A Class Apart

by Susan Lewis

  She nodded.

  He put his arm round her shoulders and they strolled on towards the pub.

  “And I love you,” she said.

  He stopped. For so long he had waited for her to say those words. Just those few words that might bring both her and his son back to him, and now, when he had almost given up hope, she had said them. He turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

  She nodded again. “Yes, I know what I’m saying.”

  “Then you know what I’m going to ask you now?”

  She smiled, and the dim streetlight caught the moisture in her eyes.

  “What’s your answer?”

  “My answer is yes,” she said.

  He pulled her close, and held her tightly beneath the lamppost in the cobbled street. And then she knew that he was crying. She stroked his hair, trying to soothe him. And she told herself that what she was doing was right. Right for Keith, right for Alex, right for her.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Ashley had no way of knowing that things were going to turn out the way they did. If she had, then she knew she would never have agreed to marry Keith. But perhaps it was in saying that she would that she finally, only days before Julian was to be married, came to know her own mind.

  It was seven thirty when she at last arrived home after a long and trying day on location. They were now more than five hours behind schedule on the fourth in the series of commercials for Newslink, but there had been nothing more they could do that day; they had lost the light.

  She was exhausted, and badly in need of a drink. She started the usual hunt in the kitchen for the lemons. Sophia, her cleaner, had several hiding places for them, and on this particular occasion they were in the freezer. Ashley muttered angrily as she took out the solid bag; there was nothing for it, she would have to have a gin and tonic without the lemon. It was a small thing, but it irritated her beyond anything else that had happened that day.

  She had just settled down in front of the TV, nursing her drink, prepared to be swamped by game shows and soap operas, when there was a knock at the door.

  She toyed with the idea of pretending she wasn’t in. It would probably be Keith, and she felt guilty that she was trying to avoid him. Ever since they had returned from their weekend, two days before, he had called her at every opportunity. She had been expecting him to turn up at the flat at any time. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but she was tired, and he would want to discuss plans for their future. She didn’t regret saying that she would marry him. How could she, when she had seen how delighted everyone had been? Her mother had wept, and her father had walked around all Sunday afternoon looking like an honorary student of the Cheshire Cat. And she was pleased it was going to happen; she just needed some time to get used to the idea, that was all.

  He knocked again. She closed her eyes, knowing that her guilt was beginning to get the better of her conscience. She would have to answer it. She went to the door, preparing herself to look pleased, but as she opened it she felt her heart twist, and her mouth fell open. It was Julian.

  He asked if he could come in; unable to answer, she stood back to let him pass. After closing the door, she followed him into the lounge.

  He looked around the room. It felt like such a long time since he had last seen it. Nothing had changed, and he was surprised that it hadn’t. He turned to look at Ashley. Her face was drawn in confusion and, he thought, maybe anger. He felt awkward. He didn’t know what he was going to say. Or at least, he didn’t know how he was going to say it.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “You’re looking good.”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “Would you like a drink?”

  She poured him a gin and tonic, and handed it to him, waving him towards a chair. She stood by the table, awkwardly, waiting for him to speak, but he seemed to be in no hurry.

  “This is a surprise,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “Did you never think that maybe I would come?”

  “I’ve tried not to allow myself to think, Julian,” she said.

  “Will you come and sit down?”

  “I can hear you from here.”

  “Please,” he said. “Please sit down. I think it will be easier for me to say what I’ve come to say, if you’re sitting down.”

  She walked across the room, and sat on the settee. He watched her move, wondering what she was thinking, looked into his drink, then towards the door. She followed his eyes, but said nothing.

  He spoke at last.

  “I’ve been thinking quite a lot lately.”

  “Oh?”

  “About you.”

  Her heart began to beat faster; she didn’t know if she wanted him to go on.

  “I don’t think I can go through with it, Ash.”

  She stared at him.

  He rushed on. “Oh, it’s not that I don’t love Blanche, I do. But I don’t love her enough, or in the right way, or, oh hell, I don’t know. I just know that it’s not right.”

  “Have you spoken to her about it?”

  “I can’t.” He looked up. “I had to speak to you first.”

  She felt the room begin to move.

  He got up from the chair, and came to sit beside her. He put his drink on the table in front of them.

  “Do you know what I’m trying to say?” he said, taking her hand.

  Her eyes were wide as she looked back at him, and she shook her head. “No!”

  “Then I’ll tell you.”

  She snatched her hand away. “No,” she said, jumping to her feet. “No, don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me.”

  He stood up, and caught her before she could move away from him.

  She covered her ears. “I don’t want to hear it, Julian. I can’t. I can’t.”

  He pulled her hands down to her sides, and waited for her to look up at him, but she didn’t.

  “It’s you I love, Ashley,” he said.

  He felt her begin to shake, and realized that she was crying. He put his arms round her, and held her against him.

  “I’m sorry. I should have told you a long time ago, I know. But I don’t think I knew myself, at least not how much. Not until now.”

