First Friends (18 page)

‘How he's grown.' Kate watched enviously. ‘He's very like Charlotte was at that age, isn't he? It's lovely to see them all together again.'

The twins and Charlotte, sharing the two bicycles, were playing in the adjoining meadow. Their shouts and laughter echoed through the stillness of the hot July afternoon. Oliver swung himself to and fro on the swing under the apple tree.

‘It's terrific to be here.' Cass lay back and shut her eyes. Saul fell across her midriff and she gave a grunt.

‘And what's this I hear,' said Kate, standing Saul upright and giving him a quick hug in passing, ‘about naughty goings-on with Mark II when his boat was in Faslane? Still playing Russian roulette?'

‘Good heavens! Where on earth did you hear that?' Cass smiled to herself. ‘No, don't tell me! Could it have been the Wicked Witch of the north?'

‘Felicity herself!' agreed Kate. ‘It's a wonder that the paper didn't go up in flames. Tell your mummy that she's a naughty girl,' she said to Saul, who was now clambering on to her lap and trying to push the daisy heads up her nose. He chuckled as she tickled him and buried her mouth in his soft neck to blow raspberries.

‘Why is she naughty?'

Kate looked up into Oliver's blue eyes. ‘You made me jump,' she said.

‘Yes, but why is she?'

Kate sat up and, giving Saul a biscuit, turned her attention to Oliver. ‘Your mum,' she said, circling him with her arm, ‘is very shaky on the principle regarding “mine” and “thine.” Do you see?'

Oliver looked at Saul who was regarding his biscuit thoughtfully. Pushing him backwards on to his well-padded bottom, Oliver took the biscuit and smiled blindingly at Kate. ‘Yes,' he said, above Saul's anguished roars. ‘I see.'

I
N THE AUTUMN, THE
twins went off to preparatory school. Dressed in their grey corduroy shorts and high-necked navy blue jerseys, they looked even younger and more vulnerable than usual. The long grey stockings made their stick-like legs stretch on for ever and the new regulation sandals rendered their feet enormous. With a quaking heart, Kate drove them, their trunks, tuck-boxes and overnight cases across the moor, up the long drive and round to the stables to unpack the car. It all went off much better than she had dared to hope. Charlie Blackett was waiting for them and the trunks were carried off. The dormitory was inspected and beds chosen with teddies—owners' name tapes securely sewed to the pad of one foot—placed proprietorially on pillows. By the time their pocket money had been handed in, the twins were quite ready to be hurried away by small friends that they had known for years.

Feeling faintly superfluous, Kate hugged them, promised to write, assured Giles that it really was only two and a half weeks to the first Sunday out and drove away. She kept blinking her eyes furiously to drive away nightmare visions of them being ill, being bullied, being frightened and unhappy. Thanking God that there were two of them and talking determinedly to Megs, she made her way home completely oblivious to her surroundings. For once the moor failed to soothe and comfort. Her eyes were inward-looking and she was unaware of the autumnal beauty all around her.

She put the car in the shed, released Megs and looked around; no muddy boots in the porch, no bicycles thrown down carelessly on the path. She went straight indoors and automatically pushed the kettle on to the hotplate. The cottage seemed unnaturally quiet.

No more quiet than on an ordinary school day, she told herself firmly. She stood staring out of the kitchen window; no blond heads bobbing about, no shrieks or the thump of a football being kicked.

Fatally she went upstairs and looked into their bedroom. It was very tidy, the twins having decided that when they came home it should be just as they would like to find it waiting for them. There was no Lego scattered on the carpet, no books open on the beds.

