Falling to Earth

by Deirdre Palmer

  Perhaps Harrogate was a Mecca for gold-diggers - not that Andrea came into that category. She had just been trying to make a worthwhile life for herself, defying the prophecies of her teachers and - Juliet winced at the memory - those of Juliet’s mother, and who could blame her for that?

  There had been an ulterior motive behind Juliet’s suggestion of this morning’s outing. She wanted to spend time with her friend, that was true, but lately Andrea had acquired a kind of glittery look, as if Christmas had come early. Her comings and goings were beginning to arouse Juliet’s curiosity, too. The drama group met on Tuesday and Thursday evenings but at other times Andrea had taken to disappearing, sometimes for little more than an hour, and usually, it seemed, following a call to her mobile phone which she never took within earshot. ‘Just nipping out,’ she’d trill, if it was necessary to say anything, but that was all Juliet ever got.

  Sometimes these disappearances happened in the evening, sometimes during the day, and Juliet found it particularly galling when she’d gone downstairs after a morning’s work, looking forward to a gossipy lunch, only to find the front door closing as Andrea called a cheerful goodbye. Now they were out of the house, just the two of them, Andrea might be persuaded to offer up some juicy details or, failing that, at least she might give Juliet some idea of what she got up to during these ‘nippings out’.

  Andrea, however, seemed content to sit back and enjoy the sun. Juliet relaxed too, kicking off her sandals and flexing her toes as she watched the little children darting in and out of the shallows, their accompanying adults in close attendance. She gazed out at the familiar view of Brighton Pier to the left, the twin arms of its scariest ride describing huge arcs against the blue, while, to the right, the blackened remains of the West Pier skulked against the skyline. A power-boat zipped between the two piers, leaving a double trail of snowy foam on a sea as smooth as a sucked glace mint.

  After a while, Juliet cleared her throat and looked at Andrea. ‘So, how’s the play going then?’

  Andrea removed her sunglasses and sat up. ‘Really well. At least David thinks so and it’s his opinion that counts of course, as he’s the director.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’

  ‘Do I detect a note of sarcasm?’

  ‘Well you have to admit you’ve never taken the slightest interest in am-dram before. Look what happened in the first year at Pansdean when Miss Wheelwright asked you to be Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. She said you were perfect for the part, remember? And you said you would rather do fifty press-ups over a bunsen burner than go anywhere near her stupid production.’

  Andrea chuckled. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? But that wasn’t because I didn’t want to be in the play. I didn’t want to give old Wheely the satisfaction of seeing me in that skimpy see-through fairy outfit. That’s the only reason she asked me.’

  ‘Yes, well you were somewhat overdeveloped for an eleven-year-old,’ Juliet said, laughing too. ‘But seriously, what do you get out of it, this drama lark? Isn’t it ever such hard work?’

  ‘No, it’s great fun.’ Andrea waved a dismissive hand. ‘They’re a lovely crowd - we have a laugh.’

  This was all very vague. Juliet pressed on. ‘So what about the other times, when you’re not at the theatre giving your all to the local thespians, what do you do then? Do you meet up with the same crowd?’

  Juliet thought she saw Andrea colour slightly, unless she’d imagined it. She did not, however, imagine Andrea’s eyes dropping, avoiding her gaze.

  ‘Sometimes.’ She looked back at Juliet. ‘Hey, talking about thespians, do you think Wheely’s still alive?’

  ‘Miss Wheelwright? Wouldn’t be surprised. Expect she set up home with the gym mistress and lived happily ever after.’

  Andrea smiled, but she wasn’t thinking about school, Juliet was certain of it. She waited. After a few moments, Andrea said: ‘Actually, I’ve met someone, well, kind of.’

  Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘Kind of?’

  ‘It’s early days, and a bit of a delicate situation, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘Delicate ... oh, Andrea, he’s not married is he?’

  ‘Got it in one.’ Andrea lifted her chin defiantly.

  ‘Bloody hell, Andrea.’

  Juliet stared at her friend. Here was Andrea, having extricated herself from a failing marriage – the reason for that failure being Declan’s serial infidelity – doing the self-same thing to someone else’s wife!

