More to Life Than This Read online

  ‘What for?’

  ‘A nightie.’

  ‘A nightie?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘Let’s have a look.’

  ‘Not now. We’ve got to be there by twelve to check in. I’ll have to put my foot down as it is.’

  Tim and the boys had followed Sonia out of the house. ‘By the way, Tim’s very jealous that you’re leaving Jeffrey with an au pair,’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ her husband agreed. ‘Particularly as Sonia’s leaving me with nothing but frozen fish fingers for company.’

  ‘You’ll manage,’ she said.

  ‘We’ll have to.’ He gave Kate a can-you-believe-it? look. ‘Anyway, Kate, how are you?’

  ‘Fine, thanks, Tim.’

  ‘That’s not what I heard.’

  Kate glowered at Sonia. ‘What’s she been saying?’

  ‘That you were fed up with Jeffrey and life in general.’

  ‘Well, I suppose that’s it in a nutshell,’ Kate said. ‘I have no secrets with her.’

  ‘Me neither,’ agreed Tim, who was probably well aware that his prowess between the sheets was the regular subject of in-depth analysis. That might explain why he was so reluctant to embark on a performance—as Sonia might as well sell front row tickets. ‘She reckons this T’ai Chi lark is all your idea.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is.’

  ‘Thought so. Didn’t reckon that being taught to stand on one leg by a ninety-year-old Chinese man was quite my dear wife’s cup of tea.’

  ‘I had planned to go on my own.’ She cast a pointed look in Sonia’s direction. ‘This was supposed to be space for myself.’

  Oblivious, Sonia hoisted two bulging suitcases into the boot. ‘It was rather a fait accompli when she rang up and told me she’d booked herself on the course, too.’

  ‘Subtle as a flying brick. That’s our Sonia,’ her husband commiserated.

  Sonia grabbed her boys by the hair and kissed them both roughly on the forehead. They resumed their game of trying to kick each other in the shins and Sonia flopped in the car beside her.

  ‘Don’t I get a kiss?’ her husband asked. ‘It doesn’t normally bother you,’ she replied.

  ‘See what I have to put up with?’ he laughed.

  ‘There is one saving grace for this week, Tim,’ Kate said. ‘At least I’m not having to share a room with her.’

  ‘Be thankful for small mercies. She farts in bed.’

  The boys raced to the car and tried to scale the sides of the BMW to climb in the windows.

  ‘Get down,’ Sonia shouted.

  ‘Mummy,’ Daniel whined, ‘what’s an orgasm?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Sonia said sweetly. ‘Ask your father.’

  Tim grimaced and banged the roof of the car. ‘Have a good week. Don’t get too excited and overdo it!’

  ‘Bastard,’ Sonia hissed out through her smile. She gave an excited little shrug to Kate and put on a posh voice. ‘Come on then, James, don’t spare the horses.’

  Tim stood rooted to the spot while the boys ran after the car waving.

  Sonia waved back enthusiastically, while saying, ‘Naff off, naff off, naff off,’ under her breath.

  Kate smiled. ‘You are terrible.’

  ‘I’m a free agent. For a whole week. A free agent!’ Sonia bounced up and down. ‘Woo! Woo!’ she yelled. ‘Let’s give this yoga on legs some stick!’

  ‘It would seem timely, at this juncture, to remind you that we are going there to have a quiet time of contemplation and renewal.’

  ‘Bollocks to that!’ Sonia jeered. ‘I’m going to have some fun!’ Kate turned onto the highway and zoomed the BMW up to eighty miles an hour. This was a great start to a stress-free week of winding down. Leaving her husband at the mercy of a gorgeous blonde and having to then floor the accelerator to get there on time, accompanied by Jim Carrey in female form. It didn’t bode well for the rest of the week.

  Sonia switched on the CD player and let Kerry’s latest Boyzone album blast out at full pelt, until it vibrated the door speakers. ‘This is brilliant,’ Sonia shrieked above the music. ‘The open road, the wind in our hair! It’s like a great adventure unfolding before us. I feel like Thelma and Louise!’

  ‘Except we haven’t shot anyone.’

  ‘No, but I had an overwhelming desire to!’

  Both of them laughed uproariously.

  They drove along listening to the pounding music, until Kate decided it was time to save what was left of her hearing for old age.