She picked up a golliwog from Guy's pillow and stood holding it, realising that for the first time for eight years she was all on her own again: no one to cuddle, no one to care for, no one to chat to about the day's events. It was as if their childhood was over. She could only pray that, for the twins, boarding school was the sensible choice. It was simply not fair to keep moving children from school to school every two years. This would give them a stability and continuity in their lives which was important with boys whose father was rarely at home. Perhaps it was true that a boy needed a firmer discipline than he would get from a mother on her own. Since it was apparent that Mark was very happy to pursue his career without Kate being close at hand, she had given serious thought to staying put and letting the twins go to a day school. Nearly everyone had advised her against it: The Navy paid for them to have a first-class education, it was one of the perks, it would be selfish to deny them the benefit of it. Guy showed promise of being good at sport and Giles had a tendency to cling. She had to put them first, try to decide what was truly best for them in the long run. After all, they were hardly any distance away and they had so many friends there. But did the advantages of a first-class boarding school outweigh the benefits of being in your own home with your own family?

Kate didn't know the answers. She only suspected that, by the time one knew whether one had got it right or wrong for one's children, it
was too late to do anything about it. Replacing the golliwog she went slowly downstairs. The long evening, the night and all the lonely days stretched endlessly ahead.

A
T
C
HRISTMAS
C
ASS, FOUR
months pregnant, travelled down with her family and moved into the Old Rectory.

‘And that,' she said to Kate, ‘is that! No more moving, no more quarters, no more changing the children's schools. I've done it. Had it! I intend to settle down. Tom can come down for leaves and weekends. He's perfectly happy about it.'

And so he was. Cass had been quite right in thinking that Tom would jump at the offer. He felt that the time had come for Cass to settle down in her own home, suspecting that her time would be better occupied in bringing together and looking after a large house and garden than twiddling her thumbs in a cramped quarter. He knew very well that Cass liked a certain amount of social activity and, being of like mind, totally sympathised. He hoped that she would build a circle of friends that would satisfy her need for amusement and the fact that her father and best friend lived on the doorstep would put a brake on any little plans she might have regarding extramarital dalliance.

He wouldn't have been human had he not imagined—with a certain amount of satisfaction—himself as owner of a substantial property. He saw them throwing parties, giving intimate little dinners and enjoying long lazy summer days in the garden. Cass would make a perfect chatelaine and it would be wonderful for the children. He had been very concerned at the distress Charlotte had suffered during the move to Scotland and it seemed now that several birds could be killed with one stone. He knew that he would miss Cass waiting when the boat came in but sacrifices would have to be made. The General's help meant that they would be starting well up the home-ownership ladder and ever since his father had married again—to a much younger woman—Tom had known that he could count on very little future assistance from that quarter.

He would miss his family but he must make every effort to get appointed to his home port and make the best of the rest of it.

‘Apart from anything else,' said Cass, ‘he fancies himself as a man of property.'

‘I can't say I blame him. Or you. Moving from pillar to post must be hell with three and a half children. You are lucky to be pregnant again, Cass. What's it going to be this time?'

‘Oh, a girl. Just like me.' She grinned. ‘No bullets yet. I live a charmed life. It's going to be great to be together again.'

But in the spring, Mark was given the news of his new appointment: a First Lieutenant's job on a nuclear boat in refit in Chatham.

‘You can't go!' wailed Cass, when she heard. ‘You'll hate Chatham. What will you do there?'

‘I must go. It's our first shore job. I've got to give our marriage—what's left of it—a chance. I hate the idea of being so far from the twins and all of you but we really need something to bring us back together. We've never had time alone. I must make the effort.'

‘What about the cottage?'

‘Well, Felicity has said that George would like to rent it. He wants a little more freedom and space, she says.'

Cass grinned maliciously. ‘And we can all guess why. Mark's up at the MOD now, isn't he? Felicity can pop down from London on the pretence of visiting that old bat of a mother of hers whenever she wants to. How she dares talk about me, I really don't know. She and George have been at it for years.'

‘Honestly, Cass . . .

‘Perfectly true. But never mind her. I'll look after the twins, take them out and so on, you know that. And you can stay with us when you come down to see them. Where does the boat go when she comes out of refit?'

Kate grimaced. ‘Faslane.'

‘Hell's teeth!'

‘I know. I'm not thinking about it. One step at a time. Let's get Chatham over first.'