  She was still crying, and he ran his hand over her hair, trying to comfort her, trying to find the right words.

  “Can you forgive me, Ashley?”

  She tried to pull away.

  “No, don’t go away from me. Please. I love you, Ashley. Please, please say that you love me too. Please say that you forgive me for everything I have put you through.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, her voice muffled by his shoulder. “It’s too late, Julian.”

  “It’s not too late. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll call the wedding off. I need you, Ashley. I want you, I love you. What more can I say to make you believe me?”

  “I do believe you,” she said. “But you mustn’t, it’s too late.”

  “Don’t keep saying that. We can work things out. Together we can make it happen again. Like we used to. We should be together, Ashley. You know that. You knew it before I did, and I should have listened to you. But I know now. It’s you that I want to marry. It’s you that I want to share my life with. There’s no one else, not any more.”

  “Oh but there is,” she cried. “There is.”

  “Blanche? I know she’ll be upset. But surely it’s better that I tell her now, before things go so far that we can’t turn back.”

  “But it’s already gone too far. Things have changed, Julian.”

  “Do you mean that you don’t love me any more?” He lifted her chin and searched her eyes with his.

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I told you, it’s too late. Not because I don’t love you, but because you’re going to marry Blanche, and I too am getting married.”

  He let her go, his face white. “What did you say?”

>   “I’m getting married.”

  “But how? Who? Who is it?”

  “I’m marrying Keith,” she said.

  “Keith!”

  “My ex-husband.”

  “I know who he is, for God’s sake. But have you forgotten everything that happened between you two? Damn it, the man’s a drunk, a gambler, a womaniser . . .”

  “Not any more,” she interrupted, keeping her voice low. “He’s changed, and he wants me back so desperately, and it would be good for Alex too. We could be a family again.”

  “But you can’t do it,” Julian protested. “You can’t, Ashley. You’ll be making a big mistake, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know anything any more,” she said, turning away. “But I have promised Keith, and I will keep my promise.”

  He caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “You can’t! I won’t let you. You love me, Ashley. You know you do.”

  She looked down at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. He stroked his finger across her chin and lifted her face.

  “Tell me you don’t, and I’ll let you go.”

  Still she didn’t answer.

  “You see,” his voice was pleading, “you can’t say it. Admit it, Ashley. Face the truth. It is me that you love. Tell me, let me hear you say it.”

  “No! No, I won’t say it.”

  “Then deny it.”

  “I won’t deny it either. But saying it will prove nothing. And neither will it change anything. You must marry Blanche, Julian, you must. And I will marry Keith.”

  “Are you mad! What is this, some kind of let’s play the honourable game? You’ll only be hurting him more, by marrying him when you don’t love him . . .”

  “I didn’t say that I didn’t love him,” she interrupted.

  “But you don’t love him. I can see it in your eyes, Ashley. You don’t love him.”

  “I do, and I’m going to marry him.”

  He gripped her shoulders, and she flinched at the pressure of his fingers. “You won’t marry him,” he growled. “You’re going to marry me.”

  Ashley felt as though she was going to faint. The world was spinning. How she had prayed for this moment. How she had prayed that he would come back to her. And now he was here, and she was turning him away. She couldn’t stop herself.

  There was a knock on the door. Breaking free of him, she ran to open it. Anything to get away, if only for a moment.

  Keith was standing at the door, holding a large bunch of flowers, smiling all over his face. He took one look at Ashley, and dropped the flowers.

  “What is it?” he said, going to her. “What’s happened?”

  Ashley pointed him towards the lounge and, letting her go, Keith walked into the room. His face darkened as he saw Julian standing beside the settee.

  “What’s he doing here?” Keith wanted to know, addressing Ashley, yet not taking his eyes from Julian.

  “Are you going to tell him?” Julian said. “Or shall I?”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” said Ashley.

  Julian turned away from her, and looked at Keith. “She’s going to marry me, Keith. I’m sorry and all that, but that’s the way it is.”

  “No, stop it!” Ashley cried.

  Keith’s face had paled. “Is it true?”

  She shook her head. “No. No, it’s not true. I’m not going to marry you, Julian. I can’t. You’re going to marry Blanche.”

  “But I explained all that.”

  “I think you’d better leave,” said Keith, beginning to bristle.

  “Look,” said Julian, appealing to Keith. “Can’t you see sense? It’s me she loves. It’s me she wants to marry. You can’t want to force her into a marriage with you, when you know that all the time she wants to be with someone else. What the hell kind of life is that going to be for either of you?”

  “From where I’m standing,” said Keith, “I don’t see that it’s any of your damned business. Now, you heard me the first time. It’s time you were going.”

  “Ashley,” said Julian, “for God’s sake, be honest with yourself. Even if you won’t be honest with either of us.”

  “Stop shouting at her,” said Keith. “She’s in no state to take your tantrums, now leave her alone.”