  ‘Sonia?’

  ‘Oh no, this sounds serious,’ she said. ‘Do I need a cigarette?’

  ‘No.’ Kate shook her head. ‘Anyway, you know I don’t like you smoking in the car.’

  ‘I won’t light it.’ She ferreted in her handbag. ‘I’ll just suck it, as the actress said to the bishop.’ She put the unlit cigarette in her mouth. ‘Go on then—I’m all ears.’

  Kate fixed her eyes on the road ahead. ‘Does Tim look at other women?’

  ‘If you put a blonde wig on a broom handle, Tim would chase after it.’ She puffed at her cigarette with theatrical exaggeration. ‘Mind you, he wouldn’t know what to do with it if he caught it.’

  Kate laughed.

  ‘Why are you asking? Does Jeffrey lust after other women? He hasn’t ever struck me as the leering type.’

  Kate shrugged. ‘There are times when Baywatch has been on the television and he hasn’t even looked up from the Telegraph crossword.’ Then again, he never looked at her either.

  She had a good figure for her age and was lucky enough to be naturally slim, but she also worked at it. There was a lurking fear of developing a tummy as squishy as the Pillsbury Doughboy’s, and drooping tits. Why couldn’t Jeffrey see her as a desirable woman for a change, rather than as chief cook and bottle-washer?

  ‘Tim’s just as bad,’ Sonia agreed. ‘He’s at that age where he thinks coming to bed smeared in BenGay is an aphrodisiac.’

  ‘Once upon a time I would have said that if a blonde and rather buxom woman walked into our kitchen in an itsybitsy bikini, she would have failed to raise a smile—let alone anything else.’ Kate’s brow creased with concern. She might not be the one raising Jeffrey’s temperature, but she was convinced it had gone up a few degrees in the past couple of hours. ‘Now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Don’t tell me.’ Sonia took a deep drag of the redundant cigarette. ‘The lovely Natalie?’

  ‘Oh, I’m just being silly,’ Kate said with a shake of her head. ‘This is the first time we’ve been apart for any length of time. Jeffrey’s had the odd night away at conferences, but that’s about it. He likes being at home.’

  ‘But you’re not sure whether you like him being at home with Miss Bondi Beach.’

  ‘I thought it was a good idea, but now I feel as though she’s intruding on my turf.’ Kate glanced at her friend. ‘Tell me I’m being silly.’

  ‘You’re not silly, you’re completely mad,’ Sonia said emphatically. ‘I only caught a glimpse of her once, getting the milk bottles in from Jessica’s front door. She had this strappy nightie thing on that barely covered her bum.’

  Kate frowned.

  Sonia continued unabashed. ‘I wouldn’t let her within a five-mile radius of Tim. His testosterone level would shoot off the scale.’

  ‘Thanks, Sonia,’ Kate said. ‘Your words have been a source of comfort and joy.’

  ‘Speaking of nighties.’ Sonia reached over for the Marks & Spencer carrier bag from the back seat and peered into it. ‘Let’s have a look at this then.’

  ‘What do you think?’ Kate asked, concentrating on the road. Sonia curled her lip. ‘It’s a bit married woman, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Well, there’s a sad lack of black lace and frilly little bits. Are you planning to be cold?’

  ‘I thought it was nice.’

  ‘Sorry—it’s one very small step away from prissy pink rosebuds.’ Sonia eyed it with disdain. ‘D
efinitely married woman.’

  Kate snatched it from her and threw it onto the back seat of the car. ‘I am a bloody married woman!’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  They continued in silence, until Sonia piped up again, with: ‘I’m your best friend, right?’

  I sometimes wonder. ‘Right.’

  ‘I can tell you anything, can’t I?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, I reckon you ought to go shopping with Kerry more often. Or me. Your fashion sense seems to have gone adrift somewhere along the line. You’re a very attractive woman, my love, but you have a fixation for blue eye-liner and sad cardigans that means you’re never likely to grace the pages of Vogue. Yes, you’ve got trapped somewhere at Women’s Weekly level. You need to think more sexual impact.’

  Kate eyed her friend suspiciously. ‘Sexual impact.’

  ‘You know—pzazz! I’d willingly die to be half as gorgeous as you, but you just don’t use it to your advantage.’

