Friends and Secrets Page 8

  ‘Was it a successful meeting?’

  ‘Well, I got the price for the repairs to the Tenby place whittled down a bit, so, yes, I suppose it was.’ He smiled then, a smile reminiscent of the early years of their marriage, when that smile was capable of weakening any protest she made about the risks he took financially.

  In those early days they were rarely apart. Much of his work was local and his commitments were few. Joanne had worked for five years, besides running the home and helping out in the business whenever John needed it. It was when the boys were born she had become less involved, and even then there had always seemed to be enough money for a comfortable life.

  Since then, John had expanded more and more, widening his ownership of cafes to include houses, and his absences from home had become a part of every week. Their marriage had drifted down to fewer hours together and less and less money to spend.

  ‘If only you didn’t have to work so hard, John darling,’ she sighed.

  ‘Come and show me how you’ve missed me,’ he said and with an arm around her, he led her up to their room.

  * * *

  The next morning she went to get his overnight case from his car, in order to do his washing, while he and the boys were eating breakfast. For no reason at all she looked at the mileage and saw with surprise that it had increased by forty—seven miles.

  ‘Which pub did you go to last night?’ She asked the question casually, but her heart was racing as though her life depended on the answer.

  ‘The Boathouse,’ he told her, naming one about twelve miles away, and she sighed with relief. If he had called for the man he was meeting and had taken him home again, the mileage was easily accounted for. Then he spoilt it.

  ‘I saw Cynthia and Christian Sewell while I was waiting for my builder friend,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have a conversation, but I did suggest that meal we discussed. It’s on for Friday, all right? Pleasant couple, aren’t they?’

  Not forty—seven miles then, if he didn’t call for his friend. The words were like daggers. Where could he have been? And she could have sworn that when he first came in that evening he’d had no intention of going anywhere. The thought had come on him suddenly, as though he had needed to get away from her. Having to meet a builder had been an invention. So where had he gone?

  ‘I said, they’re a pleasant couple and—’

  ‘John, Helen said my car has been seen with a young boy driving it. Helen thinks it was Jeremy.’

  ‘Nonsense. She must have made a mistake. She’s a bit woolly at the best of times. Nice enough though.’

  ‘But you have to question the boys. She was very certain.’

  ‘Why should I act like a Victorian father because she thought she saw your car? There are others, just like it! Really Joanne, do you think either Jeremy or Justin could drive without lessons? Forget it for heaven’s sake! The woman was mistaken.’

  His irritability made her hold back from further argument. She would have to talk to them herself. Worried about having to confront the boys but still more concerned with the mileage on John’s car, she was quiet as she watched the three of them leave after breakfast; the boys running with school bags flying, and John more slowly, carrying his freshly packed overnight bag, waving, blowing kisses and promising to be back in a few days, when they would have that promised evening out.

  When she drove to meet her friends in Churchill’s Garden later that morning she was still puzzling over the extra miles John had travelled. The story about Jeremy driving was forgotten. It was John’s car not her own that worried her.

  ‘What did John say about your Jeremy taking up driving then?’ was Helen’s greeting.

  ‘It couldn’t possibly have been Jeremy. I’m not the only person in Abertrochi to prefer a small car you know.’ Her voice came out sharper than intended and she quickly added, ‘He’s too young, Helen. How could he have learned?’

  ‘I haven’t taught Rupert or Oliver,’ Cynthia laughed, ‘But I know they both drive the car around the drive and through the lanes to the old stables, where they practise turning and reversing.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’ Joanne frowned.

  ‘I’ve warned them not to go on to public roads. They’d hate to have their licence taken from them before they’re old enough to have one.’ She shrugged, as she touched up her lipstick after finishing her first cup of coffee. ‘They know what’s involved so I can leave it up to them.’

  Continually surprised by her friend’s strange attitude to bringing up children, Joanne said nothing more, but went to order her coffee and cake. A large sticky one today, she decided. She felt the need for some spoiling. Imagine leaving important decisions like that to fifteen-year—old boys! Cynthia was heading for trouble. That was as clear to see as the cherries on her iced bun.

