SNATCHED BAIRN: Scottish Fiction

by Anne Bone

  Chapter 19

  Wednesday 19th September – West End Aberdeen

  Marcus arrived home that evening in time for supper. He had phoned Veronica from the office to let her know what time to expect him, and he experienced a slight annoyance that she had invited Tom and Kim to supper, although, with a second thought, he realised that this might work to his advantage as Veronica would be less likely to be interested in where he had been for the past few days if she had the wedding plans to fill her mind.

  He entered the house and felt that the atmosphere had returned to normal. Veronica greeted him by handing a glass of Scotch and informed him that supper was just about ready to be dished up. She suggested he went into the lounge where Tom and Kim were pouring over the travel brochures she had picked up at the travel agents earlier in the day.

  Tom and Kim were indeed turning the glossy pages of the brochures; Kim was voicing her delight at seeing so many beautiful sandy beaches. They both looked up and smiled at Marcus as they caught sight of him in the doorway.

  ‘Hi Dad,’ said Tom as he stood up to greet his father, ‘good to see you. Mum said you had been away on business, so hope it went well?’

  ‘As well as could be expected,’ replied Marcus, without explaining. He went over to Kim where he bent down and placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘And what are you busy looking at young lady?’

  Veronica brought this home with her, and so we are looking at all these wonderful hotels and beaches, and I am hoping that my lovely fiancée here will be inspired to consider one of these,’ she pointed to a picture of a beach in a Caribbean island, ‘as a honeymoon destination.’

  ‘Now then Kim, what did we agree? I would book our honeymoon and it will be a surprise.’ Tom sat down beside her again, and placed his arm around her. ‘All you will have to do is to make sure you have your passport and lots of bikinis packed.’

  ‘So I take it you haven’t booked it yet then?’ she enquired, hoping that he would reveal something, ‘and if you haven’t, please will you look very closely at this one, it looks absolutely fantastic,’ she smiled lovingly towards him.

  ‘And fantastically expensive,’ came the reply of Tom, very much the accountant.

  Before any further debate could take place, they heard Veronica calling that the supper was ready and they made their way through to the dining room. As usual, the table looked wonderful with glasses and cutlery gleaming. It was to be a three course supper, the starter already on each individual place. It was smoked salmon served with lemon and thinly sliced brown bread and butter – one of Marcus’s favourites.

  Marcus poured wine for each of them, and they commenced the meal with a general sense of bonhomie. The starter was soon devoured and the plates removed to be replaced with clean dinner plates. Veronica fluttered around, placing dishes in the middle of the table that contained the main course. A thick beef casserole in one serving dish, while in another was a pile of small buttered potatoes and the final dish was full of green beans.

  Marcus noted that Veronica was back to her usual self, and listened while she continued to share her thoughts about the forthcoming wedding. She reminded them all that time was running out, and it was just over ten weeks to go before the big day. Marcus watched her, and realised that she was in her element as she and Kim discussed the finer details of table decorations and what favours would be best for the female guests. There seemed to be a toss-up between truffles and chocolate mints; it was all a bit beyond him.

  While they continued, he helped himself to more casserole. He had to admit his wife was an excellent cook. He reached over and offered to refill Tom’s glass, but he shook his head, telling his father that he had to drive Kim home later. Marcus refilled his own and then asked about Tom’s work. Recently his firm had taken on a huge contract for one of the oil companies. The two men conversed about work, while the woman became further engrossed in the planning for the wedding reception. The conversation continued while they finished their main meal and then once this was cleared they quickly demolished the pavlova that followed.

  Coffee was taken in the lounge and all went well until Marcus overheard Veronica say something about Jenni Dinnet. He stopped speaking to Tom and turned his attention to his wife, listening as she told Kim about her friends’ plans to meet with Beth Paton to see how they could raise funds for the Stolen Children Trust. This turned the conversation to Mary, and he sat listening to his family discuss how awful it must be for the mother, while speculating what Laird had done with the body. He then listened while Kim made some comment that people were speculating about how the mother could have permitted the child to walk home on her own, and then finished this up by making a statement as to what you could expect from single parents.

  Marcus found himself tightening up. He knew that if he commented on it he would not be able to stop himself from showing not just his anger but also emotions that would reveal he had a personal interest in this. Instead, he rose from his seat, and advised them that he needed to do some work in his study. He said goodnight and left. It was only after he left the room and retired to his study where he closed the door tightly that he felt his breathing return to normal.

  What did they know about anything? And, he wondered, were there similar conversations taking place in other houses, people criticising and judging Jenni? How dare they, they knew nothing. He poured himself another two fingers of whisky, and sat down in his armchair. He looked around the room. This was his private domain. He insisted that the daily that came in everyday to clean the house only came into this room when he requested she did so. Even Veronica was not welcome, and nor were his children when they were growing up in this large detached house. As adults they would still not venture into their father’s study, and they would always knock and wait to be called in if they wanted to speak to him. It was his private space in the house. There were nights when he would stretch out on the deep sofa that sat beside his oak desk, and sleep there rather than climb the stairs and lie beside his wife in their large bed.