  ‘Is it serious with this ... whoever it is?’ Juliet knew better than to ask for a name and she wasn’t sure she wanted one.

  ‘Oh no, well not as far as I’m concerned. But for him, yes, it seems so.’ Andrea nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘You mean he’s in love with you?’

  ‘Apparently he is.’ Andrea’s face broke into a wide grin. ‘I know, it’s amazing isn’t it? I can hardly believe it myself.’ Andrea looked genuinely bemused.

  ‘That’s not how I meant it. Why wouldn’t he fall in love you with you? You’re beautiful, you’re funny, you’re ...’

  ‘Desperate?’ Andrea lifted her eyebrows.

  ‘Kind. I was going to say kind.’ Juliet paused, frowning. ‘Usually, anyway.’

  ‘How d’you mean, usually?’

  ‘It’s not kind to snaffle another woman’s husband, is it? In fact it’s downright unforgivable and you of all people should know that.’

  Andrea sniffed. ‘Tell it how it is, why don’t you?’

  Juliet reached out and touched her friend’s arm. Her skin was soft, warmed by the sun. ‘I’m sorry, Andrea. I’m just trying to keep you in touch with reality.’

  Juliet’s heart gave a squeeze. She should have realised. If she hadn’t been so caught up in her own problems she might have seen that beneath the devil-may-care facade, Andrea’s self-esteem had crumbled, she felt lonely and unwanted and that, just like everyone else, she needed someone to love her. Was it so surprising, then, that when that someone hove into view she’d grabbed at him with both hands like a drowning woman? It wasn’t the same, though, if she didn’t love him back. The satisfaction could only be transitory, but under the circumstances, perhaps it was just as well.

  ‘I didn’t set out to catch him, Ju. Not like that. It started out as a bit of fun, for both of us. He changed the rules, not me.’

  ‘Well, then, stop! Don’t see him any more!’

  ‘Don’t you think I’ve tried? It’s him who contacts me, not the other way around.’

  Juliet sighed. She tried another tack. ‘All right, so he says he’s in love with you and I don’t doubt it’s true but what are you going to do if he says he’s leaving his wife for you? Have you thought about that?’

  Andrea laughed, but the laugh contained only a modicum of humour. ‘He says it all the time but he won’t do it. They never do. I’m not that naive.’

  ‘Declan did,’ Juliet said, quietly.

  ‘No, he didn’t. I left him!’

  ‘Well, all right but that was just a technicality. He was going anyway, to Clandest… Celandine. You said so yourself.’ Juliet knew she was sticking pins into Andrea but she had to make her see sense.

  Andrea shrugged. ‘It’ll run its course. He knows the score. Until then I’m going to sit back and enjoy it. You worry too much, Ju. That’s always been your problem.’

  Juliet began to wonder whether Andrea was being entirely honest, whether she had told this whoever-it-was that she loved him too. It would be difficult not to, especially in moments of passion. She decided she didn’t want to know.

  ‘Andrea, you will fall in love again. One day you’ll meet someone who’ll be free to love you back but meanwhile...’

  ‘... there’s always Mills and Boon!’ Andrea threw her head back, drawing the back of her hand, heroine-style across her forehead.

  Juliet giggled. ‘Stop it. I was going to say you should think about finding something else to occupy your time, like getting a job, for instance.’

  ‘As in
the devil makes work for idle hands I suppose.’ Andrea’s blue eyes widened. ‘Having someone totally besotted with you is very hard to give up. It’s like a drug.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ Juliet said. She couldn’t tell Andrea how to live her life, could she? She hardly knew how to live her own.

  ‘Cheer up, Ju. Love doesn’t last for ever - you should know that as well as anyone.’

  ‘Thanks for the reminder!’

  ‘I meant he’ll probably fall out of love with me as quickly as he fell in. Anyway, why do you always have to look on the black side? You never used to be like that. Remember how we were, the two of us? Whatever it was, we were out there – we were up for it as long as it was legal. Borderline, anyway.’

  ‘I was going to say I got older and wiser but it’s just the first one. So come on then, dish the details. What’s he like? How old is he? Your age, older, or toy boy material?’

