More to Life Than This Read online

  ‘Natalie,’ he cried desperately, above the noise of the burglar alarm. ‘I need you!’

  Nothing. Nada. Naff all. Jeffrey’s shoulders sagged. He set off for home at an unsteady jog, swerving out of the gravel drive after checking there were no keen Neighbourhood Watch vigilantes waiting to apprehend him. What had he been thinking of, coming round here in the dead of night, trying to win the affection of a woman ten years his junior? He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Staid, sensible Jeffrey Lewis trudging the streets half-cut, half-dressed, half out of his mind with desire. What would Kate think?

  The night was bitterly cold now and a breeze had struck up, wafting the smell of chicken grease and decaying food from the front of his filthy shirt to sting his nostrils, making his stomach heave majestically. Contrary to the taxi driver’s warning, he didn’t need to do a kerbside quiche. Instead, hanging onto a particularly obliging conifer with hands covered in grit, staid and sensible Jeffrey Lewis produced a perfect pavement pizza.

  chapter 21

  It was Wednesday morning at Northwood Priory.

  ‘This morning,’ Sam said cheerfully, ‘Guy and I are going to demonstrate the T’ai Chi sword set.’

  They hadn’t even started and their smiles were in unison. Their matching red T-shirts picked out the long red tassels that fluttered in the breeze and hung from the long straight swords both men carried tucked to their sides, the highly polished metal glinting in the sun.

  Guy took over. ‘The sword represents the water element,’ he explained. ‘Light, quick, flowing. Working with the water sword helps us to gain an insight into the ever-changing flow of our lives. And remember, every person has an element to which they are particularly drawn—be it water, wood, fire, earth or metal.’

  Kate wasn’t a water element person, that was for sure. Wherever she was going, it wasn’t with the planned flow of her life; on the contrary, she seemed to be paddling against it as fast as her legs would carry her, but still getting nowhere. She wasn’t so much a sparkling, bubbling spring as pond sludge.

  This morning she felt weighted and leaden inside; she didn’t make the early session before breakfast. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been awake. She had—for most of the night, a great deal of which had been spent staring at the flawless white rose which shone out pearlescent in the darkness from its new home in her toothbrush mug on the dressing table. The reason for languishing in bed was that she didn’t want to appear too keen to be with Ben, although she had an overwhelming urge to rush out in her tracksuit and stand on wet grass with him in her bare feet. He probably had lovely long, straight toes, she thought, remembering the brief glimpses of his bare feet she’d already enjoyed.

  Also she had phoned home before going to bed and the baby-sitter, Mrs Barrett from next door, had told her that Jeffrey was out and she didn’t know when he would be back. Out with whom? Out where with whom? That had kept her mind buzzing until at least two o’clock. Jeffrey didn’t go out on week-nights. It was against his religion. He liked his eight hours’ sleep and was always up bright and breezy so that he could be in work before anyone else. What was the saying about the mouse playing while the cat was away? Not Jeffrey, surely?

  ‘My word,’ Sonia said with longing, rousing Kate from her thoughts. ‘Sam and Guy are a sight to gladden the heart of a bored housewife on a Wednesday morning.’

  ‘I was reading their brochure in bed last night. It says that they’re so highly trained in the mystic arts that they can actually see the energy flow, the Chi part of T’ai Chi, passing between people.’

  ‘Really?’ Sonia’s interest perked up. ‘Do you think I could train mine to go all pink and throbbing and shout “Take me, take me”?’

  ‘I think it’s probably doing that already,’ Kate replied drily.

  ‘Probably,’ Sonia agreed with her usual good humour.

  Kate wondered, with a brief tremor of alarm, what colour her own Chi was and who it was heading towards. As Sam and Guy began to swish their swords powerfully, she stole a glance at Ben. He seemed distracted this morning and had already spent a long time with his phone clamped firmly to his ear after breakfast. His welcoming smile had been distinctly half-hearted.

  ‘Heavens above.’ Sonia collapsed on the bench. ‘Those two are just so gorgeous. They’ve even got muscles in their ankles.’