  While he sat and sipped the golden liquid, feeling its warmth as it trickled down his throat, he surveyed this room. It was furnished to the highest degree, as was the rest of this house. Deep luxurious carpets covered the whole of the house. Thick drapes covered the windows and all the furniture came from the best department stores. Paintings adorned the walls, these collected by Veronica as she toured antique shops. He didn’t know their worth, he never asked, often nodding with little interest as she enthused about a find. He couldn’t help but compare the difference between this house and Jenni’s flat. While the whole flat would fit into a quarter of this house, and was furnished simply, it felt warmer than this house. Jenni’s artistic eye had meant that everything within the flat was part of her. While here he doubted whether Veronica was even aware of how much she had. He acknowledged that Veronica did have a good eye and was a good homemaker, but her idea of home was that everything had its place, and that everything had to cost a fortune, or else its worth would be diminished. Jenni, however, collected things that she loved, or which held a special memory. The decorations in the bathroom at the flat highlighted this: she and Mary had spent weeks collecting shells from the beach which they used to decorate a plain mirror. Mary had explained they had brought a bit of the beach into the bathroom, and every time they looked into the mirror they would remember the sand and sea.

  Marcus wondered how Jenni was tonight, and he was feeling guilty that he was here in this grand house, while she was probably lying on Mary’s bed sobbing. He knew that he would have to make the changes that he had promised. It wasn’t just making the changes because he felt guilty, it was, he realised, because he wanted to.

  He heard Veronica saying goodnight to Tom and Kim, and listened while she busied herself clearing up. He knew he would be expected to join her in the marital bed, and she may also expect that he would make love to her. This had become a pattern: if he had been away or they had argued, he was forgiven if he showed her that she was
still wanted by him. He did not share with her that the act of intercourse was often assisted by his thoughts of Jenni’s subtle and firm body under him, instead of his wife’s middle-aged spread. It was an act, and an act that required more acting than he sometimes felt he had the skills for.

  He heard her climb the stairs and, with a weary sigh, he stood and turned off the lamps that lit the room. He left the study and followed her up the stairs, noting the closed doors of the five bedrooms on the upper floor. The sixth door was open, and Veronica was sitting in front of the dressing table that held a large mirror. She was busy removing her makeup with cotton wool and smearing lotion on her face.

  He started to remove his clothes. The room was silent, and he already felt that the earlier warmth that his wife exuded had lessened. She was watching him in the mirror. ‘You could have at least come out of your den and said goodnight to Tom and Kim. Surely that would have been a show of manners,’ she spat the words out.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I hadn’t realised they were leaving. Is Tom not coming home tonight then?’

  ‘No, he seems to be spending most of the time at their new house; I wouldn’t be surprised if Kim is spending much of the time there too. They aren’t outwardly saying they are living together but I think they maybe are.’ She continued to rub toner onto her face, feeling the coldness tighten her skin, just as she hoped it would. She examined her skin in the mirror, noticing that she seemed to have another wrinkle. She must speak to the beauty therapist again to see if she could recommend further treatment.

  ‘Well, that’s okay, isn’t it?’ asked Marcus. ‘Surely they are only a few weeks away from getting wed, and then it will all be above board.’

  ‘I would expect you to say that, but I would rather, as I am sure Kim’s parents would, that they remained living at home until the wedding. I am sure the neighbours at the house will notice and it’s not right they are staying there together so often. She should be starting the marriage off on the right side, that’s what I think.’

  Marcus looked at his wife in astonishment, he couldn’t help it, but he had to challenge what she was saying. ‘Where did all this come from, have you forgotten that you and I used to find as many ways as possible of spending the night together before we were wed?’ Before she could answer, he left the room to clean his teeth and have a final pee.

  When he returned she was in bed. When he got under the duvet he immediately turned the bedside light off and laid his head on the feathered pillow. He felt her hand reach over and rub it against his thigh. ‘I am sorry if I have somehow offended you,’ she said quietly and carefully.

  ‘You haven’t,’ he said, as he felt her hand move closer to the inside of his thigh before it moved further along his groin. He sighed, moving towards her to embrace her, and by doing so he felt her relax, as though this was a sign that all was well between them again. His body responded and the coupling lasted a few minutes. He waited until she reached her climax before he released himself. The moments after they separated had always been a time when they felt closer. She tucked her head under his arm and cuddled into him, while he lay wondering again about his double life and whether it was time to finally choose.

  When the alarm buzzed that following morning, Marcus had to drag himself from the deep sleep that he had finally fallen into. Normally he didn’t have any difficulty in getting or staying asleep, but last night this was not the case. He sensed that Veronica’s side of the bed was empty, and he was right, as she appeared in the doorway carrying a tray which held two cups of tea. She handed one to him, smiling as she did so, then took hers around to the other side of the bed. She didn’t get back into the bed, but sat on it sideways, which enabled her to look directly at her husband.

  ‘You were rather restless last night,’ she commented, ‘is there something on your mind?’ She asked this question, but didn’t expect an answer. She could not have helped noticing how he had tossed and turned which was very unlike her husband.