  Now Kate was definitely feeling gloomy. ‘Thanks.’ It was true, she did seem to have developed an unhealthy attraction for all things Laura Ashley. She didn’t seem to be happy unless her clothes had a sprig of blooming flowers on them somewhere. ‘I’m having a struggle with my self-esteem here, Sonia.’

  ‘It’s a passing phase,’ her friend said glibly. ‘Every woman goes through it. It’s the time of life when Venus is in retrograde and the moon is in Uranus, or something. Don’t worry, you just wait till you find yourself again, then you’ll be rushing out to buy Lurex G-strings and push-up bras from Victoria’s Secret without giving a fig for what anyone else thinks.’

  Kate somehow doubted it.

  Sonia looked at her sympathetically. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ Kate lied.

  Why should she mind? She had no romance in her marriage, no clear sense of direction in her life, and her husband was currently wandering about the woods with an overwhelmingly wonderful, young Australian woman. Now her so-called best friend had just pointed out that she didn’t even have the ability to pick the right blouse. Perhaps she should have looked for a course entitled Goodbye Cruel World: How to Make Your Suicide Fun rather than T’ai Chi. she’d been looking forward to a quiet week of contemplation. Venus in retrograde, Lurex G-strings? Push-up bras? Don’t worry? Now she had more to worry about than ever.

  chapter 6

  The Bridgeman’s Arms traditional country pub was packed and smoky.

  ‘I’m going to die of passive smoking,’ Kerry pointed out. ‘We won’t be in here long enough,’ Jeffrey said, scanning over the heads of the crowd. ‘Don’t breathe in as often as you normally do and you’ll be fine.’

  ‘When I become a barrister, I’ll lead a case against cigarette manufacturers and get my own back,’ his daughter informed him.

  ‘Yes, darling.’ Jeffrey began to push his way to the bar. ‘What do you want to drink?’

  ‘Mineral water, please. Still.’

  ‘Joe?’

  ‘Orange juice.’

  ‘Natalie?’

  ‘A glass of dry white wine, please, Jeffrey.’ Why had he expected her to say a pint of lager?

  Natalie took the children to find a table, while Jeffrey steadily elbowed his way through the crush and remembered why he and Kate no longer bothered to come out for Sunday lunch.

  The children and Nat were looking at the menu when he returned with a tray laden with drinks. He had been jostled so much that they were swimming in a puddle, and only Natalie’s glass of wine had remained relatively intact. He was aware that his every move was being watched and he wondered what the other men must think, seeing him with this beautiful blonde who was clearly a good deal younger than he was. Did they think that he and Nat were a couple? It was amazing the number of heads she had turned, simply by walking into the place; he felt quite self-conscious being with her. She was obviously perfectly used to it, as she barely seemed to notice. He sat down next to her and put the drinks on the table.

  ‘Kerry, mineral water—still,’ he said. ‘Joe, orange juice. Natalie, dry white wine.’ He handed her the glass, and the tips of their fingers touched as she took it.

  ‘Nice one, Jeffers,’ she said with one of her radiant smiles. He’d always been called Jeffrey. His parents called him Jeffrey. His school friends called him Jeffrey. His colleagues called him Jeffrey. His wife called him Jeffrey. And his children, when they were being their watered-down version of rebellious, also called him Jeffrey. Now here was this longlegged, full-busted blonde calling him Jeffers. And he really rather liked it.

  ‘Boy, it’s hot in here.’ Natalie shrugged out of her denim jacket, leaving the full-stretch skimpy striped top very much on display.

  Jeffrey felt it had suddenly got a lot hotter. He needed a good slurp of his pint to steady his nerves. Was it his imagination, or did several men reach simultaneously for their pint glasses? Jeffrey tore his eyes away from her. ‘Have you decided what you want to eat? They’ve got scampi and chips, Joe.’

  ‘Too much saturated fat,’ Kerry advised. ‘I’d like a cheese salad,’ Joe said.

  ‘Natalie?’

  ‘I’ll have the beef curry.’

  ‘Do you watch your intake of red meat, Natalie?’ Kerry enquired politely.

  ‘I watch everything I eat, Kerry.’ She smiled again at Jeffrey. ‘My eyes never leave the plate once.’

  ‘I apologise for my daughter,’ he said. ‘She’s on a one-woman crusade to save the planet.’