  Kate said patiently, ‘For the twentieth time, Sonia, we’re supposed to be admiring their style and mastery of the ancient arts rather than ogling parts of their firm young anatomies. Anyway, you can’t fall in love with your instructor. It’s such a cliché.’

  ‘Clichés are only clichés because they occur so often.’ Which was quite philosophical considering the majority of Sonia’s conversations revolved round the nutritional delights of Jaffa Cakes.

  ‘So which one is the object of your very fickle affections today?’

  ‘I think the jury’s still out on that one,’ Sonia said after a moment’s consideration. ‘But neither of them would need to douse himself in Hi-Karate aftershave before I’d want to chase him.’ She cupped her chin in her hands. ‘Just look at the angle of dangle on that.’

  ‘I take it we’re talking about the tassel on his sword?’

  She let out a long shuddering sigh. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ Kate shook her head.

  When Sam and Guy came to the end of their routine, Sonia turned to Kate. ‘Hey, where did you disappear to last night?’ she asked. ‘I got up to get a drink of water and the light wasn’t on in your room.’

  Kate could feel herself flushing. ‘I went for a walk.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘No,’ she said hesitantly, ‘with Ben.’

  ‘With Ben?’ Sonia raised her eyebrows.

  ‘It was perfectly innocent,’ Kate insisted. ‘He felt sorry for me because you’d abandoned me.’

  ‘Did he try it on?’

  ‘Of course he didn’t.’ Her fingers went guiltily to her lips.

  Narrowing her eyes, her friend scrutinised her closely. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’ She felt her skin change from scarlet to puce.

  Sonia shook her head, bemused. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with men these days,’ she said.

  Kate didn’t know what was wrong with herself these days! She had desperately wanted Ben to kiss her and had desperately wanted him to stop when he did. It felt too right, too good, too inevitable. Her mind was whirling like a fairground ride and her stomach was doing pretty much the same. She wondered what her Chi would think of that.

  ‘Now then,’ Sam said, clapping his hands to get their attention, ‘it’s your turn to work with the swords. Be very careful with them. These are training swords, so they aren’t sharp. Work together and you won’t hurt yourself.’

  Which was a shame, Kate thought, because at this moment she’d like nothing better than to throw herself on one.

  chapter 22

  Ben was watching Kate from under the shade of the tree. Occasionally, he forced himself to look up, peering through the vivid green branches to the cornflower-blue sky so that he could pretend he wasn’t.

  There was a gentle breeze, breaking up the humidity of the past few days and he was glad of the relief. His palms had been sweating far too much since Sunday for his liking. He hoped he looked relaxed; he felt anything but. His stomach was groaning and gurgling and it wasn’t just the fact that he had opted to miss lunch. He hadn’t wanted to sit near Kate—no, that was wrong. He had desperately wanted to sit near Kate. He wanted to sit next to her feeling the electricity from her body tingling over him, the scent of her skin delighting him. He wanted to watch her nose wrinkle when she laughed, her fingers toying with her fork.…

  Ben sighed to himself. This was wrong. She was someone else’s wife—Jeffrey’s. That’s why he was sitting alone under a tree, starving to death and wondering how to stop himself from falling over the precipice of unrequited love. If it wasn’t too late already. If he had
any sense he would leave the course, go home and go back to work—walk away while he still had his sanity, if not his heart, intact. The lure of the T’ai Chi wasn’t so great that it should keep him here. Why couldn’t he have fallen for one of the million or so mini-skirted women who minced past his offices every day in teetering high heels, their wiggling bottoms saying: ‘I’m available! Come and get me!’ Why a wife and the mother of two children, for pity’s sake?

  If he couldn’t bring himself to leave, he’d have to try other tactics to distract himself. He punched a number into his phone and jammed it to his ear.

  ‘Mahler Bell Associates.’

  ‘It’s Ben,’ he said without preamble. ‘Can you put me through to Fiona, please.’

