More to Life Than This Page 23

  He shaved with extreme care, feeling every scrape of the razor over the sensitive skin beneath his stubble. Things had changed. The face that stared back at him looked the same—but something was different inside. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew that deep down things could never be as they were before.

  Jeffrey hopped round the bedroom trying to make his uncooperative legs thread into his uncooperative jeans. What would he say to Natalie? Was there a correct way to thank someone the morning after? Would there be a coolness to their demeanours after the passion of last night? Or would they fall into each other’s arms and carry on where they had left off ? Was Natalie having regrets? Was he?

  He headed downstairs. She wasn’t there. He checked in the lounge and, when it was clear she wasn’t in the kitchen, the garden. But there was no sign of her. She must still be in bed. It was easy to forget that Natalie had also been over-zealous with the champagne.

  Jeffrey made two cups of strong instant coffee, careful not to clang things together too loudly, and crept up the stairs with them. He paused at the children’s doors. There was no sound from Kerry’s room so she must be asleep, as she always played her CDs at full volume from the minute her eyelids let in light, and Joe was still snoring gently. Oblivion, it seemed, came in different forms for different people.

  Jeffrey tiptoed past their rooms and tapped gently on Natalie’s door. There was no reply. He tapped a little louder and then waited a few moments, heart pounding unsteadily, before pushing the door open. The bed was made, the duvet smooth and untouched, the matching cushion at a pert little angle as always. Wherever Natalie was, it wasn’t here.

  Jeffrey headed back down to the kitchen and sat at the table drinking his coffee, which tasted bitter. Why had she sneaked out without saying goodbye? Had she been trying to avoid him, or did she simply have something pressing to attend to at the other house before Jessica’s return? After a few minutes of fretting, he decided there was only one way to find out. He crossed to the kitchen phone and flicked through the pages of the address book for Jessica’s number. As he dialled, he mentally rehearsed what he was going to say and the tone he was going to say it in. Bright and breezy? Worried and concerned? Sexy and sultry? Can I do sexy and sultry?

  It rang unanswered. Jeffrey sat down with his cup of coffee, looking miserably at the one going cold next to it. The Telegraph shot through the letterbox, making him jump; he went to collect it and then sat at the table for the next twenty minutes pretending to read it, while his mind reran erotic images from last night. It was no good. He was going to have to go and find her. He scribbled a note for the kids using one of the psychedelic pink notelets. Had to pop out. Get your own breakfast. (Not crisps!!) Back soon. Dad XX

  Grabbing the car keys from the hook, he sprinted out to the car and set off for Jessica’s house.

  chapter 43

  There were no signs of life and it reminded him sharply of the rockery-stone-through-the-window débâcle, so Jeffrey contented himself with a sedate knock, followed by a slightly less sedate ring of the doorbell. Jessica’s next-door neighbour put her head cautiously over the dividing fence. She too seemed to have her senses on red alert after the incident just a few short days ago.

  ‘Can I ask what it is you want?’ she said, looking suspiciously as though she wished she had a large Rottweiler with her. ‘We’ve had a bit of trouble round here lately with hooligans.’

  Hooligans? Jeffrey had the good grace to blush.

  ‘I’ve come to see the au pair—Natalie,’ he explained. ‘She’s been looking after my family while Jessica’s been away.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, looking semiplacated. ‘I’m afraid you’ve just missed her.’

  ‘Missed her?’

  ‘She left in a taxi about ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Left?’ Jeffrey sounded desperate even to himself. ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, in an I’m-not-bloody-psychic tone. ‘She was carrying a large backpack.’

  Jeffrey was back in the Mercedes before the sentence was finished. The station, he thought. It was the only conceivable place she could be going. Leighton Buzzard Station had been revamped a couple of years earlier. From the charming, crumbling Gothic building of yesteryear had emerged a red, square, minimalist construction, with absolutely nowhere to park outside without the risk of being crushed by the number 42 bus from Luton. Today, however, that risk was the last thing on Jeffrey’s mind.