  ‘Good on ya, Kez.’ Natalie gave her a girl-to-girl nudge. ‘And I’ll have the vegetarian casserole, please,’ Kerry said piously.

  Jeffrey ordered the highly unhealthy scampi for himself, much to his daughter’s disdain. But when the food arrived, he found himself unable to eat. His stomach had locked into a tight ball of tension, a bit like it did when he had to make a presentation at work, and he merely picked at the soggy scampi and greasy chips. There was far too much adrenaline surging in his veins for him to have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever digesting this little lot. Natalie clearly had no such inhibitions, and her beef curry was disappearing at an alarming rate.

  She looked up and grinned, pointing her fork at his plate. ‘Missing Kate?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  She pointed again. ‘You’re being picky with your food. I thought you might be missing Kate.’

  It was ridiculous, but it was the first time his thoughts had turned to his wife. She would have arrived at Northwood Priory by now and he wondered if she would be all right. Normally, she was so capable and in control, the house ran along like clockwork, but she had seemed strangely agitated when she set off. Perhaps the thought of ‘finding herself ’ was more scary than she had first thought.

  He hoped that when she found herself, she also found that she still loved him. Maybe their marriage had got into a rut. He saw it as comfortable and cosy, what family life should be about, but he could see that there were areas that couldn’t be particularly fulfilling for Kate. She wasn’t naturally a jammaking or cake-icing person, it was just something she had done out of habit over the years. Her mother always made jam, she was now a mother herself, ergo, she made jam. Ditto cake icing, potato peeling, name-tag sewing and a thousand other things she did, essentially under sufferance, but always with a smile on her face.

  It wasn’t easy to see things from the other person’s point of view, Jeffrey realised now—especially since he himself had always felt quite content. It was true that some days his work drove him quietly to the brink of insanity, and his blood plodded painfully round his veins until he was sure he was on the road to a slow and certain death behind his desk at Hills & Hopeland. He was also certain that no one would notice until the end-of-the-month figures became overdue. On the whole, though, he had been happy with his lot. He stared across at Natalie, who appeared about to lick her plate. Until this…this…girl had come into his life and stirred up feelings that he thought were incapable of bein
g stirred, let alone shaken.

  ‘I thought you might be missing Kate,’ Natalie prompted. ‘Yes,’ he responded automatically and hoped to goodness that he was.

  It was a ridiculously hot summer by British standards. Day after day of unbroken sunshine followed each other with a regularity normally attributed to a high-fibre diet. As a consequence there was a hose-pipe ban and trite adverts kept popping up on television from the water companies concerned about water wastage, but seemingly unconcerned about pouring money down the drain on advertisements.

  They paid their fifty pence to a surly man in a flat cap and parked at the drive leading up to the Bridgewater Monument—a towering column of Aberdeen granite, topped, for some inexplicable reason, by a giant verdigris fruit bowl. It was as tall and unattractive as it was pointless. A monument to James Bridgewater—the father of inland waterways. Or the man who invented canals to you or me. The towering monument dwarfed the minute National Trust shop next to it, where you could buy everything from a hedgehog-shaped pencil sharpener to a Scottish Heather tea-towel, but nothing remotely of local interest. There was an ice-cream van selling cones as if they were going out of fashion, and Jeffrey wondered how many of the sales ever saw the light of day on a tax return, acknowledging ruefully the fact that work was never very far from his mind.

  They wandered towards the monument, Jeffrey marvelling at the British population’s propensity to spend Sunday afternoons sitting on fold-up deck-chairs behind their Ford Mondeos parked neatly next to a line of a hundred other cars, eating warm sandwiches and drinking cold tea from Thermos flasks. No wonder the first escapees from this green and pleasant land to Antipodean shores had perfected the art of barbecuing. Kerry and Joe ran on ahead.

  ‘They’re nice kids,’ Natalie said as she sauntered along. He was aware that their paths kept colliding as they walked side by side and he could feel Natalie’s bare arm brushing against his skin. The difficulty was concentrating on walking in a straight line when there were so many other things that he was trying not to concentrate on. On the way here, Natalie had been sitting in the front passenger seat. Her legs had stretched interminably into the foot well of the car, making her feet disappear. It was the only bit of her he hadn’t been able to see, and had added a certain element of risk to negotiating the narrow country lanes.