First Friends (45 page)

‘Heavens! Well, I always say that if there's anything better than one man it's two men, ad infinitum. Here we are.'

She pulled in through a gateway, came to a halt beside a pleasant
Victorian house and, getting out, opened the tailgate, allowing the big dog to jump out.

‘Oscar's just become a father and he's frightfully pleased with himself. Come and see his babies.'

She led the way between the house and the clematis-covered garage into the walled back garden, which stretched for some considerable distance before it reached the paddock. The high wall, covered with roses and honeysuckle, gave the back garden a feeling of absolute privacy and on the lawn, in a large run, seven golden puppies played.

‘Oh! Aren't they sweet!' exclaimed Harriet. ‘Oh, Oscar, aren't you clever?'

The dog pranced beside her, showing off, and then went to peer through the wire at his progeny, who were squeaking and tumbling over each other in their excitement.

‘Hello, Honey.' Kate bent to stroke the mother who had been lying in the shade. ‘Harriet's come to see your babies. You're the clever one really, aren't you? Oscar just had the fun of it all. You did all the work.' Honey allowed Harriet to stroke her but when Oscar pushed in between, demanding attention, was quite happy to go back to her place in the shade. Kate bent over the puppies, hesitated for a moment and then swiftly picked one from the mêlée and put it into Harriet's arms. ‘There you are. Nearly six weeks old. They'll be going off to their new homes in ten days.'

‘It's beautiful.' Harriet looked in awe at the huge paws and floppy ears and stroked the soft, fluffy hair.

‘Come and have some lunch. I've got some delicious pâté and you'll need a spoon for the Brie. Oh, yes, and some lovely crusty bread.'

Harriet, still clutching the puppy, followed her through a utility room into a large, cluttered, delightful kitchen where it was apparent that Kate did most of her day-to-day living.

‘Sit there,' commanded Kate, pointing to an old sofa, with shabby chintz covers, which stood beneath the window, ‘and tell me all while I get the lunch.'

Somehow the weight and warmth of the puppy, who had gone to sleep, was comforting as Harriet slowly and painfully brought forth everything that had happened since the moment she had met Tom to Michael's revelation a week before. Meanwhile Kate pottered up and down covering the huge pine table with delicious food, buttering bread and pouring wine.

‘I don't know why I can tell you all this, Kate,' said Harriet, at last. ‘I never thought I'd be able to tell anybody.'

‘It's probably because you know that I, too, have erred,' she answered lightly, although she was secretly shocked to hear that Tom was so deeply involved. She wondered if Cass knew. ‘Unfortunately good people are really rather tiresome and holier than thou and one seldom feels like unburdening one's soul to them. What's worse is that so often good people are good because they've never been tempted or because they've simply been luckier and it's no real credit to them at all. I'm not excusing myself, mind you. I did leave Mark. I didn't go off with a man but I did commit adultery although we had separated by then. It wasn't quite the way Mark reported it in the Mess, but he had to go on living with his friends, so I suppose it was fair enough. Are you actually saying that you think Tom might seriously think of leaving Cass?'

‘I just don't know.' Harriet stared miserably at the comatose puppy. ‘He makes no mention of it but we are rather in the early stages yet. I don't know if I'd want him to. Oh, Kate, I don't know what I want. Do you think that I should give Tom up?'

Kate put some knives and forks on the table wishing that, of all the people in the world that there were to confide in, Harriet had chosen someone else. She was absolutely certain that Tom had no intention of leaving his family for Harriet but she wondered if it were best for her to see Tom in his true light and then she might turn to this Michael who sounded a very nice man. It was in no one's interest to have Harriet mooning after Tom. She wondered if Cass knew what was going on. Since her move to Whitchurch she saw Cass less often and she'd been so busy taking Oscar to shows, hoping to get him established as a
stud dog, that it must be weeks since she'd been in touch with her at all.