  ‘Sure.’ The holding music started. A tinny version of Sonny and Cher’s ‘I Got You, Babe.’ Grief, he would have to get that changed, it was terrible.

  ‘Fiona here,’ a chirpy voice said after a moment’s wait. ‘Hi, Ben. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Fi, is the Bradley package sewn up?’

  ‘Just about,’ she answered.

  ‘How just about?’

  ‘It needs a few bits and pieces finishing off.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Photos marking up. A bit of basic donkey work.’

  ‘Could you do it this afternoon?’

  ‘Yeees,’ she said hesitantly. ‘You know they don’t need it until the end of the month. There’s no sweat. I thought you were supposed to be on holiday.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘So where’s the fire?’

  In my heart! ‘I’m just feeling edgy about it.’

  ‘Why? They’ve been clients for years. They’ll love it. They’ve loved everything else we’ve done.’

  ‘Can you do me a huge favour?’

  ‘How huge?’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘Can you bring it out here for me to have a look at tonight?’

  ‘What?’ Ben could imagine her startled face and smiled to himself. ‘You’re in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘I’m in Buckinghamshire.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘It’s barely outside London. There is life beyond Sloane Square, Fi,’ he said mildly.

  ‘Yes, but it’s very rudimentary. Does it have wine bars?’

  ‘We could find out,’ he offered. ‘It’s probably all real pubs, serving real ale and bunches of hops hanging round the bar,’ she whined.

  ‘Be a pal,’ he pleaded.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘You’re desperate for my body and can’t think of any other way of luring me into your evil clutches.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘You never used to play so hard to get,’ he teased.

  ‘It’s my new regime.’ He could hear her drag deeply on her cigarette. ‘I’ve resolved not to be a pushover any more…except on days with a D in them.’

  Ben laughed. ‘I knew you’d say yes.’

  Fiona sighed resignedly. ‘What time do you want me?’

  ‘Seven-thirty?’

  ‘And how the hell am I supposed to find this place without a tour guide?’

  ‘I’ll fax you a map.’

  ‘Has technology reached such far-flung places?’

  ‘Yes, and they stopped shoving small children up chimneys to clean them, too.’

  Fiona grunted. ‘Well, if I’m not there by eight, send out a search party. I’m probably being eaten by some restless natives.’

  ‘You’re a pal,’ he said.

  ‘And you’re a pain.’ The phone went dead.

  Ben grinned to himself. Fiona could refuse him nothing.

  chapter 23

  The rasping sound in his head, Jeffrey realised, was the sound of butter being scraped over toast. Forcing himself from the bed, he picked his way through the trail of filthy clothes that lay scattered on the floor and went into the en suite bathroom. He gawped at the face, which stared back at him from the mirror there with something approaching horror.

  His puffy eyes were barely discernible in his green blotchy face. The last time he had seen anything so hideous was the living dead sailors in Pirates of the Caribbean—which he had banned the children from watching as he thought it was too scary. Now he was going to have to face them looking equally terrifying over breakfast. He couldn’t remember ever having been in such a state before. After splashing cold water on his shell-shocked face, he ran his toothbrush round the birdcage of his mouth and belted his dressing gown tightly round him. Blindly, he followed the scraping sound to the kitchen.

  It was Natalie who was buttering the toast. This stopped Jeffrey in his tracks. A rush of relief hit him harder than the splash of cold water just had, and he realised how much he had wanted to see her standing casually in his distressed kitchen once again. Kerry was sitting at the table spooning Crunchy Nut Cornflakes forlornly into her mouth. Her eyes were red and blotchy and her cheeks puffed and pale. They both looked sheepishly at him.

  Natalie leaned against the work surface, clutching a J Cloth. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking downcast.

  He couldn’t respond. His throat was as firmly stoppered as a port decanter.

  ‘Would you like some muesli?’ Natalie flicked the J Cloth at Kerry, indicating that she should pull out his chair. His daughter scrambled to oblige.

  ‘Yes,’ Jeffrey said, sounding somewhat strangulated, and allowed himself to be seated. A bowl of muesli and a cup of steaming hot fresh coffee were placed gingerly in front of him. It was the last thing he wanted, but he didn’t dare say so.