  She and Cynthia discussed the proposed meal out and decided that, although it was not the most exciting place, The Fisherman’s Basket was a suitable venue. ‘It doesn’t entail a long drive,’ Cynthia explained, ‘And we can all drink if we want to. We can easily get a taxi or even walk if we feel like it.’

  ‘That would be a change,’ Joanne said mildly. ‘It’s usually me having to stay on tonic water so I can drive.’ She was disappointed. She and John went out so rarely together that she had hoped for a more exciting place.

  ‘Perhaps you could go on somewhere to dance afterwards?’ Vivienne suggested. ‘If Meriel would have Toby I’d come with you.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’ Cynthia said enthusiastically. The idea of an evening spent with Joanne and John was daunting; all that serious conversation. Vivienne looked hopefully at Meriel who agreed to look after the little boy and no one noticed the look of dismay on Joanne’s face.

  Joanne sat with a stiff smile on her lips which didn’t reach her eyes as Cynthia and Vivienne discussed the various places where they could dance. She wanted to cancel the whole thing. John didn’t dance and neither did she. What a prospect, sitting in a crowded room being blasted with music and unable to talk.

  ‘Cynthia suggested The Fisherrnan’s Basket,’ she told John when he telephoned that evening from his office.

  ‘No, I’ve already booked for four at Fuschia Palace,’ he said. ‘I called in on the way from the pub the other evening.’

  Joanne smiled and dialled Cynthia’s number.

  Instead of reverting to the original plan of a meal then back to her house for coffee, it was once more taken out of her hands. The telephone lines buzzed for the next hour and then Cynthia rang her back.

  ‘John has changed the booking to five and suggested that as you don’t drink much anyway, you’d be willing to drive us, then we can go straight on to the club afterwards.’

  ‘Lovely,’ Joanne breathed, before slamming down the phone. She bought a bottle of wine and rang Meriel, arranging to see her the next evening. ‘As I can’t drink on Friday I might as well indulge tomorrow,’ she explained.

  She was having her brown hair tinted and cut and set the next morning, and planned to see who was in Churchill’s Garden. Tidying up before leaving for her appointment, she found a letter from the boys’ school. It was folded small and was tucked in between the shorts and football boots in Jeremy’s sports bag. It was addressed to parents, asking them for their permission to arrange a trip to France during the following spring. Jeremy and Justin were just leaving and she called them back.

  ‘Jeremy, why didn’t you show me this?’

  ‘I don’t really want to go,’ he replied, staring down at the floor.

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. You’ve often told me how much you’re looking forward to the time when your class will be going.’

  ‘He said you can’t afford it,’ Justin piped up, and suffered a fierce dig from his older brother.

  Upset that he should try to hide it out of consideration for her, she turned away and pretended to reread the letter while she recovered.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to go,’ she promised, while wondering how she
could possibly find the money. Surely John would find a way of affording this? How could they make their son face being left behind while every other child in the class went to France? ‘I’ll talk to Daddy this evening and we’ll tell the school that you’re going. All right?’

  ‘There’ll be spending money, and clothes,’ Jeremy warned.

  Guessing his fear was having less than the others, she reas- sured him further.

  ‘There’ll be an upper and lower limit on what you can take and you’ll have the same as the rest, Jeremy. You won’t have a penny less than you’re allowed, I promise.’ She hugged him and said, ‘It was so kind of you to think I might worry about this, but it’s all right, this is what Daddy has been saving for. so you can take advantage of these opportunities. You’re going and you’ll enjoy every moment.‘

  ‘Jeremy is going skiing with the school,’ she announced to Meriel and Cynthia when she emerged, neatly coiffeured, from behind the net curtains separating the hairdressing salon from the rest of the shop premises. ‘There’s such a lot to organize. New clothes of course, and currency, you know what it’s like. but I don’t mind. Jeremy’s such a good boy, never given me a moment’s worry. He deserves a treat.’