  He had driven at breakneck speed down Soulbury Road, careless of the frequent speed traps, holding the steering wheel with a death-grip. Bats recently departed from hell probably went slower. Now he slewed the Mercedes at a reckless angle to the road, eschewing the double yellow lines, the Do Not Park Here, Exit Always In Use sign, the Very-Nice vans for hire he had blocked in and the fact that two wheels were on the pavement.

  Jeffrey ran across the road, dodging between taxis, and shouldered through the automatic doors which leapt apart at his approach. She wasn’t in the ticket hall. Was that good or bad? He looked round him, eyes darting from side to side. Then he saw her. There she was on the platform, her backpack weighing her down.

  Tearing up the stairs in the concourse, he burst through the doors and onto the platform like the men in adverts for feminine hygiene products do. Except he’d forgotten to grab the obligatory bunch of flowers on the way. He stopped. What was he going to say to her? Natalie turned and looked at him.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he blurted out.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Nat blurted back.

  They stood looking at each other in silence.

  ‘I asked first,’ Jeffrey said, when it looked like nothing else more suitable was going to fill the gap.

  Natalie hung her head. ‘I’m going away.’

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It does to me.’

  Natalie folded her arms. ‘We shouldn’t have done what we did, Jeffers. I betrayed Kate’s trust. So did you.’

  Good grief, she looked dreadful. Her face was pale and blotchy, despite the tan, her eyes were bloodshot and there were tangles in her hair that needed a good comb taken to them. Jeffrey’s heart twisted.

  ‘I don’t want you to leave,’ he said brokenly.

  ‘Why do you want me to stay?’ she asked harshly. ‘So that we can carry on with me as your bit on the side?’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ Jeffrey cried. ‘As well you know.’

  ‘You love Kate,’ she said.

  ‘How can I truly say that I love Kate, when I can do what we did?’ Jeffrey raked his hair. ‘I have no regrets.’

  ‘I do,’ Natalie looked at him sadly. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘A mistake?’ The blood drained from Jeffrey’s face. ‘You said—and I quote—“it was beautiful, fun, sexy and fulfilling”.’ He counted the words off on his fingers as accountants do.

  ‘And a mistake,’ she added flatly. ‘It was a one-night stand, Jeffers. Nothing more. They happen.’

  ‘Not to me they don’t.’

  ‘The train now arriving at platform four is the late-running 9:35 service to London Euston…’

  Jeffrey looked stricken at the tannoy which dangled above their heads. Then he stared down the railway track. The train was arriving.

  ‘Don’t go,’ he begged. ‘Wait for me. I’ll get some things and come with you. We can travel round Europe together.’

  ‘And Kate?’

  ‘She’ll understand.’

  Natalie didn’t look convinced.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘She won’t understand, will she?’

  Natalie shook her head. ‘This is a dream, Jeffers. You’re a married man. Single income, wife, two children, oppressive mortgage. They depend on you. And you, in turn, are completely dependable. You could no more come with me than you could turn to drink and drugs and become a rock star.’

  ‘I could try,’ he said desperately.

  ‘Besides—’ the harsh
ness returned ‘—I don’t want to be with someone who cheats on his wife.’

  Jeffrey looked horrified. ‘I have never cheated on my wife,’ he protested. ‘Until now.’ He felt tied by his inability to express his feelings. Feelings were something to be developed over time, not blurted out into the ether before you’d had a chance to examine them from every angle. ‘This is different for me, Nat.’

  ‘I knew you’d take it too seriously, Jeffers,’ she said. ‘It meant nothing to me.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’

  ‘It was good,’ she said. ‘But don’t let one minor aberration ruin your life.’

  ‘It was not a minor aberration.’ There were tears in his eyes.

  The train pulled into the station.

  ‘I am begging you, Natalie,’ he implored. ‘Please don’t leave now. Let me have time to sort this out.’