  Andrea laughed. ‘I’m all done with toy boys.’

  ‘I didn’t know you’d had any! You kept that quiet.’

  ‘Wishful thinking. Anyway, since you ask, this one’s older and he’s all the better for that. It’s confidence, you see. Very sexy, is confidence in a man.’

  ‘How old? Older than Declan?’

  ‘Yup. Older even than dear old Dec. In fact he’s retired which makes him all the more available. Oh, I don’t mean he’s sixty-five or anything. He retired early and he’s in very good shape.’

  Juliet exploded with laughter. ‘Good job too, otherwise he might keel over while he’s queuing up in the post office to collect his pension!’

  ‘Oy, I told you, he’s not that old!’ Andrea threw a tiny pebble at Juliet. ‘Watch it or I shan’t tell you another thing.’

  ‘Oh no, go on. Where did you meet him? At the drama group?’

  Andrea screwed up her face as if she was trying to remember. ‘Just sort of around, really.’

  ‘He’s not one of the Clifton Players then,’ Juliet said, thinking that if this was the case there was less chance of Andrea’s own personal drama being played out in full view of the local community.

  ‘He’s not in the play, no,’ Andrea said carefully.

  ‘Well, good job too, otherwise it’ll be whizzing round the Clifton grapevine before you can say decree thingummy.’

  ‘Nisi.’

  ‘That’s the one. Andrea, you will be careful, won’t you.’

  ‘Ju, we do nothing but be careful. There’s absolutely no chance of his wife finding out, nor anyone else.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Juliet raised her eyes. ‘Even so, I do feel a little more self-preservation wouldn’t come amiss.’

  ‘You sound just like your mother.’

  ‘Oh heck, do I?’ Juliet looked up at the sky. ‘Well let’s hope she’s not up there looking down on you because if she is she’ll be tutting away and thinking how right she was about you all along.’

  ‘Yes, and her mouth will be all pursed up, like this.’ Andrea drew her lips together, pulled in her chin and peered down her nose. Juliet giggled at the accurate impression.

  Andrea twisted a stray tendril of hair around her finger, then tucked it behind her ear. ‘Your father was a sweetie-pie.’

  ‘He was?’ Juliet pulled a face.

  ‘I loved him. He was worth having to take your shoes off at the door for. I went to your house once but you’d gone ice skating with that posh friend of yours next door. It was tipping down with rain and my shoes were all muddy from taking the short-cut through the woods. Your mother took one look at me and said I’d better run straight off home again. Honestly, there I was, no umbrella or anything, looking like a drowned rat and she wasn’t even going to ask me in in case I dripped on the Axminster, but your dad insisted. He sat me down in the dining room and gave me tea and a toasted bun. I’ll never forget that.’

  ‘I never knew that! Why didn’t you tell me the next day?’

  ‘Don’t know. Forgot I suppose. You know, I really envied you.’

  ‘I can’t think why,’ Juliet said. ‘My mother thought she was the Queen of Sheba. That sort of thing can be very hard to live with.’

  How good it was, Juliet thought for the hundredth time, to be with Andrea again, making up for lost time. They’d always kept in touch with phone calls, e-mails and the occasional weekend visit but those had become increasingly difficult to arrange because of their respective commitments. Juliet could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d actually seen Andrea over the last two or three years.

  ‘Juliet, I do wish you would cultivate more suitable friendships,’ had been Pamela Cole’s comment after Juliet had seen Andrea out of the house, the first time she’d brought her home. There being nothing like a spot of parental disapproval for ensuring that the ante was very firmly upped, from then on, Juliet and Andrea were rarely apart.

  They’d met on the first day at Pansdean Girls’ Grammar – or “Pantsdown” as it said in indelible green letters at the bottom of the sign – and Juliet had taken instantly to Andrea with her blonde curls, her unevenly hitched up skirt and her throaty laugh. Juliet’s mother had been extremely diligent when it came to winkling out what she considered to be insalubrious facts and it hadn’t taken her long to unearth the information that Andrea Foster came from the council estate, her mother went out to work – in a factory, if you please - and Andrea’s father was but a distant memory, a mere name on a birth certificate.