_______

K
ATE DISLIKED THE
M
EDWAY
towns on sight and nothing happened during her stay to make her change her mind about them. Canterbury she loved and, although it was quite a drive, spent many hours pottering there, drinking coffee and roaming around the cathedral. She loved to see the little boys hurrying between school and cloister and to listen to their high, pure voices in choir practice. They reminded her of the twins, whom she missed intensely, and she could be often found, during Choral Evensong, sitting hunched behind a pillar crying her eyes out.

Chatham was like no naval base that Kate had ever known. Gosport and Faslane, of course, were purely submarine bases and here Kate felt most at home. Everyone knew everyone else and being in the Mess at either of those places was like going back to an extended family and carrying on where you left off. Devonport was rather different but there were now enough submarines based there to feel fairly at home in
Drake
. At Chatham, the shore establishment was
Pembroke
, which was the Supply and Secretariat School, and they didn't particularly want submariners in their Mess. Moreover, the submarine's Wardroom was nowhere near complete, no point yet, so apart from the Engineer and Electrical Officers, both of whom were complete strangers to Kate and whose wives had remained in Scotland, and the Captain, who rushed back home to his family in Hampshire at every opportunity, there was nobody to make friends with and no social life. Kate felt very isolated.

She now learned the difference between being lonely with Mark away and being lonely with him at home. The latter was infinitely worse in her eyes. She realised that she was married to a man with whom she had nothing in common and who was not really interested in her or their children. It was a dreadful blow. She knew now, without any doubt, that it was not the continual separations that had caused the rift between them, although they hadn't helped, but simply that as a couple they were incompatible. The spark that had ignited their love
had been made up of youth and beauty coupled with the glamorous naval whirl and set ablaze by the usual biological urge.

He was one of the most boring men that she had ever known. He never wanted to do anything except watch television and bang away in bed. Conversation as entertainment was out of the question. He never spoke of the Navy. The movements and developments of his career were on a strictly ‘need to know basis,' as he put it, and she had become used to finding things out from other friends rather than from Mark. This was humiliating but she had learned to live with it. Regarding ordinary conversation, the sort that oils the wheels of daily life, his response was simple: ‘If you haven't got anything intelligent to say, keep quiet.' Any reference to the twins and the response was: ‘They'll be OK. Stop fussing.'

Kate was a great chatterer. She talked to the twins, to the dog, to lonely people on trains and in cafes and to her friends. Being away from her usual round, shut with Mark into a silent world of boredom, made her want to scream and cry. She cried, privately, quite often in despair and fear. She thought of her life stretching emptily away before her, a speechless old age with Mark, and calling to the dog, she would hurry out to walk for miles in the hop fields. Her only pleasures were her trips to Devon to see the twins and to stay with Cass.

Mark was always too busy to go. Either the First Lieutenant or the Captain must be within a few minutes' drive of the submarine and, as this Captain was hardly ever there, Mark had the perfect excuse for never leaving the boat. Kate went alone, driving herself, and the journey was a bore but she looked forward to these weekends away, little oases of joy in a desert of loneliness and boredom.

‘I
TOLD
M
ARK THAT
this was an exeat weekend,' said Kate, as she sat at Cass's breakfast table on a lovely, blowy, blue and white spring morning. ‘He would think it completely crazy of me to come down just for a “Sunday out.”'

Cass moved round the table, distributing food to Charlotte and Oliver and attaching a bib to Saul, who had been promoted to two cushions on a kitchen chair and was driving a truck slowly and intently around his place mat. Cass's fourth child and second daughter, the ten-month-old Gemma, was wedged by cushions into the high chair.

‘We'll have a nice quiet day,' said Cass. ‘Give you a chance to relax. And then, in the morning, we'll all go to church at school and collect the twins.'

‘I wish that they could come out before church. It makes the day so short.'

‘Never mind,' said Cass, sitting down at last. ‘We'll cram in as much as possible. Charlotte is going to make some lovely cakes for their tea.'