  ‘There’s nothing to sort out.’

  ‘I love you,’ he said, before he realised he hadn’t checked that anyone was listening.

  ‘And I like you, Jeffers,’ she said softly, smiling for the first time. ‘You’re a great bloke.’

  ‘You like me?’

  ‘I like you a lot.’ Natalie leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

  It was warm, tender, sweet and Jeffrey’s insides screamed silently with the pain of it.

  ‘I have to go.’ She pressed the button and the doors of the train slid open. Hoisting her backpack onto her shoulder and without a backward glance, Natalie stepped inside.

  Jeffrey abruptly turned away, his mind frozen. There was no way he could bear to watch her leave and there was nothing he could think of to do or say to make her stay. What could he offer her? She was young, single—a free spirit—and he was old, older than time itself, manacled by responsibility and conservative with a big fat capital C.

  Let her go, let her go, let her go.

  He concentrated on his breathing which was slow and laboured, and the more he breathed, the more he was able to push down the waves of grief that were rushing up inside him like the torrents of a swollen river bursting through the solid restraints of its banks. Biting his lip and jabbing his car key as hard as he could into his palm, he walked slowly and deliberately out of the station. He heard the whistle blow and the clatter of the wheels as the train set off. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead and made himself put one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other, never turning round. So he didn’t see Natalie’s face pressed hard against the window. Or the fact that she was weeping.

  chapter 44

  They made love on the ridge, beneath the stars, before creeping slowly back to Ben’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning on cold, clandestine feet. The priory was still and peaceful, framed dramatically by the gathering clouds, its slumbering occupants unaware of the naked, shivering adventurers stealing back to the safety of its walls. Now a grey watery dawn was breaking and Kate was lying in Ben’s arms, as he stirred from his sleep and his hands started meandering deliciously over her body.

  ‘Good morning.’ He spoke it softly against her lips.

  ‘Good morning.’

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Desperate to go to the loo,’ she breathed.

  Ben opened one eye. ‘How romantic.’

  ‘I’ll only be a minute.’

  ‘I’m counting,’ he said, kissing her again before snuggling down into the duvet.

  She slipped out of bed and the room was chilly and strange and she opened the wardrobe door by mistake instead of the one to the bathroom. When she did find it, her feet went into shock as they hit the cold tiles and she hopped from foot to foot as she made her way across to the mirror.

  The sight that greeted her was not pretty. Her hair was standing up on end and her lips were stuck to her gums and she wondered if Ben realised he had just made love to a woman who looked like a mad witch. The mascara smears and the bags under her eyes combined to make her resemble an insomniac basset hound. Her tongue looked like it had seen a ghost.

  Kate eyed Ben’s toothbrush longingly. Oh, for the feel of bristle and the tang of spearmint. She hesitated, fingering the tube of toothpaste. Would he mind her using it, or should she just have a quick run round with a blob of Macleans on her finger? Wasn’t it strange that she could share his body so easily and yet his toothbrush was a different matter entirely? It was a very intimate thing to share. The thought of getting back between the sheets with bed breath galvanised her into action and she scrubbed vigorously. After a cursory search for a comb, which Ben didn’t appear to possess, she ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the worst of the tangles, before she gave up and decided he would have to make do with her looking ravaged, rather than ravishing.

  Kate then sat on the loo and tried to wee quietly; of course the sound seemed intent on reverberating round the bathroom. It was unheard of, taking all this trouble just to get back into bed in the morning; after fifteen years of marriage Jeffrey had seen it all. There was nothing about her appearance that could shock him. He had, after all, witnessed the birth of both of their children, so there were no secrets there. These days, she and Jeffrey seemed to conduct most of their conversations while she was sitting on the loo. It was the only place in the house that they could get any privacy with two wannabe teenage children. Was Ben the sort of man she would feel comfortable talking to, while she was sitting on the toilet? She felt so comfortable with him and yet awkward at the same time. Perhaps it was just the newness of spending time with someone who was still really a stranger that made her feel so unsure. And maybe that’s where she had gone wrong in her marriage. It was probably hard to keep that sparkle of romance alive when you had an intimate knowledge of each other’s bodily functions.