  She was talking bravely but so far she hadn’t been able to reach John. He hadn’t telephoned and, as usual, the office phone was unmanned. If he told her they couldn’t find the money she didn’t know what she would do. If only she were trained and able to work at something glamorous. John was so snobbish, and wouldn’t be willing for her to find just any old job.

  Pulling her thoughts away from her money worries she joined in the general admiration of the diamond ring Christian was going to buy Cynthia for Christmas, as well as listening to Cynthia’s memories of their trip to Paris and London. Cynthia could afford to send her boys without a moment’s thought. Meriel’s ex-husband could afford to give her enough money to enable her to live comfortably without seriously looking for work. Vivienne was supported by an ex-boyfriend so she could look afier Toby without the pressures of work. John worked all the hours he could and they were still struggling. It wasn’t fair.

  She was the last to leave the cafe that morning and when she stepped out into the cold gusty day and her hair was in danger of losing its style, she realized she had left her scarf behind. It had a habit of slipping off her shoulders. Going back to their table, still uncleared by the waitress, she saw something on the floor, half hidden by her scarf. A purse. Cynthia’s purse. It was a split second to pick it up and put it in her handbag.

  No one could possibly have seen. The coffee clientele were gone and the lunch crowd had not yet arrived. She hurried back to the car and drove home feeling as though a thousand eyes were upon her and knew what she had just done: stolen from a friend.

  Deliberately she made herself a sandwich and a cup of tea before she looked at it again. There was still time to return it. Her eyes strayed to the telephone. Telling Cynthia she had picked it up would be so easy. Her hand reached out but before she touched it it began to ring and she jumped back as though from an electric shock. Her heart was beating in her throat, almost choking her as she answered.

  ‘Hello Cynthia,’ she said casually.

  ‘Joanne, you didn’t see what I did with my purse, did you?’

  ‘Your purse? No, you paid at the counter so I wouldn’t have, would I?’ She gave a stiff little laugh, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve mislaid it?’

  ‘Oh, I haven’t really looked yet. It’s just that it wasn’t in my bag when I got home. Don’t worry, it’ll turn up.’

  ‘Have you phoned Churchill’s Garden?’

  ‘Yes, no one has handed it in. I’ll look in the car again, it’s probably there.’

  ‘I hope you find it,’ Joanne said. Her hand was trembling as she replaced the receiver.

  Ignoring the sandwich and the cooling tea, she opened the wallet part of the purse. Fifty pounds in tens. Enough for the deposit on Jeremy’s skiing holiday. The purse held another nine pounds in silver and she slid it into her hand and stared at it for a long time before putting it into her handbag.

  * * *

  The talk next day was about children. Cynthia explained in a rare moment of revelation that she had been an only child. Untrue but an essential part of the story she had invented about her childhood. ‘Because of that I wanted more than the generally accepted two children, so they would have brothers and sisters and eventually in-laws and nieces and nephews. An extended family, some of whom would hopefully become friends. Unfortunately, we didn’t have another after our darling Marcus.’

  ‘I don’t have anyone,’ Meriel said, ‘And I can understand why you try to make sure there’s someone for your boys, even if they don’t become as close as you hope. Aunts and uncles are all I have, and a few cousins. The aunts were great when I was small but I became less and less important to them as I grew up and they became more involved with their own burgeoning families. I haven’t seen some of them for years, even though they aren’t that far away.’

  ‘I’ve got three brothers and two sisters,’ Helen told them. ‘I hate and love the lot of them! But it was wonderful growing up with a large family. I wish I could have had more but the marriage breakup spoilt any chance of matching my mother’s achievements.’

  They turned to Joanne questioningly.

  ‘As you all know, I have a sister but we don’t see each other,’ she said crisply.

  ‘Aren’t you going to tell us why?’ Helen demanded.

  ‘No.’ Joanne replied, then she laughed. ‘All right, we quarrelled over my John. My sister met him first you see, but it was me he fell in love with and Samantha accused me of stealing him. There, doesn’t that sound silly? As if I could have stolen him. I can assure you he came willingly. We both knew straight away that we were meant for each other.’