  ‘Just some business I have to deal with, nothing for you to worry about.’ He smiled at her although the smile moved no further than his mouth, a sign she had come to recognise meant he wasn’t being honest with her. ‘And…’ he went on, ‘I am afraid I am going to be spending more weekends away from home over the next few weeks.’

  ‘When you say over the next few weeks, what do you mean?’ her voice contained some of the irritation that she felt. ‘You are aware that Tom is going to need our support over the coming weeks aren’t you?’

  ‘I am sure he will manage without me being here. As you said last night, he is hardly here most of the time.’

  ‘Well, I am not so sure about that,’ she insisted, ‘there will be a number of weekends when there are events planned.’

  ‘What, for example?’ he asked, feeling that she was overreacting, and sitting up further in the bed he braced himself for whatever it was.

  ‘You are well aware that we have to meet with Kim’s parents and agree the final arrangements for the wedding ceremony. We have the cars to arrange, the flowers and also to agree what drink we will provide at the reception.’ She spoke with a level of exasperation seeping into her voice; she couldn’t believe she had to spell out their responsibilities towards their oldest son’s wedding.

  ‘And why exactly do in I need to be in attendance?’ he asked. ‘I can’t really see what role I have in all the events you have just outlined. You will no doubt have researched all of the necessary requirements, and as far as what drink will be needed, we will just need to provide decent champagne for the toast, and then foot the bill for the rest.’

  ‘Marcus,’ she said, overcome with irritation and displeasure that he seemed to be distancing himself from the event, ‘whatever this business is that is making such high demands on your time, I hope that you will at least be able to free yourself up to attend your oldest son’s wedding,’ she added sarcastically. With that she stood up, took the empty cup from his hands and flounced off downstairs, calling over her shoulder that breakfast would be on the table in ten minutes, if he could spare the time to join her.

  She reached the kitchen and couldn’t help but allow her annoyance to spill over, when she threw the cup into the sink much harder than she had anticipated, and it broke in two. ‘Oh damn and blast,’ she muttered to herself. She turned and started to take out the breakfast ingredients and place them onto the kitchen table. She found herself exasperated, what on earth was going on with him? She had thought the previous night that whatever it was that had taken him from her had been resolved, but instead of that it now appeared that he was going to be missing every weekend.

  She could not help but think that he must have another woman. She knew fine well that there had always been another woman somewhere in the background; this had been a feature throughout their marriage. She had felt that over the past few years this had waned and he had hardly ever been away overnight. Was this why she was so angry, was it because she had fallen into a false sense of security? Was it that she had allowed herself to believe that all that was in the past now, that he had finally got that out of his system?

  He appeared in the kitchen, having showered and dressed, and sat down at the table. She plonked a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him, ensuring that he knew she was not happy. She also knew he would not bite, and would eat the eggs, drink his coffee and then head for the office.

  The breakfast was eaten in silence. Marcus had his head buried in the daily newspaper that he had collected in the hallway. This wasn’t that unusual, as often breakfast in the Davidson household was taken in this manner. The difference this time, however, was the level of tenseness that permeated the kitchen. Marcus ended the silence by asking her what her plans were for the day. She answered that she wasn’t sure, but had a lunch appointment with Kim’s mother as they needed to discuss their outfits; they needed to ensure that they didn’t clash. It didn’t take long before he noticed that his wife became animated when she spoke about the wedding. She would enj
oy all the carry on choosing her outfit, and no doubt would be scouring the whole of Scotland to find something that would be regarded as unique. He just hoped she wouldn’t try and outdo Kim’s mother as, after all, she was the mother of the bride, not Veronica. He wouldn’t say this though, he knew better than to interfere.

  As she rattled on he couldn’t help but wonder what Jenni was up to this morning. He was pleased that Christine was still with her, and would make a point of phoning her as soon as he reached the office. As he was deep in thought he hadn’t realised that Veronica had asked him a question. She wanted to know what time he would be home this evening. He assured her that he would be home early. Early to him meant between six and eight, so she pressed him for a more accurate time frame so she could leave his tea in the oven.

  ‘I completely forgot this is my bridge night,’ she told him. ‘It is Elizabeth’s turn to host it at her home tonight.’ Veronica was a good bridge player and enjoyed weekly games with three of her friends. He could never settle to play the game. The only card game that he occasionally enjoyed was poker, but that had more to do with who he was playing against, rather than the actual game.

  He informed her not to worry about leaving him some supper; he would sort something out when he got home. She looked at him in astonishment. Never once had he suggested he would get his own supper. She shrugged her shoulders, and informed him that he was welcome to rummage about in the cupboards, but she would nevertheless leave something in the fridge that he could warm up.

  Veronica was at the front door waiting for him when he gathered his briefcase and put his overcoat on. She opened the door and waited for him to kiss her on the cheek as he left. Anyone who witnessed this would think that it was a cosy domestic scene. She watched him get into the car and then waved as he drove off towards the road. ‘Damn the man,’ she couldn’t help muttering to herself. She just wished that she was his woman, his only woman. She would just have to wait. Wait, just as she had done so many times before. He would eventually get whoever this woman was out of his system, and then normal service would be resumed.