  By the time she returned to the bedroom, Ben was propped up on his elbow. He was almost wide-awake and looking anxious.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she said, smoothing his hair as she slipped back into the crook of his toasty warm body.

  He took her hand and drew a slow, deliberate circle on the centre of her palm as he looked at her. ‘This is the Palace of Anxiety,’ he said. ‘The laogong point. It relates to the heart.’ He held his palm to hers, which was slightly damp and decidedly anxious. ‘Concentrating this spot helps us to open up emotionally.’ He joined their laogong points together and a strong current of energy flowed between them, confident, sure. ‘Kate,’ he said, his voice serious. ‘Come away with me.’

  She giggled nervously. ‘For a dirty weekend?’

  ‘No.’ His pale blue eyes were earnest, searching. ‘Permanently.’

  ‘Leave Jeffrey?’ The thought took Kate’s breath away.

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I can’t just leave,’ she said. ‘I have people who depend on me. I’ve got two children, a cat that no one else remembers to feed and an appointment at the hairdresser’s on Monday at two o’clock. What would happen to Kerry and Joe if I left? I’m the sort of person that doesn’t let other people down.’

  He took her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her cheek. ‘But what do you want, Kate?’

  ‘I want you to love me again.’ Tears were starting to form an untidy queue behind her eyes. ‘I don’t want this to end.’

  ‘It has to, Kate,’ he said softly. ‘There has to be a last time. And, unfortunately, it’s fast approaching.’ He smiled, but his eyes were as grey as the harsh dawn sky. ‘Unless you say yes.’

  ‘Can’t we carry on? As friends?’

  ‘Could we be just friends?’ he asked soberly. ‘I don’t want this to turn into some seedy cloak-and-dagger affair.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that either,’ she admitted. ‘Even if the flesh was willing, how would I get away? I’m a housewife—we’re not known for the exotic nature of our business trips. Even Jeffrey might notice if I said I was popping down to the supermarket and didn’t come back for three days.’ Although sometimes I do wonder.

  He shrugged, but it wasn’t an easy mov
ement. ‘So, it has to be all or nothing.’

  Kate sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. ‘We should never have started this.’

  ‘But we did start it, Kate.’

  ‘I should have listened to Sam and stayed in Standing Firmly posture,’ she said reproachfully. ‘All that flying business—I must have left my head up in the clouds. If I’d made sure my feet hadn’t left the ground in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this mess now.’

  ‘You’ve started to break free, Kate, and sometimes it hurts to recognise that. It’s part of moving on. Growing. And growing often involves pain.’ He tenderly stroked her neck. ‘Particularly when you begin to outgrow someone you love.’

  ‘But what if standing still and moving forward both involve pain?’

  ‘Then it’s a very difficult decision to make.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kate smiled ruefully.

  ‘Where does your future happiness lie?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said miserably. ‘Sam’s still, quiet pond is having a million rocks thrown into it all at once.’

  He squeezed her hand hard. ‘I want you to come with me.’ ‘I can’t do that.’ Kate huffed wearily. ‘Despite this—us—I do still love Jeffrey, you know.’

  ‘But how much of that love is now borne out of habit rather than passion?’

  ‘Habits become habits because they’re very comfortable props. They’re also fiendishly difficult to give up. Old habits die very, very hard.’

  ‘Do you want to live like that?’

  ‘They need me,’ she said flatly.

  ‘And what do you need?’

  ‘Me?’ Kate said it like it was a new concept. She shook her head. ‘I suppose that’s what I came here to find out.’ She gave him a sad, sweet grin. ‘I just didn’t expect it to be six foot tall and sporting a crew cut.’