  People could be so judgmental, Juliet thought now, gazing at Andrea with affection and thinking how close she had come to falling straight into that particular trap herself until the mental comparison with her mother had given her a metaphorical slap. Well, she wouldn’t let Andrea down. If it came to it, she would be ready with a man-sized box of tissues, a crate of Rioja and a sympathetic ear, without so much as a hint of I-told-you-so. She hoped she wouldn’t have to lie for Andrea, though. She would, of course, if necessary but she wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it.

  She had a thought. Perhaps the silent phone calls were something to do with Andrea’s illicit affair. They’d stopped for a while, then one came late last night. Could it be Andrea’s mystery lover, desperate enough to risk discovery by ringing the house phone, having failed to reach her on her mobile, or even – Juliet’s neck prickled – his wife, for heaven’s sake! Supposing she had found out and had tracked Andrea down? The idea made her feel slightly nauseous.

  It was after twelve by the time they negotiated chilly bowels of the car park for the second time, Andrea having responded to Juliet’s suggestion that they walk down to the beach with the disdain it apparently deserved.

  ‘Is there any of that fish pie left?’ Andrea asked as they turned into Clifton Gardens.

  ‘Being an old man’s darling hasn’t made a dent in your appetite then.’

  ‘I’m absolutely starving ... hey, Ju, there’s someone parked in your space. Flippin’ cheek! Look – I bet they haven’t got a permit.’

  Andrea was right. A red Nissan Micra hugged the kerb outside the house, definitely sans permit by the look of the empty windscreen. Andrea craned her neck as they drew closer, glaring at the car’s occupant who sat inert in the driver’s seat – a woman, as far as Juliet could tell without taking her eyes off the road completely. As they drew level, the Micra burst into life, whipped out of the space and zoomed off down the road, but not before Juliet had noticed a series of scratches running almost the whole length of the driver’s side, like scars.

  ‘A careless driver as well as a careless parker, by the look of it,’ she said to a still-indignant Andrea, turning the Beetle round at the top of the road and heading back to claim her space outside number eleven.

  ‘Nosey parker, more like.’ Andrea fished in her pocket for her key and opened the front door. ‘Did you see the way she was staring at us, Ju? As if it was us in the wrong, not her!’

  ‘Not that you were staring at her, of course.’

  The phone was ringing as stepped inside the front door. An
drea answered it.

  ‘That’s funny. No-one there.’

  Juliet studied Andrea’s face for some kind of reaction – a tinge of embarrassment perhaps - but there was none, not even a flicker. Andrea merely shrugged and headed for the kitchen.

  6

  Juliet only considered telling Gray about Andrea’s new love interest for about five minutes before she decided there was nothing to be gained by doing so. For one thing, it was Andrea’s personal business and no-one else’s, even if they happened to be sharing the same roof. For another, should the lovers – she used the term loosely – be found out and something unpleasant occurred, the more people who could claim genuine ignorance of the facts, the better.

  It went against the grain, somewhat, the idea of not telling Gray, but this was one secret that was not hers to share, was it? Besides, Gray’s moods seemed to have levelled out a little since he returned from his last trip and Juliet’s raison d’etre was to try to maintain this state of relative peace, not to give Gray something else to grab hold of and turn into a major drama.

  Better-tempered he may be, but Juliet still sensed he wasn’t quite... how could she describe it? Present, that was it. No matter that they were in the same room, eating a meal together, having a conversation, making love, even, it was as if part of Gray was always somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t reach, somewhere she wasn’t needed. That last thought caused her heart to thump and her eyes to sting, just for a moment, and then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had done nothing wrong, nothing other than be herself, and unless she knew how Gray needed her to change, if he did, there was precious little she could do about it.

  At her lowest moments, the times that occurred mostly at about three in the morning, she entertained the fantasy of getting in touch with Jonno. At least he had seemed to want her, although in what capacity she hadn’t quite worked out. What harm could it do to have someone new to talk to, someone so far removed from her normal daily life it would be almost like losing herself in a good book or a film? She’d kept his phone number, having fished the magazine out of the recycling box minutes after she’d put it in – she didn’t know why, except it had seemed wrong at the time to discard it.