  ‘It doesn’t hurt any more, Daddy,’ Kerry said hesitantly. Jeffrey sighed. ‘Let’s have a look.’

  She untucked her school blouse from her skirt and proffered her non-existent tummy across the breakfast table. Her belly button was livid red and swollen around a tiny gold ring that jutted out. He couldn’t believe he was even permitting this thought to traverse his mind, but he thought it looked sweet in an un-twelve-year-old sort of way.

  Kerry fingered it tentatively, a look of pride on her emotionally wasted face. ‘It stings a bit though.’

  ‘Perhaps that will remind you what a very silly thing it was to do,’ he said as sternly as he could manage, given the fact that he, too, had done a very silly thing. At least she had the foolishness of youth on her side.

  ‘Yes, Daddy.’ She tucked her blouse in carefully, only wincing once.

  Jeffrey turned to Joe. ‘Have you had any of your body pierced?’

  Joe shook his head vigorously, a look of terror on his face. Sensible boy. His father’s son. Or, at least, his father used to be sensible.

  ‘Come on, you two,’ Natalie ordered. ‘You’ll be late for school.’

  ‘Daddy’s late for work,’ Joe said brightly.

  ‘I don’t think Daddy’s very well,’ Natalie said and their eyes met across the table.

  Jeffrey hung his head and tried to ignore the sledgehammer that was pounding the inside of his skull. The children came and kissed him and he gave Kerry a special hug. ‘Bye-bye, darlings,’ he said miserably. ‘Have a good day.’

  When the children’s chatter had ceased and the front door closed, Natalie turned to him. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘No,’ he said, pushing his untouched muesli away.

  She picked up two Alka-Seltzer from the work surface and poured a glass of water. The plink-plink-fizz reverberated in his brain. Natalie sat down next to him and handed him the glass. ‘I heard you come in at one o’clock this morning,’ she said by way of explanation.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Mrs Barrett phoned me at about eleven o’clock. She was worried that you weren’t home, so I came over and spent the night here.’

  Jeffrey looked up sharply.

  ‘In the spare room.’

  Jeffrey closed his eyes and the insides of his lids whizzed psychedelic patterns in front of them.

  ‘I stayed out of your way in case you were still mad at me.’ She w
rinkled her nose.

  She was here all the time. All the time, she was here.

  ‘Are you?’ she asked when he didn’t speak. How could he? Words were failing him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Still mad?’

  Mad? Insane, certifiable, out of his mind, demented, off his trolley, totally ga-ga? Yes.

  ‘No,’ he said, hanging his head further still. ‘I’m not mad at you.’

  ‘Shall I phone in work for you,’ Natalie suggested, ‘and tell them you’re sick?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Jeffrey said pathetically. He didn’t think he was up to lying for himself.

  Natalie pushed away from the table. She was wearing cutoff denim shorts and her smooth slender legs were tanned to a gorgeous shade of hazelnut brown. His heart and his stomach gave a synchronised lurch. She put the kitchen wall-phone to her ear and smiled at him sympathetically. Or it could have been pityingly.

  ‘Gidday,’ she said, brightly. ‘I’m phoning for Jeffrey Lewis. He’s not going to be in work today. He has a stomach disorder.’

  A brain disorder more like.

  ‘No, this isn’t his wife,’ he heard Natalie continue. ‘His wife’s away. This is the au pair. Okay. Bye.’

  Well, that would ensure him several weeks’ worth of ribald comments when he got back to work. Still, he had no one to blame but himself.

  Natalie regarded him closely. ‘You don’t look so hot.’

  Never in his life had he felt so intrinsically lukewarm.

  ‘I have to go back to Jessica’s house,’ Natalie said. ‘One of the neighbours called this morning. Someone tried to break into the house last night and smashed a window. They’ve arranged a glazier.’

  A shard of reality splintered painfully in Jeffrey’s brain and he felt the blood drain from his face.