‘Don't get worked up about it all.' Kate decided to stay calm until she'd seen Cass. ‘Take your time. The first thing is to get you settled in your own place. A friend of mine's looking for someone to house-sit when she goes abroad. Her usual woman's let her down so she's pretty desperate. You could go there until the autumn which would give you time to sort yourself out. Take up Michael's offer to work with him, but not on a permanent basis until you see how it goes. Get your house in Lee on the market and look about here while you're house-sitting. If you definitely decide that this is where you want to live it's much more sensible to buy your new house with the money from the old one in your pocket. You'll have to give your notice in though, won't you?'

‘I shall do that anyway. I don't want to stay in Lee, whatever happens between me and Tom. I think that I'd like to work with Michael but it's got so complicated now.'

‘Well, give it a chance to uncomplicate itself. Now put the puppy on the sofa and come and eat.'

T
HE CHARMING LITTLE COTTAGE
at Moortown was just what Harriet needed: somewhere of her own where she could relax and think things through. She agreed to a moving-in date and steeled herself to tell Michael. She hadn't seen or heard from Tom since that awful Monday. Perhaps she could let him know of her new plans through Cass.

Michael took it remarkably well.

‘I think it's a very good idea,' he said, as they stood in his garden, watching the sun set beyond the Cornish hills. ‘You can't stay here indefinitely, much as I should like it, and I'm delighted to hear that you're going to go on giving it a try at the office. I really do need someone very badly and I would like it to be you.'

‘That's very nice of you.' Overcome with relief Harriet slipped her arm through his. ‘Thanks for making it so easy.'

He smiled down at her, pressing her arm against his side. ‘Rubbish! Did you think that I was going to scream and shout at you? I just want you to be happy, you know, and if it includes me, so much the better.'

She smiled back at him but something in his eyes made her turn away in confusion and look out towards the outcrop of Bodmin Moor, ink blue against the pale sky.

‘I hope you'll come and see the cottage. It's absolutely tiny and not a bit like this place.' She sounded rather breathless, the words tripping over one another.

‘Certainly I shall come. And Max, too, of course.'

‘Heavens!' Harriet chuckled. ‘I don't think it's big enough for Max, he'll fill the whole ground floor.'

They both looked down at Max, stretched full-length on the grass at their feet. Suddenly Harriet knew that she was going to miss them both quite dreadfully and was overwhelmed with emotion. She'd worked herself up to telling Michael her news, wondering if he'd take it silently, coldly, indifferently, and here he was being marvellous. If it weren't for Tom, she thought suddenly, I could almost go back to feeling for him just as I did all those years ago. Her control deserted her.

‘Oh, Michael!' she said unhappily. ‘What's the matter with me? I don't really want to leave you at all but I feel I've got to sort my life out. And there's Tom. Ohhh! I'm in such a muddle.' She abandoned herself to the luxury of tears.

Max sat up, tail wagging uncertainly, and looked at Michael who, after a moment, took Harriet in one arm whilst he felt in his pocket with his free hand for his handkerchief.

‘Come on, now. Don't get worked up.' He pushed the handkerchief into her hand. ‘You're only going a few miles across the moor, you know. We can be there in ten minutes. Much too close really. We shall be there so often you'll be sick of the sight of us. Don't cry, please, Harriet. There's nothing to cry about.'

‘Sorry. I'm sorry,' she gulped into his handkerchief, scrubbing at her face, the tears still flowing. ‘Oh, Michael, I do love you, really, but Tom gets in between. Oh, what shall I do?'

‘I know, I know.' He stroked her hair, holding her tightly. ‘Don't worry about it. There's plenty of time, no one's rushing you. You'll get it all sorted out. Please don't cry, Harriet.'

She clung to him, not wanting to let him go, and suddenly realised that her feelings were not purely emotional.

‘Michael!' She stared up at him, aghast, her face swollen and blotchy. ‘Michael, I want to go to bed with you.' She saw his face change, felt his arms stiffen. ‘Oh, God! What have I said? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, how awful of me and I must look so ghastly and anyway you wouldn't want to . . . oh, hell!' She began to cry again.

To Michael, it was one of the worst moments of his life. He had no desire whatever to make love to Harriet in her present confused, emotional state, with the memory of Tom, who was, no doubt, a wonderful lover, fixed in the forefront of her mind. However, anything less would probably undermine her confidence and threaten his hopes for their future. He had to convince her that he loved her and he had to do it in bed. He took her back into his arms.