  ‘Don’t you speak to her at all?’

  ‘Never! I don’t even know where she lives or what she does.’

  ‘You might have nephews and nieces. You’re depriving your boys of cousins!’

  ‘They don’t know I have a sister and I hope they never will.’

  ‘Joanne is so rigid about everything,’ Helen sighed when Joanne went to the ladies. ‘I’m surprised she’s agreed to send Jeremy on this skiing holiday. She’s so hard on her boys. There’s a strict regime in that house that’s almost an obsession. Mealtimes are the same every day even if the boys want to go out somewhere with friends. Bedtimes, a time to bath and she has a timetable for homework that would terrify my lot!’

  ‘She even checks with the school to make sure they aren’t cheating on the work they’re given,’ Meriel added.

  ‘I like to be organized,’ Cynthia said, ‘I couldn’t fit in all I do if I didn’t work within a system, but everything in Joanne’s house happens like clockwork. It’s soulless somehow. Between you and me, I sometimes wonder how John puts up with it.’

  ‘Oh, there are all kinds of marriages,’ Meriel offered. ‘And perhaps John likes the security of a formal and controlled home life.’

  ‘Hardly, when he isn’t there half the week!’

  The discussion was inevitably turned to Christmas. Cynthia and her family were going away but she promised a celebration during the week before. ‘I’ve promised the boys a party too, so I hope your two will come,’ she smiled at Joanne. Turning to Helen she said, ‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance that your three will be home? It would be lovely if they could come too.’

  ‘I’ve got a few things planned,’ Vivienne said. ‘But as usual, it depends whether I can arrange the necessary Toby—sitting.’ She pulled out a diary. ‘Any offers? My neighbour is free for one night and someone I met at Keep Fit has promised to do Christmas Eve.’

  Joanne looked disapproving. ‘Toby is only three and that seems a bit young for him to be left with so many different people,’ she said in the babyish tone she used, as though afraid to offend.

  ‘One morning,’ Vivienne cheerfully told them, ‘I left him with
the postman while I went to the shop for milk.’ Joanne tightened her lips but said nothing more. Meriel was thankful that Cath was not there.

  Dates and times were discussed until it was arranged that the party would take place on the fourteenth.

  Joanne decided to drop in on Meriel that evening to thank her for the nice evening they’d had the night before. She left her boys alone, as she didn’t intend to be long, saying she’d be an hour or two. But she found Meriel’s ex-husband there.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry Meriel, I didn’t know you had a visitor, hello Evan, how are you?’

  ‘Hardly a visitor,’ he smiled stretching over to kiss her cheek. ‘I used to live here, remember.’

  ‘Used to,’ Meriel reprimanded quietly. ‘You no longer call this home — remember.’

  ‘Really, I wish he’d stay away!’ Meriel said when Evan had gone. ‘That’s the third time this week he’s called on some pretext or another. I didn’t tell you but I came back from shopping yesterday and he was cutting the lawn. December, and he’s cutting the lawn!’

  ‘It is a good idea to tidy up before the winter makes it impossible,’ Joanne excused. ‘I like things to be neat.’

  ‘But it isn’t his lawn! At least, it won’t be once the house is sold and until then this is my home and I invite who I want to see.’

  Joanne was surprised to see Meriel so irate. It was rare for her to lose her temper.

  ‘You still miss him, do you?’ she said softly.

  ‘I’ve accepted that he’s now married to someone else, so why doesn’t he?’

  At Joanne’s house the five boys were getting into her car. Jeremy was driving, with Oliver beside him and Rupert sat in the back with Justin and Marcus. They drove around the expensive houses near their homes and along the lanes into the outskirts of Abertrochi. With a bravado they didn’t really feel, aware that they were supposed to be home and in bed. Jeremy and Justin got out and bought chips and they drove to a large car park overlooking the sea and ate them. Justin was still too small to reach the pedals but he sat beside Rupert on the way back and watched as Rupert explained the sequence of starting and driving off, with the gear changes and the correct signals.