  “I want an answer from her,” said Julian, “and I’m not leaving until I get it. I know she loves me. I know it, you know it, and she knows it. Now tell him, Ashley. Tell him the truth.”

  Keith looked at her, waiting for her to speak, and in turning away from him she didn’t see the pain in his eyes.

  “Is that good enough for you?” said Julian.

  “Ash.” Keith tried to take her by the arms. “Is this what you want? Is it him, still?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know, Keith. I’m sorry, I know I’m not helping anything. But please, you’re just confusing me, both of you. Please go. I don’t want you here. I need to be on my own. I need to think. Please go away.”

  “I’m not leaving you like this,” said Julian.

  “Please,” she implored him. “Please. It’s what I want.”

  “Ash, I love you. I will always love you, no matter what,” said Keith. “And think of Alex. Think of what all this will mean to him.”

  “I am. Oh I am. But I need to be alone. Please, both of you go, now.”

  She closed and locked the door behind them, trying to block out the horrifying absurdity of it all. But dear God, what was she going to do now?

  The baby was crying again, but Kate didn’t mind. In fact she was pleased. It meant that she could hold her in her arms, comfort and feed her, play with her. She felt lonely when the baby was asleep, sitting there beside it, watching the tiny face crease and crinkle in dream, and the little fists open and dose. But now she was awake again, and it was probably time for her feed.

  Kate looked at her watch. Yes, she would be hungry again by now. She popped her head into the kitchen to check that the milk was warming, then went to get her.

  She was such a tiny, warm little bundle, and as soon as Kate lifted her from the bed she stopped crying. Her little blue eyes were open wide, and Kate wondered how much she could see.

  “There, there,” she whispered. “Mummy’s here now. Mummy’s got you. Are you hungry? Yes, I expect you are. And I think you need changing too, don’t you?”

  The baby whimpered, and Kate put her finger into the tiny fist. The child clutched at it greedily, and tried in her own feeble way to bring it to her mouth.

  “Sorry,” said Kate. “It’s a clean nappie for you before you have anything to eat. We don’t want you getting a sore bottom now, do we,” and she smiled down into the little face.

  She laid the baby on a towel on the floor, and changed the nappie. The baby had started to cry again, but Kate knew that that was only because she was hungry.

  “Patience. Patience,” she cooed. “It’s coming.”

  She went to get the bottle from the kitchen, then settled down on the settee to feed her. “My, you are hungry,” she whispered. “You’ll get fat if you carry on like this.”

  The child’s eyes were closed, and she continued to suck greedily and noisily at the teat.

  Kate jumped as the phone rang, and then glared at it angrily. If it didn’t stop soon it would disturb the baby. But it carried on ringing, until eventually she reached out and answered it.

  “Kate! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to ring you all day.”

  “Ellamarie,” said Kate. “Oh, I’ve been out and about a bit. I’ve had quite a lot to do.”

  “Well, I’ve got you now. How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound it,” said Ellamarie, bluntly. “Is your father still staying with you?”

  “No, he went home the day before yesterday.”

  “Are you sure you’re OK on your own? Would you like me to come round? I’ve got the snaps here from Scotland. There are some great ones of you.”


  “No, no,” said Kate. “I’m fine, honestly. How are you?”

  “Great! Seems like everything’s going ahead with the Queen of Cornwall.”

  “Oh good.” Kate pushed the teat back into the baby’s mouth.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” said Ellamarie. “You sound a bit vague.”

  “Vague? No, I’m all right, I was just thinking.”

  “What about?”

  “Nothing in particular.”

  There was a short silence.

  “I could come round now for an hour, if you like.”

  “No, better not. I’m actually rather tied up right now.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  Another short silence.

  “Nick has been asking about you,” said Ellamarie.

  “Has he?”

  “Yes. He wanted to know how you were.”

  “Oh, tell him I’m fine. Tell him I’m just fine.”

  “He was hoping you might call.”

  “I’ve been too busy, Ellamarie. But I will, when I get the time.” The teat slipped from the baby’s mouth again, and the baby started to whimper. “Look, I really must go.”

  “What was that noise?”

  “What noise?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t you hear it?”

  “No, I didn’t hear anything. Must go, ‘bye,” and Kate hung up.

  Ellamarie was startled by the abrupt end to the call, and looked at the receiver for several seconds, before she finally put it down.

  “How was she?” said Bob, coming in from the bathroom.

  “I don’t know. She sounded, well, she sounded a bit strange.”

  “Strange?”

  “I don’t know. Distant, vague somehow. It was almost as if she wasn’t alone.”

  “Perhaps her father was there.”

  “No, she said that he’d gone home again now. Do you think I should call her back?”

  “Not yet. Give her some time, ring her again in all hour. You’re probably worrying about nothing. I’m sure she’s all right.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right,” said Ellamarie, but the frown didn’t go away.

  “What time did Nick say he’d be here?”

  There was a knock on the door.

  “About now,” said Ellamarie, and went to answer it.