‘I thought you would never ask. Harriet, you know I love you. Shall we go inside?'

She strained back to look up at him.

‘Michael! Are you sure? You're just being nice, aren't you? I know I must look awful.'

‘You underestimate yourself, Harriet. I shall be fulfilling a lifetime's ambition, but you must stop crying or we'll be waterlogged.'

She managed a feeble smile and allowed herself to be led into the house. He paused at the foot of the stairs, his arm still round her. ‘Go on upstairs while I lock the door and turn the dinner down, then we shall be able to relax. My room, OK?' She stared at him, remembering Tom and she in her own room. He read her thoughts and bent to kiss her, smiling. ‘Up you go! I'll be right with you.'

She vanished into the twilight of the upper landing and Michael went into the kitchen where he stood gazing mindlessly at the Aga. Terror gripped him. He'd never be able to do it! Not just like that, to order, as it were. He longed for a drink but she'd smell it on his
breath. Not even time for a cigarette! No use, he'd have to do it cold. With a groan of despair he turned away and climbed the stairs to Harriet.

J
ANE, PEELING POTATOES AT
the kitchen sink, felt strangely happy. It was months since she had felt like this, light of heart, confident of the future. She and Alan had enjoyed their few days together, reestablishing their relationship and planning for the baby. Jane had agreed to go with him to Chatham, to let or even sell the house, spend as much time as possible together, even if it did mean moving regularly. It would be fun at least until the baby was old enough to start school, then they'd think again. If only she could be certain that it was Alan's baby. Reaching for another potato Jane pushed the thought away. No good dwelling on it, that way lay madness. It was her punishment for playing around and she'd just have to live with it. But Alan must never know! Her heart contracted with fear at the mere thought. And Philip! What was she to do about him? How could she possibly tell him what she planned to do? He would try to kill her, or Alan, or probably both of them. Either way Alan would certainly find out the truth. There must be a way out of this terrible muddle. She finished preparing the casserole and put it in the oven. Mrs Hampton had been prevailed upon to come to supper and Jane resolved to put the problem to her. Since their last talk, Jane had put tremendous faith in the old lady she had known all her life.

When, however, several hours later, the casserole was cooked and Mrs Hampton arrived to eat it, Jane discovered that things weren't quite that simple.

‘You must certainly go with ‘im, Jane,' agreed Mrs Hampton, shaking out her napkin and looking with approval at the prettily laid table. ‘I'm that pleased that you've made it up, what with the baby comin' an' all. But I don't know ‘ow you'll keep it from young Philip, that I don't.'

‘He mustn't know.' Jane ladled generous quantities of casserole on to her guest's plate. ‘But you know what it's like here! It'll be all over
the village in half an hour once the house is up for sale. Everyone will know, including him. And what'll I tell him? He'll kill me!'

‘He's got a very nasty temper, that we do know.' Mrs Hampton accepted the plate appreciatively. ‘This looks very nice, Jane love, very nice. Can't you just go off quick like an' sell the house later?'

Jane sat down with her own plate and looked at Mrs Hampton thoughtfully.

‘You've got an idea there. Just go off without anyone knowing. That's what I'd like to do, but how can I explain the secrecy to Alan? And how can I sell the house when I'm up in Chatham?'

Mrs Hampton shook her head, perplexed.

‘I can't tell you that,' she said at last. ‘It do seem impossible without that Alan knows what's goin' on.'

‘I can't tell him,' gasped Jane, laying down her fork. ‘How can I? And just when everything's going nice again. Oh, I can't!'

Mrs Hampton looked at her with compassion.

‘I know, love. But without that I just can't see ‘ow ‘tis to be done. ‘Ave you thought,' she added casually, spearing a piece of potato with her fork, ‘of ‘aving a chat to Mrs Wivenhoe, perhaps?'

‘To Cass?' Jane's mouth hung open. ‘Cass! God, no! What, you mean tell her about this? About Philip and the baby and everything?'

Mrs Hampton nodded, her mouth full.

‘You must be kidding! Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but how could I? Cass, of all people! She's so . . . well . . . so . . . oh, you know!'