see you again, Callista.’ His fingers tightened a little. ‘Damned good.’
Very gently Callista slipped her hand out of his. ‘Yes, it has. You will be all right, won’t you, George? I mean you will be, won’t you?’ she asked.
George nodded. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll be fine.’ He paused. ‘I was wondering; is there any chance that I might see you again?’
Callista smiled, choosing to be a little oblique and deliberately misunderstand. ‘Who knows? But, George, one thing—whatever else you do, don’t waste any more time waiting for me. Grab hold of life, don’t pine for any more might-have-beens or fantasies. It’s time to get on with whatever you want to do and make use of whatever time you’ve got left.’
He took a bite of a buttered scone. ‘Sounds a little bit morbid.’
Callista laughed. ‘I don’t think so. For me, being aware that we don’t live for ever has been the greatest spur of all. It’s one of the benefits of getting older. Get on with the things you’ve dreamed of doing now, before it’s too late—better to try and fail than never to have tried at all.’
